Sandy

When the storm started, I decided it was time to go to bed. The lightening lit up my room and kept me awake through closed eyelids, as thunder rumbled in the distance. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three. I counted miles from the storm instead of sheep. As I began to drift off, residual thunder became the background noise to the start of my dreams.

Then the storm really hit. Strangely, it was the moment of quiet that woke me. Nothing had happened yet, but all my hairs stood on end and I felt like I was vibrating in anticipation. My eyes opened just in time to see the lightening, thunder cracking a second later and shaking the house. I felt exhilarated. Both helpless and alive!

We were talking in one of my classes about the concept of nature. Are we a part of nature or a separate entity? Can anything be unnatural, if it is the product of the minds of humans? Just another species altering its habitat to suit its needs.

During the storm I was lying in a man-made bed, beside my cell phone and computer, physically separated by the walls of an old house, but directly connected to the storm. The electricity flowed through the walls. I felt it. Within my unnatural, man-made construction, the energy of the storm had a physical effect on me. Is that not evidence that, despite our efforts to separate ourselves with physical and mental barriers, we are still a part of nature.

Tiny. Significant. Electric. A part.

You know you've lived in Finland for too long when...

You bike home at 2:30 in the morning for 30 minutes when it's -2 degrees wearing a tank top and shorts.

Mission Impossible

I might regret this post if my current roommates ever read it, but I hope that if they do they are not offended and realize that I write it out of endearment (and mild exaggeration for comedic value...of course).

I know that I have been terrible about writing this year and I apologize, oh one person who reads this (read: mom). I think the problem I have with writing my blog is that I have too many ideas for posts. So many that I get overwhelmed with all the "work" I have to do and end up not writing anything. So, I am going to not write any of the ideas I have had up til now. If I have not written them yet, they are not important enough. And I will start with a blank slate.

However, you do require a bit of background. I have just moved to Rovaniemi (Northern Finland though not quite Lapland I am told) for my summer internship at the Arctic Center. The move was filled with insane coincidences that I would love to tell you about, but they fell before my decision to give up on my former ideas...so too bad! No, if there is demand (ie. if I have not already told you in person), I can maybe find the time to write about it.

No niin, I am now living with two Finnish girls. Although I had a Finnish roommate in Joensuu, as my lovely Finnish friend put it, she was "special". This means that she enjoyed socializing with me and my Japanese roommate and did not think twice about letting us use her stuff or coming to talk to us when we were in our rooms. All seemingly normal things to a Canadian. And, while I knew that this behaviour was not normal by Finnish standards, I did not have to confront that reality head on.

By Canadian standards, Finnish people can seem rude. They are very direct. This can be seen in the language where there is no word for please and you say "what?" when you didn't hear someone. Their attempts at small talk are awkwardly adorable at best or altogether non-existent. And in their mannerisms, such as pushing past someone who is in your way because you don't to bother them and/or don't think it is necessary to say excuse me. Coming from a world where everyday I have extended conversations with my bus driver or cashier and absolutely nothing is actually said, this can be quite shocking. Though it does make learning the language easier, as you can get by just saying moi (hi), joo (yes), hyvää (good/cool) and kiitos (thank you). They are also very private and it is common to live with someone for extended periods of time and never say more than hello as you pass each other in the hallway.

Usually, when I go to a country, I like to try to blend in. But I have always been to countries where I do kinda blend in or at least countries that suit my personality. So, I have decided that trying to be Finnish does not make me happy because it is not who I am, so I will just be myself and Finnish people and I will just have to work something out. Hence, Mission Impossible: befriend my roommates, so they act less like Finnish roommates and more like Finnish friends (who are absolutely fantastic by the way).

Here is my game plan. It's actually quite simple really. I will just force myself upon them. I will hang out in the kitchen (like I am doing now). They have to eat or go to the bathroom eventually and will be forced to say hi enroute. I will bake them delicious baked things and they will feel like they have to socialize with me in return. Finally, I will ask them how they are every time I see them and when they finally ask it back in response, I will talk about my day in great detail. I shall keep you updated, but so far so good and the cookies haven't yet come out of the oven.

The Bright Side of a Flicker

I realize that I spent the last post complaining about my bathroom disco, but, in an attempt to look on the bright side, I have come up with a new favourite past time. I now spend far to long staring at my eyes in the mirror and watching my pupils constrict every time the light flickers on.

Unenthused Mercury

For the last week and a half my bathroom has been turned into a disco. It contains everything that you could find in a disco: it probably could be cleaned more often than it is; it's best not to think about how many people have been there before you and what they have done; you have a feeling of excitement to get there and disappointment once you're there; and most of all, you are consistently being blinded by a strobe light every time you enter.

Now I have never had to deal with fluorescent lights in my life time. Sure, I have been harassed by them at school, slowly driving insane by the ever so slight flicker. One of those things that if you concentrate on it to make sure it's there, it goes away with the sole desire of making you twitch spasmodically and yell to the heavens that you will do anything just to confirm that it's not in your head. To this I have grown accustomed. One of life's many annoyances that you become numb to until the day when they go away and return a thousand times worse than before. However, when it gets to the point where you have to uhn tiss uhn tiss uhn tiss your way through every bathroom break...something needs to be done.

Today I took the initiative. At some point in my life I came across the piece of knowledge that shaking a fluorescent light will prolong its life. My subconscious stored this piece of information away, somehow knowing that I would need it when rooms in my very home would start "jumpin'" and need to be tamed. Now I just needed to get the light out of its bizarrely shaped socket. After much almost breaking of the plastic, I remove the affronting tube. I shake it excitedly hoping that my excitement will translate into the excitement of the mercury molecules who have sunk into a deep depression in contrast to the clubbing feel given to the rest of the room. I even threw in a couple disco moves humming a few bars of Lady's Night.

One would think that the biggest challenge had already been surmounted, but alas! that would just be wishful thinking. I don't know whose idea it was to build a light socket out of plastic, but it is not conducive to remove or replacing light tubes. After successfully dismantling the contraption, I have absolutely no idea how to get it back in without the tube shattering in my hand in frustration. I hope my roommates are ok peeing in the dark or are more skilled light-putter-iners than I. I feel we will never know if the shaking actually does work...

And now my fingers smell funny.