So, since my trip to Italy has been postponed or maybe even cancelled, we’re back to the old layout.

It’s funny. I spent a month preparing for the trip, stressing about it every day, contacting possible hosts, buying stuff I would need (mostly for Einari), learning the language (very slowly!), reading about different cities, writing to people on TravBuddy.. Mentally, I was prepared to leave everything behind, not seeing my friends in months, I even visualized myself living in Italy permanently sometimes. I pictured myself carrying Einari and all my stuff at the airports, the tiny train stations, countryside. I was so happy about meeting new people, reading other people’s experiences from the comment fields on Helpx.net – how they’ve felt like part of the family and spent their evenings having dinner and meeting people from the nearby farms. I wanted it SO BAD.

A week before my flight I was still buying dictionaries and Italian grammar books. Thinking about all the stuff I still have to take care of.

Then I got sick. I went to see the doctor four times before they finally agreed a surgery would be the best way to deal with it and I was admitted to the hospital on the day of our flight. Before this, while I was sick, I wasn’t able to do anything. I had lots to do; not just the packing. Loads of photo editing, painting, getting a few things for the dog from the vet, booking train & bus tickets in advance. And as the days went by without me sleeping practically at all, not eating, just wandering around the apartment in pain, I started to think I wasn’t gonna make it. And along with that, I somehow gave up on everything.

In a way, I got bored with the whole idea. How is that even possible? I’ve never been to Italy, how could I be bored with it before I even went? I don’t think I was scared, absolutely not. All this time I had been just excited, wanting everything to change, everything to be new. I was sooo very bored of Helsinki and everything that’s going on here, and of course the thought of yet another extremely cold winter. The worst thing about Finland and life in general. I wrote about this all some time ago. I was so ready to go.

I’ve been thinking about it a lot, cause I’m not really sure myself what happened and why I didn’t just book the next possible flight. It would’ve been easy. I just didn’t do that. I’ve come up with a few possible reasons.

First of all, when I decided to buy the flights, I was depressed. Me and M had just decided we’re going to break up. We aren’t fighting, we’re still living under the same roof, we still like each other’s company. So I didn’t have any idea of where to go, where to live and what to do with my life. So in a way, this would’ve been the perfect moment to go when I have nothing to keep me here. I just wanted to get away and change everything. The old cliché of finding myself. I knew I wouldn’t magically turn into this happy, succesful and healthy person if I surrounded myself with new things and people, but somehow I liked the idea of shocking myself into at least trying to change everything. Like building a house by tearing the old one down to the ground. Not just decorating it in a different way. And since I am a bit of a drama queen in a way (not in a way of creating drama between me and other people, but just making my life less boring) it seemed like an awesome thing to do.

Second, I started thinking about doing things a bit differently. I suddenly realized I could now afford to buy a new camera cause I’d been saving everything for the trip. And then it hit me: why not buy the camera first, get more assignments, then save up money for a longer trip to somewhere new. If I left first, it would take me forever to get it. I probably couldn’t get any jobs in Italy and so I’d have to come back here at some point anyway, get the new apartment, work hard, and still it would take me months and months to get enough money to buy the camera, let alone anything else than the basic things I need in life.

And now, looking back at the moment I was booking my one-way flight, I can see a sad person doing a half-desperate thing when she couldn’t think of anything else to do.

But I’m not that sad anymore. I’m ok. I think I could even live through the winter – or at least one month of it. I think I can get good jobs and an apartment. I think I’ll be ok. I am hating myself just a little bit for not leaving (I’m also a bit embarrassed for telling everyone and making such a big number out of it), but on the other hand I’m thanking myself for not going when it seems leaving would’ve not been the wisest thing to do right now.

I’m also thanking my disease for not attacking me a week later when I would’ve been in the Italy countryside already..

So, that’s about it. It’s been a rollercoaster, this last month. But I think the worst of it is now over.

PS: I already started looking up farms and hosts in Ireland. And some photo schools and workshops. But I promise I’m not gonna change the blog layout to something Irish just yet… haha.

I’m leaving the country.

I’m hoping I could leave in November, although in my mind, the winter is already here today. The days are getting shorter, the darkness of the early evenings is overwhelming, it’s starting to get cold and windy. I can’t bear it. The autumn feels worse every year. And I’ve tried so hard to change my attitude towards winter. I just can’t. I get desperate and depressed, frustrated and restless. So lately, I’ve said I have a Californian soul, it just ended up in the wrong body. Two babies got accidentally swapped when still in the uterus.

I don’t have much to leave behind, honestly. I don’t have a career I couldn’t put on hold, small kids, house to take care of, and lately I’ve felt like I don’t have that many good friends either. Some have moved away, some have just become distant. It’s probably my own fault, I’m not very good when it comes to keeping in touch and meeting up regularly. Maybe I’m just not a good enough person to keep as a friend for a longer period of time! I don’t like to talk and gossip on the phone or have long conversations about .. well, anything basicly. So, I think the worst thing in all of this is going to be leaving Einari behind. With people you can talk on the phone, write letters, poke on Facebook, but you can’t do that with a dog. You can’t explain to him why you’re leaving and not coming back in weeks or months either. It breaks my heart to imagine him here and me there without him. Anyone who’s ever had a dog knows how much love they have for their owners and that they can actually get upset and depressed when a member of their everyday pack is suddenly gone for more than a few days.

The month I spent at a wildlife center in Scotland last year, volunteering, has so much to do with my wanting to leave, too. It was hard work. I was practically carrying heavy stuff, picking up poo with shovels and buckets, not to mention getting wet and dirty every day, but I loved it. I was exhausted by the end of the day, but not once did I feel like complaining or leaving. I just wanted to do more, learn more and see injured animals getting better and then being released back into the wild. It was probably the best thing I’ve ever done with my life. I cried when I left. I still miss my tame foxes Fred & Ginger and worry about Ginger’s hurt leg.

After we came back from New York a few weeks ago I swore I wouldn’t wanna get on a plane for weeks or even months. But two days later I was surfing the net in search for places to go and things to do in different countries. I dreamt of Hawaii, Madagascar, Australia, New Zealand and Peru, I looked up places on work exhange sites, wrote e-mails to California, Italy, Holland and South Africa. I thought about spending a few weeks somewhere in Europe and then continue my way to somewhere where it’s warm and sunny and different.

Then I heard from a girl, Elizabeth, who I met while in Scotland. She was volunteering at Hessilhead too back then, and we got along great. She’s in South Africa right now (or actually travelling around a bit in Southern Africa) and she told me about this great wildlife rehab. You have to pay for a room, though, but I’m willing to do that.

When we were still in Scotland, she was already planning to go to Africa. I don’t think she’s been home – whatever that means to her – in years. One day I was asking her about all of this and she just shrugged and said “gotta keep on moving”. This impressed me. I love what she’s doing.

Anyway, back to Johannesburg and the South Africa plans. Besides the wildlife rehab, there’s also a beautiful farm nearby with domestic animals and a lot to do, and I’d get a room and food to eat if I worked some hours every day. They already wrote back saying I’d be very welcome to come and work with them. That could be my backup plan. If I don’t have enough money to pay for a room for more than a month or so, I can ask the farm people if I could go live with them for a while.

Or move along, to another country or continent.

I’ve decided I’m only buying a one way ticket. The idea of knowing an exact date of coming back somehow feels like I’m just going on a vacation, when I want this to be something more. I’m bored of wasting my life doing trivial things that, in the end, don’t mean anything to me or to anyone else for that matter. I’m bored of the city, the bars, the ways I spend my days, the stupid, small worries we all have in this country, which is now said to be the best country in the world. Safe, clean, friendly, all that. But even safety doesn’t mean much. For me, being safe equals to not experiencing enough. Being safe is not mind-blowing. Being safe is wasting opportunities to.. I don’t know what. Learn? Be amazed?

I know there are ways to experience wonderful things and living happily ever after without leaving everything behind. Kids, for example. I’ve heard rumors they are the best thing a person can have, but I’ve never seen myself as a mom. And if I’m selfish enough to think “oh no, kids, I’d be stuck home for the next 20 years”, maybe I don’t even deserve to have any. Maybe I will some day, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll live among lions and leopards for the rest of my life, grow a beard (would be awesome!) and be one of those weird hermits who dedicate their lives to crawling in bushes, stalking animals, trying to learn something about them.

I just want to leave and to see the world even if it means not having roots anywhere. I can’t help it. I’m starting to accept the fact this is the real me, that it’s just not a silly quirk or a phase I’m going through. And I’m starting to realise it’s time to do something about it.

(Boy, I’m such a drama queen. Sorry about that.)



..I am going to be productive. Creative. Hard-working. Inspirational to lots of people. Kind to all living creatures. I will never be jealous, never lie or cheat, never complaint about anything. I will MAKE. THINGS. HAPPEN.

In this life, I’m just going to be lazy and skip some of those things. Maeh.

I also wrote this on my new Tumblr account. I have no idea why I registered. It’s like I can’t resist these things. Heavens help me..

The hills of Hollywood

I started crying once, watching a documentary from Madagascar. It wasn’t sad, it was just so beautiful I couldn’t take it. But honestly, what I really couldn’t take was the fact that I wasn’t there myself, right at that moment. Or couldn’t believe I’d ever get there, anyway.

Right now, I also dream of living in Dublin or Cardiff for a year or so. Work with guys I see on Animal Planet, stalking lions the savanna, learning about them, sleeping in tents, taking photos, oh, taking a million photos. Spending two months in a jungle just waiting and waiting and waiting to see a glimpse of a wildcat. Seeing the Yellowstone bears go fishing in the spring.

I also miss California so much it hurts. Yes, I only spent 10 days over there and half of it in an air-conditioned luxury car, but I still miss it, genuinely. I think it was the weather and nature I loved the most, but also the sea and everything about the cities I’ve seen on tv and in the movies. The feeling of actually being there. The stuff you’ve watched on tv for most of your life.

But the nature. Big Sur, the small cities along Highway 1 – and I just realized I haven’t even shared the photos from our trip. Oh well, it’s only been two years…

Anyway, getting sidetracked here. The reason I started writing this whole thing was the self-loathing I’m feeling right now. Why? Because I can’t get anything done. Like saving money, actually making an effort to get to these places, to do things I really really want to do. I spend time on things I shouldn’t be spending it on, when I could be using it to do something that would help me gain things in the future. I’m WASTING my time, and I’m slowly running out of it. Maybe I’m having this good ol’ not-a-teenager-anymore crisis, I don’t know. I’m just panicking.

(Like Thom Yorke would put it: “I’m not living, I’m just killing time” or “I wish it was the sixties, I wish I could be happy
I wish, I wish, I wish that something would happen”..)

And secondly, what I’m most ashamed of, is this endless discontent. I hate people who complaint about things they don’t have. I’ve just recently realized I’m one of them! I am so sorry, friends. I’ll try to pay attention to these things more in the future. I have so much I should be thankful of, I have so much more than most of the people in the world.

Why isn’t it enough? Well, it just isn’t. I can’t stop myself from wanting more, so I’ll just keep dreaming, no matter how much it hurts.

But what I really need to do is shut up about it already. And DO SOMETHING.

Sometimes I can handle more than 10 minutes outside just for fun. That only happens when I carry my camera and can actually pretend to have a reason to be outside.. in the snow.. and cold..

I’m sorry I haven’t been writing about my personal life anymore. I do realize how stupid it is to apologize for something like that, but for some silly reason I feel I have to. After sooo many years (has it been nine already?!) of blogging about everything I do, everything I feel, everything I’m going through in my life, it just feels.. rude? Why? I have no idea.

Maybe I’m finally trying to drop all the less important hobbies and concentrate on things I *really* wanna do in life. Like roam the savannah with Dave or some other nature maniac.

Yeah, I wish. I really do.

My sister took me out and about on Sunday.. we had a few ciders and ended up at Molly’s again – no surprises there. Was fun, it was good to spend time with her after all my trips and absent weeks. I did a few silly things too and feel a bit embarrased about them now, but what am I gonna do? I’ll just have to lift my chin up high and stop worrying about what all the people in the world think about me, right?

Ugh, I wish it was that easy. Anyway.

My escaping-the-winter fever hasn’t gone away still. It’s just growing bigger and stronger, slowly taking over all my thoughts. I watch tv and see California/Miami and think about leaving. I look out the window and see the black wet streets, take the dog out and feel the cold wind on my cheeks, I think about the fact there’s still so many winter months to come, etc. etc. and all this makes me just think about leaving.

I keep wondering how to deal with this, how to stay AND go, stay home with my boys AND leave them behind at the same time. I can’t make them come with me, they’ve got lives here (as do I, but not a job so important I couldn’t leave). I’m so torn between these two things that I feel I can’t breathe. It’s just not normal anymore. I don’t want a holiday in the sun, I want a LIFE in the sun.

And for some reason I have this feeling something big is going to happen very soon. A decision, or some event that’s gonna pin me down in Finland or send me flying away to wherever I can go out without wearing three layers of clothing. I’m afraid of it, yet I can’t wait.

Oh how I hate the winter and dark. Maybe if I keep repeating these words long enough, destiny will come along and make it all better somehow.

Maybe I’ll try to get some sleep now. I slept for 3,5 hours last night and I’m still up, wondering what I could do to get myself tired. (Maybe I’m turning into a vampire. Maybe I’ll really spend the rest of my days in darkness without seeing the sun at all.)

Yeah.

– Things I have to do this week: Update a couple of sites (will do that the MINUTE I wake up!), sketch & paint a big painting for N, sleep better, spend the weekend in the countryside with my girls. Cottage tradition! Wine, sauna, autumn walks in the forest, card games & quality time. Happiness.

Oh how I wish all the people would agree with me on this: SAY IT OUT LOUD.

I’m talking about this polite & secretive thing we’ve got going on when it comes to different kind of relationships. Both romantic and all the other kinds. People hide their feelings, are horrified of saying things out loud just because they’re afraid how the other person is going to react. Even if it’s something really really nice. And because of that, this kind of behaviour is considered weird and freaky. Honesty. Honestly? I don’t get it.

The reason I started thinking about this is the urge to tell this one person (let’s call her/him “human X”), that s/he seems very nice although we don’t really know each other. I would love to tell human X the following things: “you’re very talented and I admire you for that”, “you’re a beautiful human being and I would love to take lots of photos of you” or “would you be interested in spending a little time with me, cause I would really like to know you better. I bet we’d have a lot in common.” I’d love to tell human X these things to make human X feel better. To know someone’s thinking good things about her/him.

But the problem is, human X could find me saying these things weird or flirty, or just phoney. Just because it’s not the way things regarding relationships are done in the lives of normal people.

And when I actually seize the moment and catch these people’s attention by saying such things, they will suddenly fade out and disappear. I know this will most probably happen, because I’ve tried it several times. I’ve told people I like them, even shared secrets or opened myself up (not too much) to show them I trust them and like them.

So, I’m stuck with this discreet behaviour towards all the interesting people I meet. I have to chat about trivial things with them for several months, even years and most likely lose the small connection we ever had.

I admit I wouldn’t end up having an Amazing Relationship with all these human X’s.  I have expectations of it happening, and in the beginning it actually might feel perfect. No matter if I got to know human X’s by being honest (which, as I said, almost never happens) or just chatting about the weather for 2 months, it could end up going terribly wrong. We might have the most boring moments together or I might realize our chemistries simply don’t work. Human X could turn out to be a jerk, thief, liar or just plain untrustworthy. Human X might just think the same about me.

But again, here’s when one should be able to be honest and tell human X: “Look, this was a good effort, but we don’t have to pretend we’re best friends. You’re a good person but I bet you’d have more fun with someone else, as would I.” Then we’d hug each other, ride into the sunset looking for new stuff to experience and be polite to each other when our paths cross the next time.

For some reason, I have this annoying person living inside of me. I call her the “promotional bitch”, and here’s her story.

She adores, loves and almost lives for music and music alone, loving several artists and bands at the same time. Some more than others, some forever, some for a short period of time. A lot the bands stay in her heart for years and years, altho the big love for them might tune down a bit along with the passing of time and the discoverings of new artists. A few of them have been with her since she was 16, creating a lifelong soundtrack for everything that’s happened to me. Good and bad.

Anyway. Very often this person makes me think & do things I shouldn’t be wasting my time on, really. She makes me obsess about a group or a solo artist so much, that if my friends or the rest of the world don’t love them (yet), I can’t help but trying to spread the love. Make them like these artists too. I know it’s really annoying. I’ve been called a groupie, a fangirl, a teenager, and in a way I take these names as an insult.

So, what I have to live with, is the urge to promote carefully picked musicians no matter what. I don’t (usually) get paid to do it, nor have I been asked to do it. I just feel good doing it. And it takes up my time, sometimes money, and most of the time it’s pretty useless since I’m only one person. It annoys me, but at the same time it makes me very happy.

I’m on the edge of starting a campaign of my own again, and it seems I can’t stop myself from doing it. I’m thinking about how to make the world to see them, I’m wondering about that nonstop, making plans, throwing them aside as bad ones.

And I haven’t even asked them if they want me to do it. What is wrong with me, doctor? How can I get rid of this need to be the promotional bitch?

Before reading this, I’m telling you I’m a hopeless romantic and since that’s a kind of a disease to have, you are not allowed to laugh or huff or snort at this. That would be very rude and insensitive.

So, to the subject. I know it’s stupid, overly sentimental and a cliché in general, but it still makes me wonder. How is it that sometimes you meet these people who instantly make you feel very at home in their company? Like you’ve known them for ten years or maybe shared a childhood. That kind of person doesn’t make you the least bit nervous or uncomfortable even if you were nervous to begin with. You can even share awkward silences with them without the silences becoming awkward at all. And you suddenly get the feeling you could share all your secrets with this person and he would do the same with you.

It’s such a lovely feeling. It should happen with everyone, but it rarely does, if ever. Maybe it wouldn’t feel so nice if it happened all the time. Maybe it would.

Anyway. I don’t think the last time this happened (very recently!) was a mutual feeling. It would take a miracle for two people to meet and be equally ludicrous about such things. Well, it’s still a nice thought and one can always hope.

What I like to think is that maybe I’ve known those people in another life. Maybe we’ve been siblings, lovers or a parent and a child. Something important, something warm. I don’t actually believe in life after death or karma or anything like that, but it’s a beautiful thought. Isn’t it? Any fellow ludicr-ees out there?

So, it’s almost 3am again. I’m so tired I have to install matches between my eyelids to keep my eyes open, and still I’m just sitting here, ignoring the call of the incredibly soft and warm bed. Not so smart.

–

Today’s nice tunes for you to listen and watch! The songs aren’t very recent, but they are excellent. And Danish, all of them! The links will take you to YouTube, but you can also search these guys on Spotify.

• Grand Avenue – Bullet (live)
• Saybia – 7 Demons
• Mew – Am I Wry? No.