I'm very fond of second-hand shops. In fact, nowadays I do most of my shopping at fleamarkets and charity shops - for several reasons. Price is of course one. Yet, the unpredictability of these places also really pleases me. Of course, if you're looking for something particular, then a round of the fleamarkets begins to resemble regular shopping - which isn't much fun in my experience. However, if you can keep your mind and eyes open, most of the time you can spot some treasures.
There are a few second-hand lovelies in the picture above - some of which are my mother's old possessions (her Afghan mat and old living room table). The yellow mirror I found last Saturday - I've been looking for one of those for some time now. This one cost 10 €. The flowery thing in the mirror is another secondhand find - a vintage lamp I bought a few years back.
As you can see, I'm very pleased with my other two finds: a beautiful blue blouse (2 €), and a purple Vila skirt (4€). I seem to have a particular knack for finding secondhand Vila skirts in exactly my size. This might become a problem, as I'm already running out of cupboard space.
On an altogether unrelated note, I began my Italian studies today. It's been a while since I've sat in a classroom and actually repeated phrases after the teacher. I loved every minute of it! I just hope my newfound motivation will carry me through October and November as well.
But next week, I'm going to England for a few days. Will probably gush about it later.
I've been studying at the University of Jyväskylä for almost ten years now, but until today I hadn't taken a single picture of our campus. I've meant to, many times, particularly in the autumn, but somehow my camera has always remained at home. Today, I finally decided to remedy this scandalous state of affairs, and spent a lovely hour walking in the oldest part of the Seminaarinmäki campus, dodging nervous entrance exam-goers.
The building above is Parviaisen talo, in which our Contemporary Culture department was housed for a brief time - until it turned out that mould had taken over the house (despite, or because of, the recent renovations).
Most of us arts & culture people are now crammed into Juomatehdas - an old lemonade factory, which still retains its solid but bubbly atmosphere of old.
A knit-graffiti attack! I've seen similiar artwork inside Juomatehdas, but these ones are quite new.
Seminarium is one of the oldest buildings on campus (completed in 1883). In the 19th century, it used to be one of the most visible buildings in the city, looming on its high hill. Nowadays it lurks amid some tall pines, and is quite easy to miss.
Oppio and the Gardener's House are also among the older generation of buildings.
The Main Building (here pictured from the back, which I've always thought to be more interesting than the front) was designed by Alvar Aalto. While tourists marvel at its bold modernity, we students have to put up with its unpractical quirks (echoing, red brick-clad walls, uncomfortable furniture, and unpredictable dimensions. The ladies' toilet on the ground floor is well worth a visit for this reason.)
Although I don't appreciate Mr Aalto's architecture (or his wonky vases) as much as I perhaps should, I have to admit that on a sunny summer's day even the main building looks fresh and appealing. Also the grassy roof of the library is an excellent place for sunbathing.
As I mentioned in my last post, my second trip to Kokkola was done with a specific goal in mind: in addition to finishing the literature course I'd started in December, I was on a mission to locate an English rowboat.
And not just any old rowboat: the one the good people of Kokkola captured from the Royal Navy in 1854 (in a battle known as the Skirmish of Halkokari), and haven't given back to the Brits despite several kind requests. It's very easy to miss in its little anonymous, snow-surrounded cottage at the edge of the English Park - and it's not all that impressive as far as trophies of war go. But there it is.
The city was lovely this time around as well, despite the skull-cracking ice and the persistent rain. This gave me a good opportunity to visit several museums and art galleries, - including one situated in Pedagogio, the oldest non-religious building in Finland (in the top picture) - and to see an impressive collection of minerals and stuffed animals (not my cup of tea, really - but hey, it was free and extremely educational).
I also noticed that I'm turning into a stereotypical academic tourist - one who likes to look at obscure paintings and visit one old house after another, all the while trying to think of something clever to say to the curator on the way out. Then, once I'm home, I can deftly deconstruct my experiences with a hint of postmodern cynicism.
Which might be the only use I'll ever have for my degree in Contemporary Culture.
It's been a busy past few weeks. In addition to trying to finish my PhD, I've also been teaching a couple of courses - one of them some 400 kms from where I live. It was great fun, though, to get an opportunity to take a train to a completely unknown city, stay the night at a fine hotel, talk about literature to bunch of motivated students, and spend the rest of the time walking around the old part of the city with my mouth hanging slightly open. I hadn't quite realised the Neristan in Kokkola was quite as amazing as that.
Unfortunately, my camera froze on me (again), so I got very few pictures that are actually in focus. Perhaps better this way - otherwise I would have snapped photos of each and every house and perhaps embarrassed myself in the process.
Looking forward to going back in January. Then I'm planning to finally lay eyes on the famous gunboat which was captured from the British during the Crimean war, and which the brits have been very eager to get back ever since. SHS is already planning a re-enactment of the impressive battle in which such a prize landed in Finnish hands.
Today the sun manages to stay over the horizon for seven hours and a bit. Despite the snow, days are desperately grey, and everything kind of blurs. It's hard to keep track of deadlines, or even remember if I've managed to do anything worthwhile lately.
In addition to teaching and trying to finish my PhD there isn't all that much going on at the moment - but at least I've had some interesting dreams lately (even compared to my usual standard). Last night, for instance, listening to the constant drip-drop of water outside my window, I finally managed to fall asleep and grew convinced that there was only one person who could explain the meaning and the source of the noise: Samuel Pepys.
I believe this history lark is really beginning to mess with my head. In the nicest possible way. Just like this song.
Today seems to be one of those days when everything is sort of sticky and slow right from the beginning. One of those days when you know that no matter hard you try - and in truth you don't try very hard - everything's going to conspire against you having a productive day.
The weather is grey and uninspiring. The computer is slow. Just when you get in the right mood for some work (writing a thesis in my case), someone calls you, and BAM, the thread of your thoughts is tangled again. In the supermarket everyone moves just as slowly and aimlessly as you do, not looking anyone in the eye, blocking the aisles with their slow trolleys. You pick the slowest queue in the whole darn shop - possibly in the whole universe - and wish you had the presence of mind to open the bag of sweets you're buying, before you've paid for it.
On most days, if things start piling upon me like this, I just get pointlessly angry. Today, as befits a slow and sticky day, I've just been drifting around in a half-awake haze, hoping that the aforementioned bag of sweets might brighten things up a bit.
And it has. The best part of the day is already hopelessly wasted, but at least now I'm fully awake. The other thing which contributed to my newfound alertness was this startling piece of poetry:
I've been working on an article (on 70s rock press, since you asked), which has exhausted my brainpower quite effectively; so instead of me trying to be clever, here's a lovely and rather uplifting video by a Canadian poet called Tanya Davis.
Via Broadsheet. And soon all over the internets, I suppose.
The weather's been most uninspiring for the past week or so, and I can't say that spring in general agrees with me. All that light and slush and birdsong just makes me restless - which doesn't bode well for the PhD. Motivation seems to have jumped out of the window, and at the moment sitting still and writing a few coherent sentences now and again is all I can manage - just barely.
A part of me is already frolicking in the old Green and Pleasant (where Otter, T, and Otter's brother - another T - and myself are headed next month). The pessimist in me tries to put a damper on things by suggesting that perhaps we haven't yet seen the end of Icelandic smoke and ash - and many volcanoes can erupt in the next three weeks. Yet the thought of all those full English breakfasts, pints of bitter, lovely Devon countryside, and perhaps even the moderately lovely city of Bath (which didn't impress me on my first visit - but I'm willing to give it another go) keeps me going, despite the cold weather and academic underachievement.
Talking about achievement - here's something that has been making its rounds in the feminist blogosphere over the weekend, and made my day yesterday. Behold the power of the Brontë sisters:
I wish I'd had a Brontësaurus when I was growing up, instead of a Barbie. Then again, Barbies could do some kick-ass stuff as well, even though they didn't come with those amazing moustaches.
The first post of the year traditionally looks back on the moods and goings-on of the previous year. Since most of the major events from the past twelve months are documented below, I see no great need to make a detailed harking-back now. Suffice it to say that 2009 treated me fairly well; there were some frustrating bits (mostly to do with academia), but some very rewarding ones as well (mostly to do with the SHS, or with larking about with my friends in general. Teaching was also great fun).
Since thinking in decades is so easy, the beginning of a new one should mark the beginning of a new era as well. In my case this may be so, as the last major cycle for me began in 2000. However, it's hard to judge from such scanty evidence - it may as well be that the next big change comes in 2100, or in 3000.
The year has started with proper wintry weather (see above), which I much prefer to the slushy and grey alternative we've been shown in the past years. Temperatures hovering around -20 C are manageable; once they plummet below -30, life becomes somewhat harder. Although I'm not a great fan of snow, I like the way it makes all landscapes, branches, houses - everything in fact - look softer and plumper.
I'm still tying up the last threads of my teaching career, and after that would be the ideal time to start working on the PhD. We'll see what happens. At least I have a good reason for delaying for a couple of weeks yet, as my landlord's decided to do some repairs in my flat, which means lots of dust and noise, and strange men coming and going at all hours.
It can't get much darker than this: six hours of daylight, most of which is blotted out by leaden clouds. Not a snowflake in sight. Jingle-bloody-bells to you, too.
Tomorrow sees the end of my teaching career - so far, at least. It's been a lot of work, but a lot of fun, too. Here's hoping something as motivating turns up next year as well.
On a wholly unrelated note, on Juska's recommedation I've been listening to Tori Amos's latest album - a Christmas album would you believe - and liking it a lot. In fact, Midwinter Graces is brilliant. If you don't believe me, listen for yourself:
I did promise a couple of weeks ago to start a series of posts about my favourite British comedy shows, and in case anyone is wondering whether I've forgotten this promise, I can now confidently answer: no, I haven't.
Although I'd watched loads of British comedy before I was aware of Monty Python - and although there were many brilliant TV comedies before The Flying Circus came along (chronologically speaking), I think no other show has had quite the same influence (on me, or on British comedy) over the years. Also, as it's now the 40th anniversary of the first broadcast of the series, so I think Pythons are a very good place to start.
For me, the first encounter with the Python phenomena didn't come through the TV series, but through the films. When I was around 17, YLE broadcast The Holy Grail and The Life of Brian, and especially the first of those hit me over the head with the proverbial rubber chicken. To this day, it's one of the few films I know by heart, and quote at unsuspecting people (the only other films are A Hard Day's Night and Help!. I suppose I was a bit of a Beatles geek as a teenager).
There are so many brilliant bits in The Holy Grail that it's hard to pick only one. However, the Knights Who Say 'Ni' sequence is one of the highlights of the film, as it includes not only the bewildered King Arthur and his long-suffering entourage, the wonderfully silly Knights, and Roger the Shrubber - but also Brave Sir Robin and his minstrels (who get eaten towards the end of the film. There are just so many random elements around that it's amazing they hang so well together.
After wearing out the VHS tape on which I'd preserved both of the aforementioned films, I finally got to the real thing - the Flying Circus TV series, which of course blew me away (and gave me loads of whole new quoting material). I generally like the more 'literary' stuff (like the sketch in which John Cleese and Graham Chapman - dressed as suburban housewives - get into an argument about existentialism, and sail to France in order to ask Jean-Paul Sartre which one of them is right); the 'Dead Parrot' sketch, for instance, is a bit too shouty and violent to my taste. However, one of my absolute favourites is the 'Cheese Shop' sketch, which works along similar lines, but is much more clever and verbally acrobatic (it also features some lovely dancing).
After watching this, I always get a craving for Venezuelan beaver cheese, for some reason.
As there's so much good stuff to choose from, it's nigh impossible to name my absolute favourite Flying Circus sketch. This court scene one, however, encapsulates many things that I adore about Monty Python. It's got Eric Idle giving a mock-Olivier address to the court, John Cleese hopping about in wig and gown, Graham Chapman both as a voluable lady and a keen-eyed police inspector, and Michael Palin as Cardinal Richelieu (complete with pink robes and a personal microphone). Yet my favourite bit comes at the very end.
A guy in a suit of armour, wielding a rubber chicken. That would come in handy at my Doctoral defence ceremony, as a kind of rhetorical device - in case my carefully prepared argumentation fails to impress the audience and my opponent.
(In case any of my friends are reading: this is what I'd like for Christmas. One suit of armour, one rubber chicken, and someone willing to act as a rhetorical device in the near future. Please.)
Here's what I accomplished today. After a couple of hours of babysitting M's daugther (with M safely in the same room, having her hair dyed) I took a turn in the local charity shop. My intention was to find something suitable to wear at my colleague's post- doctoral defense dinner: something rather more formal than the stuff currently lurking in my closet.
Now I'm the proud owner of a lovely black velvet dress - the first black dress I've ever owned. As can be gleaned from the photos, it's not entirely black (which made it less threatening for me), and judging by the label, it's none of your usual [your favourite Swedish clothing chain] stuff. It cost me 6 euros.
Not bad, eh? Coupled with my 20s necklace it'll look right classy (and in a Viking-themed restaurant completely out of place, probably).
I also found a lovely stack of Rörstrand - my favourite Swedish vintage platemakers - plates. They cost an euro apiece, and don't clash too badly with my Finnish tablecloth, at least not yet. :)
Since Tuesday I've been floating in a kind of haze - glad that my thesis was so well received, and also so well criticised (after all, that's what this middle work between Master's and PhD is for), and at the same time uncertain of what to do next. My supervisor can probably help me with that, so until our next meeting I'll be killing time between lectures.
I spent the weekend in Helsinki, celebrating Fidia's birthday in the usual manner(but with fewer films this time) and also doing some work on our webpage with Otter and T. Thus in three days I indulged in catching up with a dozen of friends, eating in a rather fancy restaurant, making and helping to destroy a truly sinful chocolate cake, watching some great films, and - as always with Otter and T, planning a glorious future for SHS.
On Sunday I got treated to a side of Helsinki I rarely encounter - and one I enjoy greatly. As the pictures above show, there is more to our capital than concrete and traffic jams and grumpy people; indeed, it also seems to include cows and fields and friendly dog-owners. If I saw that side of the city more often, I might even get to tentatively like the darn place.
Today's been a cloudy day - both internally and weather-wise. I like the bleakness of October when it coincides so wonderfully with my mental state - which is similarly worn-out but at the same time serene and strangely expectant.
What I'm expecting, of course, is a satisfactory ending to my nearly year-long travail with my Licentiate, which should take place tomorrow. And even more than that I'm looking forward to the big chocolate cake I've been promised. :)
Contributing to my bitter-sweet mood has been Aimee Mann, whose soundscapes are perfect for this season. I love her matter-of-fact delivery and inventive lyrics, especially as they are set to devastatingly gorgeous music. Like so:
September 30, 2009
This week's been a good one - and it seems that it'll continue along similar lines. So far I've filled in a few forms and done general administrative things to do with my teaching, and managed to be quite efficient and cheerful about them, which is very uncharacteristic of me. On top of that, yesterday I wrote a five-page essay for a forthcoming seminar. In 1½ hours. Even more uncharacteristic of me, for I usually need a whole week for that sort of thing - a couple of days for complaining, a day for organising my thoughts, and a couple of days for the actual writing. And preferably an extra day for editing.
I wonder what's wrong with me.
Tomorrow I'll be attending a Unifem reading group (always a pleasure, albeit a rare one), and most of Friday will be spent at that aforementioned seminar (which should also be fun. I'm such a humanist geek...).
However, the real fun doesn't begin until Friday evening, when Otter and T get into town. SHS silliness, ahoy!
Well I'll be damned. After having complained for ages about the non-existent progress of my Licentiate, it seems I'm soon being robbed of this particular joy. This morning I got a call from our professor, who had finally got things moving at the department, and arranged the defence for 13th of October.
And he said there'd be cake.
This is of course great news, and also means that I'll have to stop all this complaining, and actually get some work done towards the PhD in the near future. But I'm in no particular hurry to get my silly hat and sword just yet. In the meanwhile, I'll concentrate on teaching (I'm planning of smuggling some Beatles into the first literature lecture) - and all those lovely extracurricular things.
Speaking of which, lately I've been watching loads of classic Brit comedy on Youtube (seriously - what did people DO before Youtube?) - and for some reason I always end up watching Blackadder, or something by Fry and Laurie (with or without Rowan Atkinson). I'm planning of doing a separate post on either (or both) of these in the future, but here's a little something I discovered the other day browsing around. This clip features Emma Thompson and Stephen Fry doing what they do best (i.e. saying absurd things in impossible upper-class accents):
Ebsolutely fentestic!
I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Brits do know how to make first-class costume drama. And comedy. And comic costume drama. And Emma Thompson and Stephen Fry are gorgeous.
Perhaps I should include this in my lecture as well...?
As I stated in the previous post, autumn's a great season - and it also tends to bring out the Artist in most of us. At least it does in me. On top of that, I find I'm more energetic and more organised at this time of year (although by November most of these fine qualities have disappeared, only to emerge again sometime in late August) - and so it's easier to start new projects and do general artsy stuff.
The pictures above belong to the latter category. As the weather was gorgeous today, I decided to make a trek to the local park. I actually discovered this little gem only a couple of months ago - and even then completely by accident. It's quite far from where I live, but I think I'll be going there quite often from now on - at least when the cafe is open.
So I got to indulge in artsiness among the old wooden houses, the wonky trees and fluttering leaves. The only drawback is my camera, which refuses to take clear, focused pictures in cloudy weather (or what it regards as cloudy weather). I'm trying to work with this handicap - at least it yields some interesting results, as can be seen in the middle picture. In general, however, I appreciate gadgets that do what I want them to do, and not just when it's sunny.
Next week, I'm finally getting back to teaching (oddly enough, I'm really looking forward to it...;) ) and I've been doing loads of back-up reading and planning lectures for some time now. This means that the PhD is definitely on the back burner - and will be until somebody tells me who my current supervisor is, and what's going on with my long-due Licentiate. But I've decided not to fret, and intead concentrate on the more motivating stuff.
Like updating my poor, neglected blog. :)
By the way, if you haven't yet noticed: the comments are (finally) on. Couldn't figure how to get them to work until yesterday evening, when it all came to me like a man on a flaming pie.
Since the last post, seems like nothing much has been happening here. After such a delicious and hectic summer, going back to the routine takes some getting used to. And lots and lots of caffeine.
Then again, I've managed to do quite a bit of reading (for my PdD) and have been trying to work all this new-found information into the tapestry of the thesis. So far so good, but I'd really appreciate some outside feedback as well - which hasn't been forthcoming in the past year.
On the other hand, I've also had time to read some brilliant fiction. Mostly re-reads, but some new gems as well. A couple of weeks ago I gobbled up Veikko Huovinen's Lyhyet erikoiset in about a day, cackling all the way through. There's something about Huovinen's wry style that completely disarms me - though of course the things he chooses to write about are quite unusual as well. Or at least I haven't yet come across another short story that discusses the relative merits of tinned foods from around the world.
Another book that completely bowled me over was Eeva Kilpi's Naisen päiväkirja. I first read it a few years back, and I remember being impressed by it: reading it a second time I was almost overwhelmed with its frankness, fragility and sheer scope. Kilpi tackles loneliness, ageing, sex (or the lack thereof), her relationship to her children, to God, and to the universe in general, all with soul-baring intensity. Amazing stuff.
On a more melancholy note, I was sad to hear of the death of Ellie Greenwich - and it was also saddening to note how swiftly her death was glossed over in the media (I don't think that YLE, for one, even mentioned it). It's really hard to pick a favourite from her impressive repertoire ('The Leader of the Pack', 'I Can Hear Music', 'Do Wah Diddy Diddy'... ) but then again, it's not that hard at all:
My summer holiday is now officially over. So, from today on I should be getting on with my PhD, begging for money, and preparing lectures.
But I just can't be arsed.
Partly this is due to the inevitable back-to-work disorientation, which most of us are familiar with, but mostly I'm just pissed off with our department, which doesn't seem to get anywhere with my Licentiate thesis. As it appears that nobody's interested in reading my text, I can't really be bothered to write any more of that stuff. But we'll see what happens when things get moving again after the holidays.
Instead of doing research, then, I've been doing other, no less important things - like updating my blog and shopping for groceries. But the thing that takes up most of my time now is this little project.
For some reason, in the last few days preparations for the Renaissance party have motivated me much more than academic accomplishments. So here's what I did today instead of grading home exams or finishing an essay: I baked a Renaissance-style cheese and onion pie. In case you're interested, you can find the recipe here (be warned: that is not a Weight Watchers page you're entering).
I was expecting the tart to be tasty (after all, what's not to like: fatty cheese, onions, sultanas, parsley, sugar and spices), but still the result surprised me positively. It's not too sweet, although the added sugar and sultanas make your brain do funny things, not knowing whether this is a sweet or savoury dish. Also next time I'll double the amount of ginger.
But yep, this one's definitely on the party menu.
Another example of my skewered priorities is that when I couldn't sleep last night, I got up to trim my French hood (now there's a double entendre if I ever produced one). Never in my life have I considered sitting up until 11 pm sowing beads on a piece of headwear. Strange days indeed.
The SHS is also spreading its sinister influence, one person at a time.; at least I've already managed to involve some totally innocent people in this Renaissance lark. Last week I persuaded my mum to help me with the making of two bumrolls (ours are blue, by the way). Mum's a good sport, and she complied with surprisingly little resistance (I think she was curious to know what exactly I had in mind). However, in order to make a decent bumroll, you need quite a lot of stuffing. Having exhausted our supply of old pantyhose and other miscellaneous hosiery, we turned to my mum's best friend for help. Thankfully, she's one of those people who never throws anything away, and soon furnished us with about fifty pairs of old pantyhose. (Seriously, people! Let this be a warning to you all...). But now Otter and I can cut a nearly authentic figure in our Renaissance frocks, although I don't think even Queen Elizabeth has as cool bumrolls as we do. At least hers weren't stuffed with support stockings...
As my academic career seems to be going nowhere (quite literally) at the moment, I've got to provide some movement by some other means. So I went to Helsinki for May Day, mainly to see Fidia and to take care of some SHS business.
I finally got to meet my dress. It looks even better than I thought it would (when I was feeling overly optimistic); the green velvet (or the approximation thereof) is exactly the right shade, and the blue-and-gold brocade (ditto) looks really sumptuous. The only problem with the dress was the sleeves: being historically accurate, they weren't sown to the bodice, but came as separate attachments - but with only two holes on the shoulder and a length of ribbon to attach them with. As I had expected a less efficiently air-conditioned model, I spent the best part of Saturday afternoon attaching the sleeves to the bodice. I was positively surprised with the result (as I'm not a very adept needlewoman, and attaching things to other things has always been especially problematic for me), and now all I need is a bumroll (my mum has promised to make me one).
Anyway. Other Stereotypical History Society business included teaching Renaissance dancing to six other members of our society. The dances I'd chosen (bransle and pavan) were surprisingly simple, and my apt pupils picked them up very quickly - and even claimed to enjoy hopping about randomly in full view of other people. Although I have to say that folk who spend most of their time staring into a computer screen have some difficulty reaching even one tenth of the gracefulness of their Renaissance counterparts (who, I've been informed, spent their days practicing various sports, and yes, dancing).
I'm glad my friends showed genuine enthusiasm towards the dancing, because otherwise I've been feeling as if I've been left holding up the pole (with Otter and T holding up another), while the others are just glad to sit back in the carriage and enjoy the ride. Of course, others probably haven't got as much spare time on their hands as I do, and can't spend hours pondering the finer points of French hoods; yet, it's always a bit saddening when you realise other people aren't as enthusiastic about things you have a passion for.
Luckily, there's still plenty of time to get people interested in the Renaissance party, and make them realise they need to find something appropriate to wear as well.
Although the beginning of last week was more crappy than most, I'm feeling more optimistic and upbeat now - and, of course, still looking forward to the party. The song below pretty well sums up my present state of mind. (It's 'Aching to Pupate' by Regina Spektor. I wish I'd written that song).
An avid reader, amateur writer and musician and an all-round lover of words. Also a full-time feminist.
~
This blog mainly contains ramblings about popular culture, costume drama, and the weather. You can contact me at haukanmaa (at) gmail (dot) com
