Hey sweetheart.
I found out that I just missed you on the computer, but there was nothing I could do, I was driving back from Turku.
This week, especially after you called a few days ago, I've had an easier take on things. instead of being concerned for you all the time I've finally adapted to the "it's just a damn trip"-mode. I've had so much to do that I haven't even had time to miss you that much, but momentarily something happens. I was watching someone rub another someone's bald head on Miami Ink yesterday, and for some odd reason I got to thinking about how I sometimes rub your chin. And I've been thinking about rubbing the stubble on your chin for a day now. Things like that, you know? You start thinking about it and then it sticks to your brain for a while. No harm in that, though.
I got my second bachelor(ette)'s degree yesterday, this time with champagne and strawberries. It was kinda fun and it did, at the very least, mark the day when I don't have to go home and write on the thesis every day. It's at the bookbinder's now and I'll give it in the next time I go to Turku on the 12th of June to get my last cortisone-shot. And while we're discussing the thesis, as you might remember, I decided to call it Homo Academicus. And I think someone should totally buy you a few beers for having a wife who can sneak "homo" into an academic dissertation and get away with it.
I also wrote the degree essay yesterday. It's a bit hard to say how it went, because it is supposed to be max 4 pages long. It's a bit difficult to discuss, in theory and practice, how a Ph.D.-student builds up their research-identity in 4 pages. You really can't explain the duality that follows being employed bu the university while working with their thesis. The difficulty of balancing work and social life when they don't have enough time to both teach and work on their research project during one day. The problems that lie with being a teacher to M.Sc.-students, a colleague on one hand to the person that is your supervisor, and being a student on to him/her on the other. How they build up their identity through the thesis since that is what validates them within academia and science is also a bit hard to pinch down to 4 pages. I didn't even touch the difficulty of qualitative, semi-structured interwievs or epistemic rights, so I really don't know if it went well or not.
But on the bright side, I got a lot of compliments for my red shoes at the ceremony.
And in the evening I was supposed to go for a few beers with Nina, but she had to work late because the chinese affiliates can't send in their financial shit on time, so we went for the biggest cupcakes ever with Joni. And some beer. And then some more beer.
Today I had my nails done (finally, yay!) and then we went to Tuija's younger brother's high school graduation. It was a lot of fun and we discussed our childhood a lot, since there aren't that many events where we all are present nowadays. Everyone has a life of their own now, which is kind of interesting but kind of sad, too. Oddly enough, all the grown-ups who lived in the old neighborhood had a hard time recognizing me. They recognized Tuija and both her brothers, my parents, my sister and brother.... but not me. Apparently a change of hair-color does a lot.
I still didn't see the Indy-movie because noone wants to go with me. I can't understand why! Harrison Ford, people!
A lot has happened and this is only a fraction of what I've been doing, but probably the most important fraction (a manicure is important!), so I hope you're still doing okay and having as much fun as I am.
Love you.
Less than an hour to the diploma-thing with the champagne and strawberries where I get my bachelor's papers in this. This will most likely be the last event of this kind in my life. And so, as a woman, I started to think about all the funny stuff I've worn to events like this.
The thing that strikes me most now is one time when I was about 10 years or a little younger, was the coolness that was detachable collars. I don't know if anyone else remembers them but they were these white, lacy things that Mom buttoned up behind the neck and you could oh, so easily wear them with anything, thus making any shirt or dress ever so festive. They were, in my opinion, the prettiest thing ever. I was like a princess.
I think the last time I wore something bright was at age 12, when I graduated from the 6th grade and wore yellow pants and an equally yellow vest with a bunch of flowers on them.
Then, somewhere in the nineties when I graduated from the 9th grade (at age 15-16) I wore the coolest thing I had ever seen in my life. A white, clingy, long skirt and a top, with this fluttery blue shirt on. To top it off I wore the coolest shoes ever: shiny white leather strap sandals with what is now referred to as "a stripper heel". Yeah, too bad there aren't any pictures.
At my graduation, 18 years old, the black phaser was full on. A long, black dress. But I did have a bright red shirt with sleeves that I could pull on me if it became cold. It didn't, and I was dressed in black. Happy as a clam. And drunk as ever by the end of it. We had a lot of guests and I never got the time to eat any of the delicious food we served until everyone had arrived. And toasting with bubbly with about 80-90 people and eating nothing in between makes a girl smile a lot wider in the pics that were taken towards the end of my party.
And when I graduated from pharmacy there was no "graduation". They sent us the diplomas per mail, our license to act as pharmaceutical personnel came per mail, and we got to celebrate by coughing up the stamp-tax on the license (78e). This, I think, is part the reason why it seems so odd to celebrate a degree now. And part because, as I wrote earlier, I wrote my bachelor's dissertation a year ago and am currently waiting for the language center to approve my master's thesis. Anyway.
Here I am, at what will probably be the last party of this sort for me. Dressed in all black. A black shirt and a black, pin-striped skirt. But I did mark the occasion with bright red satin killer heels. If only you could see me now.
The good news is that nothing has happened to me. I'm fine. Yay!
The bad news would be that a passing truck sent a rock flying my way and it left a huge dent on the windshield of our little Baby Blue. We-need-to-replace-it-before-winter-comes-and-it-explodes-big. So hold on to your paycheck.
Remember to breathe, sweetheart. That's it, exhale, inhale, now you've got it...
"..right. So can I write the final essay (a paper we have to write about the master's thesis which proves we've actually written the whole thing all by ourselves) on friday morning? And then hand it in whenever it comes back from the bookbinder's in june?"
"Sure. You don't have to give it in all at once and... wait. You're taking out your bachelor's papers now too, right?"
"Yeah, I found out I could do that too without using up any credits for the bachelor's degree that I'd need for a master's in the old study system. And if the language center approves the thesis now I'll get my master's papers in july"
"So why aren't you coming to the official graduation at 9 on friday? The dean gives a speach and there's champagne and all. Are you somewhere else earlier in the morning or...?"
"Oh no, not at all. I just don't want... to...g..."
"JENNI! Oh, come on! You're graduating! You're coming to the party!"
"But it's just for the bachelor's degree! I wrote that dissertation a year ago! And I graduated when I got out of high school years ago! And I can get wasted on champagne all by myself"
"Oh don't be stupid! You've just finished a huge load of work and you deserve to celebrate! This is a milestone in your life!"
"My butt is a milestone and It's just a bachelor's degree now. I already have one in pharmacy! And that faculty celebrated by sending us all our diplomas per mail"
"No. It's settled. You're coming. You're not getting to write the essay until the celebration is over and you've had a glass of champagne and some strawberries. 9 am on friday."
"....groan.... What do I have to wear to this fucking event?"
"You know. Clean, neat, festive clothes."
"Dress and heels it is."
"Oh, it'll be fun. You'll get a rose!"
Loooooooooove:
I get to take the thesis to the bookbinders and give it in! After 9 months of work I get to give in something that has been approved by the Heavyweighters Of Academia, and I can tell people that I have actually written a thesis. I've written a goddamn book! I'm so happy that all the blood in my veins has turned into glitter and I'm pretty sure this gives me reason enough to bathe in champagne.
And buy shoes.
So sweetheart, now you can breathe again too, because the next time I'm stressed it will actually be because of my period and it won't come around 24/7. Although I still suggest you don't ask me if I'm menstruating when I'm pissed because that would give me cause enough to start wearing a "It's not PMS, It's you"-shirt. What I'm trying to say is: sweetheart, more relaxed female at home. You no longer have to lock me inside the bathroom with a sixpack of beer to calm me down.
That's about it for this tuesday people. I still haven't won the lottery and I got an e-mail from my surgeon suggesting woman should haul her ass back in sooner than planned for the third injection because the knee seems to be completely fucked up a wee bit more complicated of a case than we thought.
But now I can't be bothered because there is too much sunshine and pink unicorns on my heart-shaped cloud.
"Hello?"
"Hi Honey, it's me! How've you been doing?"
I was doing just fine actually, a lot better than when you went to Ecuador, I kinda had this lid on everything and I was okay but now that you've called I fell like this coke-bottle of emotions is starting to explode and it's really silyl since I know you'll be okay but I feel like I'm going to panic soon and it's only been about a week and I was fine up until now but now I really miss you and why are you gone and have you eaten it's really nice here it's been warm and the trees all have leaves and everything is really beautiful and I wish you were here to experience it with me althought the midnight sun is a little hard to get used to again since we have about 18 hours of daylight already and I've been cleaning a lot but I haven't done much cooking since you aren't here to eat what I make and we save a lot in food money but I'd really like you to be here to eat my food and I know that sounds silly but so does everything else I'd like to blurt out and have you eaten at all why are you calling by the way are you okay have you been hurt do you miss me at all?
"Oh, hi babe! I'm fine."
Hey sweetheart!
Hope you're doing okay. I am.
It's been a wonderful few days with lots of sunshine, so guess what I've been doing? What? No, the car is still unwashed but I've gotten actual tan-lines.
I did have to spend a big part of this goregous sunday inside, however, revising the punctuation on my thesis. Man, it took me about 3,5 hour to add/subtract all the commas and stuff!
I haven't done any sport since well, you know. It gets worse all the time, I can feel the tendon all the way up my thigh even when I sit, so there really aren't any comfortable positions. With any luck, I could get the doc to cut it up soon and fix it. Or better yet, postpone it for a while so that we don't have to do any dancing on the wedding! Or, well, I won't. But I guess you wouldn't mind. I remember that last big party we went to, when you told me "Woman, we might take one slow cuddly dance, but that's it. I don't do dancing." and then you not only danced a lot with me, but with my sister, my cousin, my mom... If I recall correctly you even tried to tango with Joni. I guess it only takes that much wine, huh?
I wouldn't wanna go back to work since it's been such a great weekend with wonderful weather, but I guess I don't really have that much choice since I know your standpoint on how much you really wanna be my sugardaddy. But nice things come with a price-tag, even as far as wives go.
I'll probably go back to Turku tomorrow after work since the presentations on tuesday have been set to start at 10 am, and I really haven't done any powerpoint-presentations or read the thesis I'm supposed to be opposing yet.
Anyhoo, just thought I'd let you know I'm fine, I'll be okay and all that. If I do get to graduate when you're gone you'll never hear the end of shit for that, so take it from me now, when things are still uncertain: roses make a good effort. And if you're thinking of celebrating it by bringing me lingerie, let me tell you I'd rather take the cash.
Love you.
Wonderful, relaxing saturday.
Although I was up before 8. My mind is still in "Oh shit, I'm late for work"-mode with the sun coming up around 4 am. Not a whole lot of sleeping was done since I woke up in the middle of the night to feel a huge pressure in my knees. So I spent a few hours awake waiting for that midnight painkiller to kick in.
Anyway. The day was all that much better. Wonderful sunshine from the early hours gave me a few relaxing hours in the sun before Bea came over. When she came we spent the day making food, watching movies and looking extremely stupid in various face-masks made to rejuvenate pretty much everything there is in a human being.
Later in the evening a nice walk, sitting on a cliff, watching the ocean and gossiping about how both our men just don't get the concept of toiletbrush. Here's a toilet, there's a brush, what to do what to do?
I completely ignored the few language things I have to go through with my thesis before tuesday but I haven't felt this relaxed in a long while. And my face is now about -5 years. Wonderful!
I noticed today that by googling Roman Schatz doesn't lead to hints of upcoming books, but a very real link to my blog, more exactly to this very normal post. So by now he probably knows of me.
I think this increases the success-rate in my plan to marry him exponentially.
And anyway, restriction orders are just another way of saying I Love You.
Call me!
I found out today that I was almost sued. Hi, Mom!
I wrote about it in a post I can't find right now, but we had a thief, spaced out on drugs in the pharmacy a while back. He was so out of it and so big that he didn't feel anything no matter how much the guard twisted his arms and stuff. And so when he got a hold of the guards neck with his other hand I went over to help him. The guard that is. He screamed and called us racists and was going to sue us all on assault and battery. This happened to him just because he was a gypsy!
I found out today when I talked to the guard that he had actually had the 'nads to sue us. The district attorney kindly informed him that while it would certainly be interesting to sue "the guard and that tall, dark chick from the pharmacy", it would not be possible. His case was mildly crippled by the fact that he was on a little sumthn' sumthn' and trying to steal and break things at Alko right next to us. Apparently it was also explained to him that being caught, in the midst of all this havoc with not one, but 2 items with which he was believed to intend harming people (a sharpened pair of scissors and a big knife. Hi, Mom!) did not support his case of hate-crime. The popo had a hard time believing that both the guard and that tall, dark chick from the pharmacy went "Gypsies! Let's get 'em!" in the middle of an otherwise normal day of work, and so no-one has actually been sued.
I wonder if he also tried to sue "that guy with the wicker basket who sat on top of me until the police came to get me".
Oh, and one last thing. The district attorney did, however, find it appropriate to prosecute this member of an ethnic minority since most of what he did was kind of criminal in bucketloads of ways, and having other things pending against him from before, he got a ticket for this one but is still going to jail for all the other stuff he's been up to.
That still doens't leave me free from worries. I had that other cortisone shot a few weeks back, and apart from the tendon being upset about getting stung with a needle again for a few days, I really haven't felt it at all. I still have a bit of a bruise from where the surgeon pricked me, but other than that I haven't offered the knee a thought. Stretching and paingel I have. And it's been all good.
Until yesterday.
I got up from the couch (the couch, people!) without any problems. No snap, crackle or pop, but when I stood up it was back. All that goddamn aching. It was like a security wall had just broken down and we were back in square one. Needless to say I didn't sleep much.
Don't really know what to do now, I contacted my doc but couldn't get a hold of him so I'm waiting for him to answer my e-mail. Yes, e-mail. Not allowed to call from work and I'm sure he has nothing better to do than e-mail me back. He did last time and he was really nice.
Anyway. At age 24, I feel like my body is an old battleship that has taken all it can take and is now slowly but securely plunging down in the bermuda triangle. My brain would be the tiny termite, hurrying up the big mast with a mouthful of wood, screaming "Not cool, dude! Not cool!".
