What's So Hard?

When I was growing up, I often heard things like, "You know, English is one of the hardest languages for a non-native speaker to learn!" from well-meaning teachers. I think they meant to inspire pride in us while simultaneously excusing themselves for not bothering to teach us any other languages. After all, English is hard enough without cluttering our minds further.

Well, even a cursory knowledge of English grammar will tell you otherwise, and studying Finnish makes English's relative simplicity even more apparent. You may have already seen this 2009 article from The Economist, but it makes a good case for why English is easy to learn in relation to a whole host of other languages. It doesn't explicitly name Finnish, but it does mention Estonian and the Finno-Ugric family.

Difficult or otherwise, it's actually really cool to study Finnish as an English speaker. I'm sure it's probably equally cool to learn it as another sort of speaker, too. But, you know, it might have been nice to be a native Finnish speaker learning English instead. 

Nom Nom

Saw this in the grocery store this afternoon, after having a little too much wine with dinner. How barbaric! I'm going to sick some "Petafiles" on them.

And on a related note, Peta gets that their official blog title sounds like "pedophile," right? Right?
Actually, it's strikingly similar to this:

That is all.

The Trouble with Socializing

How does one go about making friends? It's something I've never quite figured out how to do.

I know what my problem is, too. I operate under the assumption that to socialize is to disturb. That is to say, if I engage someone in conversation, it is more likely to bother them than to please them. So, instead, I typically wait for others to talk to me.

Well, so what happens when you speak to me? I'm not quite myself. I might project a skittish, prim, shy demeanor, and I probably seem snobbish. It's really too bad that I can't wear a sign that reads, "In the event that I seem like a superior jerk, be aware that I'm actually just painfully shy!" I blame New England.

I assure you, I do get better with time. Once I abandon fears of saying something mortifyingly stupid and putting you off to me forever, I can be quite friendly. I might say something awkward here and there, but I'll mentally smack myself upside the head and remember never to make the same mistake twice. You might even like me this way.

If things get very (and I do mean very) friendly between us, you'll see "the real me," or at least a couple of my "real" parts. "The real me" is, well, bawdy. Surprisingly depraved. Painfully silly. Decidedly weird. And you can't usually get to this part through booze alone, thought it's been known to happen. In most cases, I want to feel certain you won't run away in horror when you see the human toilet that is the "real" visage of my personality. (I'll have you know that I edited that last sentence several times in order to avoid being too disgusting.)

Paradoxically, I like to think of myself as a rather classy sort of chick, and maybe that's why the monster that is my sense of humor isn't something I feel comfortable revealing too readily. I'm afraid it would be too shocking for some people to hear such a serious, demure woman say something fouler than what the darkest recesses of the internet have to offer. And rightly so. One shouldn't go around advertising that sort of thing. It's, er, unbecoming?

Can I strike a balance? I haven't figured out how to do that yet. I was fortunate to have some of the best, most like-minded friends back home in Connecticut, and so I never felt the need to seek out new ones. I'd like to allow glimpses before really pulling out all the stops when getting to know someone new, but I'm out of practice in that art, if I ever truly mastered it to begin with. You know, the art of being appropriately open. Appropriately honest in my casual interactions with people.

I asked a friend of mine to read this over and to let me know if it was too pathetic to post, but he pointed out that it's likely a lot of people will relate. Expat or not, it's hard to combine an appropriate dose of reality with the polite fiction of who you are. And, if you're a shy sort of person, it's hard to get even that far. I would add "especially in Finland," but, in truth, I think Connecticut is worse in that regard.

So, how do you make friends? How open are you to chatting with coworkers, etc.? Are you shy at first? Which parts of yourself are you afraid to share, or think are contradictory when viewed against your "public persona"? If you're an expat, how has it affected your life in your new home? 

Rakastaa

Of all the foreigners that I know in Finland, a good many of them are here for love. Their Finnish spouses felt like moving home, they themselves felt like getting the hell out of their country of origin, or they were in long distance relationships for quite some time, and they wanted to have sex more often than a few times every six months. In all such cases, their primary objective was to be closer to their rakas. 


A lot is made of Finns -- particularly Finnish men -- and their reported lack of affection. After all, they're not like, oh, southern Europeans, who let their passion fall out all over everything. They're cold, closed, stoic and sexless. (It should be noted that what Finnish women have going for them is that they are hot blondes.)

Well, all this runs contrary to the (anecdotal) evidence I've encountered. It would seem that Finns (including men) possess quite a magnetic draw on foreigners. They entice us to uproot ourselves and lure us to a place that may or may not be wildly different than where we're from. What's up with that?

Well, Finnish men, puff out your chests at what I'm about to say; Finnish women, admire your lovely selves (or, regardless of gender, whatever expression of self-love you prefer). I move that we revise our stereotypes. I think we should now rank Finns among the world's best lovers.

Feel free to offer a counter-example. I have yet to hear any other than non-specific references to predominant stereotypes. 

Stupid Question

Help me out here. Did he

name himself after

?

I ask because Rami thinks it's plausible that his real name is Olavi Uusivirta. Personally, I figure it's got to be an homage.

PS. As a singer, Olavi (vanha)Virta can be as fifties-ish and maudlin as he wants to be, but his voice is seriously incredible.

PPS. Videos of "Täysikuu" on Youtube are blocked by EMI. In Finland. There is something profoundly unjust about that.

Mikä minun ammatti on? En tiedä!

Here in Finland, one's profession (ammatti) is less than fluid. Typically, you've had training that aligns with the types of jobs you hold. Your ammatti is documented in the annals of Finnish bureaucracy, and when someone asks you, "Mikä sinun ammatti on?" you can reply, "Minä olen insinööri," or "sihteeri" or "kotiäiti." In other words, your ammatti is so much more than your job, or even your career. It's what you do. It's what you've been trained to do.

And, as it turns out, I'm the only one I know of that doesn't seem to have one.

I first ran into this problem at the employment office. All the forms ask what your profession is, and I had no idea what to write when filling them out; if I don't even know what I am in English, I can't very well translate it into Finnish, can I? The person I met with there was very helpful, but she couldn't seem to offer me a definition, either.

More recently, we've been discussing it in Finnish class. Everyone seems to know what they are, or at least has a university degree that translates somewhat easily to a profession, like ekonomi or biologi.

I have a bachelor's degree in English language and literature. I have worked as an after school teacher (something that doesn't even exist here), a secretary, a receptionist, and a customer service representative. My training did not educate me in a way that would translate directly to the workforce, and my work experience is born out of what jobs were available at the time. Back in the States, my bachelor's qualifies me to pursue higher degrees (yes, please!), and to work anywhere that will hire me. The only thing it really says to potential US employers is that I'm worth more per year than someone with only a high school diploma. Being from Connecticut, I was practically destined to work in data entry at an insurance company. 

In considering all these factors, it would seem I am something of a sihteeri; I worked as a secretary, and I received an academic degree that all but relegated me to being a secretary. But, but, if I'd had the money, I would have stayed home and kept going to school! Minä haluan olla professori! 

In fact, a good portion of my adult life has been spent trying to avoid being a secretary. The only solace there is in speaking Finnish as terribly as I do is that I cannot possibly be a secretary here. En halua olla sihteeri! Ei, ei, ei!*

But there is hope. Today, when I was asked my profession, I responded, "kirjailija." I've always struggled with calling myself a writer, since it's not like I've ever been paid to do it, and, hell, I don't even know if I'm any good. But there has never been, nor will there ever be a better time to write, and, as such, there will never be a better time to call myself a writer; I'm working on a novel, and my current "schedule" (read: unemployment) allows me to dedicate quite a lot of time to its satisfactory completion.

And there's no law saying you have to be some kind of genius in order to call yourself a writer. My new ammatti won't help me to fill out the forms at the employment office, but, at this point, I don't really care. 

* I have nothing against the profession or the people who belong to it. It's just not what I want to do.