throwing caution

With blue fairylights and a broken TV I'm saying goodbye to 2014.

My New Year's Eve celebrations have usually included good food, tea-drinking friends, profound wisdom. This year, I was invited to a singles party of the "bring your own bottle" kind where I know exactly one person. Throwing caution and introversion to the wind, I thought "what the hell" and accepted the invitation.

I will get slightly drunk, watch other people get very drunk, answer weird questions, and if there is dancing I will dance.

disease-ridden notes

Sick, day five.

Can't venture out to the grocery shop because rough winds do shake this sickly body of mine and it ain't no fun.

So I survive on chocolate and flu meds, and study the wintry landscape through my window.

* Note to ornithologists: the thrushes have not yet migrated south for the winter. I hope they are good with minus 10 degrees Celsius.
* Note to meteorologists: the wind has turned from winter's usual northwest to southwest, and the sun has been shining more than usual although it barely rises above the horizon.
* Note to the rescue services: too many fools are venturing out on the thin ice on the bay.
* Note to self: get a dog.

my life had the goodness of blue waters

A look back at 2014... because looking  back is what I do well. Please note that I am completely ignoring all the boring stuff that happened between these carefully edited highlights.


Most useful thing learned? It took me one day to learn how to download and use subtitling software - and suddenly I had a new vocation, job title and dream.


Proudest achievement? It was a nightmare, it wasn't voluntary, but I'm kind of proud I did it - changing jobs, again.

This year's mode of transport? The thrice-cursed little French car, surprisingly cooperative most of the year. Except in cold weather and when it decided it was time to disconnect all the lights.

Journeys taken? A whirlwind trip to amazing Helsinki. A few spring days in Frankfurt, Germany, with a friend, wine and easy living. A summery day in Sweden after chugging across the pond on an ancient ferry. A November weekend in Tampere, Finland, with more laughter than should be physically possible.

This year's inspiration? Pinterest and White Collar, all the free spirits out there living in freedom and cool clothes.

Best thing that happened? Could have been the scary-looking biker dude who said, "Want a job?" or the friend who said, "Let's buy a flight ticket out of here". Or the long, hot, lazy summer on the beach.

Most significant insight?

chaos, leave me never.

keep me wild

and keep me free

so that my brokenness will be,

the only beauty

the world will see.

(r.m. drake)

Best study achievement? I finally realized that Excel can be used in practice, not theory. Learned a lot of Finnish. And took a course in InDesign, already forgotten.

Favourite item of clothing? The black boots. Or the cheap grey fleece sweater. Or the little black skirt I wore with absolutely everything.

Favourite icecream? Do you have to ask? Ben & Jerry's Cookie Dough.

Favourite quote? 

I want raging nights

dark and wild

Lit only by the city,

bonfires, and cigarettes

I want sun-kissed mornings

breezy and free

interrupted only by the voices 

of lovers and friends

(unknown) 

New interests? My Viking heritage, smoothies and subtitles.

Most unexpected thing seen from the window? A shark (of the inflatable toy kind) sailing past the beach in the middle of a thunderstorm, fighter aircraft in formation, fire swingers, a snowstorm with thunder and lightning.

Favourite song? Ed Sheeran: I See Fire or John Legend: All Of Me or Jenni Vartiainen: Suru on kunniavieras or the Script: Superheroes or...

Who would you like to thank? Everyone who loves me despite my moody silences and false cheerfulness. God for everything else.


(Title from Gary Barlow's song Open Road)

fluff

What you really need when you're dying of the flu (at Christmas!) is an adorable poodle with fluffy fur to randomly hug for comfort.

My sister was kind enough to lend me hers. She will get it back with lots of flu germs in that lovely fur.

meet Robinson and Friday

Another random picture from the ancient archives:

We made landfall on a deserted island one autumn afternoon, my friend and I. At least we thought it was deserted. Two sheep showed up and tried to force themselves aboard as we were setting out again.

Some Islanders take herds of sheep out to small islets over the summer to let them roam free. These two had apparently been left behind when the rest were collected in the autumn and were feeling rather put out. We informed the sheepfarmer about this. So I can kind of take the credit for saving two lives that grey afternoon.

I'm not happy yet no sorrow shakes me

My job today consists of listening to a well-known Finnish singer, Vesa-Matti Loiri, croon old songs at me from a 1970s recording while I'm adding subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing.

Apparently even the deaf enjoy Loiri's singing.

He's singing songs by the poet Eino Leino. This is serious business: longing, nostalgia, despair. It never would have crossed my mind to listen to this type of music but I'm glad I did. There is a dark beauty in the Finnish folk soul.

For a hefty dose of melancholia, the mood most often associated with the Finns, look no further.

English translation by Aina Swan Cutler:

I hear the evening cornbird calling.

Moonlight floods the fields of tasseled grain.

Wood smoke, drifting veils the distant valleys.

Summer evening's joy is here for me.

I'm not happy yet no sorrow shakes me,

but the dark woods stillness I would welcome.

Rosy clouds through which the day is falling,

sleepy breezes from the blue gray mountains,

shodows on the water, meadow flowers...

out of these my heart's own song I'll make!

I will sing it, summer hay-sweet maiden,

sing to you my deep serenity,

my own faith that sounds a swelling music,

oak-leaf garland ever fresh and green.

I'll no longer chase the will-o-wisp.

Happiness is here in my own keeping.

Day by day, life's circle narrows, closes.

Time stands still now ... weather cocks all sleeping.

Here before me lies a shadowy way

leading to a strange, an unknown place.

what cannot wait

I crave:

a caress,
the sun,
olive meatballs and garlic mushrooms,
another season of White Collar,
divine peace,
a dog,
an apartment in Manhattan.

And it's urgent.

seeing the light

Winter game: Pick a random picture from years ago and explain it:

In the back seat of a car, waiting to drive aboard the ferry to Sweden. Having a bout of despair because my parents were in the front seat and I suddenly felt stuck in childhood. Saved from insanity by my niece who sat next to me and invented a hilarious game that involved taking random pictures like this one.

what friends said this week

"I handed in four rifles to the police."
"I'll be working part-time as a circus manager."
"You need to assess the marathon man."
"My therapist said I should go to trauma counselling. I dream of classrooms at night."
"I forgot that I was once a devil."
"I send emails to myself and intentionally add spelling errors."
"I'm in breach of contract."
"I never look at the price tag."
"Have you ever considered a push-up bra?"
"Cow."

My interesting friends keep adding spice to conversations.

socializing in the dark

The weekend:

Gingerbread cookie baking,  darkness,  candles in the windows, vegetarian food, indoor beachvolley, sleep, the president's ball on TV, tea for two,  an interpretation gig,  a victory and a defeat, cake with Mum, shopping for someone else, not enough solitude.

teenagers, bacon and drills

Perils of living in an apartment building:

* You wake up before dawn because the neighbours' teenager is having a screaming fit and slamming doors.

* A seductive smell of fried bacon spreads throughout the building just as you're planning to get some more work done before stopping for lunch.

* Another neighbour decided to do a bit of DIY, involving drilling, just as your head hits the pillow.