I've discovered a wonderful thing: the Internet! :D Or more specifically, extremely specific weather forecasts for a specific place (my town) that tells temperature, rain, and the little weather pictures for the next three days in six hour installments. So here I am, ready to go to bed before work tonight, and I can look "okay the temperature will be about that at 2am and that other thing around 8pm", which tells me exactly the fork of temperature (as well as the rain situation and the little picture thingies) at the time I'll be working, so I can deduct whether there will be dark ice, what kind of mitten-glove combination I ought to take, and so forth.

I also found cool YouTube channels with long-ish (hour/hour-and-a-half) documentaries that are just kind of cool. Watched two today ("Brother Born Again" which was so intimate that it was uncomfortable, plus, y'know, born-agains are a little scary >_> Though he wasn't too scary... And "Google Me" which was a guy's cool project and yah, cool) while knitting bunnies.

The internet can be so useful, but it's just too much. There are too many ways it can be useful, how will I ever use them all? ;_; I feel like a moron in the limited way I use the internet. Like, conceptually I understand that the internet can be used for anything, for everything, but my brain has serious troubles understanding what anything or everything are. :/ In other words, I has a dumb.

http://thisisnthappiness.com/post/13489422338/ride-home

That is all.

Today I did Christmas shopping. :D My parents had a very difficult time understanding the concept that I wanted to bike to town to look at stuff in shops. "But what do you need?" "Nothing as such..." "What are you going to get then?" "...y'know, stuff..." I am willing to think that this may have been a lost-in-translation kind of moment. Perhaps "to go to town" doesn't convey the same idea of leisurely walking around and seeing if you find something in Finnish as it does in English.


In other news, there's a fierce wind/storm thingie here. It blew my post bike over this morning. Which was really bad, the wind grabbed the papers that fell out instantly and just ripped them down the street and there was nothing that could be done about that. It was interesting, since the post bike has this metal frame around the front wheel, and you move the bike slightly backwards to set it to rest on this very sturdy frame. Then when you want to start moving again, you push forward and the frame pops up with its spring and off you go. What the wind did was that it caught on the big floppy plastic covers for the paper boxes (so there's one box on each side at the back, and one at the front) and they were like sails. The bike rolled forward and got off the frame, manage to move a few tentative inches and then toppled. While I was three steps away at someone's mailbox. So very frustrating. I had like a second panic of "there, it's all over now, might as well just-" and then I caught myself and started picking up the papers that the wind hadn't managed to destroy, then called the boss back at the depo to bring me some extras so I won't run out mid-route. So I got going again, met him on the next street where I'd told him I was (because I can't read >_>) and that was that.

This was a night of much learning. Practical things -wise, I learnt that one should park headwind, or uphill. The floppy cover-thingies need to be mushed on top of the papers inside the box instead of letting them rest there covering the papers (they have velcro to strap them down, but velcro is defenceless against this strong a wind) and overall it may be good practice to not cut open all the stacks of papers right at the start of the route. It might also be a good idea to keep a wedge in your pocket in case there is no good way to park headwind or uphill. It was also curious to notice how calm and, in fact cheerful, I was about the whole thing. Of course I would like to think I'm cool and calm under pressure and stress, but I think it's actually true. Calling the boss person (with whom I get along quite marvelously nowadays actually, I've had to call him for help so many times (and I never need any help when he has a day off... :P) and I've been helpful to him too) I was pretty "heh, my bike just fell over so uhh, could you drop some papers to me?" and I was kind of laughing about it when he got there too. In the start when I needed to get a grip and start picking the papers up, I kind of almost tried to make myself cry or feel sorry for myself, but it just didn't come. o.O
(Bonus story related to being cool under bad stuff: when I got transferred out of Sundsvall on the mission, we missed the train. And it was pretty bad since there was railworks, so there was very few trains. And I remember we had to park far from the train station, had to drag luggage and we saw the train pull away. And there was that heart sinking thing, and my comp was not one to hold back her feelings, so she raged and railed, and I just led us inside the station and called the secretaries, who handle the travel arrangements, and was really patient and thankful and loving on the phone with poor stressed out elder A. He sorted it all out while I kept, with curt replies, my steaming/boiling companion from doing anything stupid. Then when we were on our way, I was thinking about the situation how well I handled it, how very... leader-like. So I had a small moment to ponder about how I'd grown and what I'd learnt during my stay in Sundsvall, as I watched Norrland roll past and left it behind... :C )

I miss Sundsvall so ridiculously much right now. To the point that I put a screenshot from a webcam in S-vall as my computer desktop background...

This is going to replace Google, yo. http://coudal.com/ez/

http://thisisnthappiness.com/post/32333621/chopshop-bauldoff Identify the robots from silhouettes.

Hey people who know physics and chemistry and stuff. Here's something that has bugged me forever: I had an exam once many moons ago in physics/chem, and you had to illustrate with these line-letter things of what is going on in the atom/molecule level. Like, how water is made you have H-O-H (which looks a little like a tie fighter...) and there was a question of what happens when something burns (I think it was carbon) and I swear nobody ever explained what is going on there, let alone how to draw it (I think I just drew flames around the C or something... >_> ) and I mentioned to the teacher after the exam that I have no idea what happens when something is on fire, but she never explained it later either (is it oxygen that has something to do with it?) So here's a good spot for someone to fix a hole in my education. Please? :/

Texts interconnect, texts that have different ages, but they come together in a meaningful way, linearly somehow, in the timeline of life. This is something that could very well drive a person crazy, and has (no, not me). And I would have a very difficult time with it were it not that I believe in a greater narrative, that there is an ultimate author to the story of my life. Or perhaps not believing in coincidences is the definition of the madness. That definition is after all completely up to the environment/society to define¹. But as for me, seeing the dots and connecting them and believing with reason that someone put those dots there for me to connect, is not insanity.

The example that spurred this: I listened to a recording of a symposium from the Tate, about artist as myth maker. It was held in conjunction with the big exhibition of Gauguin. There was much discussion about him and other artists who paint/represent themselves in art as Christ. I listened to this and wondered, had a bit of a problem with it as you might well imagine. Didn't understand. The next day I watched a film called Så som i Himmelen (As It Is in Heaven), which a friend of mine sold me alongside with a bunch of clothes that she was going to take to the fleamarket². The film is about a world-renown violinst/conductor who has a breakdown and moves back to his home village in Norrland. And it really is a wonderful film and has a lot of the things that I love (Swedish, Norrland, choir music, Christian symbolism galore, with hidden truths of the restoration strewn³ about), but it also made a very clear and completely non-problematic depiction of artist-as-saviour all the way through the film. So the penny dropped many a times when watching. (The third connected text is obviously the Bible/BoM.)

Have a look at the main song from the film http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y765gdd3rEc Gabriella's Song. (English subs http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZxmgkxRrpZE&feature=related )

1. Also something from a podcast today. There is this wonderful radio programme called Aristoteleen kantapää (Aristotle's Heel) that is all about language, every week they share language flops that people have sent in that they've heard in the news, as well as interviewing someone about something language related. And in this programme they interviewed a linguist who had studied discourses of schizophrenics, and this is something he mentioned. 
2. This was really magical. I was over there with some other people, and as we were about to leave, she asked me if I'd be interested in a coat, because it's exactly the kind of coat that would be perfect for me. The other people were in a hurry but I wasn't, so I hung back and she showed me everything she was going to take to the fleamarket. And I got some really epic things that are really very perfectly me :3
3. What is the core word of strewn? How do I say to... (strewn)?

I am my mother's Christmas card machine. But this year's cards are kind of awesome and really quick and easy to do :D And it makes me feel all Christmassy to be making them. Plus I get to send some of them to my people too. One of these might be my entry for the Christmas contest :3

I just realised that there is "other" in "mother" *mind does trippy things*
^{Horror-movie tagline: "putting the 'other' back in 'mother'..." In the poster, a homely figure of a woman in silhouette against an unnaturally bright doorway. Title of the movie: hmm... can't think of one.}

In the paper today there was a column about Estonians in Finland, how they are the big invisible minority. And even the Basic Finns don't seem to be very anti-Estonian-immigrant, despite their "Finland for Finns" nonsense. But of course, Estonians look like us and learn to speak Finnish really quickly since the languages are similar, and the Basic Finns aren't anti-immigration, they're just racists (if you look different, you need to leave is basically what they mean). Anyway, BF bashing aside >_> The end of the article invited readers to email the author and tell of their experiences of coming across Estonians around here. Now I haven't, I must admit, not since primary school where a girl in my class was Estonian, and she just had an exceptionally pretty name and that was about as strange as she got. But I did email him with a snippet that I thought was interesting. When my first missionary companion came to visit here from California, we biked to my job the bookstore. And she noticed construction sites on the way there, and said how strange she finds it that there are white people working there. In California it is only non-white, mostly mexicans, who work that kind of job. Later I mentioned this to my dad, and he said that if you went close enough to listen to them, you'd find that they're not Finns who work in construction, they are Estonians etc... I thought this was really interesting.

*goes back to listening to narrowcasting and drawing Christmas cards and knitting and sewing bunnies*

Yesterday night I went to Helsinki on the train for a church young people thinger, and came back on the bus. And the bus driver was an angel. :3 I had to change buses in Karhula to get to where I live, and before the bus left Helsinki the driver came by my seat and said "the uhh, schedule is really tight here, just so you know, we are a regular route (aka he has to stop more) driving to a schedule of an express, so I make no promises of getting you to your connecting bus, but I will try my best." I assured him that it's okay and that I understood, and that if I had to wait for the later bus (they go once an hour >.<) in Karhula, that would be okay. The drive was long and dark so I nodded in and out of consciousness. And the last time I woke up was when the driver said "we're in Karhula, and the bus to Hamina is standing right next to us. Do you have any bags in the luggage compartment? :)" And I just jumped up and thanked him about a million times, and skipped to the other bus. The trip went exactly as it said on the time tables, I was off the last bus at exactly the right time, and before the clock had finished striking midnight, I was home. So I didn't turn into a pumpkin. :P I just want to thank that bus driver some how for being such a saving angel. :3

Then there's this http://www.newyorker.com/talk/comment/2010/06/07/100607taco_talk_mead which basically in its conclusion says exactly what I think about my education. If you can't be bothered to read the whole thing, read the end (two last paragraphs). I dunno if it resonated with me so much because I carry mail and am way over-educated for this work or what, but it has of late really bugged me when people keep thinking education -> means to get rich, and that education is only worth something if it makes money to you and the society. During my days of unemployment and looking for work I have never once regretted studying art, even though it means that there are no jobs that match my education, and when there is the competition for those positions is tough.

I am actually kind of rejecting the idea of working in my field of education. This view is not far from my views on religious leaders: the mormon ecclesiastical leaders are all volunteers and none are paid for the work they do for the church (bishops, stake presidents, auxiliary leaders, missionaries, heck even the prophets and apostles only get expenses covered) and this is because the work is too sacred. In Sweden when we had a rough day I often said that no one could pay me enough to be a missionary. But because I did it for free, it was worth it. In a similar sense, I value my creative work too much, to put a price on it would not work for me. But with delivering newspapers, it is worth it. When it really sucks - when it rains and I make a mistake and the bike falls over and my shoe starts to leak and my foot gets wet and I'm already late - I think of the fact that this is honest work and I am getting an honest pay for my effort and that these doors and mailboxes represent people who are paying for this service, customers, and it is my professional duty to deliver (harharpun).

In this week's This american Life episode So Crazy It Just Might Work the second act is about a gay mormon. It's a really awesome story (not just because it's about a mormon but as a story it's just... cool), and the first act about curing cancer with sound is pretty darn cool too. Guys, I really love this radio show, and so that's why you should give it a listen:
http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/450/so-crazy-it-just-might-work

Now I go to sleep. It is 5 pm, and people who get up at 1:30 am go to bed now.

New boots are here! <3 <3 And they are exactly right. Now, the next little while my feet will cry, ache and hurt a lot, as I train them and these new boots to become inseparable. :3 And I can also retire my old boots. They have served me so incredibly well. It's like, they deserve a shrine. They took me from Coventry to Leicester, and from Solihull to Coventry. They took me all over Sweden. They were church boots and forest boots at the same time, they were a conversation starter, and heck, they just overall ruled. Now I am sure that this new pair of boots will do perfectly fine in taking this role and filling the spot (since they are pretty much identical :P) but I will miss these epic boots a lot. *sigh*

This also means that I am only waiting for the mail arrival of the interrail ticket, and Poptarty goodness from USA. :)

This morning at work I trained another person to do the same paper route that I do (he'd cover for my days off). I was waiting for him to do the stuff, and was sat on my bike. My legs touch the ground from the seat of my bike if I stretch them straigth. So I picked up both my feet at the same time, while clutching the handbrake, and tried to balance on the bike without moving. It of course would start to lean on either direction in less than a second, and I'd stretch my legs and catch the fall, then rinse and repeat (other things I did while waiting for my colleague was to quote Hamlet, sing in my head and at one point there was a most exquisite lehtikuusi that I stroked the branches of to make the dry needles fall off it).

I started to think how this is like life. Keeping a bicycle balanced is not difficult at all, yet you can make it difficult by clutching the handbrake. If you simply let go and maybe push off a little to get you going, you can quite easily not only stay upright on the bicycle but also get to places. What is the handbrake that you are clutching that stops you from rolling forward and from keeping in balance? What are the things you need to do to pedal the bike to keep it going?

http://www.matdolphin.com/play/all/one-plain-one-fancy/
One plain, one fancy. Really cool stuff. I want to submit, but I don't yet know what... Shall see.

In the August 9th 2011 'New Yorker Out Loud' podcast they interviewed a video game voice actor (Jennifer Hale from Mass Effect), and it's awesome and I think some of you might like to hear that. She does really nice grunts :) It's not very long, like 13 minutes or so...
http://www.newyorker.com/online/2011/08/15/110815on_audio_bissell

Oh and this is one of the most beautiful things I have seen in a while:
http://www.plan59.com/xmas/xmas030.htm

I maded a bunny!

I've come to the realisation that my English after-school club would be way more fun and overall better if I wasn't paid to do it, if I was just doing it as a community volunteer type of thing. I don't know why, but there's just something... irksome about the money-side of it all. But with the paper job the money is the best incentive.

There's a little girl in there who is a little... detrimental to the overall class environment. She is really negative ("no, let's not do that") and mouthy about it, she's really bossy and loud about that, and she influences the other little girl who is her "best friend" to behave in a not nice way too :/ She wasn't in the very first class that I held, and it was much nicer.

I'm going to bake pulla (cinnamon rolls) with the missionaries on Saturday. No, that is not an euphemism, and yes I mean it, that I will bake. Yes, me. Yes, bake. In the kitchen, that's right. It's going to be a Finnish culture thing for District meeting. Being in district meeting with six elders might break my heart though, just in time for me to heal from it before my Sweden trip which will for sure break my heart again (the heart break comes from the not being a missionary anymore and missing being one and missing the mission).

There is a new 3D Tintin film. I'm not sure how I feel about that... :/ But all the reviews are saying it's really good. Spielberg. Hmm. Wasn't it Spielberg who did Polar Express? And that was pretty good... I dunno, I'm not all the way into the whole 3D thing in any shape or form. Except maybe Pixar.

Anyhoo, related to that, the newspaper did an article on Herge, the guy who wrote Tintin. And it was an eye opener, I was really quite shocked. The first Tintin adventure (about the Soviet Union) came out before WWII. He was working on the comics all the way through the wars, in a Belgium that was... not anti-Nazi. So there were blatantly anti-Semitic stuffs in his comics et al. Apparently through the course of the years the worst of it has been cleaned up from the later editions. Which makes me even more curious to see the old editions.

Then after the whole horrid play of war had acted itself out in Europe, Herge didn't come out clean. The newspaper he had worked for had a very strict reaction, basically Voldermorting Herge, so that his name was not mentioned in that paper for years, decades. Herge worked on with his stuff, but he had a really rough time. At one point he disappeared, just left without telling anyone. Then he came back until the stress became too much and he did a disappearance again etc... The Herge-shall-not-be-named thing was eventually overcome, and apparently even Spielberg discussed the movie with Herge before the artist passed away in the 80s. So kind of a happy ending.

I grew up reading and watching Tintin, and next to Asterix he was my favourite of those kinds of comics (BD!]. So it's very strange to now see this sort of a more grown up POV to Tintin and hear about the man behind it - and his struggles. It's kind of like that moment when you learn that Babar the Elephant is basically French colonialism for children. In hindsight, yes I can see that. But back then when we were kids, it was elephants and rhinos, good guys and bad guys, and I didn't grow up thinking "yay apartheid" or something...

In other news, I have lost my crochet hook and can't make bunnies anymore >.< Where the heck has it got to?

I had cake for first breakfast. :) And then I had pie for second breakfast.

You know how you see people on Facebook have a status update saying "thank you everyone for birthday wishes"? My goal today is to reply personally to every single happy birthday wisher. Because I care about every single one of them.

In more interesting news unrelated to Facebook (but still staying on the topic of my birthday since I'm obnoxious and self-centered donchaknow), today I should start the Perfect Date project. I still haven't quite made up in my mind what it... is. So this could get a bit challenging. In the process of pondering about it the concept of "date" has lost all meaning for me. Time does not go around, the seasons do not repeat themselves, dates do not return. They are all fabrication. Time is a never-ending line, and this very date will never come back. So I think this project's name should be more like "The Perfect [date]". Sort of like "The Perfect November 7th, 2011". Since if there is only one of them ever, then surely it is the best - yea, even perfect - at being that thing. I know this notion is very flawed and has a frighteningly Gaius Baltar-esque logic behind it, but it does will work for dates, if not for anything else. But perhaps there is something we can learn from this given perfection of dates. So let that be the proposed aim or objective (I always forget which is which) of this project, and we'll see where it goes from there. 

The concept of perfect pretty much closes out the notions of good and bad.

I love anecdotes.

I read in this book about blondes that Goebbels tried to tempt Marlene Dietrich back to Germany to star in films there, and she said she would on the condition that she could get so close to the Führer that she could shoot him.
(My bookmark says "you can live without books, but what kind of a life is that?")

Yesterday I walked with the missionaries and one of them was telling about an awkward drama situation involving a girl back home, and we stopped to part ways but he continued to talk, and at one point his companion interjected with really good timing, saying "she's a witch". And I was quite surprised, that was a somewhat strong thing to say about this girl back in America that he doesn't even know, so we both looked at him, and he looked past of us and pointed, and there was a little girl dressed as a witch.




Muammar Gaddafi: “Women, like men, are human beings. This is an incontestable truth. . . . According to gynecologists women, unlike men, menstruate each month.”

Read more http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2011/11/07/111107fa_fact_anderson#ixzz1co5Lxa3h

So I tried to buy boots from Germany and they never replied. So I tried another place, a more direct online-shop thing (with a basket and all this stuff) and I had to make an account and crap - all in German. Did I mention that I don't know German? Thank you kindly Google Translate for all the help, for, despite the whole "your translations suck hilariously", they unsucked enough to help me understand what was meant. So let's see if this one works in the end. This is the blooming European Union, I have to be able to buy crap from other countries! >.<

And then I shopped for travel :3 Trip to Sweden is real! I can almost taste the sweet taste of Julmust and mjuk pepparkaka already :9 Oh it will be so cool. I facebooked a Sundsvallian friend as well to ask if I could stay at their house (and if not, I'll just ask someone else and someone else and someone else, because I was there for such a long time that I will be able to get someone to let me stay with them!) The plans between Sundsvall and Gothenburg are a little shaky still. I'd rather stop at Örebro than Stockholm, but we shall see... Looking at train times and stuff in Swedish (which I do know, yay! :P)

*edit*
Hey my town is cool! This week they are having Fredrikshamn veckan, where you can go in to shops and do your shopping in Swedish :D It's sponsored by the historic society, because back in the day, the official language for trade and stuff would have been Swedish. So I went and bought bunny-stuffing material in Swedish. Then I did a detour to the health stuff shop and came out with Bambu coffee substitute and two kinds of herbal tea, one of which is gingerbread. And it tastes like gingerbread and it is so omnomnom delicious! :9

So I discovered scribd.com, which seems to be some kind of a non-peer-reviewed Jstor kind of thing. A whole lot of texts there. And they have it set out pretty well, you can connect it with your Facebook and whatever, you can read it on the screen and zoom and all that, and they also offer downloading. And when you click to download, it gives options: "pay this much, pay that much, or upload something instead." I think that is an amazingly brilliant idea: in order to have something for free, please provide something for free for others. Now I didn't, and I haven't looked at their copyright policy or anything so I'm not exactly sure how that works. But I love the idea, it's going back to trading :)


You know that feeling when you wake up after having had a really sweet dream, but you've kind of forgotten what the dream was, and all that is left is that sweet giddy hazy feeling of "there was something really sweet... somewhere" and you just wake up a little bit happy.

So you know when I said I've had two weeks of work without a night off and Monday morning would be my rest day? (I don't remember if I said that at any point or not. Doesn't matter.) Well. Monday morning at about quarter to three a.m. I get a call: "could you please come do the other round (that you've only practiced twice oops) tonight because there's been some kind of a cock-up and I have no one to go out there." So I say yes, because there is really no real reason to say no (other than "oh ffs I haven't had a rest in WEEKS" or "noooo it's RAINING" or whatever). All I said was "it'll take me like an hour to get there, you know I live in the sticks, right?" and he said "I'll come pick you up." So I went, and I didn't actually get quite totally soaked, which was strange. It was also kind of a warm night. I got lost a couple times towards the end, because apparently numbers on houses are optional >.< (numbers on houses are not optional!) But overall not bad. It does make it a straight three weeks of work without a break. Which means moar pay, plus the "emergency call pay" for tonight... (I might go over the amount of income I guesstimated to the taxman before I started any of these jobs >_> I wonder what happens then? Bigger tax? Maybe I should just take all of November off...)

Well, next Sunday is All Saints' Day and no paper will even be printed, so I deff. will have that day off :P And Saturday as well I hear.

You know that feeling when you draw something, and it starts to turn out so good, better than you actually can draw, and you get scared of continuing because you are afraid of ruining it? I think this is why we invented Photoshop *wants an identical copy of the unfinished drawing to magically appear to act as a back-up in case of a mess-up*

Today during Primary time in Church I was with the Nursery kids (3 and under) just kind of child-minding. Which was nice, I was so pooped that I just wanted to be able to chill, so the request to be in Nursery was a Godsend (you get to just sit on the floor with your shoes off in there). And it went fine, except that the little one-year-old girl had a little event. She kind of sat stupid on her chair, and ended up stuck in the back of it. I very gently eased her out of the chair (by basically making her stand and lifting the chair through her - this sounds strange but it was the most sensible way to get her out) and she was of course screaming her head off all the time, because she was scared by the strange turn of events. But then she wouldn't stop shouting. >.< She went into this giant hour long epic tantrum, where she stood and waved her arms and stomped her feet, when I asked what she wanted she pointed up at the wall, and I had really no idea what it was or what she wanted (at this point nothing would have helped anyway). She sat and screamed, she stood and screamed, I helped her back on her chair and she screamed against the table. Eventually she slid under the table to scream there and there she stayed until time was up and her mum came back down. She wouldn't have any kind of consoling from me (holding or hugging or talking or anything), so eventually I just gave up and tried to think of the other two children there. Sometimes she took breaks and was quiet for a long time, and then started again seemingly out of nowhere and for no reason.

Ah well. When her mother came to get her after class, we seemed to have a mutual understanding of what was going on: when she starts screaming there is nothing you can do to stop her, this is a phase and it will pass, she needs to learn to be down here without her mum coming running when she screams (that must have been hard for the mother, because you can hear it upstairs - heck, you can hear her in the moon, probably :P) and we were both sort of "c'est la vie, hope no one gets traumatised" :P So it went surprisingly well, all things considered.

Much appreciated the extra hour received today, thank you Daylight Saving Time for having kept that one in reserve there. Did you know that Russia has decided "we hate changing clocks! We are staying in summer time forever!" and they are not changing their clocks back. Strange stuff that made a mess of train timetables (Finland-Russia ones). I think it is really rather cool that you can get a train from here to Russia. I should do that sometime, just roll into St. Petersburg. One day I will. Maybe when they make the border visa-free.

"Faith is as trumpet." ~Mishearing Shakespear.

I haven't had a day off work in almost two weeks. I'm pretty sure you are supposed to ever so often. Because it shows. I can't do my round in four hours anymore, today was a perfectly regular day (as in, no ads or crap to put in every door, like it will be tomorrow >.< but today no reason to be slow) and I was still fifteen minutes overtime. I feel bad for the people who live at the end of the round, they're the ones who always get shafted. Perhaps tomorrow I will do them before the shops, so that they won't have to wait 'til half seven for their morning paper :/ Unless there is someone to help me, somehow (the boss-fellow said something about Mia being there as a helper, but I don't understand how... she will help, exactly. >_> Would she take part of my round, or would she go with me, or what?) But the boss-fellow apparently has his night off (it's alright for some >.< ) tomorrow, so I don't actually know who to bring this up with or how. Or how bout I just do my round late again? It won't be that much overtime. On Sundays you have 'til seven. And by golly this better be my last Sunday of work or... I will work on Sunday and feel miserable about it again >.<

When I come back home in the dark after work, I like to not have my bike light on. The light is one of those "pedal-and-light-turns-on things that creates its own electricity from the bike wheel, so it's harder to pedal when the light is on. Also in town the street lights are on by this time (yes, they are off in some parts in the middler part of the night, it's pretty ridiculous) but then when I get to my road, the pitch black part where lights don't even exist, I still like to leave the bike light off. It is amazing what darkness looks like when your eyes get adjusted. I spook myself over imaginary things quite often on these dark rides, when something looks exactly like something ("was there a man behind that tree? If it was it's gone now...") And then when a car comes I go absolutely blind and can hardly stay on the road :P But it's so nice, darkness is kind of rare these days.