The car stopped outside her house and he jumped out of the driver's seat and made his way to the passenger side door. She gathered her belongings and got out of the car as he held the door open for her. He stood on the curb and as they hugged goodbye she thought to herself, "There are two possible endings for this evening: either he kisses me, which means he is a thug (because you should never kiss a lady without permission) or he doesn't kiss me, which means he is a coward." As she pulled away from the hug, he didn't let go and they stood face to face with their arms around one another, and as he leaned in closer he said softly, "May I?"


My life is average. By average I mean it's like a novel.


While I was away doing that, I got mail: more squares to be turned into bunnies, next month's work schedule and an invitation to mandatory work training that happened a day before I got back (uh-oh...), the short story anthology "Monsters and Mormons" and notices for two more parcels that I need to go pick up from the post office today (one is a skirt I ordered, the other one could be a gift from the States, an order from Amazon or the 'Think Before You Think' -comic book - or something completely different).


*is giddy and will move back to England at some point*

Ooh, I just got it, http://thisisnthappiness.com/ is also on strike today :D
(I'm going through all of their old posts, and was like "oh no, what has happened to the more and less buttons?!")

http://sopastrike.com/strike/

Duuuuudes, have you seen Wikipedia today? <3 I might just end up donating to them again. Because they has win.

http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/454/mr-daisey-and-the-apple-factory

Do you like handmade things? If so, you should maybe listen to this episode of This American Life. This may or may not be misleading so that I can trick you into listening it. >_> But it's only because I think it's kind of an important one to listen to. And I never know if any of you listen to any of the ThisAmLife episodes I link to. I only link to the really important ones, because I know it is such a hassle and an investment of time to listen to a whole one.

I have said in the past that place is irrelevant to happiness. This statement has been mainly inspired by observing people who are unhappy after having emigrated to "better" countries (from poorer countries to Europe) and listen to them miss and praise and pine for those lands where life surely must be much more difficult. Also from observing Europeans being miserable in their so-called rich prosperous countries. But while I still hold that there is no single "best place on Earth", no promised land of guaranteed happiness, I'm starting to think that place does matter, on an individual level. I always assumed that I could be just as happy living in any spot on this Earth, that I make my own happiness, that it's inside my head. And while I still reckon I can be happy living anywhere in the world, I do recognise different places have different effects on me, and therefore some places are more conducive to happiness than others. And just like people, places affect our behaviour. The company we keep can have a negative or positive effect on us, and so can the place we live in and the climate we have around us. So while yes, I am happy in Finland, I realise it is not a place that is making me a better person (I'm more anti-social and aggressive, and I have less self-control and use my time less wisely). And the fact that at times I will remember a place I would rather be (Norrland or England) and the pain of missing those places actually makes me cry.

In case you didn't read it between the lines there: winter is properly here. -_- I had such a terrible night at work because the roads are just so bad that I biked a grand total of 100 metres (110 yards/330ft) of my entire route, the rest of it I just walked the bike. Because I just couldn't be arsed with the... fear and the fighting. Fortunately I have a day off, then three days of work (lighter than today, weekend is always the worst) and then a week off completely. So with any luck, the weather and the roads will have changed greatly by the time I'm back. This winter should be very short, we're almost to February, and February itself is very short... :)

I do fear that this week off of mine, when I go to England, is going to dislodge my heart really badly. You see, I will go to a country where you can walk on the streets without the constant fear that you're going to fall over. Heck, you can even run over there, without any strange spiked contraptions strapped to your boots that are meant to help you remain upright! You might not even have to wear boots! You could wear shoes! With totally flat and smooth soles! Imagine that! A land where you can trust the ground you stand on! If that isn't the promised land, I don't know what is.

Winter is ridiculous, and I miss Coventry.

Sweden is crazy and almost completely lost in secularism, but it's cool because then they come up with things like Kopimism, a religion about Pirate Bay :P

"The pirate movement’s political arm, the Pirate Party, provides one possible future path for Kopimism. People didn’t take the Pirate Party seriously at first, either. Then its membership exceeded that of the Green Party, and then the Liberal Party and the Christian Democrats, and then the Centre Party, and then the Young Pirates Association became the largest youth organization of any Swedish political party, and then several other parties and a number of prominent politicians shifted their stances on piracy in a more pirate-friendly direction, and then the Party spread to forty countries. Now the Pirate Party actually holds two seats in the European Parliament. These are early days for the Missionary Church of Kopimism. Who can say how far its gospel will spread?"

Read more http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/culture/2012/01/the-missionary-church-of-kopimism.html#ixzz1jLGv3b74

Sweden really is clearing the way for copyright reform. And to that I say: Heja Sverige!

Finland is having a presidential election. And I'm going to have to vote tomorrow, because I'll be in England on the actual Election Day. I must admit I haven't given this election much thought - Finnish politics are not that exciting, they don't even feel like it makes much of a difference what I vote (though my vote does make more of a difference than it would in America, so that's something to be grateful for I guess). There's a whole lot of parties who are all kind of more or less the same (except of course the Basic Finns, who are just scary), and the president doesn't have a whole lot of power or influence over stuff. So I was kind of worrying "what if I go in the voting booth and just can't figure out who to vote for?" There's also my own problem of being in a political flux (can't seem to decide am I a liberal or a conservative, or some bastard combination of both). But after some quick research, I think I have made up my mind on who to vote for the first round, and also who to vote on the second round, assuming the first person doesn't go to second round. And if my second round person doesn't go to second round - well then that will be very surprising and I won't know what to do. :P I must admit I am getting ever so slightly excited about this. But only a little.

I wanted to share this, it's a writing contest for women on Ms. Lexia: http://www.mslexia.co.uk/whatson/msbusiness/scomp_rules.php If you are a writing woman from anywhere in the world, you can enter this contest if it looks like your kind of thing.

Today I sang and wrote but did very little other creative things. Tomorrow shall be catch-up day in knitting and drawing type activities. Maybe. Unless I get distracted by <forum:Junk> or thisisn'thappiness. I did finish reading Hamlet. Time to start mashing the scripts soon.

Until then.

Last night I had a proper nightmare, the kind where you wake up and your so terrified that you don't want to move or even stir a little in your bed for a while.

The dream was scary, because it felt so real. I was walking along the road that I live on, it was summer time, and the road didn't have asphalt (it didn't used to when I was growing up). I walked around this hilly bend, and from on top of the hill I could see into a house, and I saw that there was a man, naked in there. I thought "haa haa awkward..." to myself and tried not to look, but kind of kept glancing. And it looked like it was filmed for a horror movie. Y'know, I look and he's standing at the back of the room, next time I look he's standing at the window looking out, the next time I look the room is empty, and then I hear the door. The man came out, naked. He didn't seem to notice me at all. He walked towards the garden swing and he was talking under his breath. I noticed now that he was probably mad, and I heard him say "will... hang..." and I assumed he meant himself, and he started fiddling with the ropes of the swing, so I hollered to him "don't hang" (because I'm not the kind of neighbour who'll look on when something awful is going on). He noticed me, and stared, then moved away from the swing and to this weird setup in his garden, where it was like a kitchen: there was a sink and a fridge. And he took two porcelain cups and put them on the counter, then smashed his fists into them really hard so that the cups broke and his fists started bleeding and bits of porcelain were stuck to his hands in the wounds. I got really afraid and kept walking past wanting to get away as soon as possible and then call help. I saw from the corner of my eye that he took some kind of a tumble and ended up with clothes on (weird surreal dream thing that I didn't think anything of at the time), and then noticed how he was picking out pieces of porcelain from his flesh, kind of distracted like you pick at a scab or something. He didn't seem to register pain at all. I was going around the last bend and in between two sheds, and I glanced back and he had a really big knife and some potatoes and he was crossing the road, and I heard him mutter "must... kill." He was kind of addressing the potatoes, but I was really really afraid. I had my phone in my hand ready to call the police, and my brain was going "what if he sees me calling the cops, what if he chases me, should I run, I can't talk on the phone while running, and if I start running that might make him chase me... Where should I go, there is no good place to hide, and sides, where am I anyway, where do I tell the police to come to? What number does he live in? Which route are the police going to come from, if I should try to go meet them before this guy's house (our road does a loop so you can come from either end)" etc etc... I was expecting potatoes start raining on me any moment, and him coming at me from behind with a knife. I saw that someone had dropped their mobile on the road as I walked past, and thought "oh no, someone else tried to call the police before me" and that's kind of where it ended and I woke up.

I haven't had a proper nightmare like that in a long time. I've had dreams that make me uneasy and "bad" dreams, but not "pure terror in the head" kind like this.

Anudder link diary:
http://youtu.be/ahv_1IS7SiE
A video full of really cool hippie/punky/gothy/alternative strange people.

http://shouldiworkforfree.com/clean.html

I don't wholly agree with this thinger, but it is win that they made it. And maybe it'll help some of yous decide whether you should work for free.

If your pet was a famous person, who would it be? I think my dog is Andre the Giant.

I found a place to watch Cremaster online! http://www.ovguide.com/cremaster-1-9202a8c04000641f8000000014ab5ab2 The list is a mess but it'll do. Hopefully they'll have all five cycles (or are there six?) I've only ever seen cycle 3 and that only in part before. This all was brought about when I was looking up Aimee Mullins and recognised that she's in Cremaster 3, and I was looking her up because I had listened to a story she told on the Moth podcast on themoth.org and I found out about the Moth from listening to This American Life.

One of the Cremaster cycles has some kind of a cowboy square dancing scene filmed inside the old Kirtland temple, but I can't recall which one. So that'll be fun to look out for. :) And to make myself feel better, I'll call this research (maybe Matthew Barney has something to do with my project. She does have a lot of women dressed in white, and blondes in general... And with him it's about the feel of the films, they just feel really weird and awesome. I suspect that the only reason all of Elftown isn't madly in love with Cremaster is because people just don't know about it... I should write a review about it) not that I don't feel achieved, I finished writing a fable for the Mormon Lit Blitz contest, just in time to enter by the 15th :) I've knitted and stuffed some more, made more plans for England trip and shall now retreat to bed for a few hours to read before going to sleep.

Good night.

There's this really cool girl in the town next to mine, who wants to go to university to study theology. And she asked me to help her (kind of as a tutor) to prepare for the uni entrance exams. Before that she asked me to practice singing with her. So I have a friend with whom I will sing and study theology with several times a week this coming spring... That sounds really awesome ^_^ I'm so excited. It's so cool, she had asked me over to her place to sing and I went, and while we ate together she brought this up, saying that she had been thinking about all this applying to university -stuff, and came to think of me, that I've been to uni and have a masters and maybe could help her... And as she spoke and showed me the books she had to study, I realised that this was exactly what my project reflective research needs next: it's got plenty of reflex, plenty of art history, plenty of feminism, but it still needs a bit more solid handle on the theological side... I love the way things just come together. Plus the song we're practising will be really cool too! <3

I'm also trying out Google Chrome. Because Safari betrays me all the time. Yesterday it forced a reload on all tabs, one of which had a very long message in the typing. It was so infuriating that I turned off the entire computer and went to bed raging and raving mad. It also sometimes forgets to open all the tabs from the previous session, and I have to manually find out where I'm at in thisisnthappiness. And who knows what else I've forgotten completely since Safari won't show it to me. So even though I still kind of love Safari... I just can't stand the backstabbing anymore. So I may or may not give it up. We'll see how well Chrome fares. But as a result of this, I did manage to install junk warnings, and they have win!

Today is Christmas Eve in Russia (happy Christmas everybody!) and because of the 'major holiday' nature of the date, there is a lot of traveling. I live close to the Russian border so we get our share of the travelers - and so shops are open even though Twelfth Day is a public holiday. So this morning/last night when I was delivering papers I saw that the hotel had a sign up on its door that said in Finnish and English "our rooms are fully booked for the next night". If the paper had been outside and I had had a pen, I would have added to it "but there's room in the stable."

Guys, check out the Wikipedia article about Twelfth Night (holiday) and (in the box to the right) what is the correct way to observe this holiday :D

This:





So I just finished reading "Harpo Speaks!" and my plan is to now read the book by his son, "Son of Harpo Speaks" and a realisation just hit me on the way home today: this book I am about to read will have a bit in it about Harpo's death. Now I do realise that he is dead from the fact that he is no longer living, but... his actual death is not real to me. I don't know what he died of or when or at what age. I looked it up once in Wikipedia and can't remember. And I'm afraid. I don't think I want to read this book. :/ I'm so sensitive to things in books and movies, those characters are all real to me, and I mourn the deaths of characters like real people. My little heart broke into millions of pieces when I got to that awful chapter 'Exit Alexander' in "Harpo Speaks!" where he tells of Woollcott's death. What will happen when it's Hoppo himself? ;_; I... I might need to read something else. I have the autobiography of Cheeta, which excites me a) because it's written by an ape! and b) because I think Cheeta and Harpo have quite a bit in common, in terms of the roles they played (on screen and in real life).
(In case you didn't hear the news before, Cheeta died just a little while ago, he was 80 years old, which is a lot for an ape.)

Need to get a hold of literature of the times of Harpo from Charlie Lederer, Oscar Levant (he has written an autobiography as well! Amg amg amg, he used to live with Harpo, plus he's mad and awesome!) and Woollcott obviously. And who all else was there... :3


A realisation came to me just now typing this. I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I have chosen that when it comes to movies I'm going to be a comedy aficionado. I intend to undertake a serious comedic education here and watch all possible comedies that I get my hands on, the good and the bad (I might skip the ugly a bit) to develop that aficionado taste in what is funny. And writing that thing about mourning characters made me realise that it is a good choice of genre I have made, but also made me wonder if the lack of death and sadness in comedies is partly the reason for the choice...? Maybe not, I do think it was originally based more on the idea of appreciating humour and especially appreciating the difficulty of making funny movies. Like Woollcott said: "surely there should be dancing in the streets when a great clown comes to town".
I appreciate comic genius more than sombre genius.

Enough babble. Time for dinner and bed.

Continuing with the theme that Ira Glass started:


Also, it's gonna blow up with Iran isn't it? :/ The situation down there scares me.

Samoa skipped Friday.

http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/world/samoa-leads-partying-for-the-new-year-20111231-1pg9k.html

I didn't know you are allowed to do that. But now all those maps that show the International Dateline, or the timezones, are all wrong.

"One day before chemotherapy, I woke up in the morning and went downstairs. There on the kitchen table was this framed photo that had Matthew, Mike (my second son), Spencer (my third son) and then Matt's little boy named Clay (who is two years old). They all had shaved their heads to show solidarity and took a picture. They framed it with their locks of hair under the glass. It was very sweet."

http://www.forbes.com/forbes/2011/0314/features-clayton-christensen-health-care-cancer-survivor_7.html

That's right: I link to Forbes. Because I'm a well-rounded person.

-Ira Glass.

This week's This American Life show has a big long chunk from David Sedaris's "Santa Land Diaries". Stories from when he worked as an elf at Macy's, read by the guy himself. It is amazing stuff, you should definitely check it out. Also in the episode another amazing Christmas spectacle: the Christmas Freud. One of the awesomest things I've heard of in a while.
"Freud will be back soon. Stop deceiving yourselves."

This is what I'm doing today: listening to podcasts and bunnifying squares.

Work sucked a little bit today, I had to do a different route and then when I was finished, I had to do a bit of my usual route as well because the other guy who covers for me is slow. If they suggest this tomorrow, I will say "no, he just has to bike quicker, it is not fair that I should do his bit just because he can't follow the list and bike a bit quicker." The baffling thing is that he has done it on time before, I don't understand why he can't finish by six anymore. I remember I specifically asked before booking time off in December "what about the centrum" and was told (by the regular boss, who is away on his holiday right now and we have a "guest star" boss) that the guy that covers for me has been told to bike a bit quicker and he has managed to be done by six. So I wasn't done til quarter past today because of having to do his leftovers, and didn't get home til seven because I live in the friggin' sticks. I just have to manage to communicate this all to her if she asks me to do it again tomorrow: no, because I won't get home 'til seven, and doing this will make me really really pissed off and I'll be biking home (in the rain today, please note, which I would have missed if I could have just gone home when I was done with my bit) and swearing and cursing and blaming the slow mofo for ruining my morning. All of which is then a problem for my conscience because I'd really rather like to be a better person than I am. I don't want to hate that guy. But he just makes it so damn easy. >.<

Take me away from here, Ira Glass. *presses play*

http://www.studio-orta.com/artwork_fiche.php?fk=&fs=0&fm=0&;fd=0&of=24&i=857

The Antarctica World Passport. Because individuals are not of an inferior status to that of capital, trade, telecommunication and pollution, all of which have no boundaries.

Have you heard of the ship thing that's going on in my neck of the woods? It's the trippiest thing. So I live in a port town, so there's a lot of international ships coming through here. And last week a ship called Thor Liberty came from Germany, it was going to pick up some stuff (scrap metal) and then continue on its way to Asia. And basically what happened is that the loaders, as they are about to dump a whole load of iron into the cargo hold, took a look and went "hoshit guys stop stop, there's some kind of an explosives sign in here!" So they stop and take a closer look, and they find that the ship is carrying two things: 150 tons of boxes of nitroguanidine, which is used to make explosives, and around 70 Patriot missiles/rockets. They look at the papers that say the ship is carrying "fireworks" (a mistranslation from the English word "rockets"). So after a lot of asking around, it turns out the rockets are on their way to South Korea. But the papers aren't in order, and the nitroguanidine wasn't loaded properly (if they'd dropped the metal in the cargo hold, the whole thing would have gone gone sky high, along with the port and probably the sea as well) and the whole thing is just a little... scary. And strange. We'll see how this all ends. So now they are reloading the explosives properly, and the army has taken the missiles and hidden them somewhere.


In other news, Finland's been having all sorts of awful storms. This year is going down kicking and screaming. *sings 'Ring Out Wild Bells'* "The year is dying in the night, ring out wild bells, and let him die!"


Guys, I think I can control the weather... >_> Or at least the snow fall. I've been hoping and praying and wishing for no snow and we have had no snow. Except when I said "for Christmas there can be snow. And in Sweden there can be snow during my trip." And this is exactly how it went: there was snow in Sweden, then I came here and 24th and 25th we had snow, and it all melted away on the 26th, so that my work yesterday and today was actually kind of pleasant. So now I'm wishing no more snow this year, and also no snow in January until the 19th, then Finland can have snow for a week, but it all needs to melt away again on the 24th.

And finally, the reason I started typing a diary post in the first place: two links related to This American Life.
http://www.thisamericanlife.org/blog/2011/12/we-want-your-snooping-stories - Tell your snooping stories to the world
http://video.nytimes.com/video/2011/12/22/magazine/100000001239396/sunday-in-the-magazine.html - A radio journalist edits the NY Times.