With friends like this...

taken from an email conversation with my sidekick S:

"hehehe...i adore you you sick twisted biatch.."

So what comes to friends, their feelings and views about me, I think I'm well and truly set.

Break a leg tonight S!

The trouble with friends

...is that sometimes it is hard to know where the boundaries are. What is acceptable to say, and when, and how. Where is the invisible line. It would be easy if it would be the same with everyone. But it’s not. To some people you can say pretty much anything about everything and not offend or hurt or cause damage to the friendship. And then with some people it’s walking on eggshells. Or avoiding certain topics. Like what where you REALLY up to last weekend, or who drank what and how much or people you both know, or decisions you have made about your life, or they about theirs.

Why is it that with some people you can pour your heart out, tell about everything without shame or fear of rejection, except for one thing? There is always something you hold back. A detail from the past, an opinion, something.

And then sometimes you just have to step up to the plate, swing the bat and hope you did it right.

Things that make you go "aww"

When, after months of repeat repeat repeat, Boy B finally said my name. WITH clearly understanding it is my name and what he is saying. Made the gf a bit jealous, after all, his sister said my name first too. Oh well…

When I met a long-time friend who I've kind of lost in the previous years and I saw a glimpse of the “old” her and noticed that the friendship we had is still there.

When I can’t wait for our wedding to be over so that we can start having a marriage.

When discussing the past with a friend I had an affair with sometime before the ice-age and before I started having a relationship with his friend he says “but I saw you first”.

When thinking about the lost entertainment value of my social life, I just feel happy.

Love lifts us up

...hah, I bet you think this is going to be some mushy post about my fabulous gf, or as I could call her now, almost-soon-to-be wife. Nah. That was just a line from a song that was playing when I started writing this.

I should actually be doing something completely else but I just can't find it in me to be active and stuff. I already was for two hours after work, that should be enough... And admit it, you missed me.

So yes, what I wanted to write about is that our lives are changing. In a way that was easy to guess and at the same time completely impossible. Just look at me. I am getting married in a year, maybe a kid or two later on, who knows and higher powers willing, and we are checking out loans, to buy somewhere our own to live. So normal it's boring. And at the same time it's not boring at all. I mean, getting MARRIED? Me? The Queen Bitch? The Incarnation of Evil? I have actually settled down, of my own free will and choice. I was out with a friend a while back and she commented something on the lines of "now that you are in a relationship you are not that entertaining anymore". Okay, sounds bad but I know what she meant.

I no longer produce entertainment by colliding head-on with people I should stay miles away from. I just am not that entertaining anymore. After all, I was VERY entertaining for YEARS. Talk about stupid choices and incidents with great potential for anecdotes. But then, isn't it time the stupid stories come from somewhere else? And are not the relationship type? Shouldn't we be past that by now?

Little things that annoy, part 578

Lately I’ve been reading a lot of books of the chicklit genre. Just haven’t felt up for anything more thought provoking. But there’s one thing that annoys me to bits: factual error considering Finns/Finland. In surprisingly many books there are references to my homeland. Can’t for the life of me understand why. I don’t mind artistic freedom or saying something even quite nasty about our cheerful nation and it’s inhabitants.

But using names that actually do not exist here (and usually they sound vaguely Swedish or Norwegian) or writing about WHALES in our seas. Last time a whale was sighted near Finland it was around 1978. We used to have a type of whale (Phocoena phocoena) around here but they are seriously long gone… Only thing dumber to say would be the time honoured tradition of thinking there’s polarbears in Helsinki.

The annoying bit is this: if the writers/editors have gone through lengthy factchecking process considering everything else (like the French daycare system or the income situation of single mothers and it’s development since the 1940’s ) they could not google the goddamn whale bit!?!

Okay, I understand that the daycare system might be important for the plotline. And those bits I’m annoyed by are just tiny little details, a mere mention to fatten up the character of the au pair but still. Urgh!

Daffodil Lament

For some reason this song by the Cranberries has always been very important to me. I am trying to figure out why, what is the connection. There always is... All the important songs in my life remind me of something, someone. Soundtrack of my life...

It's like with literature, there always has been someone before who has said things better than I ever could, that's why this is the highest form of writing that I will ever do. I know my limitations.

"...I have decided to leave you forever..."

Maybe that's it. When this song was new I was in a point I had to let go of my first true love. It was basically a teenage thing, nothing to be counted as serious when you think about it now. But back then... damn... it was serious then. It was growing up. I can still remember how it felt. There's a lot of stuff that's escaped from me now, but not that. Not accepting that loss. First failure of that sort. Little did I know there was a lot of that kind coming up.

It's strange, the pain that just will not go away. The humiliation of being rejected. The memory of things that could have been very different if just... If I would have been different. But then I would have not been me.

For someone who does not live in the past I sure do write about it a lot. That's my way of dealing. I write, and then I can not think about it again for a while. Emotional vomiting.

On a lighter note, part 1056...

I listen to the radio at work. Sometimes I hear some really strange stuff…

A recent Idols competitor (he was actually fourth on the competition and I can’t for the life of me understand how he got that far) moved in with his girlfriend. Okay there’s nothing strange in this. Except the fact you could wonder why that is newsworthy information. Broadcasted on a national radiochannel. Granted, in entertainment news, but still…

So the happy couple moved in together after two months of dating. Nothing strange in that either. But the strange part is the phrasing used:

“xx moved in with his girlfirend xx FINALLY after dating for two months”

How is that finally? After two months? C’mon! And they are not even lesbians!

Learning stuff

Last Friday I was having lunh at work and idly looked through a magazine someone had left on the table. I came across a page where there were things to do and see over the weekend, and one of them was a memorial gig for a guy I knew when I was under twenty. I hadn’t known he had died the previous fall. I vaguely remember reading about a fire where a young man died but at the time I had no reason to believe I’d know the victim. He was a friend of a friend of a friend, someone I never knew well, who used to hang out with the same crowd of people, and for the last ten years I’d see him occasionally around, nod a hello, if even that.

So then, the next day I was reading another magazine. There was a story written by a freelance journalist, a story about how her mother got cancer and how they took care of her until the end with her siblings. In the story was a mention how the night when her mother died there was a fire in the building where the journalist lived and in that fire a young man died. With the details and the timeline it was certain that it was the same guy. So how spooky is that?

I mean he had died three months earlier, I had no idea and then when I finally knew, he’s all over the place… I can spice this story with one more detail before the grand finale of this post. Three days before I read about his death I was in a recordshop and saw the first album he published with his band, and I decided to go and get it later. For the first time in a really long time I thought about him and the other guys. This is starting to turn into Twilight Zone episode…

Last night I dreamt about him, I was on my way to go see his band play and I could’t find a parkingplace and when I finally did make my way to the gig it had turned into a memorial show because he had just died. And I left and I cried and cried and made my way into a bar in Lahti and drank and drank. But when I woke up I was feeling quite well, kinda relieved.

So what does this tell me? One line from Melissa Etheridge comes to mind, “the letting go has taken place”. I don’t think I had to let go of him, as a person, because I did not know him well enough to, well, personally mourn for him. Not really in any other aspect than the general way of feeling sad when someone dies young. But I think this was one of the moments when I let go of my youth. Of the teenage years, of the people I knew, of the person I was. And because it is me, drinking in the dream was a symbol for letting go.

I am letting go a lot of stuff, gradually. Moving on, letting some things rest. Learning to let go of things that I have no way of ever finding out why they happened. Letting go of hurt. Piece by piece.

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.