all things me

Very often when I’m “on the road” by myself and not reading a book I listen to music on my cellphone. And at work if I’m having trouble concentrating I may listen to music quietly on the background.

I pretty much always listen to music on my way back from work because I’m too tired to read. Today when I was sitting on the bus and listening to music (Muse, Milow, and Maroon 5), I was shaking my foot to my tunes. Next I noticed a reflection in the window: the guy sitting in front of me, with earbuds on, was drumming his knee with his hand. I couldn’t help but smile.

I can easily imagine a future where most people walk around with headphones on. I’ve even seen groups of teen girls where everyone is listening to their own music (and trying to chat, ha). Or maybe they are listening to the same song. Social music playing could get popular so wouldn’t one-to-many Bluetooth pairings be great? Or cords with multiple pairs of headphones on the other end? Those would at least be much better than what these groups do now: listen to the songs from the loudspeaker. To the enjoyment of everyone around them.

This morning on the bus a woman sat next to me reading a newspaper. I started watching her from the corner of my eye once I noticed she was one of those people who lick their finger before turning the page (ick! It’s a public newspaper, other people will read it!). I find that habit so baffling.

But then I noticed something else which almost made me chuckle out loud: she licked her right index finger as soon as she started reading the second page of each spread — long before she needed it for page-turning — and half the time she used the other, dry hand!

I usually resort to finger licking when I’ve already struggled for some time trying to open a freezer bag (the ones I have are slippery). And then the saliva will only be transmitted to me after disinfection in the freezer.

What I started thinking is, how much ink will these people swallow in their lifetime? I almost would’ve guessed Mythbusters had done an urban legend test on this but maybe not… (and the hits I got on Google were frankly very weird)

For some reason my hands get cold very easily. I’m rarely cold overall, just in the hands. That is why I can be seen wearing gloves (without fingers) indoors even after winter — usually at work where there is air conditioning (and my fast typing probably creates little tornadoes around the fingers, too ).

I can’t remember if it’s any better in the summer so I suppose I’ll soon find out. I do remember that last summer it was really warm in the office, even with the air conditioning, so maybe I can take off my gloves soon.

I wouldn’t be wearing gloves at the tiniest of finger-freezing if it didn’t have an unpleasant side-effect: If I’m at all cold, my body turns on the central heating system full blast! And that causes first a red nose (embarrassing) and then a red face. At least it feels like it; it may not — and hopefully doesn’t — show. So annoying…

This morning I got some tummy workout on the bus as I was doing my best not to laugh out loud at two guys sitting on the back seats. They were speaking very loudly — sitting on the opposite sides of the bus (why?!) — about computers.

They talked about graphics cards (one had melted a card by playing Crysis Wars on highest quality setting), CPUs (AMD vs. Intel), and video formats.

One said he was thinking about getting a new computer and told the other that he’d seen a good-looking deal in a web store. He said it was an HP Pavilion.

The other replied, “I have an HP Pavilion as my secondary computer. It’s crap.” The other then started listing the specifications for the computer he’d been looking at: 8 GB RAM, Nvidia GTX220 graphics card, 3 CPUs, 1.5 TB hard drive…

You won’t believe what the other one said! “Oh, I see they’ve evolved since 2003.”

The other, very knowledgeably said, “Yeah, with desktop computers it’s not the name that counts, it’s the components.”

I was trying my hardest to focus on the book I was reading but after they got on the bus, I didn’t manage to read a single paragraph.

I think it’s the Australian radio channel Nova 96.9 that boasts with the slogan “never more than two ads in a row.” That’s great for a radio station.

I don’t really care for the two identical piles of advertisements I get in through my letterbox every so often. Either the paperboy has no clear strategy on how to deliver the mail in the building, or he’s left with one extra bunch because I live next to someone who has a “no ads, please” sticker on their door.

If only they delivered some great discount coupons but we don’t really get any of those. I may need to attach a sticker of my own: “No double ads, please”?

Last year before the move-in, one of my to-be-neighbours called me to ask if I needed a parking space. There are only as many parking spaces as there are condos (which is really stupid) so they were hoping I would give up my space. Well, I said I didn’t mind if they said I was willing to give up my space cause I didn’t need it.

She just called again, because we were asked to return a paper requesting a parking space or to tell if we didn’t need one. I put that I don’t need a space because I don’t, and I frankly didn’t even remember the “deal” (there was no special arrangement, I didn’t pay for the space so they didn’t pay for it to me). I asked if there are many other families with two cars and she told me there are a couple. When I told her I had already stated I didn’t need a space and that I think it’s fair if the families who’ve had to park one car on the street have a chance of getting a proper space this year (there will be a draw), she suddenly sounded very annoyed and was quick to end the call. Sorry, but there’s really no reason for me to help them getting an extra space. I did it last year out of shock (why did she call me and how did she get my phone number) and kindness.

Just when you think — again — that you’ve misjudged someone, they remind you that you were right all along. Or maybe my sense of humour is too different from theirs.

Today as I was eating my lunch and reading Duma Key (S. King) one of the nice co-workers noticed that I’d read a lot since yesterday (yup, I started reading before bedtime and suddenly noticed it was wayyy past my bedtime). The annoying one made a comment that I’m probably reading secretly in my cubicle. I replied, “yeah, I’m known to be such a lazy and slow one.”

Accusing me of reading on company time? Unbelievable.

You may’ve noticed that my site has been a bit wonky the past few days. Last night I noticed a bunch of PHP errors in my blog but wasn’t even able to log in because everything was forbidden and write-protected. Everything should be ok now.

Luckily, this is a small site so no harm done.

I always wonder why some people feel obligated to update their blog. (I mean that they take it too seriously.) They get nervous breakdowns if they are unable to produce several full-blown articles every day or apologise from the bottom of their heart if they are busy in other areas of their life or if they are going to take a week off from their hobby! Jeez, do they really think they’re that important? Or, are there actually readers who expect too much from someone’s pastime? I would understand just a notice that “hey, it’ll be a bit quiet here for a few weeks” (although that’s an invitation to hackers or spammers) but I’ve actually seen people apologise for the inconvenience their absence may cause.

It’s a whole different thing of course if you blog for a living. But even then, you should be able to take the normal holidays — or at least weekend(-like) breaks.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go make me some tea and something to eat. And I may not blog for a while if I can’t think of anything clever to say.

I sit down in the train after speeding in a hurry through the town on a mission – I need to get something for my godson. Suddenly a noisy flock of finnsvenskarna, Swedish-speaking Finns, comes trampling down the corridor. Oh no! They sit in the 4+4 seats smack in front of me.

I start digging through my backbag – I must’ve brought my earphones, I must’ve! (I had to make a quick switch of bags in the morning when I realised I couldn’t fit everything in my other bag.) I finally found them in a pocket I didn’t remember having.

I have nothing personally against Swedish-speaking Finns, but because the language is “foreign” I can’t block it out as effectively — the Finnish words in the middle make it worse.

And let’s be honest: they’re loud.

Anyway, I hope you have a nice weekend. I’ll be in the middle of dogs, horses, kids, and a donkey.

Last Friday I went out with a couple of colleagues, “for a pint.” We were walking to the subway station when the other asked me to come along and I had to make sure, “You’re asking me? Even though I don’t drink alcohol?” I was told that was beside the point. So, I tagged along.

We went to a beer house and I ordered a Pepsi (I was treated, how kind). The bartender asked, “you want some vodka¹ with that.” My response? A loud “god no!” When we sat at the table my colleague laughed and asked if I get asked that a lot. I don’t but that might be because it was my first time “out for a pint.” (I had a wonderful time!)

I’ve never drunk alcohol, nor tasted, nor wanted to. Usually it doesn’t cause any problems but in the company’s summer festivities we were at a Greek restaurant and I asked for something to drink other than beer or the lukewarm water they served at the tables. The waitress shrugged and said “this is a Greek restaurant in Finland, why would we have something else?” (What about kids?!?)

Finns are big drinkers and I’m one of the odd ones out. Proud of it, too, although I don’t remember making a decision between to drink or not to drink. There has been no need; drinking has never even crossed my mind.

I suppose it’s “common knowledge” at work that I don’t drink alcohol. (It certainly is common knowledge with my family and friends.) In our last Christmas party I won a bottle of wine and a promotional t-shirt. I asked if the competition organizer would mind if I gave the bottle away to everyone. I kept the t-shirt although I don’t think I’ve worn it once.

On Monday a colleague of mine had emailed a project manager saying that he hadn’t had time to finish a task so he’d buy a beer to whomever finished it for him on his day off. And either the PM or the colleague had added, “or a Hyvää Päivää² to Minna.” Today — I got a bottle of vitamin C + caffeine Hyvää Päivää.
(Yup, caffeine is my drug of choice. I’m not pretending to be a goody two-shoes.)

1. Well, he said “kossu,” but who cares. (See Wikipedia if you do care.)
2. Hyvää Päivää wellness drinks, another site, in English