I've been down with flu for the last two days. Almost out of nowhere (well, I just thought my muscles were tense) I got fever late Saturday night, after a full day of cooking with friends. And that's what my life has been since: these 20m2, books (can't really concentrate enough to read anything serious), films (well, Totoro demands too much concentrarion from me right now... If I don't get better soon, I'll make someone rent me a full set of romantic comedies and cartoon-based action), re-reading a webcomic (http://www.questionablecontent.net/), playing mahjong and arranging everyone else to take care of all my duties. I'm developing a bad case of cabin fever, to say the least.
Luckily (I guess), I don't have an extreme case. I clearly have fever (37,5-38,7, that's about 100-102 F), but not a very high one (which would sometimes be blissfull, sinve just half a degree more, and I would be blissfully out of it). I can breathe, quite often even through my nose. I ache, but it's mostly somewhat toleralble. Mostly, I don't feel awful unless I try to do something (like go to the bathroom).
The boredom is the worst thing. I can't really do anything (especially I can't concentrate), but I can't really sleep either. So, I have 16 hours a day of continuos stream of conciousness experience. I'm getting sick and tired of my mind.
Luckily, a lot of my friends live nearby. I can call on them for help when I need something. Like more soda, returning my entries for exams on time, getting me some fast food (thanks, Dad), and doing my job in several instances. Doubtless, there will be more. Thank you all, (some in advance).
It's nice to develop small quirks when sick. My eyes are so swollen, that I actually have epicanthal folds now, giving somewhat freaked-out asian look. Other than that (actually, that involved), being down with flu is one the most unsexy conditions on the planet (well, I guess we can blame biology for that). The only benefit is, that you get endless ammount of help out of pity (and trust me, you do look pitiful), and can get out of doing anything. Absolutely anything. Also, I guess kind of a "pitifully cute" look would be possible (I've seen it sometimes), but I don't have it.
I don't really no anymore if I have fever or not at a given time. I can feel absolutely horrible with considerabyl normal body temperature (like this morning), or I can feel pretty normal-fluish with quite a bit of fever. I was honestly surprised when I looked at the thermometer last time. This gives me two indicators of my condition, one subjective and one objective. And as long as one of them tells me I'm sick, I'm not putting my nose out of this flat. Maybe, just maybe I'll have chance of getting this thing over with in less than a week (well, if I'm not okay the after tomorrow, I'll have to skip a pre-planned ferry trip to Stockholm, which would be a shame :(...).
I allowed myself to make a quick supply run for books (from the post office) and groceries today, mostly to preserve my sanity (I could have just called Mikko). Among the books (which, once again, were in a postal sack of their own... I want mass discount!) were biographies of Lenin and Stalin, Neuromancer, Lord of the Flies, The Key of Solomon the King and the Prophet. If I start making really, really weird phone calls, just ignore me. Or if I suddenly start to change my facial hair and style...
Nah, I guess I'll stop babbling and get back to watchin War and Peace (8 hours of Russian historical epoch goodness, oh yeah!).
maanantai 17. maaliskuuta 2008
perjantai 14. maaliskuuta 2008
Missing Russia, or the uncomplicated lightness of being
Every few weeks or so I find myself missing Russia immensely. Well, not Russia in general, but Yaroslavl'. Spending eight months somewhere is enough to make the place a permanent part of yourself. Of course, it's not the place. It's the people. The moments. Even though it has been less than a year. A year ago I was in Yaroslavl, with over two months to go, and my world breaking down around me.
A lot has happened since. It feels like a decade. It was in a different life, a previous one.
Come to think of it, there was something different living in Yaroslavl than here. Even though it was alien (and remained a bit so to the very end), there was lightness of being there. It was easier to breathe, I was more myself.
Maybe it was because I was more in touch with two essential parts of my identity there, more free of conflict. One was being a Finn. The other was being a man.
I've never felt particularly Finnish before I spent more time in Russia. In Finland I've always been the critical one, the one attacking the foundations of nationalistic identity (indeed, I still am), seeing it as built, far too powerful and undesirable. After Russia, I started calling myself a critical patriot. It might been the contrast with Russian nationalism (or patriotism), it might have been the fact that, while I'm in Finland, being Finnish is something I share with almost everyone, while in Russia it's spesific to me, a personal characteristic.
I still laugh at our national myths (which is no different from what I do to everyone else's), but maybe a bit more tolerantly. Here I'm burdened with the reality of Finns, the conservative patriots, the Russia-haters, the aimless, drunk children during the weekend (of course, this is not the whole truth. But neither are the other myths). Abroad I can take only their idea of Finns, see if I like it, and either accept it as a part of my own identity, or not. And in Russia, it's difficult not to like it.
See, regardless of how we feel towards them, they like us.
Being a man is somewhat more complicated. In Finland, I find it difficult. Demands are high, and there is really little or no room to break away from them. And even though I have never hurt a woman in purpose (physically), love children (and want to stay home looking after mine for a time. If I have them, that is), don't mind housework (well, not all of it. I'm not the world's most enthusiastic cleaner, but cooking is a love of mine, and bying groceries is an adventure, and I delight in occasionaly doing the really odd parts of cleaning), don't drink too much, or watch sports (ever, at all), I still can't shrug off the criticism.
The one thing every foreigner with a Finnish wife says, is that it is incredible how Finnish women speak of Finnish men. It's hard to find a good word there. In Russia, this is different.
Russia is no paradise either. To someone like me, it might as well become hell. It's traditional, relatively unbending, and very clear in it's gender roles. But if it fits, it's easy to just slip in. I have never felt as appreciated as a man as I felt in Yaroslavl'. And that was with no romantic tie-ins. Even though the-man-who-cooks was a wonder over there, my other attitudes were sometimes considered... crazy. Absolutely ridiculous. Like the father staying home with kids. Still, even the parts I fit gave me appreciation (as did the parts I didn't, to be honest) I've never felt before.
(Oh, and for a final touch of irony, the parts I didn't fit, but that would have been expected of me were exactly the ones considered masculine (with negative connotations) in Finland: hunting or fishing, watching sports, being a complete chauvinistic asshole.)
I don't know what there is to learn of all this. Maybe it's simply that one should always construct one's own identity, and not only take what is offered off the shelf.
A lot has happened since. It feels like a decade. It was in a different life, a previous one.
Come to think of it, there was something different living in Yaroslavl than here. Even though it was alien (and remained a bit so to the very end), there was lightness of being there. It was easier to breathe, I was more myself.
Maybe it was because I was more in touch with two essential parts of my identity there, more free of conflict. One was being a Finn. The other was being a man.
I've never felt particularly Finnish before I spent more time in Russia. In Finland I've always been the critical one, the one attacking the foundations of nationalistic identity (indeed, I still am), seeing it as built, far too powerful and undesirable. After Russia, I started calling myself a critical patriot. It might been the contrast with Russian nationalism (or patriotism), it might have been the fact that, while I'm in Finland, being Finnish is something I share with almost everyone, while in Russia it's spesific to me, a personal characteristic.
I still laugh at our national myths (which is no different from what I do to everyone else's), but maybe a bit more tolerantly. Here I'm burdened with the reality of Finns, the conservative patriots, the Russia-haters, the aimless, drunk children during the weekend (of course, this is not the whole truth. But neither are the other myths). Abroad I can take only their idea of Finns, see if I like it, and either accept it as a part of my own identity, or not. And in Russia, it's difficult not to like it.
See, regardless of how we feel towards them, they like us.
Being a man is somewhat more complicated. In Finland, I find it difficult. Demands are high, and there is really little or no room to break away from them. And even though I have never hurt a woman in purpose (physically), love children (and want to stay home looking after mine for a time. If I have them, that is), don't mind housework (well, not all of it. I'm not the world's most enthusiastic cleaner, but cooking is a love of mine, and bying groceries is an adventure, and I delight in occasionaly doing the really odd parts of cleaning), don't drink too much, or watch sports (ever, at all), I still can't shrug off the criticism.
The one thing every foreigner with a Finnish wife says, is that it is incredible how Finnish women speak of Finnish men. It's hard to find a good word there. In Russia, this is different.
Russia is no paradise either. To someone like me, it might as well become hell. It's traditional, relatively unbending, and very clear in it's gender roles. But if it fits, it's easy to just slip in. I have never felt as appreciated as a man as I felt in Yaroslavl'. And that was with no romantic tie-ins. Even though the-man-who-cooks was a wonder over there, my other attitudes were sometimes considered... crazy. Absolutely ridiculous. Like the father staying home with kids. Still, even the parts I fit gave me appreciation (as did the parts I didn't, to be honest) I've never felt before.
(Oh, and for a final touch of irony, the parts I didn't fit, but that would have been expected of me were exactly the ones considered masculine (with negative connotations) in Finland: hunting or fishing, watching sports, being a complete chauvinistic asshole.)
I don't know what there is to learn of all this. Maybe it's simply that one should always construct one's own identity, and not only take what is offered off the shelf.
Statistics of my time, or where I wake up in the morning
I had a sudden realisation while taking a shower this morning: I've become one of those people, who spend less than half of the year at home. A quick check with iCal on my laptop (no, I wasn't in the shower anymore) told me that Nov '07 - Oct '08 I have 229 realized and projected mornings, when I wake up somewhere else. And the estimate is conservative, there will propapbly be more of them.
Most of it comes from working in Moscow, of course. I worked there
for two months from November to early January (60 mornings), and will be working there from 26th of May to the end of September (estimate, projected 128 mornings). Well, that's more than half a year already.
Partly because I spend so much time abroad, our summer cottage has a relatively small number of wakings (6, all projected), and even those are only because I have a trip for robbers roast planned, and American guests coming over in May. Helsinki has become more common since I became a member of the board of Young Fedealists of Finland (and maybe my parents living there nowadays helped too). It has 9 realised and projected mornings this spring, and almost certainly more will come in the fall (not counted here).
Another larger segment comes from a planned (and pretty certain) trip to the States in October, two or three weeks it should be (counted as 14 mornings here). The rest comes from small things, like a ferry trip (2 mornings, projected), a trip to Lapland (4 mornings, realised), or just waking up in Jyväskylä somewhere else than home (6 mornings, all realised, I don't do projections with these).
And when was I supposed to write my master's thesis again?
Most of it comes from working in Moscow, of course. I worked there
for two months from November to early January (60 mornings), and will be working there from 26th of May to the end of September (estimate, projected 128 mornings). Well, that's more than half a year already.
Partly because I spend so much time abroad, our summer cottage has a relatively small number of wakings (6, all projected), and even those are only because I have a trip for robbers roast planned, and American guests coming over in May. Helsinki has become more common since I became a member of the board of Young Fedealists of Finland (and maybe my parents living there nowadays helped too). It has 9 realised and projected mornings this spring, and almost certainly more will come in the fall (not counted here).
Another larger segment comes from a planned (and pretty certain) trip to the States in October, two or three weeks it should be (counted as 14 mornings here). The rest comes from small things, like a ferry trip (2 mornings, projected), a trip to Lapland (4 mornings, realised), or just waking up in Jyväskylä somewhere else than home (6 mornings, all realised, I don't do projections with these).
And when was I supposed to write my master's thesis again?
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