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.

What is a gap year in french?

I'm trying to psych myself up with Rue des Archives 53.

The corner of le Musée de la Chasse et de la Nature.

A city break in Copenhagen that will hopefully happen in a few weeks.

And Paris IV.

Cambridge postcard 1

I love it here. I love it so much it makes me want to cry. I love it so much I can't find any pompous and embarrassingly poetic words to describe it. Boys in tweed and bicycles everywhere, it's beautiful and it's small and it's wonderful. The rugby varsity games are being played in a couple of days, I saw the rugby boys getting photographed in their light blue suits near King's.

I want this really, really bad, I want it so bad it's almost a physical feeling.

And when I should be revising, cheers to history in a white bathrobe, drinking good hotel hot chocolate and watching news on the BBC. On the to-do list: a cab ride into town and making lasting impressions. Let's hope this song rings true tomorrow.

Julie Nixon, daughter of Richard Nixon married David Eisenhower, grandson of Dwight Eisenhower

I'm falling into the same old patterns again and again. And I bought peroxide spray but I'm too afraid to use it.

I'm tired tired tired which is perfectly depicted in the first picture. My body's giving up. I can't sleep but then sleep for 10 hours straight. I can't keep awake but then I lie awake for hours.

I can't wait to get on a plane and get away. My traveling savings will reach €2500 next month and I'm ecstatic. It's getting closer.

So I read to myself: a chance of a lifetime to see new horizons

Gaddafi's dead and I'm worried about gaining a few pounds, not having enough money to vanish for three months and not having proper shoes for the winter. A plethora of first-world problems.

I've sent all my university applications and I should be receiving answers any week now. I could talk about this for a lifetime, reviewing all the chances I'm taking and how happy I feel, but I'm shortening it to this: I'm scared to death, but my leopard print-loving grandmother is so convinced I'll get in and meet a handsome english earl, she's started to learn English. In her mind, there's no reason a blonde girl should not marry an english aristocrat.

Next weekend is going to be time to hop on a bus, drive 166 km on the E18 and spend the weekend in a strange city with lovely people. I'm relieved. In order to not get fed up, everyone should change scenery once in a while, even if it's only for two and a half days.

P.S. This is the new me, through a grainy picture; shorter bleached hair and a top to match - I need to start prepping up for my english aristocrat and he should definitely be one who owns a yacht club.

EBV infectious mononucleosis, Pfeiffer's disease, Filatov's disease or simple and sweet; kissing disease

Today's reading and lovely surprise guests: (beheaded) Kristiina and Roosa

I'm on sick leave, quite bedridden with mononucleosis, or kissing disease; kissing disease is such a tasteless name for it.

I guess love really kills then. Or at least makes you ill.

Body parts

Sometimes I find myself overwhelmed with fear. And not the small kind that tickles your stomach a bit and feels fine, but the kind that takes you in a stranglehold and doesn't let go no matter how hard you kick and bite back.

The most beautiful word for this kind of feeling is a Swedish word. It's almost beautiful enough to make it all seem small and pointless and a bit sweet, too. But even livrädd isn't enough to make tonight's worries small and sweet, it doesn't sweep these feelings away when you say it out loud or write it down.

I try not to worry about anything. The days go by in a gentle fashion. I work from nine to five and sometimes get to meet amazing people with true stories. Sometimes I suffer from older gentlemen in trench coats, who are unwillingly scary when they come closer only to wink and quickly walk away. Sometimes I get headaches, sometimes I'm genuinely very very happy. Sometimes I find myself thinking about nights in Nice. Most of the time I shake the thoughts away as quick as they come.

What I truly am livsrädd for is the time to come. In a couple of months' time I am supposed to really board that plane - and currently my plans only involve myself and the backpack that has seen beaches and cities and everything of importance. I'm not afraid to say it out loud: I'm very afraid of leaving alone, but I'll have to do it.

Du behöver någonting större. I don't know if this is it, but it probably won't kill to try.