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I was on the bus yesterday afternoon - the route which passes by the schools I "taught" at - and I saw a few familiar faces. Overhearing them being addressed by their friends only confirmed that I had known these people before. Fortunately, it's been more than a year and kids don't remember briefly-seen visages for very long. But that doesn't mean that it made me feel kind of creeped out.
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I can't tell if I'm just being superglue-clingy to the only person who is nearly always available to listen to me, or if it's more than that. He knows my conditions, but really, those are the products of thinking, and when it comes down to it, it's hard for reason to overcome the heart.

I got a few good Boxing Day/Week deals: stuff from The Body Shop, couple of pairs of jeans, gloves. I also got a Team Finland hockey jersey. It was $94 plus tax, down from $130. It's a lot of money for me, and it's only a matter of time before my dad will get on my case about spending like that on luxuries. It's a blue one though, and Real Finns™ prefer white ones (I do too; something about colour proportions I think) , but at that kind of discount, it's hard to refuse. Everyone I know with a white one got it in Finland, and I couldn't find any here. Were I to, it likely won't be at that price anyway.

I feel like I'm living life on the edge right now. It's not a crazy-high cliff or anything, not even remotely threatening to most people, but risky and a bit scary to me. Buying all these crazy things; associating with people "below"1 me, wanting them to show me new experiences; encouraging the blatant scandalousness of being friends with CFJ (now with the weird feelings too). Pushing the limits of my self-punishment and guilt complexes. But I think I need it. Maybe I really AM just fifteen again, but this time for reals.

__________
1 N.B. This is in scare quotes because it is not my epithet, but that of the middle/upper-middle-class environment I grew up in.
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Like my old friend Nick, I have far too many essay/post ideas floating about in my head and not enough motivation or imperative to write them. (I suspect that he at least keeps a pile of drafts lying around, though. I don't.) I need to focus. I also need to write; there's a cathartic effect releasing these thoughts into text so I don't have to keep them in my head anymore. It's like thought-overload or something.

Here are some of those random post ideas:
* Things from teacher training that really ought to be in training for prospective profs
* The call of the sea forest: My outdoors(wo)man tendencies since childhood
* Why it should have been obvious all along that scholarship is my calling - it was just a question of which field, and even that in hindsight seems obvious
* When good self-esteem/image/pride causes shame
* A diary of the good fight: Notes on teaching (you've actually already seen some of this; I hope to post the rest once the dedicatee of these papers has had a chance to read the 13-page manuscript)
* The return of Hug-a-Finn

I know that my lack of regular updates and the personal nature of my writing tends to lead to a lot of questions asked and not enough of them answered. So please post below what you want to know more about, be it any of those topics above or something else, and I will do my best to respond.


I bought like 2.5 pounds of Cadbury Mini-Eggs in bulk today. They were like $4-something per pound. It wouldn't be wise for me to eat them all. Will probably leave some out for the roommates.

My internet has been flaking out so badly for the last couple of days that I think it's a sign I'm supposed to go meditate or pray or just be with myself.

I keep thinking it's already Thursday night.

Idling

Jun. 10th, 2010 11:58 pm
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Idling about despite having things to do isn't necessarily laziness. Sometimes it's a mental paralysis. Sometimes it's mental overload...I know it all too well. So many existential thoughts...I think it's why I still possess motivation to complete a task once I've started it and can complete it in one go. But otherwise frozen in terror and fear, and trying to keep a faint hope in sight.
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I cleaned out a bunch of the cardboard boxes that the former roommates left in the storage room. Took a bag of styrofoam out to the garbage, and a couple of boxfuls of recycling. There's still stuff in the storage room I don't know to whom it belongs, and some shoeboxes that would be handy for my own shoes.

I generally avoid sports or physical recreation, but when I find some labour to physically toil over (whether it's cleaning out stuff like today or repairing old dresser drawers with ill-suited tools like a few days ago), I still hate the sweat, yet I feel good about doing it, because it's a visible effort of struggling against things rather than just against other people (which comes more easily, and causes a great deal of frustration, guilt, shame, and all that sort of crap).

And just for a little while I can forget about loneliness...though I wish sometimes that there was somebody with whom I can share my feelings of accomplishment, no matter how seemingly trivial what those feelings are for. Honestly there isn't anything significant about cleaning a closet. But I feel strongly about it regardless.

Many [gifted adults] immerse themselves fully in whatever they are doing—whether it be their work, their hobbies/avocations, or their relationships with friends, family, or even acquaintances. They tend to be fully present in the moment (sometimes oblivious to time and its constraints) and to imbue each encounter with relevance and meaning. Superficiality is unfamiliar territory for them, and they tend to go in to far further depth in whatever they do or feel than others, thereby seeking and frequently finding great fulfillment even in everyday events—a sunrise, a chance encounter on a bus, a message from a friend, the laughter of children.
[...]
Most gifted adults have repeatedly felt misunderstood by others. Furthermore, they have often found themselves on a lifelong quest to understand themselves, while longing to find kindred spirits with whom they might share life's journey in meaningful ways. Some gifted individuals seem to sail through life on untroubled waters, fully enjoying the opportunities available to them, while others battle inner storms and strong seas that seem to batter them from all sides.

Sheehy (2006) described a significant portion of young adulthood as the "Trying Twenties." She suggested that this is a time when individuals are concentrating on what they feel they are "supposed to do"–i.e., according to societal norms and expectations. However, for gifted adults with high levels of intellectual and imaginational intensity, this may be further complicated in several ways. First, they are aware of all of the possibilities available to them (akin to what Toffler, 1984, called "overchoice"); second, they are concerned about what they should be doing in terms of using their gifts and talents productively for the betterment of society; and third, they desire to find one or more others with whom they can relate. As a result, these individuals wend their way through what seems to be a jungle of options, each with its own potential consequences.
–E. D. Fiedler, "Advantages and Challenges of Lifespan Intensity" in S. Daniels and M. M. Piechowski (eds.), Living with Intensity: Understanding the Sensitivity, Excitability, and Emotional Development of Gifted Children, Adolescents, and Adults (2009)
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...but I suppose that if there is one thing (and there is) that I arguably spend too much time and money on, to little result, it'd be my board games. The similarities to what prompted the Sundering (role-playing games) are striking -- stuff which provides a lot of busywork through artistic customization, lots of bits or dice or cards to play with. These kinds of games, are a vehicle for social interaction and contact, yet despite this, I end up hoping to play them more than I actually do play them. At least I actually do play the occasional board game, and some of them can be played solitaire. In that way I suppose I've gotten more enjoyment out of board games than I ever had through RPGs, but I've also spent a lot more money on board games. They also take up more space.

Even so, if under some circumstance the Sundering repeats itself and my board games are gone... I'd probably not take it so hard, because I'm not really as sentimentally close to them as I was with my RPG books and fantasy novels. Some of them, sure, but only because of their Finnishness.


but I loved too much by such / and such is happiness thrown away
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Because it's 2010, I recall some people writing up synopses of "the last ten years of my life" around New Years'. There's no way I could sum up ten years in a blog post, but I've thinking about the past decade for a different reason.

Ten years ago today the metaphorical ground fell out from under me, for everything that I treasured as part of my personal life was taken away from me. Here's some stuff I wrote shortly after the incident (I'm guessing early on in the following school year), and teenage superficiality and naive romanticism aside, it does capture my early thoughts about it. I think that as I grew older and learned to understand myself more, the depth of want became greater, loneliness hit harder, and the differences between what I wanted to believe in and what I was expected to believe in became more distinct. Ever more distinct.

Ten years later, today, I look to my shelf here, and everything I treasure is there. Were it even to be that all of the Finnish books go, to take away the diaries and the photographs would clearly be unjust. You can try to take away people's thoughts, but you can't take away their memories or their dreams.
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Two empty bedrooms (+ one other occupied but gone for vacation), empty cupboards in the kitchen, an empty, dark living room...

...nobody to slam doors shut or leave lights on or have friends over until late or have annoying ringtones on phones and never pick them up or not sort the recycling. Isn't that just great?
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The tortured soul lets slip its secret -- that it has not found its life's purpose. It drifts from aim to aim, searching but not finding. By the time the mind reaches a destination, thoughts have already moved on.
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If one were to say that I haven't "grown up" "acceptably" despite what I've been through, I look through the glass of memory and doubt that I would have "grown up" "acceptably" even if the Sundering had never happened. I fail to see how complacency would have made my adolescence more "normal" on some arbitrary scale.

It doesn't matter whether I brought the Sundering upon myself, nor whether there has yet to be forgiveness, from whom to whom; for I remember it not as tragedy nor as injustice, but rather as a blessing in the normal course of events -- without which there would never have been love or loss, philosophy, nor laughter; no horror, wonder, nor fear; no winter's sparrow, nor messenger.

There would be no calling; no hubris; no homecoming.

No, I don't really think I'd rather have had my life happen any other way.

Bitterness

Oct. 16th, 2008 12:31 am
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Things/people that I normally enjoy but currently leave a figurative bitter taste in my figurative mouth:

* Helping people with English grammar
* "Koneeseen kadonnut" <-> Apulanta <-> Toni Wirtanen
* certain Finnish contacts
* German class
* explaining Finland
* food
* writing
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Updates later, when I get Internet access in my room again.

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