the java is lava

Scientific observation of the day:

If you forget to turn off the coffee-maker overnight and there is coffee left in the pot, in the morning it will look like solidified bubbly lava and make an impressive hissing sound when you try to rinse the pot out with water.

when in doubt, don't ask a poodle

The good thing with Finland is that the wilderness is never far away.

Two minutes walk from my suburban residence, you will find yourself seeing nothing but wide, flat fields and the occasional old farmhouse. And the ancient barns for storing hay, so typical for this region and so beautiful.

Leave the fields and go into the forest and you can really get lost. I used to wander here as a teenager, for miles and hours. Even with my good sense of direction, I often found myself not sure of the way back. But my faithful companion, a Labrador, only needed to hear the command "go home!" and in the middle of whatever unknown part of this vast forest, he would unerringly set a straight course and lead me home.

My present companion, the poodle, just gives me a confused look in the same situation, and brings me a stick to throw instead.

the accidental resident

"Thank God this is not my real life" is a thought that goes through my head often as I, the temporary resident, walk through suburbia. The pastel-coloured houses all have a matching pastel-coloured garage and a pastel-coloured little shed to hide the garbage bins.

I seem much better suited to take up  temporary residence  in other people's houses, preferably small flats with views over rooftops or other beautiful landscapes. A house with many rooms seems too vast. I shiver with cold and vulnerability when I have to walk through the kitchen to get from the guest room to the bathroom in the morning. I retreat to that particular corner of the sofa, that particular chair at the large kitchen table, and the rest is part of the outside world to me. I make my home in these tiny spots, venture out to explore the world around and then come back to read and write. Alone. With few possessions - the fewer the better - and  plenty of freedom.  A good life, in its unique way, but how did it become mine?

Trying out the little luxuries that are not part of my usual life feels oddly risky and I have to tackle them one at a time. Today I made espresso for the first time in my life. Yesterday I lit a fire in the fireplace. There is joy in each new exploit.

Even in clearing snow off the driveway this morning. The poodle was barking at me, my mittens got wet, I was a little out of breath. And I was happy.

dictionary of aniseed, odour and zagreb

The owners of the house and the poodle that I'm babysitting for the next couple of weeks wrote me a  manual  from A to Z to cover any information I might require to operate the boiler, flatscreen, poodle etc. A lot of useful information, certainly. But apparently there wasn't enough information for every letter of the alphabet, so they added some.

A is for Aniseed ( where to find ), a spice I have never had any need for in my entire life ( a fact they know very well ).

A is also for Axe: "Wait a second now! Ask yourself first, why do I need an axe? A can opener is found in the top drawer. An axe is found in the garage but we're not telling you where...."

C is for Candy: "See 'Craving'."

C is also for Craving: "See 'Candy'."

I is for Irresponsible: "If you suddenly start feeling irresponsible and wild, no cause for panic! It's the wilderness of the 'burbs getting to you. Put the TV and Facebook on, and you should feel an immediate relief."

O is for Odour: "The shower is for your use. Please wipe the floor afterwards ( we said afterwards! )"

S is for Stubbornness: "A frequent occurrence in the poodle. Can be cured by cuddling, and additional cuddling."

W is for Water: "If water is coming out of places it's not supposed to, don't act out 'Singing In The Rain' but TURN OFF THE MAIN VALVE."

X is for Xantippa ( followed by facts about Socrates' wife ). Cross-referenced with the name of a mutual acquaintance.

Z is for Zagreb, Archdiocese of ( followed by an excerpt from Wikipedia ). Apparently in case I have a sudden urge to go to Croatia and find religion.

mud and espresso in the 'burbs

Curled up in a red sofa. I'm in an empty, rather chilly house on a dark winter evening so I chose the room that has the sofa and a flatscreen and gathered around me my laptop, a novel, my diary, my phone, a glass of wine, a dog, and the remote to the flatscreen.

I seem to have acquired a reputation as the go-to woman for people who need someone to babysit their pets and house when they go on holiday. Last time it was the quaint cottage and the sheepdog in a summer village, before that a messy house with two indifferent cats. This time it's midwinter and I'm stationed in a suburb of pastel-coloured houses, in a house that feels much too large for me and shows the wear and tear and clutter of a family with several children. My companion is a high-strung but ultra-cute poodle.

I claim a couple of spots in the house for myself - the kitchen table, the guest bedroom, a shelf in the bathroom for my stuff, and this red sofa. It's a bit like camping ( including a rather uncomfortable bed ) but there are things to enjoy here. Like the espresso maker, a real fireplace, the sauna, and a garage door that can be remotely opened as you pull up in the driveway. ( This last detail I enjoy with childish pleasure. My car, which has always had to endure winter storms and summer heat parked out in the street, probably thinks it has died and gone to Citroën heaven ).

And someone else's extensive CD collection, an unexplored bookshelf and even a miniature pool table.

I love having a daily life that is all new to me. Even the most boring morning routine seems like an opportunity to reinvent yourself into the person you always wanted to be. And there is a new neighbourhood to explore.

So today's tasks included negotiating a pot-holed road to work, wiping mud off poodle paws and listening to Sigur Rós.

change and dog bite

The end has not yet arrived. I still go to the office every day to watch the boss try to save the company.

I pretend to be like everyone else, silently chewing nails, trying to not go into hysterics about unemployment and money problems. But inside, I secretly cherish the thought of change in almost any form. Am I odd? Just a symptom of a boring life?

In the meantime, this February is a diluted version of winter. No bright sunshine on white snow, so cold it burns your skin. Instead, the occasional wet blanket of slush that quickly melts into a thick grey soup of mud and water.

Yesterday I moved furniture around my tiny flat and was bitten by the dog that I hug so often. Talked to a friend who probably thought I was distracted and incoherent. Today I will dye my hair brighter, make oven sandwiches, play volleyball and prepare myself for a week of temporary and maybe permanent change.

( Photo by Linda Strömberg-Yucak for Vasabladet )

the hostile time of day

I wish I liked mornings. Mornings are beautiful, fresh, the promise of new possibilities.

But I'm always so tired - or, even when I'm not tired, during that time of the day I'm weak and vulnerable. And mornings are also hostile, always out to get me.

Today, the morning was giving me a break. Out earlier than I usually would be on a Saturday, walking a borrowed poodle, there was  a cessation of hostilities.  The morning, the poodle and I walked in peaceful silence. 

tea, then the end

Statistics and tea of fragrant spices.
The murmur of the radio in the other room.
The peace of an almost empty office and snow falling outside.

The strange harmony in not knowing whether all this is coming to an end on Friday. On Monday, I might be collecting unemployment. Until then, I create pie charts and drink more tea.

let's cancel Sundays

I'm sick of Sundays.

They are supposed to be so good. You know, sleep in, lazy brunch, big mugs of good coffee. So far, usually so good. But then comes the afternoon and I'm browsing my favourite websites, reading a novel, looking out over the sea, enjoying my solitude. And I want to write something. And I can't.

And I'm painfully aware of the fact that in a few hours, my precious weekend is over and it's back to work. I sit here, wanting to be creative and not capable of it. Going for a walk puts me in a worse mood, at least when the weather is bad ( as it always is in February ). Meeting a friend ruins the rare me-time that I so desperately need. Nothing entertains me, I just want to MAKE SOMETHING.

Suddenly, the wonderful Sunday is just an empty, dull stretch of time. The clock ticking down towards Monday morning.

olympics and reeks

Watching the Olympic opening ceremony and wondering, once again, how anyone can accept that their country goes by the name of Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia.

It sounds very pretty in French, though.

Someone reminded me today that there is a mountain range in Ireland named Macgillycuddy's Reeks. Now that's a name I can fully stand behind. Put me in a good mood instantly.

you shall love your crooked neighbour with your crooked heart

In deep midwinter, the little old lady next door to me died.

I suspected it had happened but couldn't find anyone who could confirm it or tell me how it happened. At last, there was a death notice in the paper. The funeral was already done.

Now I can spend summer evenings on the balcony without anyone peeking in from the next balcony to coax me into a chat I don't feel like having. Now I won't be late for appointments because I was held up by the elevator by a lonely little lady talking about her aches and pains.

I feel a little colder, a little more lonely, a bit like bursting into tears.

glitter zipper comfort

When you are losing your job and are really scared, you should go and buy yourself a glitter skirt with a golden zipper. On your lunch break. So I did.

( But only if you need it. And it's on massive sale. I'm an anti-consumerist. )

( And I'm a woman. In need of comfort. )

only lasting thing

“The unreal is more powerful than the real. Because nothing is as perfect as you can imagine it. Because it’s only intangible ideas, concepts, beliefs, fantasies that last. Stone crumbles. Wood rots. People, well, they die. But things as fragile as a thought, a dream, a legend, they can go on and on. If you can change the way people think, the way they see themselves, the way they see the world — you can change the way people live their lives. That’s the only lasting thing you can create.”

( Chuck Palahniuk: Choke )

the lazy, lovely weekend of doom

After a year of long working weeks and of weekends that always ended too soon, this weekend is endless.

I slouch on the sofa, eat pizza slices and read fanfic. Dragged myself out of the house twice, for zumba and volleyball, then went back to the sofa and the pizza. I have slept in, pondered the meaning of life and made some progress reading a difficult novel. And somewhere among all this even found the time to hoover the flat and do laundry. This is more than I usually accomplish in an entire week. And the weekend is not even over yet.

Fascinating, the new perspective you get on weekends, on everything, when you know that on Monday morning, your safe and slightly boring job may no longer exist.

waiting for Godot was much more fun

In the office. I'm celebrating - with berry tea - the one-year anniversary of the day I was told I had got this job. A big day for me.

My coworker Butterfly is worried over the fact that business is slow. She saunters over to the boss for a little chat. He confirms what we have been silently dreading but too afraid to ask about: layoffs ( temporary or not, he doesn't say ) may be on the horizon. As soon as the other boss comes in to the office, we will all sit down for a meeting to discuss it.

Butterfly and I spend the day whispering about it. She finds it difficult to concentrate on her task of clearing out old files and I stare distractedly at the business quality plan I'm incompetently trying to put together. At last, the other boss arrives, but there is no sign of that meeting about to take place. We wait, biting our nails. "They probably want to have it at the end of the work day," Butterfly whispers. "In case we run home crying," I agree, grinning.

The boss walks past a few times, getting his coffee refill. The other boss comes over to discuss the quality plan. And then, it's 4 pm. Butterfly and I put our coats on, shout "see you tomorrow" towards the boss' room and go home.

None the wiser. What a day.

my liege

I am being controlled by one person. If not for that person I would feel less guilty, take more road trips, go live in another country, be true to myself, not worry, love freely.

But how do I break free? When that person has given me everything and keeps giving? When I owe my loyalty, my love, my whole life to someone who would not survive without it?

2013: the year of crooked seams, introverted dates and a cucumber candy cactus

"I'm a hopeless wanderer and I will learn, 
I will learn to love the skies I'm under"
(Mumford & Sons)

The year 2013:

* The New Year: eating Sacher Torte in front of a roaring fire after an eleven-course Chinese dinner, saying "I have no illusions that my life will change at all this year".
* Not three days later, a big change in the form of zumba.
* Not four weeks later, a massive change in the form of a new job. Now emailing China about high-visibility fabric and heat transfer prints, sorting out button holes for prison guards and sleeve badges for firemen.
* Other changes included: not feeling like a nerd anymore, spending 40 hours a week with complete strangers, spending too much time at work, having too little to do, studying languages out of sheer boredom, witnessing one disastrous crisis after the other.
* Not being dirt poor anymore: the happiness of buying a bottle of raspberry sparkling water and having delicious lunches all over town.
* Claiming my own ground: now I know how to register new land risen from the sea.

* The feeling of pulling open a heavy door and enter a deathly silent church: the funeral of my very first and very special childhood friend.
* Smashing a computer to very pretty pieces.
* Pinterest: source of overwhelming inspiration and beauty.
* Slipping even further into  minimalism and the American dream.
* Another Irish adventure: a cold and glorious spring, chasing cats, driving criminally, feeling loved, dancing with a Spaniard,  walking into a glitzy Citibank building in dirty denim, going through every second-hand book shop... and enjoying haunted houses, an indie film premiere in a dark basement, tall stories from Polynesia, bubble tea, heart-breaking people and places.
* Death of my first night-club friend, with whom I once got life-threateningly lost in a Russian slum.
* Accused of being an anti-fur activist, by 82-year-old lady who threw her fur coat at me.
* Life crisis: haven't accomplished a family or anything memorable, think happiness isn't for me - but that isn't going to stop me from sucking out all the marrow of life.
* Celebrating on a pink moon day, deciding what music is to be played on the radio in the future, and going on a date that included red roses.
* Throwing a party, with more than a little help from my friends. Presents included hot stone massage and a cucumber candy cactus.
* Traditional May Day hike on the Island to look for perch and have a picnic with sun and the fragrance of ice.

* Best friend's wedding, proudly seated at the weird table, co-presenting the most entertaining entertainment.
* Hysterical photo shoot with best friends, with instructions from long-suffering photographer: "Kiss her on the cheek! Give us some girl power! Boy power, then? Was that it, was that your moment?!"
* A summer night's dream, barefoot in a red dress and wild hair at midnight, smiled at by strangers.
* Planting potatoes (10 pcs).
* Midsummer weekend with family and some very loud volleyball.
* One measly week of summer vacation - managed to squeeze in as many diseases and thunderstorms as possible but also some peace of mind.
* The usual, lovely city summer life with beachvolley, lattes in the sun and cannelloni bought with "grazie mille" from a real Italian.
* The usual, lovely country summer life with beachvolley, instant coffee in the sun and glow-worm hunting at midnight.
* Watching a vintage boat race and having waffles with a pathologist and a politician.
* A night in the emergency room with an ailing mother, The Shadow of the Wind and rather fascinating patients.
* A blissful evening by the sea, for once alone in paradise and feeling at home.
* Hot stone massage, luxury lunch in the sun and wine evening with the giggle girls.
* Date on a deserted island with an introvert.  With the same man on other occasions: cider at seafront cafés, take-out pizza in the park, burger meals, a delicious Mexican dinner to celebrate an excavator.

* Nostalgia, chocolate cake and some really incomprehensible academic terminology.
* A hot autumn day in the great forests of the east where my father was born - a funeral and a family feeling.
* IT consulting and various other consulting for my old job, realised my old job was much more demanding than my new one.
* Lessons on how to treat a fur coat.
* All Saints' Day multi-religious cemetery tour with friends, including a bit of geo-caching and cheesecake.
* Under-stimulated at work, over-stimulated at home.
* Winning in volleyball with the town's biggest, baddest and biceps'est men.
* Making a film documentary about a Shell jacket, in Chinese.
* Making an ex-boyfriend jealous for no reason ( and feeling rather good about it ).
* Sick leave: Three days with a fever on the sofa and howling with laughter while watching old episodes of QI.
* Christmas with bucketloads of mulled wine, rain, The Elegance of the Hedgehog and being put in a headlock by my brother.
* New Year's Eve with the Spinster Club, Hopeless Cases Division. Included a long drive in my White Witch coat, a new constellation of friends, fireworks and green tea.

Marvels I have beheld this year:
* A genuine London cab in a small Finnish town.
* A dog in a bag on a picnic table. Not for eating and very much alive.
* My new life: zumba, salad and statistics
* A supernova reflected in a quiet sea
* Moon cakes straight from Shanghai
* Exhaustion, over-interpretation and a break from church
* Random fact learned: An IRA terrorist wanted in connection with a bombing is now teaching religion in a Catholic school in Gambia

Parties:
* A hen party in a charming cottage next to an airport runway.
* Midnight trampoline bouncing with maniacal laughter.
* A night of Mexican food, airhockey, jiving with a Romanian among pub tables, dancing all night.
* Sangria and Glee with a pathologist who doesn't want to watch CSI because "cutting up people myself is more fun than watching others do it".
* Dinner, a rom com and chocolate-dipped popcorn with family.
* Pub evening with my weirdest Cockney friend and tales of stabbings, prison and heartbreak.
* Pie with volleyball friends and talk about starting a cocoa farm.
* Discussions of dreams and Downton Abbey in a blizzard on the Island.

Mutant from the Garment District

Phenomena in the Garment District (a.k.a. my workplace):
* Learning the Chinese sign for "wool".
* Pondering the fact that the Finnish Army might have to wear asymmetrical shirts with crooked seams.
* Coworker taking foot soaks in the sink.
* Quoting Shakespeare to win an argument with a supplier.
* Screaming in rage down the phone to China.
* Eating moon cakes with ice sand egg yolk filling - can my Chinese friend really not find a better translation for the ingredients or is she having me on?
* Not receiving the promised garment samples because someone has constipation.
* Rating couriers according to their social skills, ability to lift heavy parcels and choice of the music that is blaring from their van.
* Studying the teachings of Nietsche and playing a Dr. Who game.
* Chasing a bird through the office.

just another day at the office

I have a coworker who enjoys  footbaths  in the sink at the office, takes notes when I quote Shakespeare, and reads aloud to me about the tragic life of the fig wasp.

the nights of Psalm 91

If on an evening, just before the turn of the year, you feel anxious about the future, even terrified of going to bed in an hour because of the mind monsters that whisper horrible truths out of the darkness...

Just let it be. Accept that these are the evenings that must happen to you, as they happen to everybody else. Let the whispers slide past you and away into the walls. Their truth is not the whole truth because you are not alone and someone is fighting for you. If it becomes too much to bear, get up and make yourself some hot chocolate and read a book that makes you smile in the middle of the night. It's OK. You will lose some sleep, but there will be other, better nights.

You don't always have to be the hero who slays the monsters. It's OK to be weak tonight. Just trust, and rest, and know that you are loved and that morning is on its way.

covered

Waking up, well rested. Knowing it's late in the morning by the muted grey light. There won't be any real daylight today - the ever-present blanket of clouds is thicker and darker than usual.

Forcing myself out on a run, the first in a long time. The rain starts falling - it's unusually warm for December - but as soon as I come home, exhausted, wet and with freezing toes, the rain is turning into snow.

I had been planning to go into town. But it's becoming clear to me that I don't want to go shopping, don't even want to see friends. I want to stay in my warm flat, light the candles, make some vanilla coffee, watch the snow fall over the bay as the darkness grows thicker.

I want woollen socks and dreams of the future.