Back to Vesterbro

Future home street in Copenhagen

It's insane. We got an incredible flat from Vesterbro. It's everything you'd imagine a Copenhagen flat to be like. Light wooden floors, high white ceilings. So much light it almost hurts your eyes. A balcony and 55 square meters to live in.

I still haven't secured a job. I basically have nothing waiting for me, except for the 2 best Summer months in Copenhagen and the freedom to do whatever I want.

If only I could earn an extra 1000€ so I could head down to Southern France for August to do a bit of surfing and enjoying the sun. I almost feel ashamed that two months in the city I like so much, in an apartment that looks like it was ripped out of any arty folk's dreams, isn't enough and I want even more. Isn't that the curse of wanting it all?

But hell, it's insane.

I'm listening to that Feet in the Water-song on repeat, because I need someone to slap me and tell me it's all better than I even realize yet.

"Dynamic employee for the Summer" "Freelancer" "Hej! I am a 20-year-old girl from Helsinki" and other things from my sent e-mails folder

London ages ago

Everything's going fast, fast, fast but so painfully slow - job applications, job rejections, rental applications, unanswered e-mails, the last day of day job tomorrow, new job applications flying around, cold cover letters, freelance work, temporary work, a month, a month and a half, obscure time patterns.

Copenhagen is constantly interrupting my thoughts. I have weird dreams at night and keep seeing catalogue models who look like someone who I wish I won't run into in Osterbro.

I want to send a message to Copenhagen that I'm coming soon; sing it like that swedish Veronica, jag kommer and such but my voice wasn't meant to be recorded and I don't know if I want anyone to wait for me or not.

I keep having second thoughts about everything; about quitting my job and about having these napoleon complex-like wishes, but then again, it's so useless to worry about how life goes. If you do good, it will come back to you. I'm beginning to sound like a self-help book - alarming.

And whenever I've been feeling let down and apathetic lately, I've resorted to this song. I wish some of its quiet power and beauty and rawness will transfer through my headphones.

Om nån minut så går jag härifrån och då ses vi nog aldrig mer.

Time has gone quickly. My day job ends for good on Friday evening. After that - emptiness. Or as I like to see things nowadays, anything and everything. I'm excited. There's a dozen of things that could go extremely wrong, but hundreds of things that could shape my life in the best possible ways.

The last few days have been bizarre, so to say the least.

I learned that if you don't have a corkscrew you might as well quit struggling while trying to open that bottle of red wine creatively and just smash the cork in immediately. I also learned that by doing so, the wine tastes like the music festivals you used to go to when you were younger. Awful.

Sitting in the kitchen, a law student from Bologna revealed that had he known how cold Helsinki is, he never would've come here in the first place. I told him I wouldn't recommend it anyway.

A certain canadian showed me what the rooftops of Helsinki look like from the eighth floor. And made me laugh quite a bit. And made me sound like a hard-core capitalistic asshole when we talked about world politics in the morning.

I love how some things, some people, feel inexplicably easy to be and deal with. Sometimes it's not as complicated as you normally would perceive it.

I got asked if I knew the rules of the game and I said yes. I got kissed on the forehead and I stayed the night.

Lust for Life is certainly the best way to explain how I feel right now. Collateral damage hasn't hit me or anyone else - yet.

From Vesterbro to Hyde Park Corner to Hietaniemenkatu

I might be meeting a Canadian boy on Thursday evening. He goes by the name of Alexandre from Navy Jerry's in my phone's address book and all I can remember about him is his dark curly hair and funny accent when he spoke french. And the part where he told me that he's going to have to come up with something to brag about for the next time we meet. And the part where I knew I wanted to get to know him.

I sincerely hope that he was lovely and that my memory's not playing tricks on me.

I finally posted a job application for Copenhagen. The first of many.

I recently realized that my comfort zone really sucks. I'm glad I'm getting out of it and fast.

Eton boys

The summer back when no-one knew anything

Since I only have personal and egocentric things to write down, I'm not doing it. Instead, here's a list of things I've been thinking about this past week and a few days more:

new chelsea boots, grown-up Eton boys, international politics, new dresses, new dresses, new dresses, romantic relations gone wrong, The Guardian Weekly, insufficiency, Cambridge, Cambridge, Cambridge and yet again Cambridge, books, new chelsea boots, horse polo, surfing, intelligent rugby players, Eton boys again, the 9 days I have until the plane leaves from Helsinki, running, food and Cambridge.

Like my all-time favourite quote says, I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.

Me 5 months ago, a day before graduation / Me 50 minutes ago, a day after getting an interview for the world's best university

Shoddy webcam pictures, but oh god.

Me then: confused, young, lost, disoriented, happy because of the graduation.

Me now: confused, young, lost, disoriented, fitter, thinner, happier.

Helsinki-Vantaa-LHR on the 5th, interview on the 7th, back to Helsinki on the 9th. I'm ecstatic but afraid that by writing this down I'll magically diminish my chances of making it.

Dear Cambridge, you've already taught me what it's like to cry out of sheer happiness, I'm in shock and I like you a lot.

Tonight: some wine and a good time.

I'm so happy I can't breathe.

She's got everything to gain 'cause she's a fat girl with a lisp

Since August I've lost 5 kg off my body and 15 cm of my hair. Both measurements keep on growing.

Working is hard but it gets me money. Alcohol has once again become a friend to avoid, especially on Tuesday nights when three glasses of white wine at an exhibition opening are definitely too much.

The darkness that falls in the middle of the afternoon turns days into surreal moments, where I sometimes lose my focal point and everything becomes dark.

A friend left a few days ago to travel far South. Whenever I'm home I tend to slip into my white lace pants, to make pretend I'm already free.

Also, rule #1 which is no wine on an empty stomach is going to be challenged again today. My rule guide is now called Make This City Your Cushioned Playground Because You're Leaving Anyway and I intend on doing it right.