Me, defined

"Yes, your evil aura had to evolve since you found someone who neutralizes your ability to destroy lives. This happened because you became involved - you see L's inherit goodness is your "cryptonite" when it comes to the ability to be "Destroyer of Lives" and therefore in an attempt to survive, your black hole of evil has branched out into a more subtle way of making people miserable - it stops them from being able to go to the toilet... Next it will add the ability to make people hungry and think that wolves are chasing them at the same time."

Huge thanks to Stephanie who is responsible for this text.

Kieltäydyn kommentoimasta enempää.

Isoroba ei ole mikään Khao San.

In my previous life I used to be a straight man

I don’t get colors. I know yellow isn’t good for my complexion. And green makes me look like seriously seasick. But what comes to what shade of red our livingroom walls should be, I’ve no idea. I like the color we have now. Apparently it’s too dark. So if it’s too dark the obvious solution would be painting it a lighter shade of red. But no. Instead I’m looking at samples of yellow. Wtf.

Money money money...

It is amazing how much information there is in banking statements. I went through them yesterday, oldest dating back to around 1992. Apparently I’ve had lots of money back then because there were many payments made to me from different people. Either that, or I was a dealer and it just has conveniently slipped my mind. Oh and the amount of sexual innuendo! Well, not so much innuendo really… using the words “thanks for a good shag” in the message part is not very subtle… Maybe I should destroy them all, and not leave behind a stack of paper which makes me look quite suspicious. Especially if I turn out to grow up to some Mother Teresa kind of figure. Fortunately the likelihood of that happening is beyond miniscule, it’s downright negative.

1 + 1 = 3,7

I got the most straightforward bootycall ever a moment ago. At this point in my life it only made me smile, chuckle a bit and politely decline with a ps. I’m getting married. That prompted a quick happy congratulations response and the exchange veered into neutral things, such as where do I work now, what he is up to and so on… I know it might sound a bit weird. After all it’s been almost two years since I started dating my lovely gf. Like did he just suddenly after all this time remember me? No, he’s an old friend and a fling and a few other things. We talk about every six months and he knew that atleast the last time we spoke I had a girlfriend. But there’s no harm in trying, right? And we’ve had this “call me up when you’re in need of easy uncomplicated sex” thing going on since… let’ see… since fall of 1994. It only ended 10 days short of two years ago, when I met my gf. At that point it had been a while since our last “strangers in the night” type of encounter but the possibility still was there.

And now to the subject I’ve been thinking about for a week. At the Pridepark one of my friends said that I am a really good person. (Funny that, she has also said that I’m a cold cruel bitch but opinions change I guess…) I don’t feel none too good as a person. I even said to her that naw, I ain’t good, I’m just good at pretending to be. Is that as good as it gets? I mean I do have strong emotions towards some people, I’d do anything for certain people, like for the little drunken midgets. I am protective and gentle and can act kindly. But in general, I don’t care for people, I dislike most of them, I intently am cruel sometimes… the list goes on. I don’t really have that much morals either. I KNOW what is right and wrong, I don’t FEEL it. Not most of the time anyway. Isn’t it something you should just feel in your gut? I have this icecold clear feeling instead, calm and calculated. It’s just willpower. And choices. Should I have to choose? Shouldn’t it be obvious, what is right and what is wrong? Do other people feel like this?

And for the record, these two paragraphs have nothing to do with each other, I am not contemplating about returning that bootycall. No need ;)

One track mind

At the moment all I have in mind is sex.

But before you yell “yikes” and stop reading let me assure you, I’m not going to write about that.

Prideweek is over and I’m slowly coming back to my senses. For the whole week I pretty much worked in overdrive, on sheer willpower and nothing else. I made some new friends, learnt a lot (like if you are planning on distributing balloons you have to have a permit, city’s airspace and all that), slept way too little, missed most of the actual fun stuff and had the biggest adrenaline rush all through the parade. Some future year I will not be involved in arranging this thing and able to just enjoy and bitch about this and that performer/lackofperformer/foodstand/ticketprice/schedule/whatever.

I wish our Lesbian King would have been there with me. There were moments when I would have needed her sense of humour to pick me up again, or her around to solve problems by suggesting dwarfs.

Option B

I use this blog for two things. One is to whine. Second one is to whine about the “good old days”.

My shortterm memory is shot and there’s not much to say about my longterm memory either. I remember random things, bits and pieces. And occasionally, even seeing proof, I draw a complete blank. Like yesterday.

We were packing up the old office and found a stack of pictures taken during Pride 2002, or the year before that, or after…. It was fun to see those pictures and to notice hom much the Pride parade has grown since. People look just the same still. Except…

Some of us may have put on a little weight… And a few more wrinkles. Some have grown their hair back and some haven’t. Some still use the same baseballcap. Some have the same girlfriend. Some have something completely different going on.

One picture was especially thought provoking. There’s me and my friends and their friends having a picnic. One of the people in the picture is a woman I was somewhat involved with much later. That picture is taken when I just knew her from the barscene, she still was in a relationship and there was absolutely no indication whatsoever about what would happen between us. I mean I can see in the picture why I noticed her in the first place. I don’t think that we had spoken anything by then, or before. So if asked, I would have said that I haven’t seen her there. But there she is, in the same picture, clearly hanging out with the same people.

Then the real thing. If I would have guessed what would happen with her would I have started it in the first place? Was it worth it? I know, these thoughts are completely useless, what’s done is done and so on. But even I am sometimes only human and think these things… Was it worth all the heartache and misery and loneliness and pain? Was there enough good to make up for the bad? Did it make me a better person to have experienced all that?

At the end there’s something that made it worth it all, and ten times more. Without her I probably wouldn’t have gotten to know the woman that became one of my true friends. So no pain no gain, and I did hurt a lot, but what I got out of it made it all right.

Similar features, part two

Through my work I met briefly a photographer. There was nothing extraordinary in that, except she sounded just like someone I used to care for. And not just kind of, but exactly like her. Every time she spoke I felt this little poke in my brain, triggering memories. It was strange. A good strange, but still.

While travelling with my friend we used to spot people who were just like someone we knew back home. Sometimes it was something like “that’s what X would look like ten years older” and sometimes something more far fetched, like “that’s what X would look like if she’d be ten years older, black, and male”. It is fun to see similar features in people.

Sometimes though it’s not so fun to notice that you’ve started to behave like your parents. You know, the ones you said you’d never be like?

When did I look away

Walking down the street I could always smell when someone had been smoking pot. It's something you don't really forget, the sweet smell, kind of nauseating. And it's something you can't be wrong about, it's not like incence, not like herbs, not like scented candles...

Sunday I was in a museum and there were lots of children around, it was a Pixar exhibition. I walked past a group of kids and instantly smelled the sweet, kind of sour smell of infant formula. That's something else you can't be wrong about. Once you've smelled it once, and had it spat back all over you, the smell is forever stuck on your memory.

When did I look away and this happened?

Bye bye puppy

In my mind he is forever coming to our backyard for the first time.

In my mind he is forever looking out the window, curious.

In my mind he is forever coming to greet me when I come home.

He is forever gone.

Wednesday 5th of december, 10 a.m.

Changes

I like going home after work when my gf is taking a nap. It’s quiet and dark and I go next to her, she is warm and still half asleep (usually she wakes up when I open the frontdoor, every time too loudly). I give her a kiss and crawl next to her. We talk about idle things and she yawns like a cat, with her hair all messed up. It is nice. It relaxes me, makes me feel at home, content, happy.

I liked walking home in the early hours of the morning, in the cold, when it still was dark, after a few hours spent with someone I barely knew. I liked coming home, brushing my teeth, taking a shower and then falling to my own bed, kinda laughing. I liked the freedom of it, the giddy feeling of knowing you’ve just behaved like a proper slut. I liked smelling these strangers on me.

I love what I have now. I loved what I had before. I’m glad I had what I had and did what I did so now I can be happy with what I have now. I wouldn’t change either of these into anything else.

Ps. we REALLY need to talk about Kevin.

Last friday

I’ve been under a lot of stress lately. Some things just weren’t how they were supposed to be and finding this out caused whole lot of other things to happen. Ignorance would have been bliss. It also would have meant a lot more other trouble later.

But this has meant that I’ve been really tired and busy these past few weeks. I should have slept more but I couldn’t because I couldn’t stop thinking. My hands have been itching like crazy, skin has started to flake away. It’s like ants crawling under my skin, I want to tear it open and let it all bleed out. Not that that would help.

Friday I was on my way to work, feeling completely exhausted. Also a bit relieved, we got some stuff sorted out Thursday and I felt like some of this all was out of my hands, that there was nothing more I could to, a little less to worry. I was listening to my ipod, humming along to Dixie Chicks, and suddenly I had to stop walking, lean into my knees and just let go. Tears were running down my cheeks, I was breathless, exhausted. This complete giving up just lasted for ten, fifteen seconds. But I felt better afterwards. I felt that I would be okay. All this would pass.

12.10.2002

I wanted to say to a woman I was having an affair with that I loved her so much it hurt. The hurt was mostly the fact that I knew that the affair had no future, that it was doomed from the start. It was never meant to be an affair in the first place, just something that would happen once or twice but then it turned into months.

I wanted to fuck an ex of mine because he always felt so good and never made me hurt afterwards. But I didn’t call him. Later, I wished I had.

I wanted to find clothes that would protect me and make me feel strong as I would have to comfort my friend. I would have to be strong enough to take care of her while we watched her friends coffin at the altar. I would have to be strong enough not to give in to my grief over her completely. I wanted to feel secure and safe because I knew that we weren’t and never would be again, that this was the last straw. What I didn’t know was that the horrible thing that happened the night before, which just felt like something surreal and impossible, had taken away one more friend.

I wanted everything to be okay.

Dalai

He came to the world to amaze us two nights ago. It was a monday spent pacing around the office, achieving nothing at work, missing smoking so bad. I can't imagine what it was like for the mother, the one giving birth or the one waiting for her son to be born.

I met him yesterday for the first time. I wish I could explain the thoughts and feelings I had, and what went on during the hour and a half I had the pleasure of his company.

Joy.
Fear.
Jealousy.
A lump in my throat.
Shaky hands.
Sweat streaming down my back.
Softness.
Fragile hope.

But above all this,
Love.

Sanonpa vaan

Kukkamekko, polkkatukka, ylipainoa 20 kiloa ja todella paha akne.

Jos maailma olisi reilu se toimisi niin.

Memories

The soft-hearted, broken Delirium, asks Morpheus at one point: “What’s the word for things not being the same always. You know. I’m sure there is one. Isn’t there?” Dream names the word for her. “Change,” he says. She also asks him: “What’s the name for the precise moment when you’ve actually forgotten how it felt to make love to somebody you really liked a long time ago?” Dream replies: “There isn’t one.” Says Delirium: “Oh. I thought maybe there was.” Delirium’s right, of course: there is one, and I think that in his heart, Dream knew it – but he wasn’t yet ready to speak it. That word is: “Mercy,” and it stands for an attribute that does not always fare well in the hard realities of waking life. It is only readily available, in fact, in that odd realm known as dreaming, and even there its blessings are epheremal.

Mikal Gilmore

Going through my old stuff (junk of years long gone) has reminded me of people I’ve forgotten, some of them quite a long time ago. That quote from the introduction to Neil Gaiman’s awesome book The Wake, touched me deeply. It is a mercy to forget those things. And, in some cases, it is painful to notice you’ve forgotten. That something that was once the most beautiful thing in the world can’t be recalled anymore. It doesn’t even matter how good everything is for you now, how much better or more or how happy you are with what you have. Moments that made you who you are have vanished from your memory. First real kiss with anyone, your last kiss with the beautiful boi, and all that came in between…

In dreams, sometimes, I remember, just to forget as I wake up. Mercy is a blessed thing.

urgh

It is a really nasty feeling having strangers in your home. We are moving in together with my gf and obviously so my old flat is going to turn into someone else's home. That means I'm having a sort of open house going on for the next hour. Complete strangers come into my home and look at it and ask questions and generally are just, you know, in my space.

My friends now that I don't mind having guests over, even when I haven't cleaned (because then I'd never have anyone over). But that is so different. Now my home looks messy because all the boxes and other stuff that's just in where there happens to be place for it to be put down until I pack it away. I know these people come see the flat but still. It's my flat. With my crumbling walls. And cracked ceiling. And the dumb kitchen. Mine mine mine and don't you dare to judge it.

Half an hour to go...

Lovely bones, Alice Sebold

"When was it all right to let go not only the dead but of the living - to learn to accept?"

strange feelings

sometimes I feel completely out of place, it's the feeling of not fitting in. Of being the wrong kind, the wrong type. Strangely I haven't felt that in places I definetely should, like when I was at the bachelorparty held for my ex, and I was the only woman there.

I feel that I'm not fitting in at work lots of times. With my family, sometimes. Even on occasion around my friends. I am outside looking in, seeing, almost understanding but not quite. Almost wanting to belong but then, not quite being able.

Last time I had the feeling of not fitting in was yesterday. I was listening to Rage Against The Machine as I was walking into Toys 'R' Us.

Scary

so I saw a picture of my old friend from school. Could have said, based on that picture, that the woman in it is atleast 45. Oh man had she aged! That was scary. Made me think do I look that old too? Then it occurred to me that probably not, I haven't had two kids, I haven't doubled my bodyweight and I have a way better haircut. And wearing an apron didn't help her appearance much, either.

It is strange. How different people turn out to look when they grow up. I bet she still is the same nice girl I used to know, always quick to smile and fun to hang out with. It's just she turned out to look like one of those russian dolls, old plump ladys... And I turned out to look... well. A skinhead?

I also bumped into a childhood friend who I have't seen since 1992. She looked just like I had imagined her to look whenever I've thought of her these past years. And she had the rare ability to hug naturally. We saw eachother and immediately she wrapped her arms around me in delight. It was not akward or uncomfortable. Just easy and warm. It was good to see her. She is happy. That made me happy.

I also learned that my habit of reading a book holding it up close to my face, like I wouldn't be able to see properly is something I've done since I learned how to read. Don't know why I do it. I can see good enough to read from the normal distance. Maybe it just helps me to focus. Makes me look like a half-blind nerd but who cares?