The rainy blog: April 2015
Love is rain
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
SAY SORRY NOW - The pain of forced apologies

A friend recently reposted a blog post (http://www.cuppacocoa.com/a-better-way-to-say-sorry/) about teaching kids to say sorry and mean it,  and not forcing them to angrily spit it out. The lesson involved making them understand what they did wrong, and why they shouldn't do it again, and not simply forcing them to "SAY SORRY NOW".

Funny how I get angry just thinking about the topic. The topic of forced apologies awakens a sense of powerless rage every time.

My life's conversations on pain have more or less looked like this:

Me: That experience hurt me.

- Nobody else would have been hurt by it.

Me: How can you know? I was hurt by it.

- But it was a perfectly normal experience.

Me: I haven't heard of anyone else with the same experience.

- IT WAS NORMAL

Me: NOT FOR ME

- FINE!!! SORRY!!

Later,

Me: I still feel like the issue is unresolved

- I SAID SORRY!! You are being unreasonable! You should just forgive me already!

In the end, I was always unreasonable for feeling wronged.

I don't want anyone's angry apology. It makes me feel ten times worse than when we started, and like I never want to tell you how I feel. Ever again.

No apology at all is always better than a forced one. No resolution is better than a fake resolution - a lie.

Part of saying sorry is also actually admitting you did something wrong. For some people, that isn't a strong point. Maybe most, even, would rather look for the reason they were right after all, rather than owning one's mistakes, and finding a constructive way to move on.

The article my friend reposted was on children. So what do you do when you are adults, and you are still trying to find resolution, and no amount of discussion will get you that apology you know you deserve, because you know you were wronged? Not that oh-so-familiar angry, forced apology. But that sincere one you just need to hear in order to move on?


fon @ 1:54 PM link to post * *

Saturday, April 25, 2015
In anticipation of serendipitous meetings

The alchemist was my first Paulo Coelho, and the theme, which was repeated often throughout the book was "when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it." It's repeated often and after a few books, it gets trite.

But the message is something I have always secretly believed in. The power of serendipity.

Even though it bites every logical bone in my body, I can't shake the sense of meaning in coincidence. Especially in chains of strange coincidence that change one's life.

Meeting Mikko was one such chain of stupendous coincidence.

It started with Dima - the Russian tourist come busker I met at a bus stop while leaving Heini's house. He had a guitar, & I can't resist a man with a guitar. So I struck up a conversation with him. We jammed our way into the city & did a pretty good rendition of Agua de Beber. So I promised a repeat session should I ever happen to bump into him again.

The reason I was in Finland at all, considering I had burned almost all my bridges leaving 5 years earlier, was that my grandpa had died. I was there for a funeral. I wouldn't have come back otherwise as I was still afraid I'd have a run-in with the shady types that I'd been involved with before, but that's another story, for another day. The point is I was a bit hesitant to venture out into the Helsinki night.

My friend, Mimosa, managed, nonetheless, to convince me to skip work and come out with her on the night of the arts, which is a yearly event in August when the public is encouraged to engage in all forms of public artistry.

I was leaving Finland again in three days anyhow. What the hell. And Emma's little brother was doing a gig at Baker's pub, which is why we were on that street corner (having missed the gig anyhow due to a sudden urge for beer and fries but still intending to show up late for the sake of good form) where Mimo bumped into Kirsti's ex and his friend, leaving me to my own devices.

Lo and behold! There was Dima to my right, and the promise of Agua de Beber. So I sang. How fitting is it that I should meet him for the very first time as I am singing the very song that I think of as my own personal theme song?

Your love is rain
My heart's a flower
I need your kiss
Or I will die

And so I invited the soon-to-be love of my life to my farewell party, flirtatiously scrawling my name and number on his arm in eyeliner, thinking I'd fool around a bit. Little did I know. Hello. And "no, you are not allowed to play with this one" said Kirsti. Fine, then. Bye.

Perhaps it wasn't the Universe so much as my friends... no wait, Emma - that conspired to bring us together. Despite the fact that, because of Kirsti, our story began with farewell. That's another story, too. But this story - the story of how we met - had so many guns on the wall that had to be fired. My grandpa's death, Dima, Emma's little bro's gig, a sudden an inexplicable desire for beer and fries, Kirsti's ex.

And I am in the middle of a series of strange and magic-like coincidences right now... and no, there is no logic, just a strong sense of a colossal domino effect to come! It can bite at my logic all it wants, but for now I am happy!

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fon @ 2:50 PM link to post * *

Tuesday, April 21, 2015
Master of manipulation: Get 'em on your side first

The instructions are simple, and when you master this art, you are well on your way to be an untouchable master of manipulation.

1. Anticipate what he/she will say to others.

2. Lay false foundations, so that when/if the other tells it, it supports your case.

For example, say you were bashing your friend (Mel) to her love-interest, trying to make her look bad. You see them leave the party together and suspect that the love-interest will tell Mel all about what happened and she will be (justifiably) mad. You suspect Mel will tell your other friends about it.

So you get to the other friends first, and tell them that lately Mel has been acting a bit strange around you, saying slightly paranoid things. You say you are very worried about Mel and that we ought to do something about it. Will they help?

Mel goes to the other friends and says she suspects you have been talking about her behind her back.

Mission accomplished. Everyone thinks Mel is paranoid. And you are a hero for wanting to help her.

Do you relate to Mel? I have been Mel all my life. I wish I could be more audacious and get them all on my side first. But on the bright side, I have a few friends who just are on my side, and I don't have to waste time & energy running around, manipulating others.

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fon @ 12:47 PM link to post * *

Saturday, April 18, 2015
Election results & fear of the dark

My Finnish passport was my first. But I've never felt like a Finn, because every time we visited the country growing up, I was reminded about being a foreigner. As a matter of fact, that Finnish passport I had back then explicitly stated 'Alien passport'.

So my reader will hopefully understand me when I say that 'foreigner' is very deeply a part of the 'Finnish' part of my identity.

To the point: last night's election result scares me, as it probably scares many others who are not mainstream & 'average' Finns. Remember those monsters hiding under the bed when you were a child? I get a similar feeling of unease from the Finnish parliament.

From time to time, we spent a month or two in Finland as I was growing up. One of these times, I attended a Finnish public school. Now I can't help wondering whether one of my classmates who pushed me off my bike and taunted me with calls of 'Vietnamese refugee' is amongst those in parliament.

I can't help but wonder whether someone like that boy who told me he was better than me because I am Chinese voted to get 'my kind' out of the country.

I wonder if the people in that team I worked with, who kept telling me my input on the draft of our text was not needed because I am not a native speaker, are walking around my neighbourhood, relieved by the election results.

I wonder if that 30-something man who said to me as a 16-year-old girl "you Thai ladies know all about this kind of thing" as he grabbed me and kissed me is now making decisions about my life.

I can't help but wonder how many of the people I pass on the street hate me, because I am different. Because I am Chinese, Vietnamese, don't speak Finnish as well, and am a Thai slut here to steal their men and now, their jobs.

Yes, I am scared. Those monsters in the dark didn't disappear. They moved on to scarier tasks.

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fon @ 4:45 PM link to post * *

Friday, April 17, 2015
Couchsurfing - That sense of goodbye.

My life has mostly been about goodbyes. That'll happen when one hasn't lived anywhere longer than four years at a time. Ever. Maybe 4 and a half. I'm at the verge of something huge now. I am about to do a completely new thing. Namely, if I don't leave Finland by Autumn, it will be the longest time I have ever lived in one place. Nothing will change. And it will be the biggest change in my life.

Although this post is ostensibly about couchsurfing, I suppose what it really is about is finding that elusive sense of home.

See, this big change in my life has brought a lot of anxiety with it, on top of my general anxiety  about living in Finland. And my response, without me realizing it, has been to start searching for that familiar sense of 'goodbye'. Thus, the sudden deluge of couchsurfers.

One may argue that what I am really doing is meeting new people - people from around the world - because that's what I'm used to, growing up as an international school kid. But I can meet new people in Finland every day, which is why I say what I am looking for is goodbye.

It is essentially disconcerting for me to wake up and find that nothing drastic has changed. That is something many have difficulty understanding. Many people associate home with a place. I have never had that opportunity. I used to think it was about specific people. My parents, perhaps? But then, they were not ever really a constant in my life. When I had kids and started seeing them more often is when I realized how little at home I felt around them. No, home for me is not even a certain set of people. It is about a state of catharsis. I love you. Goodbye.

But one thing is missing. My own family.

Let's rewind a little bit. Mikko is the first person in my life that questioned the one thing I had never questioned. I used to take pride in the fact that I had been left alone in an unfamiliar country at the age of 14. I had been told it was normal. I didn't question it. Not for a moment. He is what set the ball rolling, and allowed me to look into myself, and find out who I am, and not who I had been told I was. In other words, I finally got to be a teenager ten years after I should have been.

And that's why Mikko became my most important family. He gave me the opportunity to grow into myself, and he loved me for who I became, not who he thought I should be. He is always on my side. By my side. And that is how I want to be with my own kids.

That said,  I can't change what I've grown into: a person in need of constant and grand flux. Having people in and out has made me feel more at home. It is also what has inspired this introspection. It has made me examine my sense of family. Thanks for the past couple of months, couchsurfers. I provided you with a bed, but you did so much more for me.

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fon @ 12:27 PM link to post * *