If it makes you happy.

Oh Christmas time, what should I say...

Don't you ever feel the expectations getting too high? In such a way that in the end you (and your close ones if you are lucky to have some) end up cursing the whole thing where the sun doesn't shine, and just wish the year was over, anyone?

What I find the funniest, is that usually the ones who should be the happiest – people with a companion, children and friends – end up fighting the most over some stupid things such as the consistency of the gravy. Where is the gratitude?

Obviously I am not a great fan of Christmas. There is, however, one thing I really like about the end of the year. For me, it is always the time for a new start. I mean, whatever happend the past 12 months is over now and the only way to go is forward. Whether you screwed up royally or had the time of your life, there is a chance for change. After pondering in between my past and future, I have come to realize one thing: never give up on love.

No joke, I am dead serious. The past weeks I have witnessed some of my closest friends experiencing what is to love unconditionally. And just seeing that, makes me want to keep on believing it can't be that bad. A first smile of a child that belongs to someone who played with you in the school yard. An engagement picture of two people from a place where they have dreamt of going for ages. Or hearing, through the tears of joy, the I-dos of a couple who couldn't be more real and right.

No matter how many disappointments, broken hearts and messed up things you might have had, there is a way to come around them. Love is not easy to find and it is even more difficult to keep, but it is there. And just believing in it can make you happy.

So, what if right now everything's wrong?

Striking news: journalism is sick and tired!

Today I want to share some thoughts about writing, about journalism and about being a young freelancer – or an enterpreneur, to make it sexier.

I used to think that "as long as you keep going everything will work out", "Just keep going".

It all started after I finished high school and decided to move to France, because I was totally lost with what I wanted to do. After about a year of searching and trying to integrate to another culture, I returned home and decided to pursue for journalism.

First I took the obvious way: university. Didn't get accepted. So I tried another way. And another, and another, and another...failures, disappointments, even some successes. "Keep going".

Working for free, studying, reading, working overtime for free, writing, doing workshops, brainstorming, moving, learning languages, networking, asking, working and getting paid, studying, listening, reading, moving, questioning, sending applications, calling, writing, listening, moving, trying harder. "Keep going".

After some years, I moved yet to another country to study more, to learn more, to open my eyes. Must stand out of the crowd. Working, reading, learning, studying, questioning, moving, working, learning, asking. "Keep going".

Our world has kept going on too. Catastrophes, wars, financial crisis, environmental crisis, food crisis, poverty, hunger, money, growth, branding, development, competition, unemployment, success stories. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Youtube. Laptops, smartphones, tablets, pads, pods, streaming, sharing, posting. Blogging, taking photos.

Photographers trying to get a living while shooting, filming, layouting, doing graphics, editing, even writing. Writers trying to do all the above and realizing that the thing you are best at suffers because you are asked to multitask and have no time to do anything properly.

Longtime professionals trying to fight against the prevailing, absurd copywrite policies in order to get paid as they should. Young professionals trying to compete with thousands of others, even work for free, to get the foot between the door and gain recognition in hoping that some day they make a living with what they love to do. "Keep going".

Are you feeling dizzy?

It has been eight years since I started this rollercoaster, and in a couple of months, I will end one chapter of my life knowing that I have absolutely no certainty what is going to happen in the next one. I am afraid.

I am afraid that I will remain unemployed. I am afraid that my capabilities are not enough and I should try harder. I am afraid that I am forced to learn how to multitask with all kinds of technologies and still be aware of what is going on in the world, in all the different forms of social media, and still look around, observe people and come up with unique ideas. "Keep going".

I am afraid that I am forced to make catchy headlines and write stories in an interesting and objective yet funny yet serious yet informative manner while knowing that newspapers and magazines are dying. Who's gonna read them anyways?

I am afraid and I am tired of keep going.

I want to take time to look around, to focus. I want to listen without having to think where I have to be in the next few hours. I want to investigate, re-read, question, evaluate and rewrite while I write. I want to write stories that have a message, a meaning, a purpose. I want to write stories that don't have to have catchy headlines just to get 100 000 clicks. I want work with professional photographers, layouters, and graphic designers who have time to do what they are best at without having to worry about hundred and ten other things.

I want to write stories that make both you and me stop.

When I was 26

A year ago, I woke up in a quite different setting.

After a blurry night of trying to get rid of the nasty feeling of 25-lost-and-alone, I looked at the morning rays with a stranger. The stranger was exciting, new and confident. I was sure that the stranger would help me overcome the uncomfortable feeling. "Everything will be different", I thought.

And different it has been – not exactly the way I planned it though.

I have observed, listened, and felt unconditional happiness and love, as I have seen my friends and closed ones reaching their dreams and turning new pages.

I have blinded my eyes, shut my ears, and numbed myself, as I have experienced misery and pain too hard to handle around me.

I have worked worked worked. Sometimes so hard that I have forgotten why. I have travelled through time and borders. I have sat down and been quiet. I have ran. Ran away and towards the finish line.

I have laughed and cried. Been hopeless and desperate because of stupid things like being late or saying something embarrassing. I have been joyfull and optimistic when realizing that small things such as drinking wine with a friend are actually what makes everything great.

I have backed out and taken a leap of faith. I have told the truth and lied over the phone to my mother that everything is a-okay. I have been pretending.

And, little by little I have tried to get rid of the stranger.

This morning there was nothing exciting, only me, honest and plain, crying in her coffee cup. But these tears were no bad tears, although they were flavoured with a tiny bit of self-pity (after all, it is my freakin' birthday and I'm alone working for my stupid thesis).

These tears came from the realization that being sad is as good as being happy. Life can be a bitch and at times it is so wonderful that your heart almost cannot take it.

Therefore, today I have no expectations. Only thing I am sure about is that I don't need any strangers to make me happy. I can be just me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2DKxBdvEtuU

When the penis got out of hand.

Mentioning the p***s, and you cannot wait to find out what's next?

Good. This is exactly what I want to show. I want to show, that no matter how far we've come from those days when masculinity was regarded as a symbol and basic definition of modern society, we still have a long way to go. Everything still (or at least most of the time) revolves around the pnis, or more correctly, around what the pen/s represents.

As an example, I will share an event that occurred couple of days ago in our university.

A poster of "Society of Feminists" was put up on the common room wall announcing the society's weekly meetings and inviting people to join their discussion. Soon, someone got a funny idea of drawing a ***** on it. I am emphasizing the word funny, because "c'mon guys, that's what it was!". At least according to many facebookers who commented the poster after it spread on the social media.

Often there are two ways to react, when these kinds of things happen:
1. You shut up and let it go.
2. You won't shut up and let it go.

The latter happened, and at some point somewhat reasonable discussion changed into mean backlash. "This just shows that feminists are uptight ninnies, who get provoked by a p#n#s", someone said. "Don't come here to comment on things, when you don't know what you are talking about", others responded. "Why are these people in our school?", "Am I not allowed to have a differning opinion?", "It is just a P___S!".

Since halfway of the eighteenth century, the ideal of modern masculinity has held onto an image of a man with will power, honour and courage. This is how it is to be a MAN, this is how you "get some balls", this is how you won't become an "uptight ninny". Even though this normative sterotype has somewhat changed the past decades, the image still prevails.

The drama with the poster proves it. The norm is so deeply rooted in our daily lives, that many think it is okay, or actually recommended, to shut up and let it go. On the other hand, when you feel the need not to shut up, it is easy to get provoked and become offensive in the defence.

And this is what strikes me the most. If even in universities – where people are supposed to be "educated"– it seems impossible to have a constructive discussion, how can our societies develop?

It is easy to make jokes when you don't understand how it feels to be the one who's made fun of. It is also easy to laugh if you don't feel offended. But no matter what is the case, wouldn't it be wise to think before you decide not to shut up – or draw a penis on someone's poster?

Empty your closet and come clean

Today I had yet another epiphany. A really good one.

I was lying in my bed, scrolling my Facebook and browsing through different lifestyle blogs (due to research reasons, of course, nothing else...) when I bumped into this article of NYT-liite, a fly-leaf of Helsingin Sanomat newspaper. It was an article about shopping addiction, consuming and the standard of living in wellfare societies.

It was also a story of Anni, 24-year-old nurse, who spends around 800 euros per month shopping (excluding her nescessary expenses such as rent, bills and food). Anni is no-one particularly special, she is just a normal young woman, who likes to buy things. As she hersef discribed it, "whereas someone likes to go to yoga, I like shopping".

Even though her behaviour and attitude towards her "hobby" struck me at first, soon I realized that what else could she be? Or actually, what else could I be?

Thousands of young women, men, girls and boys are just like her. Our whole lives are constructed around consuming. The purpose of our work is to create more things to consume and more money to consume those things.

Clothes, food, beauty, wellness, lifestyles, different idea(l)s, other peoples lives...everything is branded and made available around the clock. Thanks to social media we can share and sustain our consumerist behaviour. Feel connected.

With all my hippie-community-bike-second-hand-biological-recycle-yoga-meditation-awareness I cannot escape it either – I also consume. Every day actually.

Every day I spend time on Facebook scrolling on and on mostly random people's pictures and status updates. I enjoy eating sushi although I know its bad. I like to go to the hairdresser and get a new do from time to time. I like, or would like, to go on holidays. I buy things (even if used), and it makes me feel good.

According to NYT-liite, Finnish people consume 11 times more than hundred years ago. It is easy to escape responsibility and think that I am not that bad. Or, that the damage is already done.

But as long as we keep our closets closed, we cannot see that they are filled with shit we really do not need.

P.S. For those of you who are able to read, the whole article is here http://nyt.fi/20130913-himoshoppaaja-piti-nytille-ostospaeivaekirjaa-perusviikolla-paloi-500-euroa/

Vad fan?!

In Finland we have this hot potato called pakkoruotsi.

Already for decades (since the law about the mandatory second native language was established in the 1970s), certain generations have promoted for ending the obligation of Swedish in Finnish schools, because they see it as a violation of freedom of choice. I find this completely retarded.

With a justification like the above people should demonstrate against the whole compulsory school system. After all, it obligates every Finn to study during nine grades following the convergent syllabus, which includes a whole bunch of other disciplines as well.

Of course the prevalent system should not be unquestioned, but to speak about the importance of basic education, I think it is just great that we have so many different subjects to study in our schools – let them be mandatory.

And I think here lies the problem: it is not so much about the language itself, but the fact that some uptight old farts – who are/were bitter about Sweden ruling over Finland in the 18th century and making us bilingual – have taught their children and grandchildren to hate the jävla svenska språket!

What I find the funniest is that the Swedish speaking Finns (a Finnish language minority) are obliged to study Finnish. However majority of them complain about nothing.

So, with this introduction I come to my point. The latest grassroot movement has put up a petition and gathered over 50 000 signatures against pakkoruotsi, which means (as to the Finnish law) that the parliament needs to have a hearing about it.

Making Swedish optional would not be so concerning if Swedish would be vibrant in the country otherwise, but the thing is that more and more people know less and less Swedish. And it is all because of the stupid attitude.

Didn’t God himself say something along the lines ”As long as people are speaking the same language, nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them”.

Not being a great fan of God nor the Bible, I must say there is a point there. Or at least according to my interpretation there is. In the story of the Tower of Babel, people screw up their city and scatter apart because they stop speaking the same language.

So, isn’t it the benefit of all to learn different tounges to keep communicating and building a rich and vivid world together?

Peace and love, puss å kram,

Roivis, whose level of Swedish is embarrassingly poor (at the moment)

Amazing!

Normally I would not get too excited about Facebook, but now darlings, let me just say this is simply amazing!!! Obviously there are "some" (like the Red Hot Chili Peppers) other people as well who are sad about diminishing culturally valuable yet unprofitable media!!!

Radio Helsinki – the boat that rocks!!!

Check this out: https://www.facebook.com/SaveRadioHelsinki

Listen to the radio, oh listen to the radio

When was the last time you sat down and read the daily news? Or a book? I mean really read, from cover to cover without checking your Iphone, Ipad, Ipod, Idon'tcarewhat? Better yet, when was the last time you listened to the radio? And jumping from channel to channel while you're driving on your way to work doesn't count.

Yeah, I thought so – you don't remember.

Not so long ago, I used to love reading the Sunday paper for hours with a huge pot of coffee and nowhere to go. Sometimes I put the talk radio on and let the soothing voice of the dj mutter on the background. My favourite moments were those, when the lovely Lasse Kurki (a Finnish musician and a radio host) played a song and I could shout in my mind "Oh, this! I had forgotten". Lasse used to have a program called Rakkaudesta (it means out of love) which was streamed every Tuesday and Sunday on Radio Helsinki – one of the last local radios in Finland where there are no playlists.

And here comes the but. The news corporation that owns the station recently announced it is going to shut down the radio. It is no longer profitable. And while going through the accounting, they are right. Why should unprofitable be maintained just because some nostalgic hipsters want to listen some neverheard-songs?

The euphoria of modernity and gadgets has made us restless. Browsing through all the possible media from Twitter to Instagram to Facebook to What'sup has made us so busy (beacuse we want to know everything every second) that most of us have actually no clue what's really up.

The online papers circle around the same topics and only compete with who has the most clicks – who cares if the headlines give totally wrong idea about reality. Every radio and tv-channel are stuffed with formats that all resemble one another. Books and records are on the sale basket two weeks after their release because no-one has the time. And if there are independent media that try to do thigns differently, they won't last.

Old formats are dying out like it has been for generations, so what? you say. But is it really like that? Or do we like to convince ourseleves so, because it is easier?

Perhaps, there could be another way. But to realize that, we should first stop for a second and listen to the radio – while it's still there.

"Mirror mirror on the wall..."

Summer has officially begun in Finland: it is hot! I wanted to take advantage of the lazy day by reading a girly magazine while sitting down by the sunny riverside. But boy oh boy, what did I see...again.

The superiority of skinny – everywhere.

Let me explain: Some weeks ago we had to write a self-reflective essay for a course I took. At the time I experienced some sort of a revelation, and since we all need to look in the mirror from time to time, I want to share my thoughts.

Think about skinny. It is so present in our daily lives that we don't even realize it. At home we learn the “correct” way to eat. In schools the healthy lifestyle is repeated over and over. At job interviews the skinny overcomes the fat, even if the fat would be more compatible. It is because, when you are “normal” (=skinny), you live longer and feel better.

The underlying message, however, is: you get more job opportunities, have more friends and increase your odds for finding a companion, because fat people do not find love. Except with other fat people.

TV, magazines and movies repeat the same old story: behind every success is a slim waist. God mercy if you are a fat woman! Not only are you an unfeminine pile of grease but most likely you are also stupid.

Everyday images and messages scream: FIGHT THE FAT! If you don't fit into the narrow category of the “normal” weight range (between 18 and 24 BMI) you are labelled as abnormal. And how does this relate to me, skinny, athletic girl? 

Body and health have always been a major part of my life through my sportive hobbies. Lately, however, I've become painfully aware of my privileged “normal” body. It is embarrassing to admit, but I am relieved to be skinny. I am relieved because my immediate appearance does not define me as a person. 

But I am not this superficial, am I? Would I be like this if I would have not been in sports school since I was nine, or learned that hamburgers are bad for me?

In our societies, fat people are not allowed to enjoy sports, partying, fashionable clothes, feeling sexual, falling in love, having great jobs or indulging themselves. It is not acceptable, because they are considered as lazy, greedy, stupid, ugly and not in control of themselves. They are outside the norm.

I mean, I have never had to explain to someone why I eat chocolate. Nor have I ever had to pay extra on a plane for taking more than one seat to fit in. No doctor has advised me to loose weight because I do not fit into the recommended category.

What about all the anti-fat campaigns, you may ask? 

They are all created by skinny people. All these “(Woman) embrace your curves!” –magazines are just another form of superiority. “Curves” are not liberated they are squeezed into the accepted hourglass shape or hidden with vertical stripes and dark fabrics.

Fat is not flourishing out there because it makes us unease. And no matter how much I want to change that I cannot. Not before there is a thorough reconstruction of our societies. 

Fat needs to be forgotten and at the same time it needs to be acknowledged.

1,2,3,4, tell me that you love me more...

Slow days are for deep thoughts. You know, when you sit on a train on your way back home or when you have spent the whole day inside without doing anything.

Today I was slow and I thought about love. Such a cliché as it is, I came up with two things: 1) Love is everywhere 2) Love is there for a reason. What makes it problematic, of course, is how to handle it. Usually there is either too much love or too little and if the amount is right, something is still missing. We want to know why, when, where, how?

Why me, when you are so...? Why you, when you are not my ideal type? Sometimes love doesn't follow plans. Falling for a person twice your age is not nescessarily what your parents, or even you, wished for. Imagine being somebody's stepmom or -dad, when the children could be your friends. Not exactly a dream-come-true. Not to mention loving several people. Giving all of you for one person is already quite demanding let alone sharing everything with two or three.

When will I find the one, I have tried so hard and I am still single? Where is my love, I have traveled the whole world and I still haven't found what I am looking for? Sometimes the person of your dreams was always there but you never looked close enough. Other times you tried so hard to make someone be with you that you forgot who you are and what you want. It is not easy to realize that you spent years to make something work because the idea was perfect. 

How will I make you love me? How do I make myself love you? How do I make myself stop loving you? Nobody wants to love someone who is already loved by someone else – especially if that someone might love you despite the other. Being second is not being the first and most of us are not able to share. It is not any easier to realize that your 'one' dreams about someone else or just stops loving you. How to let go when you still feel so strong? How to love someone after being hurt? How to be sure?

Love makes us puzzeled, addicted, possessive, jealous, hopeless – and sometimes happy. It is something we want so desperately that we start to behave like junkies if we don't get our fix.

However what I realized this weekend, when I experienced both the beginning of a new life and the end of another, is that love should not be like a drug. We should not try to figure out the formula so that we can get high all the time. Love should rather be something constant, like a cycle, like life. It is born, it grows, it changes, it ends, and it is reborn.

Easier said than done, I know. But thinking like this keeps me going. And if I am lucky, at the end of my life there will be at least one person to say I was right. Like Ola Salo sings, "The most radical thing to do is to love someone who loves you"

Youth is a stream of randomness

Already for quite some time I've had a project of collecting words that have special meanings for my friends. And because some days ago I had a nostalgic awakening after going through old pictures and songs, I decided to put those words finally together.

So, here is a stream of randomness, which encapsulates the most beautiful moments, sounds and thoughts of life. Being young is a state of mind – when you feel it, you live it.


You know...Le Genèse is the starting point for everything.
It is pure like the hymn we sing,
in the church on a Sunday afternoon.
But not too soon, the minachting tune,
will change into the Cocoon.

"Who would have known..", Bjork chants,
smoothly like a pair of warm gants.
"that beauty this immense..."
is so normal, yet makes no sense.

And this is where the jeunesse starts.
We wonder with our bodies, minds and racing hearts.
Flabbergasted by the sudden changes,
rhythm, beat and Phoenix "fences,
in a row,
wired and protected",
we let go.

Culos, culos, scream and shout,
grab life by the balls,
and let it all out!

Bakbuk baby,

give me the bottle and don't say maybe.

We get drunk just for the sake of it,

weeromstuit. Give me more, just a little bit.

The ground underneath humisee and soljuu.

On the dance floor no one else,

just me and you.

And on and on we sail,

like galgal, the smooth, soft wave.

Such serendipity, who would have thought.

It is like the saucisson in the morning after.

After hours of going and laughter.

We wonder, is this life with a middle and two parts.

We see the ends, but where does it start?

Too gay to function

Talking about the weather is the most useless thing, they say. I disagree. Actually, I just discovered that recently the weather has not only reflected my own inner feelings but also the whole state of things.

In Finland, my beloved homeland, according to most, THE WEATHER SUCKS at the moment (or actually most of the time). And I do not mean only the weather as it is in its purest form (halfway March and the spring is not even close...) but also the "weather" as a metaphor of the general atmosphere.

Just by glancing today's news one sees that the overall "forecast" is soooo negative: Finnair is yet again sacking its labour, food prices are going up as the inflation is getting stronger, horse meat is invading Ikea, even the politicians in the Green party are having their share of the corruption cake as minister(s) bypass taxes while renovating their houses...

Not to mention the somewhat ridiculous (at least according to me) public discussion about gay rights and matrimony...It is cold, dark, windy and snowy. Why bother, when the weather is going to suck anyways? It's too cold to go outside...I hate hate hate winter!!!! Blablablaaa...

It's easy to find excuses to bitch about things rather than just be open and let the gayness wash over you. Exception to the rule is perhaps a situation in which something is really groundbrakingly wrong (such as the attic floor collapsed under you and you fell six meters to the staircase) – and even in those cases there are true Gizzzing heroes who won't let an avalanche kill their spirit.

It took me a weekend of inspiring ladies and a shit-storm of snow after a week of amazing spring weather to realize that. Happiness comes to those who are willing to take it in.

So y'all, be a bit more gay and enjoy the weather – no matter what it is like.

The va-va-what?!

Photo: Lucas Jackson/Reuters

By first glance this is just a photo of two ladies in dresses. Some might recognize this as a photo of Jason Wu Autumn/Winter 2013 collection, which was taken yesterday during the ongoing New York fashion week. However, for me this photo illustrates something different.

Thanks to a five-month research, I've spent quite some time with appearance, body, sexuality, gender and identity. I've spent hours looking for knowledge and opinions about how, especially we (meaning we as women or whatever you want to call the human beings without a penis) should be, behave and portray ourselves.

I've discovered blogs, vlogs, clips, lists, articles, advertisements, photos, tv-shows, documentaries...I've discussed with friends, debated with collegues, listened to children, observed people around me, and even gone down the memory lane to my childhood to figure out what is going on. The thing that keeps recurring, is the ideal of a woman.

As Mr. Wu points out, this year is all woman, not girlie, not mannish (whatever this means). The main goal of his collection was to bring back the woman to the runway. "Red that offset the mostly black-and-white combinations was the va-va-voom" (check the whole article here: http://news.yahoo.com/uggs-ugh-ny-fashion-week-battles-elements-154327665.html).


Most of the time I try not to get too carried away with all gender equality -talk and angry woman, who are provoked every time when someone makes a distinction between a man and a woman. But va-va-voom? Seriously?! Is this what we should pursue?


Is the ideal of a woman a skinny stick-figure strouting on the runway in a long red dress? Being perfect has become such a mantra that departing from it (for example by not wearing make-up or eating pizza instead of air) must be justified.

Women in all ages are constantly bombarded with suggestions of what to be and what not to be, how to behave and how not to behave. Where did we go so wrong?

More than words?

Last week I came across to an intriguing blog. A blog about gaming. A blog which encourages to get points by scoring and collecting flags. Sometimes those flags can scream red, but a true player will not retreat.

Just to be clear, by scoring I mean banging, penetrating, boning, screwing, poking and shagging... and by collecting, I mean sticking your member into as many v'jayjays (like a friend of mine would say) as you possibly can in as many countries as you possibly can. By the way, those of you who thought Shaggy aka Mr. Bombastic was dead, http://news.msn.com/rumors/rumor-is-shaggy-dead, false alarm! (Actually I think he might be incarnated in Roosh V, the blog(ger) I recently discovered). Speaking about death, I just learned – thanks Roosh – that putting my pussy in a sarcophagus is apparently the safest bet a woman can make when meeting a handsome stranger. Handsomeness, though, is a very fluctuating concept.

Anways, what was so interesting about this blog then? (Apart from its beautiful choice of words). First, it got my attention because it happen to mention that out of "The 5 Easiest Clubs In The World To Get Laid", Finland's is no. 1!!!! No way?! Apparently my beloved country is not that cold and dark after all. According to Mr. Lover Lover, Finnish bitches fall into the bed of any three-legged like the water in the Alps. So no need to worry for being cold between their (or should I say our?) legs – as long as you don't have high standards of course.

However, even more amazed than about the content of this blog, I was about how outspoken its creator is. Quite rarely one can see (or hear) someone explaining so frankly about their life work as a bang master. I mean, there must be thousands of guys who think like Roosh but few of them have the "balls" to say it straight, or better yet put their words into action. So, ten points for directness!!!

On the other hand, what makes me wonder, is that if a guy who earns his living by fucking and sharing his every thrust around the internet, wouldn't it be just, in the name of fair game, that his scores and flags got their share of the fun?

Because dear Roosh, if you want bitches, you have to pay.

P.S. This is for those of you who are dying to find out what the heck I am talking about: http://www.rooshv.com/one-bitch-on-your-nuts-is-worth-more-than-two-trying-to-peep

W(h)in(d)ing road of pro and con

For the first time in ages I woke up to sunlight, which always makes me feel nostalgic and reflective.

So, drinking my morning coffee while the quarrelsome wonder-brothers of the 90's sang "I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now", I realized how well the song describes the current public discussions about sensitive issues.

Recently, I have encountered two different debates, which nevertheless have quite similar features. On the one hand there is the inflammatory argument about gun control in the US, and on the other hand there is the monochrome discussion about racism and immigrants in Finland.

Since as a European it is easy to laugh at Americans, I begin with the first debate (to have an example, watch this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gWQPZ-taYBs ).

In 2012, tragic (school) shootings in the US made millions of people all over the world sad, angry and helpless. Obviously, something needs to be done in order to stop further atrocieties from happening. However, the suggestions to solve the issue seem to circle around banning and/or restricting the availability of firearms and giving more guns for civilians for self-protection. Furthermore (and beyond my understanding), most of the discussion seems to focus on statistics: how many deaths with firearms vs. other causes of deaths.

But seriously, doesn't the pro-gun side see the elephant in the room? Though "guns don't kill people, humans do", it is a lot easier to blow someone's head off with a rifle than with a fist.

Now, to come to the other debate; racism and immigrants. In Finland, "the safe-haven of the North",  racism has been a particularly frantic topic the past weeks due to an article written by Umayya Abu-Hanna, a Palestinian-Finnish journalist and a former member of the Helsinki city council. In her article Abu-Hanna talks about the Finnish intolerance, which ultimately made her move out from Helsinki to the other side of the Baltic Sea – Amsterdam. Like the gun control law in the US, Abu-Hanna's article has divided the discussion into two sides. As, Jaakko Lyytinen aptly writes in Helsingin Sanomat (12.01.), the current debate (like many others in our societies) is based on superficial, spontanious emotions. It is easy to be an angry agressor or a pious good samaritarian than to look at both sides and realize that there is not one absolute truth. There are only arguments and claims that each side can try to reason as far as possible.

If we stick only to the feeling of nobody "feels the way I do about you now", we will end up in the same situation as Oasis did when they fell apart. Instead of focusing on what matters (music in their case), we will end up fighting over who is right.

Because, let's face it: depending on the environment, each of us can act wisely and foolishly, or be tolerant and intolerant.

Flushing my behind, it is time for 2013!

What do an automatic toilet, an airport customer survey and a New Year's resolution have in common?

–They all seek to wash the dirt away and improve what was wrong before...however, sometimes they make simple things more complicated and leave you with a seat full of crap.

As I was heading for the holidays couple of weeks ago through the Amsterdam Schipol airport, interesting incidents happened to me. First, at the restroom, I noticed an annoying new technology: auto-flushing toilet. Though some justify it by its cleanliness, personally, I think it is an invention of an idiot (or a genius who cunningly uses other people's fears for making money). I mean, imagine yourself going for your business in the lavoratory, when you need to move your butt for some reason. What happens is that the censor of the toilet recognizes a movement and interprets that as a sign of you being 'done'. However, you are not done but will get a friendly wash to your 'cheeks' instead. After you are actually ready to go, the toilet will flush again. Or then for some reason it doesn't, because it did so already once, and therefore you have to sit again and then lift...wouldn't it be more simple to just push the button?

On the other hand, Kim Kardashian seem to think this is the new hit thing, so perhaps I am wrong... which brings me to my second point. After surviving the toilet seat, I was sitting in the waiting lounge, when a smiling gentleman came to me and asked, wheter I could answer some survey-questions (for the sake of improving the airport). As I was bored, I thought what the hell. He went through everything from my demographic data to the amount of my airport purchases. At last, he wanted to know if I had any suggestions or complaints. Usually, I don't bother, but this time I was so baffled by the auto-flush, that I decided to ask for its purpose. "It is more hygenic, because some people do not wash their hands" the young man responded. Fair enough, I thought. But then, when he had already left, it occured to me that what does the auto-flush change? Those who do not care for their hygene, will not wash their hands after wiping (or flushing) anyways, whereas those who care for cleanliness, it seems reasonable to wash the hands after flushing – no matter the technology.

Darn it, if only had I thought faster...

Finally, I come to my third and concluding point, my New Year's resolution. I have a bad habit of doing things that I think I should do instead of doing those I actually want to do – on top of all, I stress about them like a maniac (thanks mom for giving me this gift). For example, instead of writing about things that matter to me, I put all my energy in formulating a paper that will go to the x-file after the professor has graded it. Or if I am tired, pissed and just in a need of "alone time", I promise to go to a party instead of speaking up my mind.

So, dear people of the earth, it is time to look the shit in the eye. This year I am going to be the one who decides when to push the flush, and whether to clean up after the dirty work or not. Are you with me?