el día de la despedida de esta playa de mi vida

¡Hola! Esta es la primera vez que escribo en Español, y ¡espero que no hago muchos errores! He decidido este día porque hoy es la día de independencia aqui en Finlandia y quiero destacar como me siento. Porque, en relidad, no me siento cómo una finlandesa, no nulo. He siempre estado un pocito distinto que los finlandeses, hasta de mi niñes, quando hablé inglés y italiano todo el tiempo - recuerdo cuándo he dicho a mis amigas de escuela a decirme una palabra en finés y yo lo he decido en italiano o inglés. Después he olvidado esta cosa y he empecado a piensar cómo una "auténtica finlandesa", pero hoy que la Finlandia hace 93 años, he empezado a piensarlo un otra vez.

Yo he siempre sabudo que soy distinta - soy más ruidosa, morena, franca, lenguaraza y muchas otras cosas que no son típicos aqui. Aqui más o menos todos son más tranquillas y silenciosas y acostumbratos a la sosiego y naturaleza de la Finlandia, y yo, cómo un típico italiano, en el lío y exuberancia de la Italia y el sur en general. Me gusta mucho mucho más estudiar español y francés que sueco, que es obligatorio a todos. ¡Hrr! No es para mí, no nulo.

He decidido que quando termino el liceo, en 2014, me traslado fuera. Voy a ir en España, en America Latina, en Italia, en Asia, pero no quiero quedar aqui. Soy muy agradecida que he vivido aqui porque la escuela y comer es gratis, pero la lengua y las personas son mucho más dificiles a entendir... Quiero vivir, quiero estar frio y feliz. Y tengo que ir porque aquí no es posible.

te voy a escribir la canción más bonita del mundo
voy a capturar la nuestra storia en tan sólo un segundo
un día verrás que este loco de poco se olvida
por mucho que pasen los años en largo en su vida

(La Oreja De Van Gogh: La Playa)


alors on dans

So my big sister Sofia wrote in her blog Propane Nightmares about the phaises she had gone through when she was younger. Since she's almost 20, she had a whole bunch of photos when she was 14, 15, 17, 18... and since I am only 16, I know I haven't got a lot behind me, but a really weird thought stroke me today.

I was listening to LMFAO (my new-found love, also thanks to my big sis ♥) and I started browsing through this internet site and there were people talking about relationships and dating and stuff like this. You know, they were saying how they feel insicure and no one could ever love them because they're this and this etc., and some older people said to them don't worry because they used to be unpopular too. It's cool that they support eachother, but it got me thinking about a whole bunch of stuff.

Basically I have this really stupid theory - teens can be seperated in two groups. I don't like to label people (my gosh, who does?), but to me, it's pretty clear wherever I go. There's the group of so called "party people" who are vivid and social and laugh a lot and party and do crazy stuff, and there's the group who... well, simply doesn't. They're calmer and more serene and focus on other stuff than going wild and crazy and partying and stuff like that. And when I was 13, I was a definite member of the second group - I never bought new clothes or cut my hair since I thought it was only for the shallow people, I never went out with my friends and I thought I was better than the people who got wild every single weekend and told stories about what they did when they were drunk. Then I went to another school and I started noticing that the line between these two groups is pretty obvious. And in my new juniour high, you had to make a pick.

So I guess I spent a lot of time trying to figure out which I was. I've always been social and open and laughing a lot, but I also had a whole bunch of quieter friends (nothing wrong with that) and I liked to read and write and do that kind of stuff. So I had some troubles, up until the end of 9th grade, to figure out which I was. I fell into the middle, like many people probably do, but I felt like the preassure (which no one threw on me intentionally, I'm sure) was getting pretty rough. I felt like if I went to parties and talked to the popular kids, I was dissapointing my friends who were more withdrawn. But I had this huge craving to be a girl that everybody loved - but I still didn't know. So I guess 9th grade was pretty confusing for me.

Now I'm in an all new high school and I'm loving it, and to be honest, I think I've fallen perfectly to the wilder group. I'm known as one of the most social people of my school, I throw parties and go to some almost every Friday (Fridays without parties or being social are definitely more rare) and I have tons of fun in school. I do drink, yeah, but I rarely go overboard (and when I do, it's a pure accident). I smoke sometimes and I do flirt a lot, so I guess some people would call me, I don't know, popular? It's not that it matters, but I kinda figured out only recently that life is not about finding yourself - it's about creating yourself.

So anyway, listening to LMFAO and reading those posts just got me thinking about my past. I think when I was 13 it was really rough because my class was kidna falling apart and I felt like a social outcast, though I did have friends too. Now nothing can stop me, I'm a total social addict, I love to party, I go crazy, I laugh, I enjoy life by everything I can and it's great. I can't wait to see what the future brings me. México, I hope you're ready for me!


remember to remember me

NaNoWriMo is coming up and it makes me feel so... weird. I remember when I was a participant one year ago, and honestly aprrox. 365 days ago I was sitting right at this house, surfing my way through nanowrimo.com and feeling excited as ever. I had my 15's birthday party on the 31st which ended around ten-eleven (a bit different than the parties I throw nowadays...), and from midnight to 6 am on the 1st of November I just sat and wrote. I wrote 24 pages of the story I had had in my mind for over two years. I thought I knew exaclty how I'd write it, but, you know... when your characters really start to live, then there's not really much to do.

I remember the first week when I wrote and wrote and wrote and I spent most of my time on the computer with music on, writing or watching videos or surfing at FinFanFun or writing some more. I was so full of excitement and pride as I got the hang of my own writing style and I started to get ideas everywhere. And then... well, the second week wasn't so exciting anymore. I started to struggle when the story started to get deeper and deeper. I still wanted to write about Christine's mom and Darlene's uncle, but I started to realize that maybe I had a few ghosts too much in my past to make the story continue easily. And it started to weigh really really heavily, I remember I stopped watching videos and studying and all I could think about were extra scenes and dialogues and pasts and... And I remember the preassure, of maybe I couldn't put it all in there, maybe my writing was too complex, maybe the characters were too shaky etc. etc. Problems I'm pretty sure all writers fight with.

When I left to Belgium for a week, I was already behind a bit, and my computer was strating to get really shitty. It turned itself off all the time and everything I'd written just wiped out. I left the story on one of the first romantic scenes between C and D and left to Belgium with my head swelling over the struggles of finishing this story I so desperetaly needed to write.

Then Belgium changed everything. I met amazing people who gave me new perspectives in more than one thing, and things started to get fluent again. I discovered the joy of writing again, and started to forget whatever was happening outside the world of Christine. I started to... I don't know, see through her eyes, I guess. When my parents started fighting at Christmas I started to feel exaclty what I thought Christine would've. And suddenly those days when I felt too tired to write were gone. For a long-lasting moment there was nothing but me getting in touch with the deep ends of my soul for the first time in a long, long time.

January was passing by and I barely noticed. The story was reaching the levels I had been craving on and I just wrote and wrote. I skipped classes to run to home, write for half an hour and run back to school so no one would notice. I didn't see who I was anymore, I felt like I was just a piece in the inbetween of writing and... I don't know. I stopped going out, talking to my family (as creepy as it sounds) and I made my life all about the novel. And then... then came January 24th.

On the 23th I had met my friends. Although I doubt it was visible, I was only thinking about the two last chapters I had left. Only two. I talked about it lightly with my friend and she supported me, but I felt really weird. Kind of... empty. And so when I got home with ice cream and cookies, at 10 p.m I started writing. And I didn't lift my head from the screen until it was 2.40 a.m. And at that time I realised... I had finished it. I put the last dot in the end and I started at the computer, not believing what just happened.

For a moment, I feel everything froze. I was listening to PMMP's Salla tahtoo siivet and I just listened to it over and over and over again. I typed some words in but erased them immediately. I wrote a piece of how I felt about finishing the story and about how I'd gotten to that point, but it just felt like none of it really mattered anymore. I went to sleep and woke up the next morning feeling like full of... something. Like someone had pumped me full of air and rocks and I couldn't decide wheather I felt really empty or really heavy on my heart.

And I started to move on. But, to be honest, I think I never actually did, not even now. I just tried to forget it all, move on with my school work (since I had some catching up to do) and focus on finishing 9th grade with honorable grades. I went to Interrail in the summer and fell in love and found a lost one again. I picked up the pieces slowly, but still I feel like Christine and Darlene stole one piece of me. My heart and soul are poured into some silly pages and sentences that really haven't made a difference at anything but my own silly head. I have never in my life put myself in a situation like that, where everything is so fragial and sensitive and anyone could just come and smash it all up if they felt like it. My life has continued, but I can't understand people who were NaNoWriMo contestans last year and the year before and want to continue this year too. I am definitely not ready for that emotional rollercoaster again. I felt like I got some things outed and dealt with through the story, and I wouldn't take it back for anything, but I feel like it was one of those huge life-changing things that just remain forever haunting in your mind. And I don't really know what to do about it.

I still love writing, but the problem is I haven't really written anything eversince. I am not that girl anymore who reads tons of fan fiction and who makes up complex sentences and colors the text with strange adjectives and thinks only of character pasts and presents and futures. Who am I then, towards writing? Am I the girl who writes nothing but fake wannabe-artistic shit and thinks so much of herself? I don'n know. All I know is, I'm not ready to get on the NaNoWriMo train again, not yet. Maybe someday. Maybe when Christine and Darlene are nothing but names in just another crowd. I don't know. We'll see.

there's a light, there's a sun
taking all the shattered ones
to the place we belong
and his love will conquer all

(Trading Yesterday: Shattered)


जुस्त ब्रेअठे

I just started a new blog, and I think I'll mainly write in Finnish, English and (rarely) Italian. Mainly I created this blog so I can be able to stay in touch with my friends and... well, write about things that interest me. So, if you want to follow me, do so! I am eager to hear from you! :)