It's not your birthday anymore!

So, birthday came and went. It was all good fun and we all had a jolly good laugh.

Apparently, 27 is a magical age (who knew, eh?). At least if by magical you mean lethal, since so many talented young musicians have died at the age of 27, such as Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix. How this applies to me, of course, remains a mystery.

Regardless of my age, I've had an excellent summer. I've had loads of free time, it's been the hottest summer in Finland for 130 years (or so I was told today), my best friend is back in town, and I still have the best cat in the world. Also, excitement about the coming autumn has already started to mount. This eager expectation is mixed with sadness, though. If all goes as planned, this will be my last (ever?) summer as a student. I should graduate within the next year, and then, after 21 years, it will finally be time to say goodbye to formal education. I can barely remember a time when I didn't have educational responsibilities, so it will be a completely new experience.

Of course, this all means that I have a year to do all those crazy studenty things you are supposed to do before you graduate. I fear I have a lot of catching up to do. Where should I start?

Greetings, earthlings!

Your very occasional blogger here. Remember me? Blonde, short hair, glasses...

So, some things have changed. Let us proceed in an orderly fashion.

1. We have moved. Well, it was six months ago, but I just wanted to make sure everyone knew.

2. Blood pressure has been around 95/65, which I'm told is not good. Have added salt to my food and started eating more liquorice (strictly for medicinal purposes, of course).

3. If you ever have a few hours to spare, why don't you pop into the library at the Department of English Translation Studies at the University of Turku. There you will find between brown, pretty covers 109 pages of laugh-out-loud material produced by yours truly, in the form of a Master's thesis. Guaranteed to make you learn an important lesson about wasting time.

4. After finishing my Master's thesis, I discovered that I need glasses. I now have a pair for reading and a pair for general larking about.

5. I really should change my profile picture in Facebook.

6. I find myself in almost a state of shock due to this sunny and warm weather. What is one supposed to do? I have, as I believe all Finns do, this built-in need to go out and enjoy the sun whenever the old Unreliable is visible, but this is getting ridiculous. Who ever heard of several sunny days in a row? And not just sunny, but warm as well. I've actually felt like going for a swim in a lake just to cool myself off, instead of doing it out of habit. I even had a cool shower today, which I haven't done since... well, probably never.

7. And finally, before anyone asks, congratulations are not in order. I am not a Master of Arts yet. I'm not sure when I'll be wanting to graduate, since I'm quite enjoying my studies. I'd hate to leave university just yet. I was accepted to an interesting subsidiary studies module ("minor" to some of you), and I've had my eye on a couple of other courses as well, so it might take a while before I dare leave the bosom of my alma mater.

There and back again

Greetings from the netherworld. I feel like an international hero (because national just isn't enough anymore), like I've been to hell and back. Oh yes; I, too, am a victim of the annual flu epidemic. Or "was", as I'd like to think. After all, I am able to walk, turn my head and occasionally even eat, which seems like a luxury after the last seven days.

It seems like a poor time to update the blog, as I have only hazy memories of the last seven days, but there are a few thoughts I'd like to share with you all nonetheless.

Firstly, ballet. There was some on telly the other day, I'm fairly sure. It was Nurejev's adaption of Cinderella, music by Prokofjev, performed by the French (Paris national opera, fairly recent), set in 1930's Hollywood (yes, that was my reaction too). I was surprised how much I enjoyed the first act. The adaptation was very clever and entertaining, and one never lost track of the plot. The beginning of the second act was very impressive as well. But then it got boring, as ballets tend to do. Why on earth must they be so very long? This one was three hours in total, but as if on cue, after an hour and a half I stopped following the plot and tried to entertain myself by trying the guess the ages of the dancers, the material used for the costumes, and the number of fractures on the dancers' toes.

For five years now I've tried to find my inner Viggo Mortensen (after all - why not?) and never be bored, but I fear I must finally admit defeat. I'm sure no one can claim that I have not tried; I've been to three (or was it four?) classical music concerts, I've watched three (or was it four?) of Tarkovski's films and I even tried yoga. All of these pursuits have provided moments of immense joy - well, except perhaps yoga - but also nearly panic-enducing depths of boredom.

Is it so wrong to be easily bored? Must exuberance really be frowned upon? After all, there are so many types of exuberance and boredom. I get bored very easily, but I do not require other people or even media to entertain me (most of the time media bores me). In fact, I prefer messing about on my own. I love cleaning, organising shelves, plastering and painting walls, knitting, doing woodwork, ironing, washing the oven and planting vegetables - which are all things I have been found doing when left alone for a few hours. I would have been the happiest Victorian housewife.

You see, perhaps, why I've suffered so in the last seven days. All those hours at home and not being able to do anything. I've stared at bookshelves and rearranged the books in my mind, I've gazed forlornly out of the window at our new balcony, which is waiting to be fixed with some sort of cat-safe system, and I've even stared at the layer of dust on our television (during some boring-ass ballet), which is just sitting there, waiting to be gently removed to its final resting place. Had it not been for Just a Minute, I would surely have lost my mind.

Vets and idiots

I took Murnau to the vet for his second vaccination. He should be safe now until spring, according to the vet. He doesn't seem to mind travelling in a car that much anymore, either (the cat, I don't know about the vet), which is sort of a relief, although I don't know that I'll be travelling with him much. Where would I go?

By the way, is it just me, or does anyone else find it unsettling that there are glass doors and windows everywhere at the vet's, which means that when you are queuing for the reception, you can amuse yourself by, say, watching a vet operating on a cat (it might have been a small dog, I couldn't see clearly under the green cover)? To me it felt somehow callous, but I might just be too sensitive for that sort of thing. Also, is it not a distraction for the person operating on the dog (on second thought it seemed a little too big to be a cat), to have people gaping at him while he works?

Hmm, what else...? Ah, well, I was oh-so-nearly in a car accident the other day. It was the other person's fault, of course, but still, it would have been annoying to die. However, a quick reflex to turn the car away from the motorcycle speeding towards me averted disaster, and there was no damage done to my car. The motorcyclist fell off his bike, though, which was only fair given his stupid stunt. But he did not injure himself physically in any way, which is also fair, since guilt is a much more satisfying punishment than bodily harm. Also, he was hurrying away from the physics department, which counts as a small excuse.

And now, a cat:

Dear blog,

Much has happened since I last wrote. Some nice things and some un-nice (by default, I suppose). Let me list some of the nice things, because that would be, well, nicer.

1. I went to Paris. And not just any Paris, but the Paris of France, the Paris of April bloom, the Paris of spring mornings and sentimental jazz. Paris.
(You might need Antony & The Johnsons to get the mood right here)

I would love to share some photographs with you, but I don't remember where I put them. Never mind. You all know what Paris looks like (narrow streets, bistros, croissants, etc.). We were lucky enough to get to stay in the home of an artist (a painter), so needless perhaps to say that the flat was amazingly beautiful. The windows looked onto a beautiful courtyard, a neighbour happened to be an excellent pianist with a good taste in music, the radio was set on TSF Jazz, the floors had just the right kind of creak, and the flowers in the courtyard smelled wonderful.

2. I bought a cat. His full name is Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau, but we call him Murnau (and, supposedly, other cats call him just Nau). He is four months and nineteen days old as I write this, and engaged in what looks like a life or death struggle with a cardboard box. All together now: aaawwww.

I haven't any pictures of him, either. Sorry.

3. Have worked on my master's thesis regularly (yes, still), and even managed to learn to enjoy it! The other day I woke up at 6 am feeling a terrible urge to get up, turn on the computer and open the Das Meisterwerk file. Then I came to my senses and started reading a newspaper (a year-old Times).

4. I have finally, in my fifth year, joined a student organisation. Not that of my own subject, obviously, but that of the Finnish literature students. I can't really explain how it happened, one thing just led to another, and there I was, paying my 6 euros to earn the right to, well, I don't know exactly what, but I'm sure I'll get my money's worth.

5. How sad to discover that I can't think of a fifth one. Still, they were four good ones, weren't they?

And now, more tea.

P.S. I suppose updating this blog can be counted as a fifth nicety?

Now there's a thought

I decide to go and see the festivities at the city centre. The castle looks in many ways like the one in Edinburgh. There's a strange medieval feel to the place, although I can't exactly say why. Beyond a crowd of people I see Prince Charles and Prince Harry, but they look somehow blurry even though it's a bright, sunny day. I feel dizzy from standing in the crowded marketplace, and since it seems impossible to do anything but stand and sweat in the heat, I decide to go back home.

I get as far as the riverside when suddenly I feel much better, and start regretting leaving the castle. I turn and head back. The crowds have dwindled and all that's left of the masses of people are few solitary groups who look like tourists. I hear a silent thud and turn to find a group of men playing football on the grass just outside the castle. The football rolls to my feet, and I pass it back to Prince Charles, who is bobbing up and down like a Corgy in the middle of the slightly sloping lawn, wearing white shorts and a red-and-blue shirt. I try to take a photograph of him, but he keeps shying away from the camera or passing the football towards me in order to confuse me. Once I almost manage to take a picture of both Prince Charles and Prince Harry, but just as the camera is focusing, Hunter S. Thompson - who has been sitting by the lawn, yelling abuse at everyone - steps in front of the camera and I end up with a picture of Hunter's left ear, which I wouldn't mind if you could tell it's his ear. As it is, ears all look alike, and I'll probably forget who's ear it is before the day is over, anyway.

It seems that I have involuntarily joined the game, as everyone keeps passing the ball to me. This baffles me, as I am clearly the worst player of them all, with the exception of, perhaps, Hunter, who seems to have trouble concentrating. I can't help thinking that someone must have forgotten to explain to him which game we were playing.

The game seems to go on and on. I don't even like football, but I don't want to be a bad sport in front of the Royal Family, especially since I'm on their team. Luckily no one seems to notice my clumsiness, because Scorsese keeps whining about the fact that he can't concentrate on the game because has to keep holding the camera. When Hunter relieves him of the gadget and goes to fiddle with it in the shade, the game picks up noticeably. Soon someone kicks the ball into the river, it is decided that the game is over and that our side won.

Prince Charles comes up to me and congratulates me on my excellent skills as a football player, and I get so nervous and confused that all I can think of to say in response is "Yeah, and that stuff you do with organic farming is great," which I regret almost before I have said it. Prince Charles doesn't seem to mind that I'm an utter lunatic, though, and he even asks me to join him on a little walk by the river. I start to think that maybe he is the lunatic, but as I can't think of a way to make sure, I have no choice but to join him.

Strangely, we are not followed by anyone, and no one seems to recognise Prince Charles. Perhaps it's the outfit, I say to myself, as he goes on about carrots (he is still wearing the shorts and t-shirt). I'm too nervous to be able to concentrate on what he is talking about, but he seems happy enough to talk by himself. We walk for ages. I start to get very tired, but I'm certainly not going to suggest heading back home, as I'm not sure what the etiquette is. I vaguely remember something about never turning one's back to a member of the Royal Family, but surely that can't be right?

To my relief, we are suddenly very near where we started, but somehow we have ended up on the wrong side of the river. Perhaps this should have been my first clue. On the other side of the river a jazz band started playing a very nice, slow swing tune not entirely unlike I've Got You Under My Skin. Prince Charles askes me to dance with him, and as we are in a fairly secluded place between a few trees and bushes (for some reason the idea of someone spotting us dancing together feels uncomfortable), I accept, and to my surprise he dances very well.

The song ends rather abruptly, and there's a bizarre moment when we realise there is not going to be any more music. We pull apart, and I stare at my shoes, wishing this was all a dream. Then suddenly I get a text message from Lisa Simpson (yes, the cartoon character) that says: "He's a witch." I'm puzzled, and try to send a message back, asking of whom she is speaking. I'm having trouble typing the message, however, and when I look up to see what Prince Charles is doing, I suddenly realise Lisa was talking about him. He is just smiling, however, and there's a moment of hesitation before I turn and start to run. I don't hear or feel anything, but somehow I know he is right behind me, hovering.



I wake up. It is time to do some Christmas shopping.

Countdown begins! (well, it began four days ago - keep up!)

Today I saw the biggest snowflakes I've ever seen. It was impressive but also a little disconcerting. Especially since these monstrous snowflakes (now there's an expression I never thought I'd use) changed into tiny, unimpressive ones within a minute. I tried to take a picture, but of course they didn't look anything as impressive on camera, so I didn't bother putting the picture here.

But let us get to the point. Twenty days until Christmas. That's less than three weeks. Eeee(k)! What fun! (?) I'll just have to get all the study work done as soon as possible, so I can start preparing. I've already made some plans for the menu, and I've bought loads of presents. Well, not exactly "loads", but a few. I was also told that we get to look after my friend's cat at Christmas. It will be our fourth temporarily adopted pet (after a dog, a bunny and another cat), and I'm happy to welcome him. Photographs will naturally follow.

Well, this is all I have time and typing energy for now (after six hours of translating). Stay tuned, or don't.

How to make a snow lantern and then ruin it

The only thing worse than having too much stuff to do is thinking that most of the work is done and then realising you are nowhere near finishing everything.

Today I handed in my second Master's Thesis seminar paper with trembling but happy hands. I wasn't, of course, trembling with fear, but because I was freezing (see picture, taken from where I sit). The temperature has been -8 at best, although now it is only a few degrees below zero.

I love the snow, even though I must admit I have my dark moments when I'm in a terrible hurry and suddenly find I have to spend at least fifteen minutes digging up a car I can only hope is mine. The other day, after ten minutes of ice-scraping I found myself standing by the car with a stupefied expression holding one of the windscreen wipers. Well, it was time to change it anyway.

One undeniable advantage of snow is the fact that you can make snow lanterns. But this is only if it isn't too cold, and you can try even then if you are insane enough. Yesterday, I decided to make a snow lantern even though it was about -5 degrees, very windy (flights were cancelled) and snowing. To those of you who are unfamiliar with snow physics, I should perhaps explain. If you want to build anything from snow, you have to make sure it is damp enough. Which is why you can't really do it if the temperature is much below zero. If you do decide to try it anyway, I suggest going to the gym first, because you need to apply a lot of pressure to make the snow dense enough to stay in a shape of any kind. Or you need to take a bucket of fairly cool water with you and apply it ever so gently to make the snow sticky enough. I wouldn't recommend this to beginners, though, as there is too much that can go wrong there.

But let us get back to the story. Against all odds, I somehow managed to make a snow lantern of sorts despite the conditions mentioned above. You can find a picture of a traditional snow lantern here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A2408492 I'll be the first one to admit that mine didn't look as mathematically accurate as the ones shown there, but it was near enough. When it finally came time to light the candle, however, it turned out that the wind was a bit too strong for my poor little tea candle. I decided to gether some snow around the lantern as a wind shield. This did not produce the desired effect. I gathered some snow to fill the little holes left by the snowballs. This worked better, but there were still too many gaps (this was a very rough wind). Finally, I almost buried the entire thing to make sure the wind wouldn't blow the ever-withering flame out. Despite the poor quality of the picture, you can sort of see the result in the picture on the right.

Not one of my most impressive lanterns, I grant you. Oh, and yes, that is my bike you can see at the back. I know, it probably is a bad idea to keep it there, under all that snow. But I can't take it into the cellar like that, especially since it's gone all icy. I'll just have to wait for the inevitable rain that is bound to come some day soon and clear away all the snow (it always does, just before Christmas). And that blob just behind the lantern (I should probably have used quotation marks around "lantern") is my parsley. I know. I left that, too, until too late to clear out. You never know, it might still survive the winter.

My name is Sari and I'm insane

Sigh.

Now that T.R. (see the link to his blog on the "list" on the right) has finally updated his fancy-pants blog with that fancy list of his, I suppose I am sort of obliged to reciprocate.

So, five strange habits I have:

1. Although I despise lukewarm food, I like to mix hot and cold things when I eat. For example, I often toast bread and then put slices of cold cucumber on it. And I like to add cold tomato sauce to piping-hot pasta and meatballs.

2. I wear woolly socks in the summer.

3. Occasionally, when I'm walking up or down a staircase, I forget which leg goes next and stumble. This has happened more often recently, possibly because I can't stop thinking about the research I'm doing.

4. I hate getting up in the morning. No, I mean I really hate getting up in the morning. But do not confuse this with "not liking to be awake early". I love being awake at 7 o'clock in the morning and starting the day with domestic chores. What I hate is the actual getting up bit. So much, in fact, that I have taken the (terribly) bad habit of refusing to get up even if I am already wide awake. This has resulted in lying in bed fully awake for up to an hour and a half (sadly, I am not exaggerating). No, I don't do anything. I just stare at the ceiling and think.
(This one is so strange I considered replacing it with "I have watched all three seasons of Black Books at least six times", which is also true, but not that strange.)

5. If there is just a mouthful of food left on my plate, but I feel full, I am unable to force myself to eat it. The feeling of fullness always comes as a full stop with me. One minute I'll be chomping away happily, and then suddenly I can't even have one more bite, because the thought of food just disgusts me. Strangely, about half an hour later I'll be hungry again.


Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I really have to get stuff done today. And I can't let my toast go cold under that cucumber.

Das Meisterwerk, part two

Well, I suppose I should say something about that topic everyone seems to be talking about, just to get it over and done with.

I suppose my view of it all is, that it is nice to see how much happiness the results seemed to bring to people all over the world. I'm trying to fight off all pessimistic thoughts, since there seem to be few opportunities for optimism when it comes to American politics. All in all, the news was a nice start to an otherwise uneventful day.

And now to other, by default more or less interesting subjects.

Das Meisterwerk, also known as my Master's Thesis, is coming along nicely. So nicely, in fact, that a casual visit to the library of the English philology department and an hour's worth of information-hunting resulted in a rather tempting subject for a Doctoral Thesis (you can't not italicise that). After the idea came to me, I spent a week in a daze, thinking: "Am I seriously considering this?". So far I have only decided that I am considering it. But that's all. This is far from a decision. If a decision were 100%, I would be somewhere in the region of 15, maybe 20%.

What I did decide, however, was not to mention a word of it to my professor, because he would just get excited and then, quite soon, really disappointed when I decided not to do it after all. It says a lot about my decisions that it took me a week before I went and blabbed. I could see his eyes lighten up like I've never seen them light up before, and even as I was saying the words I knew I would regret it.

There are several things against continuing my studies, one major one being money. It is quite tempting to get a proper job and finally start earning proper money. I'm not entirely sure how these things work in other countries, but academia is certainly not where the big money is "at" in Finland. Fairly recently an English lecturer told me that in England he would be paid three times the amount he gets here. But then, who wouldn't want to give up a well-paid job to live in Finland? (An insane person, that's who!)

I don't think I have anything else to report, really. I'm counting days to Christmas (49, because we celebrate Christmas on the 24th), and I've even started planning the menu. Oh, and I've had a haircut, but that was weeks ago. I've discovered that getting a haircut is a lot like getting a tattoo. Once you've done it once, you are tempted to do it again. I'm already tempted to get a really short haircut, but as I'm having trouble making decisions as it is, I haven't been able to decide anything about this either. I'd say I'm about 30% for the new haircut.

Well, I seem to be droning on, so this might be a good place to end this entry.