The Fool and The Storm

The purpose of a blog eludes me. I like reading blogs that tell of people’s everyday life, but sometimes I feel I read them more out of compulsion than interest. Much like I check Facebook and Instagram several times a day, without being really interested in the posts.

Don’t get me wrong, I do care about what my friends are up to, but would rather hear about it in conversation. On the other hand, it makes me happy to see glimpses of everyday things from friends that I otherwise seldom have the chance to converse with. As if there is a link between us still.

But why hold a blog of my own? To share my everyday with others? To self-pityingly complain that no one cares for my everyday struggles, only to feed my arrogant ego if someone dares to suggest otherwise? To provide a link?

The path to self-awareness is long and full of disillusions. I have, however, learned one precious thing about myself in the past few years, which seems to hold true still: My bad moods are not to be trusted. With crushing force silent waves of apathy and despair will come down on my little wooden house. And the house creaks and the house leaks and all candles and fires die out. Cold and alone in my little wooden house I am convinced that tales of the sun is but a lie we all tell ourselves in the dark of night. It didn’t use to matter how often the storms blew past to reveal a blue sky, as long as the storm was raging I was convinced it was the only thing I had ever known.

Now I am a little older and a little wiser and can sit calmly in my house, waiting for the weather to change. No need to fix the leaks in panic, but simply let the winds howl until they lose their voice.

In a life without much life in it, the only time I remember my blog is when I, like so many others, feel that the only one who is suffering is me. But as I have learned that despair is naught but bad weather, what point would there be to shout my temporary discomfort at the skies, only to be embarrassed by my words once the sun comes out?

And as for entertaining tales of good weather, I can’t say I’m inspired to tell any.

I’m reading fantasy with kings and curtseys, why, can you tell?

Leif Back

De e Leif Back

som e vår tomte,

han springer och skrämmer snälla barn,

den där karln.

Leif Back,

han e vårt favorit tomteglin.

Det pyntas i granarna,

dansas i salarna,

julen smyger uppför Sursikbacken.

(can’t remember)

(can’t remember)

önskelistan e klar,

nu fattas bara tomtefar:

De e Leif Back

som e vår tomte,

han springer och skrämmer snälla barn,

den där karln.

Leif Back,

han e vårt favorit tomteglin.

The call

I few weeks ago I put on my new dark blue blazer and took the bus to the other side of town. The interview lasted only 30 minutes, but it left me with a rather good feeling, or, well, at least I got very well along with the man who interviewed me.

I’ve been waiting for a call ever since, and today I got it. I didn’t get the job. They “went in a slightly different direction”, as I’m so often told. But the man from the interview said he wanted to talk to me, not just send me an email, to tell me that he really liked me and my background and that he felt I had a lot of potential. He even recommended me a few companies to look up – maybe they have space for one more. Now, it should be mentioned that he was American, this is not something a Finn would ever attempt.

It was very nice to get some positive feedback after all the no thankyous. Simultaneously it really confirmed my fear that it will be close to impossible for me to find a rewarding job in this country. We talked a bit about the traditional mindset of the Finnish employer, and how my, let’s call it “colourful” employment background could be worth gold in the US, but is only frowned upon in Finland.

I don’t want to tell my children to carefully choose what they study because they have to be prepared to work with that, and that only, for the next 40 years. I know you shouldn’t take your studies lightly, but both people and circumstances change, and we need to be able to live in a society that allows change, don’t we? Not in one that grows suspicious of anything that isn’t the absolute standard.

The last advice he gave me before we ended the call, was to remember that what I do does not define me, or that “what I do is not who I am”. Meaning that you can work at the post office and be a potentially brilliant film director at the same time. It’s not that this is any kind of news to anyone, but hearing a complete stranger say it somehow has a greater impact than when my still-in-my-pajamas-haven’t-brushed-my-teeth-unemployed-since-forever-brain tries to suggest it.

I feel I should have tried to squeeze more out of the situation, be a networker, a people-user, and make sure that this man – who is well established in his field – is my new key to the working world. But I couldn’t. I don’t want to squeeze, I just want to say thank you, I really appreciate it.

Quality entertainment

On Easter I spent some quality time with a niece of mine, sitting curled up together in the sofa, watching Pippi Långstrump on the tablet. All of a sudden she stops the program and starts browsing for something interesting to watch on YouTube.

We ended up watching this. ALL of this:


10 minutes of my life that I will never, never ever get back. Neither will you, if you watch it. My niece sat mesmerized for the full 10 minutes.

No. Just, no. It hurts.

Scary hairy

This article (can I call it an article if it is posted on a no-news-just-entertainment site?).

This article made me really happy:

Look at that face. Look at that body. Look at that LEG HAIR!

I always find it so refreshing to see something so “socially unacceptable” on someone who is otherwise “perfect” by the current standards. Sure, I could make the same statement, but the contrast just wouldn’t be there, would it?

The leg hair is such a dilemma for me, even at this age. I tend to bring it up too much (which we all do with the topics that are important to us, as you know), and all it results in is great disappointment when legs are compaired. “Oh, but I haven’t shaved either” – shows legs covered in silky thin, blond and absolutely INVISIBLE hair.

This is what my legs look like after a few weeks, I have found my soulmate in body hair ❤


You go, girl!

Various crimes

Last weekend we celebrated Milla’s bachelorette party. My need to control everything took over as usual, and I ended up preparing most of the stuff – wildly complaining about my workload (again, as usual), while simultaneously perfectly aware that I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I didn’t take many pictures, which is a pity as there would have been quite a few items and events to show with blog entertainment value.

Our theme was “prisoner”, as Milla is getting married in an old Helsinki prison. I sewed hats for everyone, while Milla was dressed from head to toe in the same stripes.


C and I made a ball that I was really happy with.


And the grand finale of the evening was of course the treasure chest that I unfortunately didn’t photograph as finished. It was a solid box with 5 identical keyholes on the top. Once unlocked, its sleeve (seen in the background) could be lifted off and beneath was a cage with buttons. When the right password was entered (buttons) a hatch would open and gold (chocolate) money would fall down into the cage and had to be dug out within a certain amount of time. Milla spent the day completing tasks (crimes) to earn keys for the locks and clues for the password.


The tasks were based on “inspirational crimes” and included making a potato battery, making a bomb (vinegar and baking soda), forging a painting, breaking into an unbreakable package and shooting the criminal competition (with a water gun). Keywords she earned by correctly identifying a 44 Magnum gun, a Fedora (classic gangster hat) and the getaway car with the most horse power.

We all had a lot of fun and rounded the evening off with lots of food and a big wooden barrel outdoor bathtub. Success.

And as an entertaining footnote: while preparing tasks and inspirational stories I have googled a rather disturbing assortment of topics, such as: “famous robberies, making a bomb yourself, making a bomb at home, Edustkuntatalo pommi-isku, how to forge a painting, famous crimes, famous guns, different types of guns, gun store Helsinki, Hitler, Stalin, Putin, Trump, Kim Jong Il, diamond robberies, Antwerp diamond robbery, how to break a lock, how much volt is dangerous, famous gangsters” and much more. After two weeks of this my ads started changing from “This ovulation tests shows you up to 70% more of your fertile period” to “We have the perfect Arab wife for you”.



I’m watching Girls and it’s very entertaining. There’s a lot of awkwardness and nakedness and it’s all over very refreshing. Don’t watch it if you’re afraid of breasts and penises. While having a fight, Adam shouts at Hannah: “You think ’cause you’re what – 11 pounds overweight – you know struggle?” to wich Hannah replies “I am 13 pounds overweight and it has been awful for me my whole life!”. (13 pounds is about 6 kg, btw)

I recognize myself so much in this scene. There is such a need for struggle, isn’t there? And such a need for people to recognize your struggle. I’ve complained my share about how TV teaches us about the perfect relationship and the happy ending, but I completely missed the struggle. I roll my eyes and change the channel whenever the program I’m watching starts playing that sad music and tries to unsuccessfully shock us with the information that the road to success hasn’t always been easy for the person in front of the camera. You’re not interesting unless you’ve had a struggle, are you?

I recognize myself in a lot of Hannah’s qualities, especially that complicated mix of thinking badly and too highly of yourself as well as genuinely caring for others while still making everything about you. Above all, though, we share that need for struggle to feel that our life has meaning – that it is interesting.