Singer

I was once a singer. When I was about 9, I began singing in a really stellar children's choir. I neglected school, and it was pretty clear to those around me that I would at least attend music school, if not pursue a singing career. In retrospect, that notion was ridiculous. Take this video, for example. I was 14, singing in my first master class, and I was absolutely terrified. I'm not exactly sure how this thing surfaced, but it did. Notice how feisty and dramatic I am, and how obvious it is that I am over-compensating for the stomach-spilling, liver-boiling terror that I am only just barely able to suppress. Seriously. You might even notice that my vocal performance suffers as a result. You can see me pushing my voice beyond its years. My vibrato is forced wide open. My lips snarl above my teeth as I try to appear poised and professional.

[Let it be known that I truly hated that song.]

I think that I was best in the studio. Here's a clip of me at 15 singing with the choir that I loved so well. I'm told that this song was written for me to sing, so it's definitely one of the most impressive achievements of my early (and late?) recording career.

Around this time, though, I spent many spare moments in my bedroom, swiveling my hips and listening to jazz and rock & roll. I knew I had a good voice, but if only it weren't so angelic, you know? I didn't feel angelic. I felt horny and strange.

I stopped singing when I was about 18. I had developed a pretty serious case of stage fright, and I thought I might try to divorce myself from an identity that I didn't especially want. People still look at me with shame and dismay when they ask if I've been singing and I reply that, nope, I have not. I do sometimes miss choral singing, but I sure-as-shit don't miss the solo work.

Paradoxically, I've always dreamed of fronting a band. I've been secretly rocking out in my underwear since I was 3. Ah, how things might've been different if my voice had only sounded different. I might've even gone the way of Peaches.

Enter Rami. He and I have made a couple (mediocre) tracks together. Here's my attempt to bury my vocals in the depths of his guitar texture (ala shoegaze, though it certainly lacks that amount of distortion):

Making a special appearance: overly prominent "D" sounds, left over from my choral training.

Here's some random crap that he played on his keyboard and over which I improvised some more random crap. As you can hear, I can't really stop myself from sounding angelic, but I can try my damndest to make it sound creepy. I think I did okay. A little new-age-y, perhaps, but okay.



Why am I sharing all this with you? I'm pondering what it is that I would need to do in order to recast myself as another sort of singer. I have what a lot of people want, which is to say that I live in a place where no one knows who I am or what I've done. Of course, it's not as if there was anything really stopping me when I still lived in the US, or that there was ever a law against former sopranos turning to the world of rock and jazz. Still, I think there's a certain psychological barrier that has permission to dissolve now that I live in Finland. Without my defenses, without the security of family and friends, without my former self, I am a new person.

TLDR: Maybe I'll start a band? 

In Search of _______

Today, I went out in search of a place to sit and do homework. I didn't actually do any homework, but I did decide on a couple of spots that might be suitable.

There's something I enjoy about reading, writing, and studying in a public place. I'm not sure why, but I find that being in an environment where there's a small amount of bustling actually helps my concentration. First, Rami and I went to check out the library. Being an internet-y sort of girl, I hadn't yet visited the one here in the center of Lappeenranta. I was very pleased to discover that the blocky, sort of soviet-looking building housed what's pictured here.

The book in the photo was a rather hilarious find. Long before moving here, I had read the Finland installment of this series. It talked about taking your shoes off indoors, the solemnity of the Finnish people, and what it means when someone invites you for a sauna. The US version took great care to assure the reader that not all Americans are gun-toting, tongues-speaking zealots. But, it said, some of us are.

Anyway, despite its dull outward shell, this is a very pleasant library. I think it will be a really nice place to sit when I feel the need to escape the confines of my apartment. They even have a fairly wide selection of language and grammar books. I found an Icelandic/Finnish dictionary! How cool is that?

[Hey, it's the little things.]

"Would you like me to punch you?"

Afterwards, we went to a coffee house prosaically named Coffee House. It's a chain that I believe is owned by S-market. Rami and I have been there on a few other occasions, but this time I was eyeing it with reading and studying in mind. While it's not the most intimate setting, that's precisely why it's suited to my purpose. I want to be able to sit for a long, long time, unnoticed and undisturbed. I wasn't quite so lucky today, though, since my husband fancies himself a paparazzo.

If you live in the Lappeenranta area and you happen to have a favorite study-spot, let me know.

Finally, I have some more Finnish music to share with you all.

I like Black Twig's drone:

I like Regina's dreamy pop (and yet not dream pop pop):


And if you're looking for something that actually rocks rather than rolls, here's a great band that was suggested to me by fellow blogger JottEff:



Musical suggestions are always welcome, no matter the genre. I hope you enjoy these offerings. 

The Rant

I have a confession to make. I spend a lot of my spare time reading up on American politics. I have another confession to make. I’m extremely angry, and I’m about to rant. I apologize if this isn’t of interest to you, or if any of what I've written here offends you.

I’m not sure why I consume so much news about my homeland. I was always a fairly informed citizen when I lived there, but I never felt the need to devour voraciously every last crumb of information. (I do now.) This does not exclude the various hysterical frenzies that the US media is wont to manufacture. I need to know about all of it. Maybe it’s my way of making my homesickness manifest. Maybe it’s my way of appreciating what I have now, which is the privilege of sanctuary in Finland. Maybe it’s simply boredom coupled with an interest in politics. Probably all three are at play.

My morning ritual consists of rising grumpily out of bed when my alarm rings, stumbling to the kitchen where I brew the coffee that will jumpstart my synapses, and then settling in to check the news from the States. The news part of this ritual has surpassed both pleasure and habit. It's a compulsion. 

For a long time, I have felt at odds with my country. I’m from the den of leftists and intellectuals that is New England, which is frequently cited as a place that doesn’t belong to the “real America” by nearly all Republican politicians on the national stage. If you live on or near either coast, you don’t count. As for me, I am, at most, just one member of a demographic that Republican politicians enjoy bashing in order to excite their base. This has never been more clearly demonstrated than in this presidential primary season.

Most recently, people belonging to my demographic have been called “sluts” and “prostitutes” for feeling that Catholic institutions should be required to cover birth control under the insurance plans that they offer employees and students. Sure, the person who uttered these words is himself a useless, as-ugly-as-he-is-horny pundit who should most likely be ignored at all costs, but there was a time not so long ago that he was being called “the leader of the Republican party.” Have we forgotten that? Most Republican politicians wet their pants at the thought of criticizing him. What he says does, whether we like it or not, to some extent reflect the current Republican orthodoxy. (And the current orthodoxy is that prostitutes usually take payment in the form of birth control pills. Because, as we all know well, you must take one oral contraceptive pill for every sexual encounter. Derp.)

And, okay, let’s say you think that free speech is actually one of the last remaining beautiful and true American values, and you think that even Limbaugh should be able to bloviate hot air out of the hole in his fat face as much and for as long as he wishes. (I do.) And let’s say that this really is about religion, not the availability of contraception, and that these Republicans are simply staunch defenders of “religious freedom.” A “war on women?” Certainly not.

Besides, it was a few weeks ago. The news cycle has moved on. Well, what then of the forced ultrasound bills found in several states? These stipulate that a woman seeking an abortion would have to undergo a totally superfluous and symbolic ultrasound, often executed by way of vaginal probe. What of the personhood amendments that have so far failed to pass by referendum, even in Mississippi, that claim life beings at fertilization? What of Rick Santorum saying that he’ll do what he can to enforce obscenity laws, which would of course work to eliminate pornography? (He's said a lot of insane things about gays, having children “out of wedlock,” and the Netherlands of all places. There is a reason that his name is now synonymous with that very special frothy mixture.)

I submit that it’s not so much a “war on women” as it is a temper tantrum about sex-for-pleasure. It’s a petulant, 47-years-too-late shitshow about how things are no longer the way they used to be. Women are working, gays are adopting, sluts are seducing, atheists are disbelieving, and “socialists” are presiding. Yes, I can see why they might feel the need to make Saint Ronald Reagan blush from within his grave.

The world is a better, more equitable place because of the existence of birth control. It is because of birth control that I’m able to work, to write, to remain childless if I wish, and to exist in an equal partnership with my husband. Birth control is a medical advancement that has worked to propel many societies beyond what was once the normative subordination of women. Medicine and technology are at the height of their usefulness – their greatness -- when they achieve things like this. The pussy’s out of the bag, as it were, and there’s no putting it back again. Men and women alike enjoy having sex that doesn’t result in procreation. They enjoy viewing pornography. It’s finally becoming an accepted norm that gays should have the right to marry and care for children. These things are not wildly progressive. To portray otherwise is simply too little too late.

Listen to me, Rick, Rush, Bob, etc.: I don’t want to relinquish control over my procreative abilities. I don’t believe in your Republican god or his supposed pronouncements regarding my genitals. At least we can agree on one thing: I find you to be just as morally repugnant as you judge me to be. We’re even there.

Why don’t we change the subject and talk a little about how Citizens United is a failed experiment instead?

This slut loves her home in little northwest Connecticut, and she misses it a great deal. As things begin to melt here in Lappeenranta, she sometimes closes her eyes and imagines that she’s somewhere near her own overgrown forests and aging factory buildings.

But there’ll be no going home for me.

I apologize if that sounds ignorant or ungrateful; I realize that there are people in this world, both in Finland and elsewhere, who really can’t go home.

I haven’t even mentioned foreign or fiscal policy, both of which disgust me nearly as much. For the most part, those issues are not for this blog, which is meant to be about my life in Finland. Still, this whole procreation thing, which has now been raging for a few months, has felt personal. And I’m not in the mood to take shit from a country that has ceased to count me (or people like me) among its own.

That’s why I live in Europe. And I probably won’t even think of moving back until the day that New England secedes from the union. 

Kakkasanat

One major reason that I feel even marginally confident in my progress with the Finnish language is that I have a great teacher.

At the beginning of the course, I found myself a bit frustrated; we spent about three weeks primarily on three questions and their respective answers: "Mikä sinun nimi on? / What is your name?" "Minkä maalainen sinä olet? / What nationality are you?" and "Mistä sinä olet kotoisin? / Where are you from (originally)?" We covered other things, too, but the focus of the course was squarely on these three questions for a good, long time. It seemed excessive at the time. "I've got it," I thought. "I've memorized the script. Now teach me how to deviate from it."

But, in retrospect, these three questions provide a pretty crucial basis for a lot of grammatical structures one learns early on. Memorizing the script beyond any doubt was actually a very useful, foundational thing to do. I'm not sure if this is the way in which basic Finnish classes usually begin their curriculum, but it was good. Maddening, but good. Plus, if I forget everything else I've ever learned, I'll always know exactly how to ask someone's name, their nationality, and which country they're from in Finnish. Though the last two are kind of redundant, I'll always have at least three tools in my Finnish toolbox.

Now, obviously my classmates and I have come quite a long way since those days, and our teacher has continued to be doggedly committed to our education. I was moved to write about her after an incident last week.

Last week, we started a section on the human body, the names of various illnesses, and what you might say if you ever find yourself in a doctor's office. At some point in the process, she asked us if we knew the names for various bodily functions, using one of the most effective methods available to her: pantomime. "Mitä teet, kun... / What do you do when..." she'd say, as she gestured to her mouth, crotch, and ass, suggesting that she was puking, peeing, and shitting respectively. Everyone laughed uproariously at this scatological display and, as she laughed along with us, she made sure to impress upon us the following: "Kakkasanat ovat tärkeitä. / Poo words are important."

Now, not only is she my kind of woman for her ability to have a good laugh at poo's expense, but this bit of theatre also really increased my respect for her as a teacher. She's utterly fearless. She'll do whatever it takes to get us to understand, to add to the vocabulary at our disposal, and to ensure our grasp of grammatical concepts. And you know what? "Poo words" are important.

If, in my search for an ammatti, I end up teaching English, I only hope I'll be as brave and as good a teacher as she is.

It's the winter of our winter.

Housekeeping: After a few people mentioned that they were having some trouble commenting, I have now changed my blog's template and disabled the word-verification-spam-filter thing. So, you know, if you happen to be a spam bot, you now have license to post as much shit as you like. If you're a real person and you experience any difficulty in commenting, shoot me an email. I can't promise that I'll be savvy enough to fix it, but I can always try.

Finnish: I'm back to studying after a long and painfully dull hiihtoloma. I tried to work on various other projects that I've been planning (involving music or writing, usually), but I didn't get very far on anything. This demonstrated to me just how central this course is to my entire existence. While that's probably good in terms of learning Finnish, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that I probably need a few other things to do. I'm also thinking that I need to go back to university before my brain melts or disintegrates. A move to Helsinki (or some other city) might be in my future.



The weather report is: icy.
It's a bit of a chore to walk around when the sidewalks are buried in a layer of footprinted, potholed ice- pavement. This is undoubtedly a sign of spring, though. I've been absorbing every ray of extra sunlight when I'm out.

And, finally, there was one more blog I meant to plug in my last post but couldn't due to some technical difficulties. Full Belly Alchemist is not only another blog whose title shames mine, but it's also an absolutely fascinating read for foodies and laypeople alike. The author hails from Queens, New York, so you know she's got access to a variety of interesting and quality eats. She's also kind enough to post photos, so she's a great source for food porn when you're feeling the urge.

More to come when things get a little more interesting around here. I think they will. 

Favorite Blogs/Favourite Blogs/Lempiblogit

An image of our newly melt-y winter.

Last week, Valentina at WanderingWondering was kind enough to grant my blog the "Versatile Blogger Award." I was pretty flattered, since I don't know of many more "versatile" bloggers than Valentina. (Check her blog. You'll thank me.)

It got me thinking about all the travellers and expats I've come to read and know through maintaining this blog. One of the best things about writing a blog is reading other blogs, after all, and Valentina has provided me with a convenient excuse to mention a few of my favorites. Here they are in no particular order.

Katriina, who writes Headspace, is an Australian mother of two whose adventures in Helsinki are funny and often moving. She's bold and honest in her anecdotes about life, motherhood, and, of course, Finland. As much about her inner life as it is about her expat experience, her blog is also quite well written. Why is it that former lawyers are always better writers than the general populous? If I go into law, will it make me a great writer, too?

Asha S at New Jersey to Nigeria is a mother of three who recently made the move from, you guessed it, New Jersey to Nigeria. If you're an expat, you know how jarring it can be to transplant yourself from a familiar culture to a foreign one. Now imagine being an American in Africa. She's gutsy. She, too, is an incredible writer (a one time law student, I think, further supporting my theory about lawyers...), and she manages to make what is sometimes a difficult situation infinitely funny. Plus, she shows us a Nigeria that is completely different from the land of scammers and conmen we're used to hearing about.

Though he doesn't write often, I've really enjoyed reading Toby's Northern Light. If you're not interested in global politics (and, as a nerd with a lot of time on her hands, I most certainly am interested), it's worth it to check his blog for the climbing photos that he posts.

I was a lover of music before I was anything else, which is one reason I like JottEff's blog Life in Hel. Since I'm a little too enamored of indie rock these days, reading about the various bands he's into and the gigs he attends is a desperately needed change of pace. Also, his experiences as an expat in Finland are relatable and humorous. As an added bonus, the name Life in Hel puts my hastily-chosen-for-the-wrong-reasons blog title to shame.

If you've ever wanted to know what it's like to learn Finnish as a foreign language, Olli Miekka's blog Finnish from Afar is exactly what you've been looking for. His take on everything from the lexical to the morphological is funny, entertaining, and accessible. That's just not possible, you say? Click the link, and you'll find you're mistaken. A truly "versatile blogger," he also writes a lot of interesting and comical stuff about Finland and Finnish culture.

Amel of Amel's Realm writes as an expat in Sodankylä, Finland. She dedicates time and attention to the little things, like warm moments with her husband and stories from her work as a myyjä. She tackles larger topics, too, such as comparisons between Finland and her native Indonesia. She's a personal and unpretentious writer, and I highly recommend reading her.

One of these blogs is not like the others. Jack is a dear friend of mine from back home who writes on a trifecta of worthy topics: US politics, sexuality, and tech news. These three subjects intersect more than you might think, and Jack writes about all of it from a place of humor and insight. Also, Worms And Viruses is another triumphant blog title.

A big thanks to all the blog readers and writers out there.