"Into the hole again, we hurried along our way, into a once-glorious garden now steeped in dark decay."

“I wonder if I've been changed in the night. Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!”

- Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll.

*

When I heard the news, I was in a shock and filled with disbelief - I still am. It's not a bad news, it doesn't make me feel anything particular, but I felt like I was suddenly whisked away from the familiar reality and dropped into a hole that leads to Wonderland. Equally bizarre and sudden it was.

For the man who raised me is not - claimed by my untrustworthy mother - my biological father. After almost a 30 years of living I find about it now. So suddenly, without any kind of hints. The mental-image of dropping into a rabbits hole and falling through to another kind of world seems accurate. Thus the pictures, although some of their dark nature doesn't cascade my feelings, but when you say "Alice", I see the bony-grin of Dark Horses "Alice"-game series Cheshire cat.

This shocking bit of news doesn't make me sad. It could liberate me from the painful notion of never being able to get any kind of love nor approval from my father, so I could be free from that mess in my head. No pressure, no shame and no sorrows.

I haven't yet gotten any confirmation from someone else, so in the most extreme case-scenario I might have to cut my ties with both of my parents, unless 'tis is true and they both are willing to speak it truthfully. Otherwise, if there's any claims by either one that the other one is lying, I think I have had enough. But it will be seen soon enough, how they want to handle this.

My mother handled it bad enough already, for she told about that secret to almost everyone else before she told me. My oldest brother knew about it two years ago and my younger siblings had to keep quiet about for a year, until they were forceful enough to make our mother tell the truth to me. At first I was willing to accept that it was handled poorly, slipped (most likely not) accidentally in a conversation but after I found out that my older brother knew about it even sooner, I started to think, why do I even bother socializing with the people who are responsible for the bad state of my mental health. I am truly starting to doubt if severing all ties might be the answer to getting better. I have been too polite and too kind-hearted to continue this charade for as long as I have. I will observe what my parents do. And if there's even a hint of manipulation or lies, I would be more than happy to leave them. After all I have been without their support or help for almost all my life, and even if I would need support or help in the future, I know they would never give either of those things. All they can do is spread poison all around them, and then try to make me feel guilty for disliking them.

Alice: "Wonderland's become quite strange. How is one to find her way?"

Cheshire Cat: "As knowing where you're going is preferable to being lost, ask. Rabbit knows a thing or two, and I, myself, don't need a weathervane to tell which way the wind blows. Let your need guide your behaviour; suppress your instinct to lead; pursue Rabbit."

*

"Life is a Dark chain of Events"

(Copyrights are mine)

Not a summer-appropriate picture but oh well...

Although this cloak of solitary fits me, and I have finally made my peace with it after years of struggling with it yet I have noticed some darker undertones behind it all. My medication works and things are quite fine, but I cannot seem to shake this feeling that my life is quite meaningless. I exist - and that is all. Everyone needs to feel important, to dream, to feel fulfillment in their lives in some way. To some it is a meaningful career, to some it is raising a family or traveling or volunteer work. But I have nothing. If I don't get to college to study to become a teacher I won't ever achieve the feeling that my life has some meaning. I did promise myself to go travel at least to couple of cities in this year or the next, so I would experience that, but I feel conflicted even by that idea. I'm not really excited by the idea although in some sense it would be a big thing and educational. I feel most comfortable at home. Also I think I might be afraid to get disappointed. If I have too high expectations of different places and they do not deliver, I don't know how I would feel about that. If there's no wondrous places in this world, and everything is just skeletons of the old world I don't know how to deal with that.

Reasons for living do not seem to be within us from the start, but we need to search for them. In the mean time I search, I try to keep my eyes closed - or the third eye closed if I feel tempted at looking into myself. Being aware of the gnawing need to find purpose is tough to bear. Even with the medication there still lingers the voice that questions my quality of life. The voice is more quieter and smaller, but it never goes completely away. I do wish to keep on living and hoping for something meaningful to hang on to, but I cannot completely get rid of that voice that makes me wonder would it be better to die and slip into nothingness.

(Copyrights are mine)

The only time I wasn't feeling tormented was when I was reading about Buddhism - years and years ago, about the time I was first time suffering from depression. I felt great sense of peace the more I read and learnt but I also felt that my artistic-inspiration was dying off at the same time. Suffering brings out the imagination; feeds it like some horrifying beast inside us. Peace leaves you blissfully empty; free from the chains that bound us in so many ways, we cannot ever truly see them all. 

Now I have neither of them. Torment is more intense when it keeps growing within without any way to release some of it out as paint forming into images. A cursed situation, when I need to work to survive, but at the same time the meaningless work sucks out all my energy and all my time. I feel tired all the time. Tired in some different way. Perhaps it is my soul that is tired.

I want to Believe

The Truth is Out There

All space- and planet-pictures belong to NASA

This rather large post is a small drop of information about my love for outer space and specific types of Scifi. I already wrote a small - regrettable short - post about the second Scifi-phenomenon that left its mark in me; "The Battlestar Galactica" ("See the shape of things to come"), and now I wanted to write as short tale about couple of other personally influential things.

The game that stole my heart:

A spoiler-free "taste" of the trilogy

My relationship with Scifi is a very short one and it includes only few names, but the impact that those few names left is significant. They gave me a new kind of love towards outer space. I do not only look at the night-sky like looking at a black roof with bright lights. For me, my eyes go further and I can see the Moon circling around the Earth. I can feel the Earth moving within the vast space, see the Milky Way diving into these specific entities that hold in themselves countless of wonders. Space is the kind of scenery you cannot even imagine - less try to paint it with any traditional way. I am glad there are countless of digital-artists who have created the sceneries for us average people to look at.

(All digital-art pictures belong to Bioware)

                                                                   (All digital-art pictures belong to Bioware)

"Stand in the ashes of a trillion dead souls and ask the ghosts if honor matters. The silence is your answer."

                                                                             (All digital-art pictures belong to Bioware)

"After time adrift among open stars, among tides of light and to shoals of dust, I will return to where I began."

Mass Effect was a game-series I accidentally bumped into. My brothers had introduced me to the Bioware-company's previous Scifi-games "Star wars - Knights of the Old Republic", which was actually the first Scifi-experience - if not counting the Alien-movies, Star Wars-movies and few TV-shows. I fell in love with the games. And I found the world of Star Wars more meaningful again. I loved the first three movies when I was a kid, but they were like a outer-space fairy-tale that didn't give much to the more mature audience of the new growing generations. Yet I would never buy the upgraded-versions of the trilogy, that has CGI-raped the craftsmanship art of props. I mean, the creatures they created were amazing as they were. Re-doing them on a computer is like pissing all over Leonardo da Vinci's painting of "Mona Lisa".
But Star Wars deserves a whole another post to be talked about. As does the classic TV-show X-files - which I am quoting here a bit besides Mass Effect-quotes. I shared too many pictures to fit anything more here.

Since my dazed-eye idolizing worshiping is not a real inspiration-starter, here's some short storyline-captions about Mass Effect-trilogy:

"In the year 2148, explorers on Mars discovered the remains of an ancient space-faring civilization. In the decades that followed, these mysterious artifacts revealed startling new technologies, enabling travel to the furthest stars. The basis for this incredible technology was a force that controlled the very fabric of space and time.

They called it the greatest discovery in human history.

The civilizations of the galaxy call it... MASS EFFECT."

I personally have a soft-spot for any kind of ancient disappeared civilizations. All kind of mysteries and unknown stories really get to me. 

"The galaxy is trapped in an endless cycle of extinction. Every 50,000 years, an ancient machine race invades with ruthless efficiency, wiping out all advanced organic civilization. They leave behind only the scattered ruins of technology, and they destroy all evidence of their own existence.

Few believe this ancient legend. You, however, know it to be true. The fight to stop this extinction event has become the most important mission in the galaxy.

And it is your mission. As Commander Shepard of the SS Normandy, take your elite recon squad across a galaxy in turmoil in a desperate race to stop the return of an enemy without mercy. To stop this enemy, you must act without remorse, without hesitation, and outside the limits of the law. Your only imperative is to preserve the safety of civilized life in the galaxy—and at any cost. You must become the tip of the spear of humanity, for you alone know the full extent of what is at stake if you fail."

And another - a bit less pompous:

"As Commander Shepard, rise to become the galaxy’s most elite soldier and lead an all-out war to stop an ancient and ruthless enemy: the Reapers.

Heart-pounding action meets gripping interactive storytelling where you decide how your unique story unfolds. Assemble and lead your team aboard the SS-V Normandy, the most advanced ship in the galaxy, and travel to distant and unexplored star systems. On your journey, meet a cast of intriguing characters each with their own story to tell. Wield devastating weapons and customize them with upgrades to create new and devastating attacks. All the thrilling action and your decisions culminate into a heroic battle against the greatest threat ever known. 

The fate of the galaxy lies in your hands—how will you chose to fight for it?"

The introductions emphasizes the amount of action, but the main focus should be on the story-line and the storytelling since those are the most amazing qualities - at least to a "nongamer" who enjoys deep, well-created topnotch stories that take you deep into the story until you can't stop playing. It is a game that mostly evolves with the players own free will. What will you decide to do, who can you save and who you must sacrifice? Who will become your friend and who your enemy? Who is trustworthy and how will you end the story - is all up to you.

"You realize this plan has me walking into hell too. Hah, just like old times."

And not forgetting the huge amounts of humour in the trilogy.

                                    (Assumably the Illusive man is a tribute to the Smoking man, Cigarette man from X-files)

(All digital-art pictures belong to Bioware)

"Our home is where we are our place of origin is not relevant only where we choose to go together" 

(All digital-art pictures belong to Bioware)

For my love of outer space I also wanted to apply to the mission to Mars (which you can google probably with those exact words since I'm too lazy to put here the specifics), where they were supposed to find the first colonists on a one-way trip to Mars to build settlements there. But at the time they were looking worldwide for volunteers, I was in a relationship that I thought would last. If I had known it would end quickly I would have applied even with my slim chances. 

It is most likely that the humankind will self-destruct before ever getting to a point where we are able to travel in outer space or build settlements there, but I like to dream about those impossible things as do many others who hold great affection towards astronomy, outer space and Scifi-entertainment. And I would have wanted to be one of those people who would become the very first trying to achieve that huge leap in this world of idiocy, where people only care about the insignificant things that happen in their own lives or where people only care about making money. I salute those who have another meaningful existence in art or science. In anything that creates and inspects and solves. Some say that the human-race has only one purpose, and that is to breed, but I think we are - or we can be - a lot more than that.

As Brother Cavil from Battlestar Galactica said - quite accurately to what I feel: 

"I don't want to be human! I want to see gamma rays! I want to hear X-rays! And I want to - I want to smell dark matter! Do you see the absurdity of what I am? I can't even express these things properly because I have to - I have to conceptualize complex ideas

 in this stupid limiting spoken language! 
                 But I know I want to reach out 

with something other 

than these prehensile paws! 

And feel the wind of a supernova flowing over me!

"Envious are all the people, Witches watch at every gate"

 

(Copyrights belong to yours truly)

And again I am exhausted. Work keeps piling up. I try to do many things at once now that I feel slight panic. And my head keeps worrying about future-things no matter how much I try to convince myself, that it is absolutely useless to even worry about things that haven't even happened yet. I should concentrate on this moment right here.

And this moment right here includes entrance exams for university - a local one. I don't want to move anymore, I'm sick and tired of moving and I feel like this place is my home. 
So I tried to apply to several different places although my main interest is still studying to become a teacher. And now, this year, there's no heartaches or ex's that draw my concentration. I even assigned myself into this preparation-course, that's really expensive, so that I could improve my chances into getting to the university I want. I do not have the advantages that several graduated high school-students have; they have the patience and concentration to read a lot of information, they recognize the important things in the texts that should be learned for the entrance-exams. Though I find myself acknowledging the entrance-exam reading material as very familiar, that I know those things from personal experiences, like the last years articles about bullying in schools and the income-differences affecting the students and how they learn and pretty much many of the things there are very understandable information that many probably can relate to. That's why I felt so ashamed of not passing the first test, since all the things in the reading-material was so familiar, so fascinating. I know this is what I want to do. But I also worry if I can get there. Sometimes it is tough not being academically smart. I can't seem to remember what I read. And that's why I find it ironical, that this years reading-material consists a section about work-memory; the part of people's memory that they use to learning things and how early childhood studying develops that memory. 
I guess it is too late for me to develop it further. My memory is horrifyingly short-termed. If my visual-memory wasn't as good as it is, I wouldn't know how I can even survive through life.


I buried the dream of becoming a teacher when I couldn't finish "high school" or whatever the equivalent is, since high school in other countries differs from one another. Anyway, I tried pursuing art, yet I knew I should figure out a way to do it and get money for living. I though having some insignificant education besides that would be the answer, but it only led me into a low-income-trap. Also into the point where my psyche keeps trying to prove for the rest of the world that I am not a loser or an idiot, and I have dreams and goals. Yet I keep feeling like I'm not convincing anyone of that. It feels like people only see me as a low-worker without intelligence nor talent for anything else while everyone else is studying to become something really impressive or they already have started their impressive careers. So finishing up high school would be a huge middle-finger at anyone who has thought that I'm no-good. Also getting into the university would be the same kind of middle-finger. We all have our different unique talents. And we have our weaknesses but if we would want to be great with everything; art, sports, science and so on, we would only achieve average skills with everything. When we focus on one or few talents, we can achieve greatness. So I am not ashamed for not being able to do everything. I only want to do one thing, and teaching would allow me to do it without living in the streets eating food from garbage-cans, and that is art. In some form or another that is the only thing I'm interested doing. Even though I'm still not a very good artist I have the love for it, and that is enough. That brings me happiness.

My old school-teachers and substitute-teachers are partly responsible for my desire to become a teacher. It is funny now to share those not-so-funny memories from those times you were a kid, and didn't know any better.

There were some old-generation teachers there, who weren't really violently aggressive, but they had obsessive fixations to some things, like music and math. They seemed to think that music was the most sacred thing in the world, and if you didn't sing - or sing right, you would get yelled at.
And there was also unqualified teachers, but to pick one specific thing out would be the art-teachers - who also taught P.E and all kinds of other subjects, yet they were hopeless in art. All we had was some old watercolours, A4-copypapers, pens and wax-chalk. And I remember that couple of times there was even clay to mold. But most of the time all we had was wax-chalk. So when I started studying art in vocational school, I had no knowledge about anything when my - then younger - classmates knew a whole bunch of things. They were educated in their own schools a lot better and some had taken some art-classes. So I started with nothing. My current knowledge and know-how isn't all that better even now since even in vocational school I didn't get to try out everything. But enough about complaining about that! All those things affected my desire to teach kids about art. Not to let some artistically uneducated math-teachers to make kids draw wax-chalk pictures day in and day out. No wonder the state of our countries appreciation to culture is dying. The roots of culture lies in the new generations. If you kill their curiosity, you are part of the eradication of our culture. 

One fun fact was that at least when I was a kid, the schools would hire ANYONE to be a substitute teacher or special education teacher. So that meant that couple of alcoholics from the neighborhood would teach math. It wasn't about them not knowing simple math-problems, it was the fact that they had no education or knowledge how to teach not to mention how to teach children. Back then I was scared of the "special education teachers" that smelt like tobacco and alcohol and today I just laugh at the memories. How badly can things go wrong, when our education-system allowed such things happen. Me and my siblings talked about that some time ago, and they believed the local employment agency had just picked any unemployed to work for schools. I have no facts no proof, for I was just a kid back then, but I'm just thankful that at least no matter how bad the budget-cuts are, at least the children today have better teachers.

My generation barely avoided one specific old-school teacher whose name caused terror, wet pants and uncontrollable crying. He was kind of a legend - straight out from a horror-tale. He made many of the children cry. He was strict, tough and I guess his teaching-methods were forcing, scaring and pretty much all kinds of psychical abuse. And that wasn't even that long time ago. I'm sure there are still some teachers who like to use the old ways of teaching.

(Copyrights belong to yours truly)

Hostis Humani Generis

(Copyrights belong to me)

Enemy of the Mankind.

If I had one wish; met a genie, wished upon a flying star or met some strange god whom to pray to, I'd wish for the end of Mankind.

I have a soft heart. Sometimes I think it's too soft for anyone to bear. I have a soft heart for children, for women, for the elderly, for men who are like my brothers and yet there are often thoughts if not realizations, that all things I love will die because of men. Even there are times I look upon my family and friends - even my own reflection in the mirror - and I feel sad, tired, disappointed.

For me, this Earth is hell. There can be no other hell to go to. And if there is, it must feel like a vacation after this life here.

I'm not the only one who has seen the end of our days. I feel such grief already. Perhaps ever since I was a child and I begin to understand things. Now I look at the things I love with adoring gaze, apologetic, and I wish the end of Mankind would come soon. And I wish I could carry this disappointment and turn this resentment into something more bearable. And I wish to all the gods and all the stars that I could bear this grief over my loved ones, that continue to wither and die. My own death is inevitable as is all the natural deaths, so I will continue to live, continue to suffer as long as I can take it. I will gather every last bitter drop of it, take a pencil, a brush and a chisel and form it into a mirror. I hope you would see your reflection. I hope it would make you love the unloved ones once more. That I could see humanity in your eyes instead of that blank, hollow shell without a soul.

(Copyrights belong to yours truly)

*

I'm sure some of the readers wonder who is this melodramatic writer, but I have the advantage to write whatever I wish since I do not have to please anyone. Even these recurring thoughts or feelings about humanity. I do not think there's a cure for this although my mood otherwise has improved with medicine and therapy. There's no cure for the human nature.

“Many people need desperately to receive this message: 'I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people do not care about them. You are not alone.”

Mornings are particularly difficult. It seems that my mind is more affected by any negative thoughts in the first hours of the awakening. For instance, this morning I thought to myself how pointless life is and especially how disgusted I am with the human-race. It's an old issues that I thought I had made my peace with a long time ago. This hate and disgust toward humanity started with my first depression when I was a teenager. It stopped with the depression, I think. I started to read about Buddhism at that point and all the disappointments and anger stopped - until last year it resurfaced. 

Ever since I was a kid, I loved the nature. The animals, the plants - everything in it. When I grew up I had to learn about the human history, and what our race has done to each other, to ourselves and to the planet. And still continue to keep on doing harm to everything around it. The reality of it and the human-nature is a hard thing to accept. Especially when your influenced by it everyday.

Before I understood that I could do all I can as a one person. The way I treat people, treat environment, but I can't save the world all by myself. That thought comforted me, but now it doesn't help me anymore. I just want to quit this game and go in to the wilderness and disappear.

When I was carrying on doing my chores with this dark cloud over my head I suddenly heard a song, that turned this sick feeling into serenity and after that into euphoria. It was from the opera from Léo Delibes called "Lakmé", the song is called "The Flower Duet", "Duo des fleurs". I got this feeling that I want to listen to more opera, since I enjoy classical music besides rock and metal-music. 

For a moment there, I thought to myself, that as long as there's art in this world, something that looks and sounds divine, it's a proof that the mankind has few people in it, with a soul that can produce immortal beauty.

But that soul has been partly tainted by the other part. For many of you readers that song might be more familiar from commercials, which have slaughtered many of the eternal classic-songs, that have the kind of rare light in them, that can lift our spirits, just as it did to me. I can never forgive the advertising industry for the way they exploit beauty. Yet they cannot soil its soul no matter how hard they seem to be trying to do that.

*

"The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possible can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something." ― Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country.

"Nessun maggior dolore Che ricordarsi del tempo felice Nella miseria."

"If you want a vision of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face - forever." 

- George Orwell, 1984.

Growing up in the economic depression was tough for many children of the decade 1990 in Finland.

If only some of the parents would have made some different choices with either how to do things to prevent their own personal economical troubles, like considering taking a loan, or how to mentally deal with the money-troubles they got themselves into, so that they could handle it and let their children have a safe home to live in - poor or not.

I'm sure there are many stories, and my story is not even close to the worst ones. I believe the worst stories contain a parent who decided that not only he or she would take his own life, but also the whole family's lives as well.
But you cannot know for sure, if your own parents are that kind of people or not. You'll just have to wait and see.

I was born into a family with four children, one working parent and both of the parents had built the home we lived for the first eleven years of my life. Those eleven years might have been good for the first few years but quite soon one salary wasn't enough to pay for the bank loan, and my mother didn't seem to get any permanent jobs. The last few years were filled with fighting parents and interesting surprises like unpaid bills that led for instance to one occasion, when the water-company cut the water off, and we had to get snow outside to boil on the stove, so we could have something to drink. Finally the day came, when me and my other siblings got into the car with all of our possessions and were taken to a three room apartment. Six people, three rooms. One of them was the living room, or at that time it was living room/bedroom. It was crowded for sure, and we pretty much lived in the middle of a mess most of the time. Us kids always tried our best to have happy lives and have fun. Children are - after all - quite resilient.
But our parents didn't make our lives easy for us. They fought a lot and they didn't care if we were around to see it or not. We had to tip-toe through it all. Trying not to make things worse. Not to anger them.

My mother was a hysterical and short-tempered woman, who used her tears to manipulate her children. It was said, that she might have been bipolar from her teens, I cannot for the life of mine remember who said that to me, but she was sick through our childhood without anyone knowing it.
My father was a menacing, angry figure, who got angry easily at almost anything. You never could know what would anger him.

Our older brother was taken to another city far away to live with our aunt and her family. There was only me, and two of my younger siblings left with sick parents. It was a ticking time bomb, that finally came to its end on one violent night, which I won't write anything here. It's not something I feel comfortable writing about on a blog.

I have to admit, that the following years are a bit hazy, I cannot remember exactly what happened and when, I might have wanted to forget, but my mother moved away, and at some point she was taken into a mental hospital for treatment for her bipolar disorder. She was away for many years, as far as I could remember.
There was only me and my siblings with our angry violent father. He never laid a hand on us children, but since I was the older child, I felt at this certain point on, that I was responsible for my siblings. I couldn't do much for them, but I swore to myself, that if our father would try to hurt us, I would kill him. It was as simple as that.
He was bigger than me, and of course stronger, but I never knew what he might do. I had no reason to trust him. It didn't matter that he was our father. To me he was nothing more than a violent, angry person, who I was afraid of, and I often wondered if he was going to kill us all some day. I really did. I was as sane as any person at that time, but when you're a young kid who's been left alone with a person you really do not know, you cannot trust this violent angry man, you fear him, and you fear every loud noises, and your whole body goes stiff, the hair in the back of your neck sticks out when he walks behind you, it's not a normal, sane environment to grow up in.

One day, our mother came back to live with us again, but she was more of a stranger then. Some kind of a shell of a human, who spent her days sleeping. After that day, I also lost a mother. Part of the process of losing both father and mother was my deep hate towards them, but also their own attitude. My mother was away for quite some time. Physically and mentally away.
And I felt no affection from my father, nor did I give him any of my time nor effort. If he gave a kind word, it would soon be followed with anger at something, and I decided not to give him any more chances. If he hated me, or just didn't care, I wouldn't try to change that, since it wasn't for me to change. And till today, things have remained unchanged between us. When he someday passes away, I wouldn't grieve for him, like I wouldn't grieve for any stranger.

After my mothers sickness the second one to get sick was my little sister. That's a story, I won't write about. All I will say is, that at first I didn't react to her sickness. I think it was some kind of denial I was going through at that time. I had so much to process, that it was difficult to confront her pain. And when I did confront it, it was overwhelming. I felt like I had let my little sister down, that I failed to protect her.
That's why today I am very happy that she has overcome all the hell she had gone through, and she seems to be more stable and happy than before.
After my sister was well enough to live home again, it was my younger brothers turn to get sick.
And now it is my turn to face what the years left me with. There was no other adults, no psychologist, no social workers there when our lives went to hell. Our relatives were more interested supporting our parents than us, the kids. No one came to help us, to make us food, clean the house - nothing.

Having messed up parents who I do not know nor have any loving relations with, having siblings who got sick and having to watch their suffering without any way to help them, living poor's life in the measurements of Finnish poverty - which is something that I feel I need to mention and point out, though no kid thinks themselves that there are people far worse in the world.
Although, I do not know what some of the Finnish people think poverty was and is. Yet we didn't have cellphones, we had to use our cousins old clothes, we were always being the objects of our relative's charity, which I started to loath when it started to seem, that it meant to be willing to listen anything they say, even if it's insulting.

There's a lot of other examples of poverty in my home-country. I won't start listing them here. All I can say is that my childgood and teen years were quite different from - example - my friends. I didn't have much, I couldn't have any hobbies and all that has made me get used to being poor. There's some bitterness and resentment inside me towards some of the modern day kids, that seem to live without a care in the world. Usually if I get to know those people, or any people with loving parents and good, average income, I feel glad, that they got to live their life without any struggling. It's something that some people do not even think about. And they should think about it. They should think about poverty like it is death; you will never know when it comes for you. When you make a wrong choice. Some day it might be you. And before it is your turn, you should acknowledge people who already live in poverty. You shouldn't look at them with pity or despise, you should make decision that will benefit those people. Vote the kind of people, who might do something for them. Give away old clothes and things for charity. There's a lot everyone can do for their countrymen.

(Copyrights belongs to me)

"Omnes relinquite spes, o vos intrantes"

- Dante "La divina commedia

(Copyrights belongs to me)

*

I wrote some time ago, that I will leave politics and the sorts to other bloggers, and that I will continue to do. I just wanted to tell my story about poverty and mental illness.

Artemis and the Moon

Perhaps my previous inner demons are appearing through my dreams, since I've been seeing quite nightmarish dreams for the last few days. There's been witches and horrible light-eyed creatures who live in the blackest shadows of the darkest rooms and probably a lot more, but luckily I cannot remember any more details than that, but my dreams have been quite distressing night after night.

Usually the antidepressant medication takes few weeks until it reaches its maximum effects and I've been enjoying this "kevlar"-protection that has been slowly forming inside my mind since I started to eat a bigger dosage. It really does feel like my mind is getting a bullet-proof surface, that keeps the inner demons and distressing thoughts out. Before, all the dark that's in the world and inside myself have been able to devour and mutilate me to a breaking point. There was no way to keep all the evil out. You might not understand it, but imagine that all the bad things that have happened to you, and all the bad things that happen in the world affects you as deeply as possible, until you're shredded down to your flesh and bones, and you think you can't handle any more of it.

About the same topic, I've been thinking about my growing obsession of buying a house somewhere from the wilderness to live my life in seclusion in the middle of the great, beautiful East-Finland. This obsession grows too much, because I have trouble being satisfied with my current great apartment. I mean, I like my apartment. It was a saving grace to get this, and for me, it's perfect. I might be a bit worried, if I can contain myself from taking any steps of making the obsession to become reality. Especially when I have been feeling depressed, I've noticed that I've been a bit reckless with my money. Not too reckless, mind you, my financial troubles are partly to blame for my student loans and for the constantly rising living expenses that go way over my miserably small salary.

And for a side note: I'm glad that some people, when asking about my job, immediately say things like "it's better than nothing" or "do you still plan to study something else". Those people have the best reactions. I despise people who look at me with demeaning eyes filled with pity saying shit like "your work is so important! It's a real shame that you don't get the respect you deserve". Those people make me feel like I'm nothing like them, like I'm some sort of primitive human being, who's incapable of making anything of myself, and has to do a job fitting for my mental and physical abilities, and needs to be complimented for sustaining the higher beings primitive needs, that are too demeaning for them to do, since they can do whatever they want to do.
I might be wrong here, I might make assumptions, but I guess that's something I've learned from somewhere. I mean, that I can't make assumptions out of nothing. Perhaps some of this has been learned from the reactions I've got from my aunts - for the least times I've been in any kind of contact with my relatives. People who make a lot of money can learn to think of themselves as superior beings, even if they don't notice it. One of those aunts planted a seed of doubt into my mind, when I was studying art. I was doubting myself, my future, that I would have to focus on finding a career where I could sustain myself. So I started to give up art again. This continuing "giving up" happened in ways, that I didn't think I was actually "giving up" something. But all these decisions I've made so far have been leading me farther away from old life-goals. Perhaps now I want to say to you, the reader, that life's an empty path in a dark forest; if you don't follow your hearts desires, you will become a ghost of your own life. Starting all over again from the scratch might end up killing you. This is how I view my current life; I'm starting all over again. The only bad thing with it is that the time left is more limited than at the first time.

Even knowing all this, I feel almost unaffected. It's a sign that this "kevlar"-surroundings on my mind is working. Desperation cannot get through to me that easily.

*  

I've been planning to try out making a comic-strip about some of the things that happen in my day to day life. I've been following a couple of blogs with that idea, and I think that might be an interesting project to try out. Also since it's been years I have even thought about making a comic-strip I think it might be interesting. The only problem is time, or more specifically; the lack of it, but we will see if I get something done at some point.

(Etching-print, the copyrights belongs to me)

A winter's tale

(Copyrights belong to yours truly!)

This morning started very nicely. At first I spent couple of hours with Skyrim before I got an impulse to go out for a short walk with my camera, before going on errands. And as you can see, I took few pictures. Nothing special, just something.

It's finally a weather for winter. The air is filled with powder snow, that float in the air all around. And today the sky turned into a blue, clear one. And the air is cold. Perfect weather.
Although I get enjoyment out of this day, I've been feeling like my mood has starting to decline. But I'm treating it.

I've almost finished psychology 2 -course. But I need to keep working with my studies.
And I've become a better chef than a year ago.
It's obvious, that the adult psyche keeps on evolving, changing and learning new things. Even though years come and go and I'm starting to feel how fleeting the life is. At least I can better myself.

And talking about psyche, I've come to a decision, a conclusion, that I won't start dating anyone anymore. It's just not worth it. Searching everywhere and still not being able to search everywhere, because I don't have time or money for that. Searching and trying year after year and getting sour disappointments is not worth finding nothing that would stay. Even those who say, that we could stay friends don't really mean it and disappear. And especially fickle are the women under twenty four. They can look like adults, talk like adults, yet they reveal their childlike nature eventually. There's nothing wrong with being childlike or childish, but talking about things you don't have any real, mature experience, especially love, is just cruel. But explaining what I mean by that would take too much time to get into now. I just don't understand how the world works so I'm content with being by myself.

I'm also too complex person for anyone. For being an asexual for one, that's a real deal breaker, though people have been tolerant, it obviously needs more than that.
It's difficult to find someone who is interested in the same things I am and who might find me interesting. It's true that I'm more of a basic, uneventful guy, who doesn't have charisma or especially good looks. And my humor is dry - and quite frankly usually stupid. But I'm not saying all these things because I feel sorry for myself. I actually felt really good upon making this decision. After all, I like being by myself. Time to time I need to see the people I wish to have a social interaction with , but otherwise I'm content by being by myself.

I've always been like that, but after the breakup in summer, and now that months have gone by, I realized that I can't compromise my own wishes anymore for anyone. I can't - no, - I won't move into a different city just to be with someone. I won't wait till I can start making my own dreams for the future, I won't do things I wouldn't want or I won't be pressured into something I don't want to do. Being in a relationship has brought me nothing but grief so I'm done. I will remain a bachelor for my remaining life. Kind of like some of the men before the millennium. Except I'm not gay or alcoholic. I'll be the hermit kind of bachelor.

I've been dreaming for years of buying a small house with a plot of land, right next to some lake or river. Being surrounded by forest as far as the eye can see. And I've added somethings to this dream, like a shelter for abandoned pets. That's something that I could do, to give a meaning to my existence so that I don't feel lost and out of place.
Today I'm feeling hopeful.

                                                                             (Copyrights belong to yours truly!)

"Turn your thoughts away, From cold, unfeeling light, And listen to the Music of the Night"

More thinking.

I have time to think. No social activities, just me and time.

And since I feel more stable, I can think about certain things. But my well being resides on me not thinking about anything bad and just keeping my focus on anything good.
I'm afraid that when I feel good and at least stable, that the therapist will say that I don't need their services. It's not like I can just list all the things that have affected me. When you keep things to yourself, it's not easy to talk about them.
 Talking with a stranger, even to a stranger who seems approving and willing to hear me is really difficult. I've already felt like I don't deserve any kind of therapy. Every doctor and nurse keeps reminding me about the lines they have, the demand, the people who need their help. I just wanted to talk about my demons to someone who's willing to listen. I thought that talking about the things, I've never had the chance to talk about, might help me put those things behind me. But if the world wants me to eat the drugs until I can live with myself and my demons again, without confronting them and just oppressing them more into my subconsciousness, I'll do that. I just can't deal with the guilt. I know there are lines and I know there must be thousands of patients who need therapy a lot more than me. I don't need persuading that I'm not an urgent patient. I thought about saying that to the therapist next time. I want to know if they there feel like I'm wasting their time and should stick to eating medication. 

After all my medication is working now, and I heard, that 
I was supposed to eat double of what I eat now. I was surprised, since I kept fearing that the medication wouldn't work. I don't mind the situation. Less medication means less poison into my body. I guess my previous medication didn't sit well with me. Or I'm starting to get pass the first bad waves I had concerning my loneliness and the messy break-up. But there's two weeks left until the highest effect of the medication starts to wear off, and I've felt the change happening, yet I hope I can keep the dosage and nothing bad happens.

*

I'm also thinking that I might not want kids even if I would ever find myself in a relationship. I do not find children necessary, nor do I find them particularly cute, so I lack the necessary qualities that make people want to have kids of their own. 
 I knew this one 3-year old kid, who was a really nice kid, and we played hide-and-seek and built fortresses from pillows, and of course I will like the future-nephew's and other kids I might come acquainted with (especially if I ever get to university to become a teacher), but I don't think I would ever want kids of my own.
 Especially crying babies freak me out. I use the word "freak", since when they cry like something was eating them, it sounds really creepy. I have never heard any sound as creepy as that. Especially when you are in the same space and the cry pierces the air all around you, and you can't leave. It really makes me feel stressed.
 I think this subject came to mind, since I'm watching this horror movie (in celebration of Halloween) where there's almost in every scene a crying baby. I don't really feel sorry for the baby, especially since it's most likely a crying sound coming from a recorder (they don't make babies cry if they need that crying-sound). It's not a scary effect, it doesn't create anything but annoyance.
 Hm, I really don't want to sound like a children-hater, but I'm finding hard to describe what I mean correctly. Most likely other people who feel about this as I do, can understand what I'm trying to say.

I've been just thinking about building my own future that I will spend by myself - and all of this is realism, not whiny pessimism - and I was thinking about making a shelter for homeless pets. Pet shelter's are always needed, and after some local situations, I though that this idea might be great. I love animals, I hate it when people kill and abuse them for various excuses and there's not enough people who rescue them. So this is something I'm thinking about to keep my mind in a good place. Something to focus on, when I plan for my future.

*

Also now that the Halloween is over, almost all candy has been eaten, and I've already taken down the decorations (they've been up since October the first) I'm slowly turning to Christmas, celebration of artificial lights. I'm hoping to purchase a plastic christmas tree for myself in a couple of weeks. You know, for my own delight. And most likely for my cat's delight. Although I hope that they don't start eating the tree.

(Copyrights belongs to yours truly)

La Mer

Beautiful autumn day.

The sunlight really brightens up the yellow and red trees. Although I'm not a huge fan of the autumn colours, I can't deny their beauty at this light.

Probably tonight you could see numerous stars in the sky as long as the clouds stay away.

I think I'm quite happy now. The feeling comes most likely from my medication, but I am usually quite happy and a content person. It was just everything that happened to me in the past year that changed me from a happy carefree guy into this barely functioning wreck of a man. 

Even when I lived alone, I was happy with my life. Seasons came and changed, and I found pleasant things from my life and I couldn't have asked for more. Of course I used to dream about having someone special, since everyone wants and needs to feel loved, but I was also just content at dreaming about having something more in my life. Not to make my life somehow more than what it is and always has been, but to bring something more into it. If that makes any sense.

I believe in making life matter for myself. I don't need any other reasons to live and find happiness but to find the meaning and the balance from making my life good for me. It could  
have been just a whole lot of small things, but as long as they made me smile, they were more than enough.
If you have to start looking happiness and fulfillment only from outside yourself, and not finding the core of it from within you, then when all the things that make you feel like your life matters and you're achieving your meaning in life disappears - as we know, nothing lasts forever - you would lose everything. The whole base that kept you content and gave you reason to get up in the morning would no longer exist. To me that sounds like a very dangerous way to live. You can't only base your happiness and dreams on other people. You need to find things you enjoy and that makes you happy. It can't only be your career either, but that's something that can make everyday seem like a dream.

And I'm still continuing with the Bioshock -gameseries soundtrack. It's simply amazing and beautiful. 

Here's a song that you might have heard somewhere. For example in the season 1 of American Horror Story:



I'm listening these songs from my gramophone to get into the right mood.

Unfortunately I haven't had the chance to play the newest game: Bioshock Infinite, although I have heard that it's really spectacular game.

Since I linked a bunch of these songs and nothing about the actual games, I might make my next update about the games.