"What? Aah, no I don't speak much Estonian. Wait, what? Eh.. ahm.. yes.. those letters on the sign spell "Hansapank"..", jne..

Nii.. everything is a crazy flurry of comprehension, developments and waiting on development. It is really hard to grip on.. anything. To sort anything out solidly. Not that this is making anything bad, I can tell that it isn't bad. Things are good, though things are also incomprehensible. There is little flow as of yet, as I am restructuring the base of my life. Wild.
I have a (provisional) job.. which if it plays out will start the underworking of settling. I (am, and will possibly remain) the journalist for the Baltic Times newspaper; the single English-written publication spanning Leedu, Läti ja Eesti. It is as foreign to me as most other things. Yeah. Life is a bit foreign right now. After years in service and dealing with people, I am taking on people from another angle now. It feels a bit impersonal, intruding.. awkward. The first issue of the new year is delayed to 9 January, which is a bit of relief. I believe that I only have to write one large article for it, and then work out the 3 or 4 news articles and corresponding news briefs the two days before going to press. However, this is sort of consuming me as well.. and 'work' may only slightly dominate the consumption (shit, it is a disease..) of worry as well. Just the organization and coordination of something like this is strange. Figuring out the sources and the angle which I am going at the article came a bit smoothly last night, with Google slaving under my fingertips. My flatmate Rain came out with a superhero suit as well, getting me the number of probably one of Estonia's most famous actors. I was able to set up an interview with him.. got myself stoked up, dashed some questions down which still seem absurd to me when I read over them (I now avoid this and am waiting to curse myself for during the actual interview), made a jaunt out to make sure I know where his place was.. and.. got there and rang.. and.. not home. Perfect. Journalism sucks.
Returning to getting in contact with this actor.. crazy. This is a small country, and people really do live amongst other people, know other people, have random schedules like other people. After spooning down some Eesti kohv (Estonian coffee, and yes, for later explanation, this does require utensils), taking some cold showers, running myself through the washing machine, and revving myself up with some 'Steve Holt!'s, I called. The few words I took from the mechanized recording meant the line was busy immeiately.. so, alright, give it an hour before Holting again. After a few minutes, my mobile rang with an unknown number and an eesti mees was on the other end..
"Tere! Siin on Rain..".. ah, so I thought. It's my flatmate Rain, strange that he jumped into full Estonian so fast. So, in friendly reflexive response I shot back, "Tere, Rain! Kuidas läheb?". "Aaah.. hästi.. asasdoiasdjaoijasoij (or its Estonian equivalent.. I heard the letter "l" for sure.). I realize my own idiocy more quickly more often now, and I asked to switch into English if possible, then figuring out that this was the actor who I had received a busy signal for. Set up a meeting for a few hours later (eh, well..), and it was (initially) simple. Crazy. At his apartment, not so far from mine, where I would meet his wife and glance over his awards from the Venice Film Festival. Eh.
This is around where, while incredible in itself, a dose of familiarity with something work related would allow me to grasp and make intelligible.. other elements. Give me a steam wand and an espresso grinder, some mindless task and a flow of people and language being the main concern, not the (ugh)"profession" itself. It is part of living, though. Part of this, and the next stage of things along with everything else which is heaped on and on its way. It's fantastic. And fucking scary. It as if, had this been for a month or something and I had returned to familiarity and a semi-established life routine, this would all focus now or then to some extent. Though I realize that this is ainult üks nädal, ja veel pole kuud (only a week, not yet a month). And the holidays give another edge of surreality.. things shut down for literally three days surrounding Jõulupäev (Christmas, and more often simply referred to as Jõulu, which eliminates the confines of päev, which is the word for a day..). Raske, aga põnev ja kõik aeg läheb edasi, kuhugi.. alati kuhugi.
Piparkoogid ja glögi. Mere, aah ja taevas all.. see meretaevas, pime ja lõpematu ööd. Sellepärast,

Edasi..

Meie natukene algemined meeled.. (Insomnic Ramblings..)

It's been a good hour or two blaming an array of things on my lack of sleep, when somehow I became wrapped in the need to post a digression on the human soul and such.. usual response to jetlag and slight dehydration.
Actually, I came around to thinking on a comprehension of life, and how we are rooted in a primitive conception of size.. no matter the abstract or completely illusory qualities of such. So.. right, the obvious means by which I came to tossing this around is moving across countries. There is a slight fear, not so much for myself of the action, though of slighter steps along the way (a return flow of income (I'm all for helping the Baltic economies.. though.. help mine..), resident status and said visa which precludes this, setting up a bank account and getting the sweet European card with the chip on it (although only a more dramatic form of debiting), jne). Even a city, or at least the parts not fully explored, contribute to this mental preoccupation with size. Subsequently when things are 'mastered' or at least figured out to a point that it doesn't look like you are a first year university student learning how to use silverware, it is as if 'size' shifts in dual form. Fear or unfamiliarity 'diminishes' as you 'rise to expectations' or the 'occasion' or whatever (stop laughing, Kim.. this is serious). Progressing and gaining a semi-distinguished (though often still laughable) position or grasp on your situation depends largely on your conception of what is bigger and more dominant. Aside of whatever various significant others may claim while getting up and leaving the room to 'Just get some tasty water', size does matter.
Again, this is all process though. University was at one time bigger (at least undergrad.. eh.. Global Studies department..), until one may take some kicks, have some temporal victories and slowly learn when to make moves and when. Conceptually, a challenging entity has been subdued, and we then move onto the next saber-toothed tiger to seem larger than. The slight excitement of danger before this is reflex, though possibly unavoidable. I mean, you still need that bigger club. And then some metal stuck into the club. And next atomic fission to make the club decimate. Holding to the irony of life, however, the smaller particles which you may disperse the adversary into sometimes then become the issue themselves (Chernobyl demonstrates, however, that just ignoring things for long periods also has its benefits), along with the next giants. So all there remains is to furiously launch ourselves higher, and hope that the next lessened bits of problems trump, or at least provide a good cock fight, with those previous.
Sense? Little, as this progresses. However, it has given me a bit of initiative to take a proverbial club to this couch I am attempting to sleep on and beat it into comfortable submission.
Edasi..

Tuulispask..

Nii.. I meant to set myself onto writing this post much earlier. 'Earlier', meaning around 20 minutes ago, when I attempted to take the cork out of a bottle of glögi (hot mulled wine) Amerikkan style, and subsequently found myself with the same cork mashed into small traces now floating in the upper stratum of said glögi. Nothing like the spice of the holidays.. I'll work myself back around to how I am drinking this, writing this, sitting on a window ledge with Soome Järv (Gulf of Finland) melding with the sky to my right.. punctured by small shots of golden light which strike between the sea and sky.. and sudden complementing shards which slide past; ships coming into the harbor. Ilus. Aga esimene, reisist.. (Though first, about the trip..)

A large part of me wants to smite much of London Gatwick Airport with an ice pick. Nothing telling occurred on the flight to London aside of an empty seat next to me (score!), allowing me to uncomfortably curl to the side over both for a solid restful hour and a half or so (in place of uncomfortably sitting with my head to the side). Watched some Darjeeling Limited.. good film, though I would come to somewhat loathe the catchphrase of 'sometimes you realize that it is the journey that matters more than the destination' or something..

After a good fifteen minutes (I believe everything I hear, and that is how long the captain said that we would be circling.. timekeeping devices might report longer, though how reliable are those? Y2K slipped past our perception and is still fucking things up, hear you me..) hanging around LGW from the air, we landed and started our taxi to Glasgow and back. Given, I didn't fully mind as I had until 6pm until my flight to Tallinn was scheduled to take off.. the less I would spend in the outer-suburbs-1960's-mall-type interior of the airport, the better.. aaah, the fickle dreams of youth..

My ticket was actually ready sharpish from the desk, and I spent the next three hours staked out jamming to some Anima System and Adjagas.. couldn't really summon the energy to move beyond the A section of the iPod anyway. I found out around 2 that you couldn't begin check-in until 2 hours before your flight, so restaked myself with an expensive club sandwich until the time came.. then when I returned below, I found the entire passenger list of the plane lined up for two workers. Given their combined weight, I was figuring that they would have enough energy to speedily complete the task at hand. Aahh.. with boarding time fast approaching, I finally made my way to the front, and as I figured, was slapped with some large fees for being some kilos over the weight limit. This meant that I had to leave the line, join another line, find out that that was the wrong line, join yet another line, fight some Bulgarians to keep my place (I threatened them with revoking their EU membership.. said I had powerful friends.. felt like it was possible..) before finally ascending the summit to the front of that line. Although my receipt showed the simple price needed to be paid, this involved a 42 step process, some indentured servitude, shoe shining, reciting the script of Tommy Boy backwards, mimicry of Britishness, and other things not fit to write. Got the fee paid (..more than my plane ticket itself..), felt slightly powerful as I was able to punch straight past the rest of the line and pick up my ticket, and shot out towards security (with a few minutes to boarding).

Now, LGW has a brilliant system for boarding. There are several screens positioned around the lobby showing flights from throughout the day (as early as from 8am.. useful information, late in the afternoon). The staff feel themselves a bit Bondish, I believe.. you know, only when you need to know. This includes which gate your plane boards from. The status of flights will show 'Please wait..', and suddenly decide to flash red with 'Boarding closing at gate XXX'. Keeps people on their toes. Also makes people really anxious, something of which traveling is too often devoid. After at least five flight to Italy were canceled completely, mobs were looking for chairs to throw, the other people (many whom had been waiting 9 hours with multiple delays) sitting on these chairs and the general floor, and every single other flight on the televisions was delayed until a certain time, the next escalation for the masses would have probably involved petrol bombs. Ridiculous. Upon seeing 'Tallinn - Please Wait' on the board when I entered, I was slightly reassured and set of seeing how to best spend the 1P in my pocket left over from some other time in Gatwick. When I returned to the board, I was just as disassured when I realized that my flight no longer showed on the board. At least I knew what happened at 8am.

So.. shoved my way through the crowds to the front of the screaming mob (literally.. don't piss off Italians on multiple accounts..) I at long last divined that my flight was delayed until around 7.10 boarding. Brilliant. This at least released me for an overpriced pint of Murphy's to soothe the atmosphere. I really want to find out how many kegs that bar went through.. ended up talking to some bloke who works for BAE systems, moaning about how this was literally the worst day to fly (I didn't realize when booking, though the Friday before Christmas is.. well.. not.. good..). He offered to buy me another pint, and we stood staring hopelessly at the boards before I cut him off on a story about how his father had dual citizenship with the States for a while before they found out and he just decided to retire to the Senior-Jungles of Florida when I had a flashing boarding gate for my flight. Rushed off, slightly feeling the pints, and finally boarded (again with an empty seat next to mine, though across from an Estonian quite angry at the video games he was playing..). Again, never make the misconception that 'boarding' the plane means that you are in any way separated from Gatwick. So.. another probably 40 minutes at the gate before we were allowed to turn on the engines. Then we again embarked on a taxi to Malta. Fucking L.

Arrived in Tallinn around 1.30 AM here, scheduled for 9.50 PM landing. Fucking timepieces.

Took a taxi to my new place, dodging keys thrown from windows.. met the new flatmates, drank some glögi and soon dropped onto my foam block of a temporary mattress. I'll probably take down some details of the last two days soon, though it feels as if they never existed. I am only now touching down mentally.. with people and rushing around the last few days and all smothered with jetlag, I haven't had any time for settling.. for realizing and coming to. Only tonight, with all out to other cities for the holidays and myself in my apartment.. only now am I starting to make those connections. Myself. My apartment. Here. Lights and languages. Dark and dusk. With coming days, these will become wound into other words and sentence structures.. paragraphs and storylines following a continuum. Forging a continuum.

Maa on pole lumi, taevas ja mere without end. Edasi..

Täna, siis Homme.. siis..

All has risen into a surging crescendo... a flurry and a rush.. and only the prelude. I feel as if everything has become more porous. I notice things, constantly seek to realize the simple transition of last sightings and initial departures. Nothing will become so tangible for a few weeks, after it has passed and may be recognized as a frozen history. It is odd completing things which I mused over months past.. returning library books, sorting DVDs, sorting farewells, dividing and disposing of personal goods, fusing and propelling forward relationships. A constant movement has come about, one which is only loosely bound (and even these ties only nudge and provide slight shadow.. as.. say.. final exams..). These are the moments of lifting.. before toes may only stretch to scrape the ground, though a firm stance has diminished. Invigorating.. and only a firmer stance will result.
Edasi..

Nakonets.. kirjutasin!

Nii.. the final version of my undergraduate thesis has been completed. Nothing fantastic, though this should provide a launch for possible (Fulbright?) research across the Baltic. Try getting to it here. No promises. No refunds. Best read while sipping on a White Russian.
More substantial digressions varsti.. Üks nädal veel, siis..

Edasi..

'Mis?' or 'Donetsk-mining-style-consciousness with a lack of Saku..'

I have lately been lacking in much-any motivation to post here, or to complete much else. A bit of it is the frenzied slam-pow of the semester which I undertook, and its physical and mental repercussions (I finished the last of 3 papers the week before Thanksgiving.. all due by 13 December. Possibly this occurred as one of the papers concerned monuments of Lenin, and all these crazy images of his office in Smolnii Institut kept popping up, and a subsequent nation-building internationalist (shit, that could get me now if I apply for the 'farm', couldn't it..) fury took over my writing. At least I wasn't writing on Stalin..). Digressing, I am feeling fucking tired.
Which is where the cold, sharp-profiled face of chance gave me a bit of a break.. I now have an apartment Tallinnas (in Talinn)! An Estonian friend gave me some assistance with connections, and following a few emails reassuring that I wasn't a neocon, neolib, terrorist, Holocaust denier, vampire, or Schroeder supporter, they offered a spot in a 3-room apartment to me.
Note, '3-room' (3 toaline), and not '3-bedroom' (3 magamistoaline).
There will be much more on all of this.. when.. motivation recurs. I am really shot, and kahjuks (unfortunately, k sozhalenuiu) this is about all that I am able to scratch out for the evening. The surreality of selling everything, finishing everything.. the motion and the rush which is only in an initiation of building.. it is running me through this disoriented state. Things are coming together, and I am progressing steadily and moving forward, though it is like watching a film drunk. Soon will be a more steady grasp of things.. or a sobriety.. and hopes that there is coffee, clouds, and a view through the horizon of the sea when this occurs.
This post was meant to be much more detailed and.. fuck if I can't even finish a sentence..
Closing in on kaks nädala veel.. edasi..