On great finds and on being yourself, whoever that might be

Leftover pictures from the years 2010-2011

"Be yourself is about the worst advice you can give to some people. However, what I've seen of you, I think it suits you perfectly. You're a beautiful person. You think about life: yourself, people around you, what's going on in the world.

You take time to examine who you really are. Although you might not have found the place for yourself, you keep searching. You have the guts to say: I will never fit in here, even if I try my hardest. Do not stop. I think you are well on your way to being your wonderful self, finding where you fit, where you are wanted and most importantly where you want to be. The road there is probably long and bumpy, but take the most out of it. . . .

Take chances, you'll grow."

This and a few parts that I left out of the quote were sent to me on the 30th of July, 2010. It's been a year and seven months since.

I found the whole thing hand-written in my diary, or one of those diaries I tried to keep and failed miserably. I still have no idea who wrote it.

If you are reading this, I want you to know that I found your text at the most crucial time ever. Thank you.

Just to let you know, I haven't stopped searching, and I might've found at least one place where I fit and where I am wanted. And, like you said, most importantly, where I want to be. I'm eager to find out if London is the next one.

The road has been long but I've taken chances, I've grown. Sometimes probably in the wrong direction and a perhaps a tiny bit crooked but just fine.

I no longer worry that much about being the one that quickly passes through other people's lives. I have found that not all the people I meet and get to know are ones I myself am willing to pull back and I don't expect everyone to do so with me anymore. I guess it's just plain old life. I'm afraid of slipping into the mentality of letting go of everyone too easily and deducing that it's only fair, though. I'm hoping to find a balance in that as well as in everything. That's called growing up, right?

I'm grateful that you sent what you'd written. I think messages like that should be sent to everyone, since I'm definitely not the only one worthy of encouragement. The most beautiful, talented and wonderful people struggle with the same things. And I'll tell you, it's a hell of a struggle.

PS: Look what yours truly got in the mail today; "The Globalization of World Politics - An introduction to international relations". This is what I'll be concentrating on until I leave for Copenhagen, where I will concentrate on things that you concentrate on when you're young and pretty and alive and free and all those clichéd things.

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.

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.

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.

Dear non-finnish you out there. If you come to Finland, please take a 2-hour bus ride West and make Turku your next pit-stop. I guarantee you'll feel a bit like you belong.

I'm speechless and dead tired. That's what dancing to an instrumental cover of Toto's Africa, after parties where the last glass of wine is poured at 10 o'clock in the morning and sleeping in a stranger's arms do to you. When the blindfolds in the living room are pulled down in order to keep tomorrow away is when you know you've had a wonderful night.

White wine and sprite, red wine and coke, wonderful people, charming boys, tiny bars and noisy clubs. That's what good weekends are made of.

(I gave my phone number and first name, but didn't take phone numbers or last names. I feel like I'm sixteen again and it feels silly.)