24 posts tagged “random”
I know I've told most, if not all of you how I seriously think Life is out to fuck around with me every little chance it gets. Y'know, just to see how I'll react.
Do you know how unbelievably hard it is to shut off your alarm clock when you wake up when both your arms are asleep??? I tell ya, it would've been really funny if my alarm clock didn't make the most excruciating sound in the universe. I spent a good ten minutes trying to use the Force to make my arms move, but no dice.
I'm glad, though, that nobody was around to see me: lying flat on my stomach with nothing really moving except my legs and shoulders was a picture opportunity I'm glad the Universe missed...
"Don't you realize that I'm doing all this because I'm trying to hint that I love you?"
"I do realize; I'm just ignoring you."
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"I don't need a girfriend - I have broadband!"
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"Y'know, the desertification of rain forests is just happening because all the Indians left."
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"Life would be a lot easier if you could just go Mortal Kombat on someone's ass every now and then."
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"Any of you seen my trumpet? I lost it to some girl while trying to get some from her."
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" Sometimes I get this urge to talk about my feelings - But then I watch a few episodes of Top Gear and I'm fine again."
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"She has like the weirdest fears. Kinda like me saying my ass is allergic to chairs."
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"God and I have this agreement: he gets to fuck my life up as much as he wants and I get to take a 2x4 to his nuts once I'm dead."
"We kinda just grew apart - Well, I did, he didn't."
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"If I fail this exam, I'm going to eat you alive."
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"Why don't you men realise us saying we want a full body massage just means we want to have sex?" *
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"I'm somehow defective, since I don't have a dick."
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"See that guy over there? I just couldn't hit him, he just looks so adorable. You, on the other hand, I'd have no problem punching... because I know you could take it."
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"How much ya think I'd make on the market?"
"What 'market'?"
"Y'know, thought I'd just start selling myself 'stead of living on 100€ a month. Girl's gotta live, and it'd be easy money, right?"
"..."
"So how much'd I be worth, huh?!?"
...
"Here's the deal: if I win, you'll be my bitch for a week."
"And if I win?"
"I won't bitch for a week."
* Had to change the ending, because the way she really put it would've even made sailors blush.
I know I've been talking about vibes more than what's acceptable for a person whose never worn a sarong nor spent way too much hard earned cash on an ashram, but it's my blog, and since I know many of you and know you'll read all this even if it was a binary recipe for pancakes, I'll just go ahead and do as I please.
So 'bleh'!
But let's talk about vibes, shall we? I promise it'll be the last one in a while; after that, I'll go endure an emotional lobotomy and end up a cold, empty shell of a man with no feelings whatsoever!
( What, you're still here?)
I've been going on vibes for quite some time now, which is all the more unsettling since yesterday on one of my jogs I got the most negative vibe concerning this week I could ever get. Y'know, like some great cosmic evil is lurking in the shadows just waiting to pounce on me, and every molecule in the universe is trying to tell me to stay in bed 'til Friday.
I won't, but it's not fun to start a Monday on a vibe like that. And I'm not saying I believe in karmic equivalence, but I have no idea what sort of magnanimous evil I could've done/set loose to start feeling like this.
Maybe it's just a dumb gut feeling, and in reality nothing bad'll happen - instead I'll be too concerned waiting for the proverbial shit to hit the fan to actually notice how great things are going in reality.
*sigh* But we'll see.
I think I've finally found out what's been bugging Vox on my connection - the most obvious fact being that I'm able to actually post now!
The new year's been one hell of a ride already, mostly due to the fact that, even if the year changes, the amount of crap you have to do doesn't suddenly reset itself to zero!
HOWEVER, if the technical wizard that is myself actually did just solve the problem with Vox not wanting to see me posting, posts 'should' start coming up on a somewhat more regular basis again ( I know, I know, I've said that before like 5 times already)!
Much love though.
... I have nothing to say. I just can't come up with anything.
But it is funny.
Oh, and some guy apparently has a blog about different toilets and urinals, but I am not going to post a link, because I am not going to go back there, ever again.
I guess it was bound to happen, really. This being the closest thing to MIT over here really set the stage for it already.
I was bound to start feeling really stupid around here, that is.
Surprisingly though, it's not because I think I'm going to fail the course in Statics ( not Statistics; and it's fine since I'll be getting more than enough credits, anyway) or because linear algebra in n-space would be too overwhelming ( I'm actually getting pretty good at it, yay!); the real reason why I'm feeling stupid around here, even though my courses are going smoothly for the most part, can be defined simply by checking out my surroundings.
I'm sitting in one of the, I don't know, maybe around 50 different computer classes, and whereas the people around me are going through complex diagrams and really funky looking schematics, writing essays, thesises (or theses?) and generally being very academic, yours truly is sitting here, posting on his blog, shuffling through Deviantart and reading bad articles on whatnot. Makes ya kinda feel like you're lowering the standards.
...
Oh wait, the guy in front of me is playing a Flash-game and apparently watching porn out in the open! Guess I should scratch the post, then...
Having finally achieved a somewhat normal daily routine, gotten everything to work and having met old friends that I've finally been able to catch up with, I've finally had some time to survey and get in touch with my surroundings, as well.
No longer feeling crippled because the washing machine makes funny noises or by the fact that the local park looks like a scene from Hitchcock's Birds due to the incredible amount of nesting Canada Geese ( as well as the stupefying amount of birdshit everywhere), I've gotten over what scientists call the Negotiation Phase of culture shock and have achieved some sort of personal acceptance of my surroundings; in short, everything's peachy - more or less.
Being a busy capital as it is, Helsinki's can amount to quite the hustle and bustle of a modern metropolis; there are people, cars and high rises all around, and everyone seems to be in a hurry somewhere. "Where" I don't know, maybe everyone just keeps forgetting the stove on or something or they like jogging in suits, but either way, loads of running.
I, however, technically don't live in Helsinki myself, since I live on the outskirts of Helsinki Major, in a much more quaint area generally known as Tapiola. Unlike Helsinki itself, Tapiola ( and it's neighboring district, the Westend) is a much less stressed out area, populated by well-to-do old people and their accompanying villas and mansions, with good services and easy access to central Helsinki thanks to the freeway that whizzes by just out of hearing range.
Me? I live in an apartment block.
But that's not to say I'd be living without the benefits of living in Tapiola just because I'm dirt poor; the apartment block I live in was built somewhere in the mid 50's by world renowned architect Alvar Aalto, which means that not only does the building look like someone designed it on crack, but the lovely orange paint on the walls and doors of the stairwell is a cultural heritage, meaning that even if it looks horrendous now, people fifty years from now will not be bereft of feeling the same kind of nausea as I do, every single morning I step out of the apartment ( whenever it's not because of a hangover, that is).
Tapiola also has a very good local center, housing not one but two high-end malls nicely tucked away in avantgarde-constructions, five banks within a 100m stretch and some very good restaurants - not that I've been able to afford going to any of them, but I hear the food's wonderful. A point of irony would be noting that the local deli is in fact cheaper than the local supermarket when it comes to basic necessities ( and they sell llama).
The amount of clothing stores in the center is also quite surprising; bearing in mind that most local centra generally tend to have one or two supermarkets, one bank and perhaps a shoe store, Tapiola boasts with not only high fashion boutiques, but also considerably cheaper ( yet still quite fetching) stores for "those younger people". The fact that there are stores like these there should probably be credited to the fact that my univeristy's just a few klicks away, otherwise they probably wouldn't be caught dead selling H&M.
I have to admit, though, that the only thing that doesn't really fit in is me. Walking around the wives and kids of big business execs and such in scruffy clothes and a shirt that seriously needs ironing must make me a complete eyesore.
Either that, or they just don't notice me - strenghtened by the fact that, whenever an old lady walks into me, I'll be damned if they even look your way in a slight manner of apology. But at least you don't have to hear them saying "***** kids" whenever you bump into them by accident; it's quite refreshing to instead hear them say "Do you have any idea who my husband is??"
No ma'am, but I'll be sure to tell him what a wonderful choice he made back in the day when he decided to marry you.
But don't get me wrong; I love living here. There's hardly no crime rate, there are more parks than parking lots here, and even the junkies are friendly. There are lots of nice cars to look at, and whenever the old folks have their daughters flown in from France and Italy over for dinner and champagne, there're lot's of other nice things to gawk at.
And as soon as they lift the ban on hunting Canada geese, I'm getting a shotgun.
As if today wasn't action-packed in its own right, already, it seems Life's gotten all lovey-dovey over me yet again... Lucky me it's happening on the last few days before I move out and become ( momentarily) out of touch to everyone, because HEY, embarrassment requires an audience!
Even if all my stuff's already at the new apartment ( sans laptop), I'm still living at my parents' house for a few more days, mainly to tie up a few loose ends and such ( and not because of the free food - whatever you may think, sis!). Getting stuff done here that I can't get done in the new apartment - mainly due to distances and the fact that I still don't have an Internet connection ( *gasp*, said the audience).
Since I'll be leaving in a day or two and things have been a bit stressful, I decided to take some time off and go run one last half-marathon as some silly sort of "coming of age/rite of passage"-bullshit where I'd come to terms with myself yet again; frankly, any taoist/golden rule-crap you can come up with is fine - I just needed to go let off some steam, OK?
The distance isn't anything, really, since I've been running the same distance several times a week now for a few months; what happened at the halfway-mark, however, was definitely something.
See, I run the same distance back and forth, and at the halfway-mark ( conveniently at the top of a very tall hill on the first island in the local archipelago) I usually stretch a bit to not have to fear of suddenly going bonk ( I love that term) or developing massive spasms and cramps after jogging.
So here I am, doing my some stretches while trying to look as imposing as possible to the two preteens trying out their first moody angst and dreaming of the day they get their first periods, looking at the sun going down and having achieved as much zen as is possible while listening to Ennio Morricone and Motörhead. Just 10 or so kilometers back and that's it.
Not.
As soon as I start moving, a feisty little pug bites me square in the right butt-cheek, basically preventing me from running off. I look down, and lo and behold, no pug! I realize that what I'm dealing with is a sudden and violent contraction of my left gluteus maximus and that I still have 10 or so kilometers left to go; I'm phrasing it like that because "I got an ass-cramp" just sounds too embarrassing...
SO, standing on top of a hill, watching the sun going down with my butt going off like an alarmbell as soon as I even think about going above walking speed I'm seemingly left with three options: either I suck it up and ask if I could borrow some passerby's cellphone and call a ride, try to stop a car and ask for one, or I walk home.
For those of you who know me, I think most of you have already realized what I did: seeing as I'm on an island at sunset with nobody in sight and I sure as hell ain't gonna hitch a ride "because I got an ass-cramp", and calling someone on the same grounds is just as humiliating, I decide to keep going. Damnit, it was supposed to be my last half-marathon here, and I sure as hell ain't gonna stop now! I'm just too stubborn to not finish it.
What happened during the next 40 or so minutes is something I'd rather not remember, but I'm pretty sure quite a few people who drove past me have it painted in vivid colors.
Since it's past sunset, there was no way I'd be walking back on this leg, mainly since I'm just too short tempered to walk, so I do what every medical expert and athlete would discourage with flaming passion: I do some first aid stretches that'll at least lessen the pain shooting up through my ass and start running.
I swear, if there was anything I'd want on film, it would've been this jog - every last minute of it. Nothing could possibly beat seeing a 6 feet tall, 20 year old man in the prime of his life running by with a face going from utter pain to masochistic rage to uncontrolled laughter, only to have him suddenly falter, stop and start violently massaging one butt-cheek.
I can think of few things that are more embarrassing than seeing the drivers turn their heads while driving by while you're happily playing grab-ass with yourself with an expression of utter relief painted all over your face. The fact that this scene was repeated every km or so for the next 10 km was quite a mindblowing experience; it may be somebody's cup of tea, but it certainly wasn't mine! I can deal with the 'sharp, fiery pitchfork jabbed into raw meat'- experience, but as quite a shy person I find it feels kinda violating to have people oggle me while I try to soothe my pain - even if I'm forced to do it in public!
But what the hell, at least someone probably got off from watching my ass-grabbing performances, so may as well see it as a service to the community..
- The slowest-moving people always walk in the middle of the sidewalk. There's gotta be some unknown Law of [Whatever] which states that walking past these people in an even slightly agreeable manner without looking like an absolute ass is, and will forever be, impossible. Either live with it, or jump over the curb and get splattered back onto it by an Renault Clio.
- Old ladies have, at some point, lost ( or at least seemingly) their capability to pass by anyone; it's either straight forward or... well. I get it, they're old, they live off the forced empathy of others because of their latest hit of osteoporosis, but Lord help me, if I'm standing in the middle of the fudging square, you wouldn't expect them to nearly walk into you and wait for you to move before actually changing course! ( All the while muttering things about "dem teens" which, frankly, are too profane to be mentioned here. They've lived through some vocabulary...)
- People who ride bikes on the wrong ( left) side of the pavement never turn to look if anyone's coming on the right ( right) side when they turn. No biggy, until you realize that the jerk in front of you decides to make you their sidekick in next week's episode of "Scarred".
- Mother's in their mid 30's with four closely aged pre-school kids are the most dangerous people in traffic. Forget suicidal bikers, anyone gets close to these bit-... ladies is gonna have hell to pay. You dare ring your bell in a humble request to have two of their kindergarten-congregation slightly move to the side and you'll quickly find yourself hitting both a verbal wall and an ( ironically) widening wall of 5-year-olds, making a faceplant due to tripping over a bunch of toddlers taste so much more bittersweet.
- Girls in their late teens/early twenties are the ones that most likely will stare you down, man or woman, regardless of how you fare in traffic. Easiest to mow down, though.
- Big people in Small cars: Stay. The. Fuck. Away from them. They've got an unfulfilled mean streak that'd make most murder-convicts blush.
