Falling in Love: Continued

So, we begin at the Stammtisch.
Erin, Charlotte and I were early, but no big deal. We took silly pictures (that looked very odd if you zoomed in) and joked around. Typical.
We watched people arrive from Roninmäki and the other Kortepohja buildings; once there were enough people we got up from the couches and joined in.
The theme for the night was 'Tag-Me' which meant to wear white and bring a marker so people could sign your shirt. Erin had a flag to sign, but none of us bothered with shirts since we weren't university kids and didn't know more than the names of most people.
As the night wore on I danced with everyone, talked, met some more people, tasted Filip's homemade wine-- all that good stuff.
At one point we second place winners got our prizes: an entrance and free drink ticket for Bra (which Charlotte was definitely excited about) and the belly button t-shirt (which I was definitely excited about.) We decided to let people sign those shirts. Why not? Though, by the end of the night, I would've liked more signatures.. I missed a few people.. but whatever. I still like Remi's 'French kiss?' (since he's french, and all) and Bruno's inappropriately placed 'Brazil Loves You' (since he's brazillian and all) and the other statements in foreign languages and broken english. I've yet to figure out who wrote 'ZUM!' I'm guessing one of the Belgians. After all: they would.
I kept on dancing and...well...enjoyed being single :) for which Charlotte and Erin owe me Ben and Jerry's ice cream. (We have a game.)
Too bad the stupid (but really, not stupid) thing had to end at 3. They turned off our music even earlier. This was the good part though. Without the actual 'Barbara Streisand' coming through the speakers everyone in the place sang it themselves. Along with a bunch of other songs like a rendition of that 'Hey, hey baby, (ooh, huh!) I want to kno-o-ow...' song that went more like 'Hey, hey, baby (ooh, huh!) Jyväskylä-ä-ä, will you be my school? (or maybe it said home...it was hard to tell). Whatever.
During the whole thing I was totally totally reminded of that end-of-governor's-school-oh-my-god-don't-make-me-leave-these-people-ever feeling. (You see, most of the JYU exchange students are leaving sometime this month. Sucks.) With everyone singing loudly together and a lot of other people taking pictures/filming it made me think of the mid night breakfast when we all got up on the tables and sang 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight.' Once everyone is home, they'll watch the videos and most will cry. I know the feeling. I felt so connected with everyone there in those moments. That was the best part. Sheesh...I'm not even leaving and I wasn't even with them through everything and I almost cried just because I know how they feel.
But thank god no one's leaving like, tomorrow. There's still one or two full weeks. I've already been invited to 2-3 more parties...and I'm sure that won't be all.

Everyone took their own sweet time leaving the place; the word of after parties still needed to be spread. I was almost dragged to the party in Roninmäki by Bruno, but it was too far away to go there and walk back at such wee hours. I opted to go to the Kortepohja after party. The one that was very last minute, and no one excatly knew where it would be. As a group, we headed towards the M building and went from floor 5 to 4 to 1 to 9 and back to 4 before finding a suitable room. I forget who's room it was, but we went in and sleepishly chilled. There were some tunes on and some drinks were passed around. I was Maarten's (Belgium) footrest and I used him as a pillow in addition to the one someone threw to me. It wasn't too cozy.. but if it had been any more comfortable I probably would've  fallen asleep.
Eventually Maarten and Benny decided to retire to their dorms. Charlotte had to get our 4th player's shirt from their place, so we left too. At their dorm, we found out we'd missed the shirtless/pasta after party next door. Haha. NBD.
We three girls left and headed our separate ways.

That's basically the end of the night. I went home, slept, slept in, missed my 8 am class (sucks, since it was Music, where I get to sing), and made it through the school day with only falling asleep once. In PE. (We were doing a relaxation process-thing.)

And now I'm in Uurainen. I went ice skating on a pond with my host sisters this morning. I was on figure skates this time, which are unbelievably different than hockey skates. But I got the hang of it after a bit. And I didn't fall and kill my wrist this time :) Probably because nobody tried to trip me (*cough*TaylorSchwab*cough*).
The snowflakes here are incredibly perfect. Like forreal. I'll have to get a picture of them at some point.
I also went to some Christmassy eat-rice-porridge-in-a-hut thing. Even though I was right by a large fire, I was freezing. But now it's sauna time which is exactly what I want to do right now. So that's all for you guys. More later.

Last Night...I Fell in Love

With Jyväskylä. And I'm guessing this is that 'you just know' feeling you'd get if you'd fallen for a person. Like, ever since I first came to Jyväskylä, many many years ago, I've loved it. But last night I fell IN love with it. You know?
Yesterday was a good day in general.
I skipped school to go to a Floorball (Sähly) tournament that the sports major exchange students had put together as a final project. My team was very last minute and thrown together: it was Me, Erin (from Canada), and Charlotte (from Belgium) as the base, then Charlotte asked a guy from school to join our team when she saw he was sporting Exel Floorball shorts in gym class. I'm pretty sure his name was Marcus. Or probably Markus. But thank goodness he joined our team, team IDK. With his help we tied, won, then lost, then won again and made it to the finals! Surprise!
While waiting around for the final game we just sat around and people watched and mingled and judged. There were a few other constests between games, like fastest shot and get it past the legit goalie. One of Marcus' friends performed incredible stick skills for a bit. It was craziness. Cool craziness.
I liked one team's T-Shirts that said 'Show me your belly button' on the front, then 'and I'll show you around Jyväskylä, the belly button of Finland' with a picture of Finland. I asked Steve if I could get one anywhere and he said he the winners will get some for free. So, woohoo, now we had to win against the Dream Team (a team of actual Finnish floorball players; the only team we lost against...).
Finally the final game rolled around and all the other exchange students were chanting 'Let's go, I don't know!' and doing the wave and it was all very exciting and fun, even if we basically had no chance of winning. The game started with a very quick goal from the other team, and then one from our own, by Marcus. We stayed with the other team for one or two goals until they pulled away. I think the final score was some 7-4 or something. We did lose. No charming victory story here. Bummer.
But even though we lost, second place was not so shabby.

After the tournament ended, Erin, Charlotte and I walked to the center and lazed in Coffee House for a while. Chiara (from Italy) was there and sat with us.
I like Coffee House. It's noThree Goats, but it's cozy and warm and they have delicious croissants.
It was 4:50 ish when we peaced out and headed for our busses. It was dark too. (The whole really early sunset really throws me off. I never have any clue what time of day it is. It's uncomfortable sometimes.)

Back at the apartment I just sat around, per usual, and ate/facebooked. I watched the latest Glee episode (it was ok. Not the best. But Glee's 'not the best' is still highly enjoyable.) and Friends. Showered, Ate, Facebooked, ate all my StudiaMessu candy, et cetera until 10 ish. That was when I headed out to Rentukka (the same place mom said she went to when she was at JYU?) for the Stammtisch/Awards ceremony.

--ok, I'll add the rest of the night later. Imma go eat the AWESOME free school lunch now. K cool.--
oh, and it's snowing. woo.

Poetry

Today we focused on poems. I wrote a Haiku in response to another poem. It went like this:
'Yes, but do they have
the right to recieve any
approval from me?'

The poem I responded to was in Finnish, so I won't post it, but basically it was a list of what people have the right to do.

Now we're supposed to do some sort of Google search poem. Sounds cool and all except I didn't really get the instructions. Go figs. But at one point the teacher said something about 'what is poetry?' which was sort of more exciting to think about.
SO...what is poetry? To me, bad poetry is a cop out. Something I used in creative writing last year when I just didn't feel like trying. And as a second semester high school senior with creative writing as first period...that happened a lot. oops. (Yet, somehow I scored the best writer of the semester award? Well...I didn't have a stiff competition.)
Good poetry, however, is a nice way of writing thoughts in their concrete form, which, on paper is somewhat abstract. I like how poetic thoughts can rise above grammar restrictions and structure and do their own thing, freely. I like how a lot of poetry is just pointless jibber jabber if I can't personally connect with it, but when the poet's thoughts match my own, the deeper meaning extends past any piece of prose.

And now I have 'Haiku' by Tally Hall stuck in my head.
'Lah dah dee diddum
Lah dah dee doom doo ditto
Dum doo lah dee doh'

Parched

I can't think of anything to write about. We were even given a prompt...but nothing was coming to me. All I can think about is the fact that by the end of today I will have recorded THE audition of my life. Craziness. And my throat is drying out more and more by the minute. Oh joy.
I think it's the cold air here (mixed with waay more singing than I'm used to) and a sudden bought of insomnia that has chronically stripped my throat of any moisture. It's not such a nice feeling...but it has gotten me into the habit of drinking more water than usual, which is something I've always meant to start doing.
I'm nervous about this audition... and sort of thanking whoever's out there that I am doing it via video. Even though it's still scary as hell, I couldn't imagine what a wreck I'd be if I had to do all that I've been preparing in front of someone with only one shot. In all fairness, I think it suits me to do this through a video. The colleges say its a drawback that'll hurt my chances, but in my case I think its actually helping.
I don't know if it's the high I've been riding on while I've been here, or if it's from progress and a gain in confidence, but part of me believes I can really do this. That I'm not just kidding myself with childish dreams anymore. It's gotten so much more serious. Its a bit frightening. But I like it.

Crap. I just coughed. It didn't feel good. It won't feel good when I have to hit higher notes in Mama Who Bore Me reprise in the next hour or so, either. Water and Xylitol gum. That's my temporary remedy for these days. And a mug of hot water and honey in the mornings. All things help, but nothing is lasting. I guess the best medicine would be a vocal rest, but I can't really do that to any effect in the next hour. And afterwards it won't matter much, it'll just be for personal comfort...which is hardly worth the effort of keeping quiet.

ATM: I'm drinking water and listening to http://8tracks.com/leonfrey/the-saddest-music-in-the-world. The music isn't too sad. I guess it could be if I had some more context behind it...and if I was sad. The songs are pretty, though. Except 'Dreamt For Light Years In The Belly Of A Mountain' was just annoying. There was a boop noise throughout the song that was just so interruptive and unwelcome.  
I haven't been listening to as much classical music these days. Probably because I'm not in band. No, definitely because I'm not in band. But I haven't lost my appreciation for it.
I miss being in band sometimes. 'Hounds of Spring' came on my shuffle yesterday morning. It was actually prefectly in sync with my walk to school, which is enjoyable for any type of music; it adds some variety to my mornings.
It was sunny yesterday, for the first time in much too long, and as I turned the corner, coming out of the shade, 'Hounds of Spring' was right at the peak of a swell in the song. It was all triumphant feeling which went beautifully with the burst of sunlight I walked into. I love when stuff like that happens: oh, the joys of walking with my ipod.

Class is officialy over now. And I'm off to bury myself into extensive self critiquing for the rest of the day while I film material for my audition. Wish me luck!

Lad&Dad

Here's on from last week. Our prompt was to write about two out of three picture the teacher put up for us to see.

  I could recall the days from Lad & Dad weekend with my old boy scout troupe. They sit there on the very edge of my memory. Most of the time I can’t even tell the difference between the genuine memories and memories generated or fortified by pictures. Pictures like my favorite one of my father and me. It was taken on the first day of the camp when we were told to take a picture with our fathers that expressed our relationship for all the other pairs to see.
  I was young, only eight, but a spitting image of my father. I had no reason to doubt my mother for this reason. And the picture we took showed this beautifully. Dad and I had the same red sweater on, with a white shirt underneath. We’re sitting back to back in the picture, looking off in different directions. It’s nearly impossible to tell when my sandy curls became his sandy curls; they were the same shade, same texture. Although I’m younger in the photo, and I hadn’t grown into my own body and dad had a thick beard, it’s clear that we have the same jaw line and cheek structure. Our ears even stick out from under our hair in the same spot.
  I’ve loved that picture since before it was taken. I knew it was going to be good, in my head, as I sat there leaning against dad to take it. I’ve never tried, but if I posed the same way as my dad, took a picture of it, and photoshopped it into this picture on top of dad, you wouldn’t tell a difference. I’ve grown up to look just like him. My mother hates me for it.
  Well, she doesn’t hate me. At least she hasn’t used that exact phrase…but I know it’s hard for her to look at me and not see him. It’s almost as if she’s frightened; she hasn’t looked me directly in the eyes since he’s left us. Perhaps she’s scared I’ll grow up not only to look like him, but to think like him as well.
I guess I’ll never know. My father and I never talked much. There weren’t ever any heart to hearts. Never a birds and bees talk. Never anything man to man. So I never had a much of a chance to really know him. I know him about as well as anyone else does. Anyone could look at this picture of us and know him as well as I do. And I’m his only son. Only child.
  He did keep a journal. Avidly. He’d write at least every day if not more. And this journal intrigues me to no end. If I could only get my hands on all the ones he filled up with his deepest thoughts. Maybe then I’d have some clue to who he was. Then I’d know what he thought of me. And mom. And things like that picture. Or his reasons for why he’s gone now.

  To find the journals, though, would be like the most morbid and awful thing to do to someone. The journals are gone. Mom wanted to bury them with him, against my utmost objections, and she got her way.                

It’s been about a year and a half since he killed himself and the dreams have calmed. They aren’t harsh images of the time I ran into his room to find mom crying over him. The most recent and memorable one is just me. I’m at the lake from Lad & Dad where our picture was taken. At least I think it’s me. I look just like dad, so it’s sometimes hard to tell. The dream consists of me standing there in the woods looking for something. I haven’t decided if I’m looking for dad, or if he’s looking for me.  It’s usually cold and there’s a wind that goes straight through my red sweater.

  All I remember upon waking up is that feeling of loss, but now I see that the true feelings of confusion aren’t from what I’ve lost; they come from what I’ve never had.
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I'm sort of iffy on this one. It's so heavy.

Tehtävä

Oh, well right away here's a creative writing assignment:

·   oman huoneesi / koulun huonekalu puhuu omasta elämästään omasta näkökulmastaan minä-muodossa 

• mitä minä näkee, kuulee, tuntee, missä mielentilassa...

Loose Translation: Pretend you're the furniture or an item around you. Or something.

Today has been no better than the rest. More people looked my way today than normal...but when they looked they stared right through me. Per usual. I guess I really should be used to it by now but it seems to only get harder to stand as the days go by.
It's winter. I blame the season. I've noticed a trend with the seasons. In the summer people stare at me dreamily or longingly. But they still don't see me. Their eyes just glaze over but point in my general direction. Looking through me, again. Yet, I can almost enjoy it in the summer by pretending it's me they care about; at least I don't get the constant looks of disgust or let-down that I get in the winter.

It's also the first day of snow. Last year, this day was the best in my life. A kid was here. One I'd never seen before. He ran right up to me with joy in his eyes and pressed his warm little face right against me. I could feel the moisture in his hands radiating onto me. I was paralyzed with excitement. I couldn't do anything but love the moment, as brief as it was; the small boy's mother came and peeled him away from me. As we parted I could feel the cold rushing through me again as my sorrow diminished his moist handprints.
That was the only memory I have of happiness. Everything else has been fake or pretend. I know the looks I get are never really for me. They pass straight through, as they always will. It's horrible but I know that's who I'll be, forever. I'm just a window, without an inside to matter more than the outside.
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aww, why are all my entries so sad? I swear it's not a reflection of my own feelings...I'm living quite a nice life at the moment. Maybe it's because I have no 'sorrow outlet' or something. Nothing to channel sad feelings through since my life is sort of awesome here. :)
This one I'm not entirely fond of, but whatever.

Song Story

For this next assingment we listened to some music. A kid from the music class across the hall brought over his amp andd guitar and played us a piece. We've been told to interpet the song however we'd like and to write about what the song said.
To my ears this song started off about Leslie, a powerful business woman. She's blond with red lips, typical beauty, but her hair is pulled back a little too tighly. She's wearing a gray skirted suit with pinstripes. The song describes her as she walks down an empty hallway, slowly, with weight in each step that bounces off the walls resounding in that well known high-heeled beat. Leslie has a file in her left hand while her right swings more freely with her powerful gait. The scene is slightly slow-mo and continues until she's reached a door on the right of the hallway and steps in.
The song changes. Someone in the room has a mollifying affect to the song. It's a man, he's sitting on the thrid seat of the far side of the long conference table. The connection and history between him and Leslie is laced together within the file held in Leslie's left hand. The song creates the illusion that no one else is in the room but the two of them, and a hint of another man at the end of the table, the man to recieve the file. Leslie can feel the tension beween herself, the file, and the first man as she walks to the head of the table. She imagines him staring at her, burning holes into her with his hateful glare. She almost feels guilty until she stop, turns around and sees that he is only staring straight ahead at nothing. She doesn't notice his tightened jaw and forced expression of control. Leslie frowns and walks all the way to the other man at the end of the table and hands him the file.
As the file leaves her hands the music changes once again. This time Leslie fades away and so does the man with the file. The song follows the first man, Kurt. The song floats around him for a bit as nothing else real. He hears and hardly acknowledges something the other man's voice says. It's no more than a mumble to him, but he knows the meaning. Kurt slowly stands and leaves the room. As he closes a door behind him, the empty hallway fades into the street as he walks home. It's cold out, but not unbearably so.
The music follows him on his way home. He takes the longest route. The song and his thoughts correlate through feelings of loss to bitter sweet freedom to a tinge of angsty rebellion. Kurt began his walk with a slow, dragging pace, depicted by the song. But by the end he's standing straight and his expression is nearly hollow. There's a small fire in his eyes that causes him to ball up his fists in coat pockets.
Eventually, once Kurt's thoughts and expectations have solidified the song stops following him and watches him walk ahead, turn the corner and dissappear. Without another being in the area the song fades to nothing.
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Yea, I can like this one. I wish I could put this song Ville played on here, but I believe it was improvised. Oh well. Think of your own song :)