On the road again. (Taas teele.)

I don't often have extremely vivid dreams which I also remember upon and after waking up. Bright morning lights (admittedly, quite absent this time of year before 10am) and a few necessary mugs of strong black English tea usually dissolute any traces my odd nighttime journeys might leave on the psyche. It's even rarer for me to remember specific people from these subconscious encounters. That said, I got pulled over for speeding in President Toomas Hendrik Ilves' car yesterday. That'll leave an impression.

My recollection of the dream picks up where I was walking down a street which was slightly raised from the sidewalk level and enclosed by dense greenery. A building with a glass facade came up on the right hand side and Tuuliki informed me that President Ilves was there. Oddly enough, a large German flag hung from the front of the building. A sign perhaps of impending re-Germanization of Estonia? Will Volkswagen or Siemens start buying up investments here as the Baltic Germans re-realize their drive to get their disparate feudal rights back? In any case, Tuuliki thought he might have gone on a 'trip' already (presumably to broker schnitzel imports), but upon peering down the embankment and through the trees, we spotted the Estonian blue-black-and-white faintly stirring in the breeze. Obviously, if both a German and Estonian flag are hung, that means Ilves is in the building. So we went to take a closer look.

I could see through the glass a lofty, darkened room with a single couch in the center facing the right wall with a gaping fireplace. A lone turvamees stared slightly indifferently from inside of the glass door and Ilves looked up as we approached. He beckoned us in as, obviously, we're that cool. As is he. The solitary guard in plain clothes let us brush past and we went to sit next to the President on the couch. My dreams are often filled with oddities and vague details; one of these was the carpeting directly in front of the couch. A long rut was worn into the (light-colored) 1970's urban-apartment sort of shag carpeting that reminds you of the number for Empire (and whether the representative has been cryogenically frozen yet). At one point in the worn-down pacing line, there was a deeper torn up circle of carpet, where Ilves apparently always spun abruptly and sat down during his back-and-forth sessions. I have no idea how I knew or noticed this, but the President sat directly in front of that chasm in the carpeting, so it wasn't a complicated deduction.

We sat around and bantered for a decent amount of time, and then as a result of dream-swish-swash and fogged transition, we were somehow a trio in Ilve's coal-black open-top jeep (which he of course loaned us) out on the open highway in a vast autumn tundra. Regardless of the fact that I was sitting alone in the backseat, I happened to also be the driver of the vehicle. I'm not sure whether it was because I was getting used to driving from the back seat, the confusing factor of a regular steering wheel and pedals in the front, or that I was still acclimating myself with being in a car suddenly opposed to the white three-person sofa in Ilves' dusky office; whatever it was, I quickly became aware that I was speeding. Intuition told me that the speed limit was around 50-70 km/h.. I was bumping at a full 140 at the least. Not that it was an unpleasant experience - opening up Ilves' personal jeep on a road straight and level enough to be in either South Dakota or Northern Finland (difference?) was worth the proximity of pedal to metal.

Being in a perfect dream state did however mean that worries quickly become reality, and as soon as the concepts of 'speeding' and 'law enforcement' came into my head at the same moment in time, I saw flashing lights ahead. While quickly trying to locate the back-seat brake pedal and have my way with it, I spotted a large police SUV - more fire brigade than actual trooper, but authority nonetheless - heading the opposite direction. A large (tundra) median separated the two lanes of traffic, though I was indeed the presumptive target and saw the car slowing at a U-turn lane. While I hoped in the familiar vain that my speed (now reduced to around 50 after locating the weak break) and its apologetic lower velocity might persuade the police to look the other way, I spotted a left-turn lane myself and moved into it.. I'm not going to lie and say that the thought of crossing over and speeding off into the sudden forest across the road didn't pop into my head. That was my only thought at the time. I was driving President Toomas Hendrik Ilves' coal-black open-top jeep, and I'm hoping to still get honorary citizenship from him some day.

Then I woke up.

Edasi, вперёд..

Tappity-tap.

Snow will bring us together

I've noticed one thing in this beloved, oft-times frigid northern climate. Snow is the best means of integration and community. At least the first snowfall. Alas, this has melted off for now and the self-reassuring dreariness, fog and rain of the Baltic have extended their lease through the end of fall. Winter made a couple of advances a few weeks ago however, and it was fantastic to watch (and partake in) the aftermath. It seems that people drop their boundaries, at least temporarily, and catch sidelong glances and smiles of pure enjoyment at the odd tactile meteorological representation that lies about. People almost wrap themselves in it, and bring others into the fold. I went with Tuuliki to snatch some hõõgvein (the popular winter hot mulled wine) and head through upper vanalinn (Old Town) and my favorite park in the vicinity. Standing next to Pikk Hermann, I invented a contest throwing snowballs down onto the spotlights beaming up onto the ancient Danish fortress remains. A snowball fight which had earlier sputtered between us here and there came into full swing, and a few strays happened to bring a young Russian-Estonian couple into the cross-fire (well, 'stray' means that it wasn't exactly 'cross', but past Tuuliki or over her head and onto their apparel). I gave a short-breathed apology and they seemed jovial, so Tuuliki coaxed them into turning against myself. Our small three-on-one went on for a good five or ten minutes and provided me with some much-needed exercise darting and lurking behind trees (my usual mid-day exertion of energy is moving my leg from a crossed position to supporting my feet on the radiator and back, while the translations flood in).

It was a light, energetic experience that crossed out the awkwardness of language or deciding in which tongue to even communicate (I dropped some Estonian and shout some things in Russian at them while Tuuliki also seemed inadhered to a single linguistic array). The experience was short and mostly unspoken, but true and a demonstration of at least the possibility for such encounters. I plan to start further random wars with unknown passerbys through flinging objects at them that won't leave them wounded, unconscious or covered in any sort of unpleasant liquids. Summer will be the time for spontaneous pillow fights. Let it snow.

Living in a Soviet block is "boring" (bad pun).

So one thing that I have come to grips with living amongst crumbling stacks of concrete is that, regardless of how hopeless the buildings appear to be on the outside (and what you can assume to be the internal structure, which is quite an unnerving thought when you actually live there), someone is renovating. This word is used very loosely, as I highly doubt that the performance of the act dictates a real, formidable or even tactile outcome. Quite the opposite - 'remont' anywhere in the Soviet crack stacks really means drilling into any surviving bit of concrete to be found in the hopes of the entire building collapsing upon itself and the residents being sent to freshly constructed municipal housing. Panel construction means that the rusted rods which the remaining bits of concrete stick to resonate at every poke and prod from a drill, which on any given day someone will decide to implement in their endeavors. What I fail to understand and why I come to the conclusion that these home-repairers aren't actually doing anything is that I can't figure out exactly why they would find it necessary to incessantly make holes in the concrete. A few days ago this reached a new high - of course, during summer after moving to the apartment in 2008 I became accustomed to the fact that the screeching would reach its peak around eight or nine in the morning.. this time, however, it was at 10 in the morning, right as my daily stash of documents to be translated started to pour in, and this time seemingly just on the other side of the wall. Finding the source is tricky, though, and the ruckus happened to be coming from a man dangling from a rope attached somewhere on the roof, boring into the seams between the concrete slabs from the outside, one floor up and a few apartments across. Which made sense - the noise was using my eardrums as a timpani. I about quit work and ran out screaming after the first fifteen minutes. Luckily, it ended a bit later as they moved to the other side of the building to cave out more load-bearing material. The walls aren't the thickest or the most solid in the first place. There's an electrical socket next to our bed which seems to be fit into a hole opening up into the apartment next to ours. Were our neighbors extremely quiet or even head-banging trancers on ecstasy, it'd be one thing. However, the situation helps to make up for the fact that I disconnected the cable television a year ago - some crazywoman living there regularly decides to begin chanting, singing and generally werewolfing at three in the morning (six in the morning, two in the afternoon, seven at night.. there's not much of a pattern), shouting into the air (more like my electrical socket) for some long-lost relative to return so she can make her dinner - this is, naturally, accompanied by pot-banging from time to time and then the older man that lives there yelling at her to shut up and give it up already. I'm content with the fact that I extremely rarely run into either of them in our shared, empty hallway to the stairwell. There's been worse all in all and returning to the structural topic - I felt the entire building literally sway a few inches from side to side one day (the curtains moving helped me to figure out it wasn't just my body going into some sort of alcohol-relapse days after the actual drinking. It was probably just something collapsing in the limestone quarry across the road (further brilliant Soviet planning - build a massive residential district downwind of where tons and tons of dust are shot into the air from a large pipe 24 hours a day). No worries. It's Lasnamäe.

And with that, I announce plans to find a place in some wood-plank 1930's house in Kalamaja. I feel the urge to write about an adventure not involving the Migration Board. Curses on them; setting sights on the other end of the city and the shore of the sea.

Edasi, вперёд..

You be who?

Preventing diversity only encourages local extremism.

That's what I've been trying to get out. Probably a statement I should have warmed up into, though early rising on Tuesday mornings to Russian electricians doesn't exactly cultivate deep analytic moods.

Take religious preferences approach, for example. I'm not a religious person by any means; if you don't count me watching Lost 'religiously' (that's more of an addiction) or 'religiously' having a cup of black tea before coffee in the morning in that category. As such, I actually blend into the average population better here in Estonia than in the US. The last time I was in Minneapolis, I was shocked by just how many places of worship dot just about every other streetcorner. It's a mode of power and social control yet deeply entrenched in American society - a more noticeable state expression of this (never mind that rumor of 'separation of church and state') is the Sunday ban on liquor sales in Minnesota. How does that regulation promote a free and fair economy? What reasons preclude the ban which are not associated with 'purity' or 'honoring' or 'values'; all of which tie right back into some sort of organized where-does-my-soul-or-thetan-or-whatever go after I've really just decomposed and enriched the soil for plant growth? Anything? Bueller?

I do support the right of everyone to peacefully believe what they believe and to act upon it in their own right, as long as its doctrine doesn't infringe upon the same of others. This, again, is the same diversity which is crucial to the health of a society. It's inherent, and in the absence of a very visible form, the society will turn upon itself to search out minute variations in the fold by which it can both differentiate and define itself. That said - although I disapprove of the lack of tolerance for non-religious types in the States, I'm also dissatisfied with the absence of tangible variation here in Estonia.

True, there is very little history of religious variation in Estonia as compared to more fiery, border- and formely empire-ridden parts of the world. Paganism, Christianity (via the Danes, Swedes and Germans) and Russian Orthodox (guess who) have been in practice. Hare Krishna (the musical procession may be seen on Raekoja plats every day at exactly 17:14) and Buddhism are in the wings along with Scientology and, I suspect, one or two Flying Spaghetti Monsterists. A grand seven Jews were left in the wake of the Holocaust in Estonia; not a widely-taught reality in history lessons. The first synagoge since WWII opened up on a Tallinn side-street a few years ago; brilliant architecture, classy restaurant, a few token Israelis and a lot of Russian speaking. I've yet to see any resemblance of a minaret in the city alongside the towers of Tallinn's city walls. I somewhat doubt any are in the making.

According to the Estonian Statistics Board, there were 1,387 Muslims in the country in 2000 (on a side note, it's interesting that there isn't a link for 'Religious preference' under the social statistics section of the web page - no preference means not making it into an issue and less of a problem. Or is that just the lack of noticeable diversity again?). I'm sure at least half of them are forced to be on call to interrogate any would-be dark skinned and bearded arrivals at the airport. Not that Estonians have any deep-seeded racist tendancies or outward fears, though they easily could. Exposure to diversity is incredibly low and very, very few people are even open to the idea of considering stepping it up.

A few weeks ago, Estonia announced that it would decline a request from the European Commission that it participate in a migrant-relocation program. Basically, migrants mainly washing up on the shores of southern member states granted asylum would be found a home and support in other member countries (who pledged to help each other upon acession .. right?). I'm not entirely clear on how much in assistance funding would be acquired towards these purposes from the EU proper, though let's take a look at why Estonia turned this down, ey?

"Estonia is not planning to take part in the relocation program because the state of our budget does not allow it and our society is not ready for this today."

Uku Särekanno, Estonian Representative to the EU

Oh, right, not 'today'.. next week, maybe. Just the fact that it was slipped in as a side-note and not admittedly presented as the main cause drives me mad. If you're going to say it, don't preclude it with a bullshit excuse. Say the bullshit excuse, or say the truth - both don't cooperate well together in the same sentence. Estonia is afraid of differences, and it is exactly this fear that will hold the country and the society back from accepting and appreciating them. Yes - not all Estonians are the same by any standard and it's amazing how tribal affiliations are still celebrated and promoted.. this is something I think should only deepen and become richer in form.. however, allowing immigrants to come in and experience the give-and-take of integration will not threaten or abolish these ties. It will only give them an even greater value as people confront the commonalities and differences between them and other races and life approaches.

Employment Escort

Were I inclined to research deeply and expansively write on failed economic tactics, I’d be gearing up for a rave of it here in Tallinn. It would be in the form of a self-help book for local governments - “How not to create sustainable jobs and save yourself from future financial rape” might be the title. Tallinn’s cancerous mayor, Edgar Savisaar, would of course be propositioned to write the foreword. If he declined, I’d settle for something from, say, a muskrat or a boar. It’d be of about the same content and provocation.

Even before the fore-expected and disheartening results of the local elections came to light, I wanted to write on the idiotic and populist form that job-creation has taken under the city government. Namely, the highly-publicized and visible position of ‘reisisaatja’ (‘trip escort’). The responsibilities of this quite challenging position (in terms of staying awake) include standing/sitting in the fore-end of a public transport vehicle (bus/tram/trolley bus), staring dully out a window/sleeping/being passed out/talking with the driver/friends/narcotics addicts, and occasionally (in my estimation, once every ten years) selling tickets to passengers. Under the previous system before the taxpayer was graced with the ‘reisisaatja’, they had to buy their tickets from the driver if they hadn’t already picked one up from a kiosk or loaded up monthly passes on their ID-card. This form of cash-ticket transaction occurred very rarely. Oh, and the bus driver is still there now. So, remind me again - why are we paying for this?!

Unemployment is staggering for a country, and a city, of this size. However a word which was left out of city government discussions when locating budgetary funds for ‘emergency’ jobs was ‘sustainability’. When the crisis is deemed as over or the transport department’s budget needs to be cut back further, this will be the first to go. What, may I ask, will we have gained from this? What skills can these dull-eyed just-making-it-by employees add to their CVs (which, I might add, they have enough time for putting together while circling around the municipal area on bus number 5)? If their employment and minimum-wage salaries are restricted to the transportation sector to avoid hassle of switching out funds between budgets, then why are they doing such a useless ‘service’? It’s not like conditions are so pristine that I’d be happy to eat something off of the bus floor or to even rest my head against the Plexiglas window next to me. They’re not controlling tickets to make sure that the bus is actually accruing revenue. The system runs no smoother than before. So.. why? For minimum salary (which, I might add, is dangerously close to what I make working two jobs with flashier titles), I’ve seen enough forests, fields, bogs and beaches around the city that could be cleared of rubbish.

Even better - if the funds were to be untangled from static budgetary totals, the city could still support a minimum salary for the workers while offering them up to local companies in which their skill backgrounds match up. Thus, an auto-repair worker could be paid the exact same to help out at a local garage where, while demand may not have decreased, prices and salaries have - thus they continue to improve their own skills, make contacts and build a base at a place with no hassle to the employer (the state support still covers their health care and other social taxes). Current employees at the location wouldn’t be slammed with fewer hours or lower wages, as for all the employee is concerned - the previous bus-rider is a new, possibly temporary and basically volunteer worker on site. Production increases, costs straight-line.

Is it still too late to run for mayor?

A more in-depth post to come..

Edasi, вперёд..

That one.

Approach is everything, really. I've been mulling around for some time how to let this series of thoughts come forth in words or actions; the only.. well, not 'flat' exactly - we'll say 'delay' - was in exactly this aspect. My life-friend Erinn put it into faceable reality in her blog "Planned Movements" by saying this:

Fixation (when it comes to problems) = Stagnation
Fixation (when it comes to creative thoughts) = Thick and exciting new ideas

Right on. I had a burst of the latter method of energy focus for a short period of time today. It's been a while since it atmoized together in such a form, and it left me in a peculiar state following of near-despaity in polarity (also a good name for a band, song, or shot).

Erinn's always had a fantastic way of painstakingly writing things out; documenting, order-putting, jostling things into realization. I've often flirted with the approach, bought it movie tickets and then made it pay for its own box of popcorn and take the bus back home. Today I realized that it's been a while; I should really call 'planning' back up and make some basic commitment. Like any relationship with a hope for continuity, this will take some practice and back rubs. I wrote out a list of means which I plan on undertaking in developing myself. Cultivating myself and the sphere in both my immediacy and hinterlands. Here's the basic layout:

Enda Arendamine (Personal Development.. I'll write the rest out here in continual English)

Eesmärgid (alright, starting now)

Writing - Blog (at least once per week), Articles (topics? - could be closely related with blog - language/s?), Literature (Book? Shorts?)

Proficiency of languages - New (Sámi, Swedish?, Finnish?), Upkeep (Русский), Translation and reading (Eesti) - more translating work? Blog?

That's about as far as I got.. farther, actually, as I added a bit more just now as the development rides forth. It still closely resembles my style of mental (not physical - physical ordering is a natural requirement in living spaces) organization, if that phrase even checks out logically in my case. Logic I implement; organization in a loose, person or event-oriented and often longer-term sense. This beginning of a crack at furthering myself is, of course, long-term in its element. All the same, these two designations are themselves fluid and unreliable in any sense. Probably won't be long (a few minutes ago) and I'll have left this fruitless task of time-framing to itself.

Basically I only sketched out the 'list' to momentarily clarify for myself and leave a scrap as a reminder, keeping this as a recipient of momentum. Following my near-immediate delusion when considering in what method to come at personal development, I spent a bit of time reminiscing about when I worked in a large department store and the comfort of being told what to do, having simple tasks and a simple way to cross a line through them and classify the definition of 'completion'. I absolutely prefer the job I have now (translating) and the direction it is taking to those mindless past modes of receiving necessary pieces of paper; it's the adapting which is working its way into habit. Again, I worked well at this in a university setting and this may just be the post-graduation sight-setting, regardless that it is taking shape a few years later. It's a true thing, though: meangingfullness of actions is as necessary as breathing; inhalation just is spaced out somewhat more apart.

Redirection of energy is the question at hand.. not even always 'redirection' - more a refocusing, a refining, a tweaking, a resurge in the bubbling tide pool. I've felt as though my productivity has been in and out of that tide pool and know that sometime soon it will hit the current again. Re-enter the question of time.. less a question, more of a determination. Part of this lies in my own doings, hence the list and the brief frenzy of expectation that if I start taking action immediately it could be tomorrow that accomplishment takes a firmer footing. Possibly so. Worth the effort; most things are.

Edasi, вперёд..

Joy riding (Jag kör.. god kväll, Sverige!)..

So we're hitting up Selver (the local Estonian-origin supermarket) and stocking up on choice alcoholic beverages for - that's right - taking a trip across the Baltic. Estonians really only buy alcohol for travel or birthdays; it seems like more because someone knows someone who has a birthday on literally every day of the year. Don't be fooled - it remains for such wave-riding activities or drinking one into forgetting that they're drinking away more years of the lives they are celebreating. Ah, tradition.

I've had the deep-centered drive to really travel for a good time now. It's closing up on the one-year anniversary of the last time I was in the States, and it'll hit another halfway before I sate that desire. Still, I've been more than wanting.. anticipating, really, travel. The experience, the rushing by of everything around, unfamiliarity and distance. Everything around you stays the same only for the people who are rooted into the shifting present. Your 'present' stretches ahead, around, flutters and takes random new directions as the seconds turn. Time itself allows itself out of its accepted bonds. I've been looking towards the horizon, pursuing this for a while. Now we finally locked down extremely cheap round-trip tickets to Rootsi (Sweden). It'll be an unfortunately quick Stockholm day trip and a two-night Tallink ship trip, though still exactly .. that. It'll be difficult not to just flash a card at a bus station and take transport north, to forego that which is the norm; crystallized plans and obligations and whatnot, and to just focus on the greater, more encompassing migration that is life.

Edasi, вперёд..

Over the border (ülepiirile)..

I think a topic that I'd like to write/blog/Twitter/moan on about more often is that of immigration. Alright, I do have a bit of a weak spot for it given two factors - A) It was a central facet in my senior thesis at the University of Minnesota, and B) I am an immigrant (i.e. I have a weak spot because it doesn't empower me or even sight me up as indifferent). One can quickly and easily read where my prejudice lies in the matter.

I've recently been involved in a spate of media coverage (spate in my world means a total of two, which is more than any other coverage I've had at a single time): a quite extended article (with extensive commentary resulting) was written for Eesti Päevaleht, which is a main Estonian daily (well, mine came up on the internet in the middle of a work day). The other stemmed off from this article and was a television interview, aired as the first story on TV3's 19:00 news programme. I've raged on here and there about the ridiculousness of the Estonian Citizenship and Migration Board and will spare any unfortunate reader from another tirade here. To also give a rest to my fingers and your eyes if you so choose, here are links to the original article, my translation, and the TV 3 programme (if it's still posted, which I doubt.. look for "16/09/2009 Uudised") .

Right, so that's the motivation. Well, the sparks for motivation. I'm confident that somehow, after much grinding of the teeth and shaking of heads and soft carressing sounds of the escaping of air from lifted beer caps.. I'll get an extension of my residency permit or, even more likely, an altogether new one. The reason for a new permit and not an extension will be changing the circumstances on which the permit is founded - naturally, I don't earn 24 percent more than the average Estonian salary in 2008 (which includes pre-recession figures) as the Migration Board demands, so it'll have to come by other means. Like I said, I'll find a way through friends or sham companies or board appointments or loans or - if it really, really came down to it - signing certain papers (with the approval of a second party, of course.. again: not a light decision for anyone and not a first choice or thing to be trifled with. No trifling here or there, none of that now.). There is some way, and it'll come clear soon.

What does interest me is the overall struggle which I and so many other foreigners who feel unbound by their location of birth must endure. Freedom of movement is a concept which has fluttered in and out of acceptance with time - those who have felt it worse than I ever could here include the Sámi in northern Norway, Sweden, Finland and those alcohol-and-Stalin-ravaged few left in Russia. At one time they followed the reindeer, then lines appeared on paper without taking the concept of nomadism into account, and now finally it has returned to the ease with which it once was for them.. again, excluding Russian policies. Similar lines have been drawn all over in Africa, the Caucuses, Latin America, North America and so forth.. with similar results for those on the 'border'. The case which I have personally encountered is of course nothing like this - mine is of choice and graciously granted by international agreements on movement of people. However, the conditions which restrict and, at times, attempt to eliminate these re-fought freedoms are something of which I have become increasingly critical. Enough to, say, write more articles, refocus my interest in a master's degree or currently set more water to boil for tea and drone on within the realm of this blog. All of the above options remain brilliant and another way to exercise my right to free speech, fuckers.

A suspicion concerning the terms of Estonia's new immigation 'provision' (as if it really 'provides' anything) dawned upon me today while recanting the entire residency permit debacle to a friend. Small detail, yes. Just a number, yes. All numbers still come from something. I want to believe and would love to find out proof of the origin of this specific set of arabic numerals, however. The legal addition states that foreigners living in Estonia on the basis of work must earn at least the average national salary as determined by the Statistics Board from the year previous times a coefficient of 1.24 - basically, nearly 1/4 more than the "average" salary (which does not make amends for the lack of breadth in the middle class). Alright - horrible law, yes.. if Sweden and Finland both enacted such laws (yes, illegal by EU standards but bear with the example), some 60-70 thousand Estonian nationals would find themselves in my situation. Bon-fucking-jour. All the same .. 1.24; almost 1/4, or 25%. Almost. Why almost? What is this, a national version of Nescafe? Almost coffee but disgustingly still not in any interpretation of the word? Why 24 percent more? The number rang a bell, though.. it's dangerously close to the percentage of Russian-ethnicity people living in Estonia. According to the Statistics Bureau, this figure has actually come out to .256 percent of the total population in the last two years. So as for preciseness, it would be ridiculous to claim that the government would use such a snub. However the main problem remains - I and many others believe that the immigration policy is openly hostile to Russian speakers. Given, there are serious problems associated with this. No less, it doesn't call for or justify spray-firing the general immigrant population in order to pressure a reverse migration towards the East.

Estonians are a bit shaky on the 'Estonian-Russian' issue. Most people who know anything about it are. However, the correct solution is not to use the populist targeting of non-nationals which is so deeply entrenched in current policies. If the population fears a loss and diminishing of the Estonian language, make this a requirement for extension of residency permits. As of current standings, this only applies to citizenship and lightly to applications for permanent residency (which also demands the person to have lived here for at least five years on temporary permits). Universal linguistic standards, however basic, would help to assuage those worried about a 'foreign invasion' (also very unlikely, given that permits are only set aside for those from countries other than the US, Canada or Japan in the number of 0.1 percent of the national population) and at the same time promote interest and motivation for acquiring the skills necessary to productively live long-term in the country. Is that so difficult?

I'll work on cleaning these thoughts up and putting them in some sort of coherent logical order, possibly direct it towards some sort of letter, article or other publication. That is, once I succeed in sorting out and securing my own end in the matter. Bring it on, Migration Board. I should go gather some reindeer just to make a statement.. and save money on bus fares.

Aaaand -- cut.

Edasi, вперёд..

Northern winds (tuuled põhja poolt)

I realized that I need to rejilt my efforts in doing certain things - writing these sorts of accounts being one of them. As fall sets in and winter is flashing signs from across the room, I also need to get out and take full use of the weather allowing one to be in the elements without a head bent down from the biting wind. Time spent not sitting and making my fingers dance all-too familiar jigs with words as the applause is a time spent somewhat more creatively. However, this same sort of creation that flows now is one that is also on my forming list of positive responses. Work is also a form of devising and expressing, though one that pegs me into a specific set of results - not too specific, and actually quite too large at times - though a locking down of efforts is still the general process, and one that I feel the need to resist or break off from for several hours a day. Regardless of in what language(s) this appropriates itself in, it is a still quietly holding a beckoning eye contact.

Abstractions are often too much too-muching. I understand that I also write and phrase this paradox - still - now - in the current. That's one I can deal with. Others start to wear, become all too tiring and endlessly constant. Alright, I only really have one in mind - money. Secondly would probably come (though it should likely be first as well) bureaucracy, relating to the situation with my residency permit (which I think I still have), though that's one I'm comfortable sidelining for now as so abstract in worries and possibilities that mention of it makes my brain want to open a beer and sit by the sea. Something with which I'm happy to follow suit. Money, though, is such an abstraction which is so fundamentally accepted and necessary, washing out the basic root of the situation - I need to eat, be clean, warm and in a good mood. After following thousands of different routes and forms, this comes out to be the same thoughts in unrecognizably variant forms. Starting sometime soon, I have to allocate somewhere near/over EEK 1,000 per month to stock Tallinna Küte (Tallinn Heating)'s coffers - for what? Endlessly cycling water (which I can't control) heated up and baking the air in a small corner of my apartment? Few hours and an axe would take care of that. Likewise, I'm going to have to sign myself up for a monthly bus pass (~EEK 260) soon, replacing how I currently buy the 10-pack (EEK 90) and sit next to the clamper-dealie so that if municipal police come on board to check, I'm golden. Given, I actually stamp or clamp with no firm instigation once or twice a week, just to show my appreciation and support for continuance of the transport system. At the same time; a few hours moving and walking, whatever the weather (also a good Dionysos song), snow or rain or sun or whatever, would also take care of that. Living next to the sea would give me the view, a lake the water and fish, trees the fuel and windcover. Alright, yeah, I've been watching "Кукушка" ("Käki" in Suomi, "The Cuckoo" in worldish) again, and will probably set it up to run again sometime tonight. Not sure if I've gone on about the film here, but, let's go for it now.

It's set in Sámpi (Saamimaa, land where the Sámi people live in northern Finland, Sweden, Norway and a bit of Russia, at least those who have survived Stalin and alcoholism, which go hand in hand), where in 1944 a Finnish sniper (former university student) decides to refuse to fight, after which he is chained to a rock. At the same time as he is working on freeing himself (big spoiler: he does), a Russian (Soviet) soldier is court martialed and being driven to get shot - Russian planes mistaking the convoy for an enemy take care of that and leave him wounded on the side of the road. A Sámi woman finds the Russian soldier and drags him back to her camp, where she lives alone.. her husband was taken years earlier and she's faced with the basics of sustaining herself and the reindeer in the northern lands. The Finn finds the camp, searching for tools to get the rest of the chain off his leg. Thus the crux of the story, where none of the three speak the language of the other, but find a common realization in their humanity and the basic, constant need to survive and -live-. At one point, the Sámi woman looks at the Finn's hands and says "Your hands are soft, they're not used to men's work. Killing people isn't work." Maybe it's over-simplified, but sometimes I re-realize that I want to do work - the kind that matters and is sustainable. Alright, I also realize that the pillars of capitalism and trade are in one light or another good and provide a lot which me putting myself to the fringes of I would miss. Long-distance travel to see friends and other lands, much of what the internet offers and reading and film and music and news and beer and bread and.. yeah, lots of things that being on the edge of the world would be difficult without that recurring issue of money and earning it. At least I can say I've always 'earned' it and not just 'gotten' or 'made' it. Still, in the interest of preserving the capitalist system (which is the best anyone has found, despite the constant need to improve and develop it), I'd simply like to acknowledge this and have more. Ironic that if I had loads of money, I'd most likely use it to live a somewhat variated life - lots of elements of living basic and sustainably, and a few of the benefits of a life doused in the other mode of living.

Circles and circles and circles and circles..

Edasi, вперёд..

Gerfrumbled

The last few days have seen me filled with some sort of relentless, unchanneled and restless energy. Feels as though I could run, bike, kayak, travel, Maro Kart, fucking - whatever - my way somewhere or at doing something. My eyes rove the horizon, the sea, the clouds and whatever other sort of receding distance that appears. And I haven't even had my coffee yet this morning.

Summer reached its full-horned crescendo over the last month. We (Tuuliki and I, as always) took a trip for a week to Germany; out to Köln in the West. Apart from some slight stress during travel (Tuuliki is utterly afraid of flying and all notions of it, thus we made it out there using this mode of travel and came back by 2-day bus. No problems at all, and aside of my knees aching I was ready for a bus ride straight back to Köln if it would have been without cost!), the trip itself was fantastic. She has some friends who study there and have a comfortable, extremely space efficient apartment in the downtown gay district (near Rudolfplatz). They left on holiday after a few days and gave us the keys to the place for the rest of the week, which was fantastic. €1 boxes of iced coffee and smoked cheese: delightful. We plan on actually moving there next year for the period of about a year so Tuuliki can study architecture somewhere there. I can do the translating bit anywhere and, seeing as Germany is actually somewhat cheaper than Estonia in some respects, the salary should see me by. It'll be good to have another switch-up for some time and still be able to speak Estonian all day long (I will start learning some German though, just to make myself bearable in conversation without making up words and repeating 'leiderhosen' multiple times!).

T spent the next week after we were back in Russia on a compulsary visiting of relatives, which gave me a bit of insight whilst sitting in the apartment drinking wine and watching shows most of the evenings.

I realized that, aside of her, I really don't have any really close friends here. Not for anyone who might be from Estonia and a friend of mine reading this to take any offense - I do have some friends, and decent ones at that. Though it's nothing on the same level as back in the Cities or those people who have scattered a bit around the States. If I switched my phone to a plan that gave me free calls to Tuuliki, my monthly mobile bill would be at 0. Excluding the single call to my landlord or work-related minute-long conversations. This isn't the fault of anyone, just an unfortunate component of the wider, very fortunate situation. I can call people up to go get a beer, sit and have a decent time talking with them. We can talk about deep things, share personal exchanges - yes. Though I know they won't call me, and it's not anywhere near the sort of time that is a beer between me and Jon, me and Tori, Scott, Mel, Heather, Spencer, Monica, Ian, Berko, Erinn, Kim, Katie, Sarah, Shannon, Sam, Cade, Marta and Ben, Becca, Molly, Nick, Luc, Mike, Megan, Rick, Pete and Ernie, Andy, Lindsey, Nikki, Annie.. you know, I could sit and write names of more of you who deserve to be here and who are reading this in the north and those not in the north for hours. And then rewrite them. A drink for all of you would almost be too much for the liver - though that's something I'd be ready to try for!

This is probably the main source of my shifting energies and urges to crank up Benny Benassi right now. I don't deny that's what I'm doing right now.

Tuuliki is who and what I've been looking for a long time in life (yeah yeah, mushy gag and barf, and yes I just used that word) and that's as much of a notion of committment that I can muster now. I've also realized why I came back, though. How I see and translate Estonia (and any other place for that matter) is now through the eyes of 'us', and it's incredible. It's enough and then some to make plans to buy an apartment here sometime real, to move together to another country for some time, to do everything that comes around. Along with this, I do deeply miss my English-language friends and brothers (or should I say frére). I don't want to and won't be moving back to the States anytime in the near or even distant future, however the friendships and bonds I have there, which I know will continue and even mature in the meantime, are hardcore important and a deep part of me.

I'm still listening to Benassi. And now I'm going to go 'downtown' (had to start putting that in quotes once I reaquainted myself with a city the size of a .. city) and donate some blood. The two go hand in hand, really.

Back at it.. Taas tööle..

On ammugi olnud.

It's been a while, one could say in several different languages, with several different expressions and while watching several different almost-sunsets. One could say, and I do say. As much as it is a foreign experience, the whole process of 'growing up' (more or less) and what seems to be steady work and the semblance of 'married life' (no literal implications there - yet) and everything else that silts through and through is somewhat of an exhilarating one. Sometimes sand in a current pauses momentarily behind a larger stone and then tumbles ahead; sometimes that grain may start up an island. No way to predict, and no wish to do so.

It seems though several factors beckon in every direction, even pull at times. If you choose to willingly follow or linger, it's still a choice and an inner committal. What would my initial words and thoughts have been if I could have seen years ago through a window the life that's positioned around me and in my wake? I'm looking at what I'm writing (more or less, as I usually don't think about it!) and the things around it: my work e-mail account for translating open (and causing me twitches as I wait for the next few pages to be drilled out before the next deadline as others continue to pile up) in the browser, along with two different Estonian-English dictionaries and a physical one by my side. I'm on the balcony with everything set next to collected sea stones on a table brought over from Finland's IKEA on the boat. Two bikes ahead of me keeping me company; one a silver retro German bike with the name "Лайка" on the side, the other a sportier Italian one nestled into mine, which is Tuuliki's. Coffee next to the window by my side, from where I watch the passing layers of cloud crowds in the meteorological airport of the sky, framed by greenery of basil, coriander, lemongrass and salad plants in aluminum pots. Armin van Buuren is buzzing in the background with last week's trance set, trying to softly drown out the sound of mining from the canyon across the road.

Would that have been easy to come up with, to interpret? What's through the window to another few years from now? I can't expect anything to be very similar in the future; I don't even recognize that as a minute possibility any more. What is constant are people: friends who I haven't seen in years though still write to, friends who I haven't seen in months and yearn for more time with, the few I keep friendly contact with in the near surroundings, and Tuuliki, with whom the future of everything is definitely very deeply intertwined.

I can propose some things that might be in that port hole gazing towards that which will be. Friends remain a constant, as does my partner. Living space will change, as will location, though not radically (looking for a place on the other side of the city, somewhat on the fringe and near the sea). Work has found the beginnings of its constant; I've become a full-time translator, and as the hours of experience grow, so does competency and further motivation to take on bigger projects in the field with hopefully sustainable and widening salaries. The only sure uncertainty is concerning our plants.. heading to Germany for a week at the beginning of August, which is another way to say that we're going to test their drought-handling capabilities. Estonian skies, letters from friends and paragraphs back towards them, multi-lingual dictionaries and a certain fiery blue-eyed someone born in the Chinese year of the dragon with earth (found out I'm tiger and fire.. not sure why that Google search came into fruition last night!) are the constants, the people and functions that interpret and define the rest of the lot of variables and such just flowing through.

Need to lighten this post up a bit.

Poop.

That's better.

Edasi, вперёд..

Ööpäike (Night-sun).

Nii. Legs are feeling it. Lungs are breathing it.

The full swing of a Scandinavian summer is more than in the wings. Actually as of .. yesterday (Pööripäev), it's officially here. And as of tomorrow, the waking up at 4-something to 10-something sunlight starts its recline. Much work is at hand as well, though we've been striving (together with Tuuliki.. I haven't started speaking in monarch-style. Yet.) to cycle and paddle it into the background for as long of periods as possible.

I take back all talk of possibly selling Лайка (Laika, my bike) in favour of a sportier, forward-leaning springed and multi-geared version. No more. Although she's as old as the Soviet space program (most likely), she's also as eye-raisingly durable as it (though appearance and funding may show otherwise!). Yesterday she definitely proved herself.. adventure details are as follows.

I own a telk (tent) (as anyone reading my posts on Pärnu a year ago may remember) and a magamiskott (sleeping bag). Both bought on the same day from very discount locations. Both are flipping awesome as well. Worked out getting off of work for a few concurrent days with Tuuliki, and we decided to head out into the woods. Well, bog.

Tuuliki's cousin had a lõpetamine pidu (graduation party) somewhere outside of Kohila, so we figured a drop in on that and spin out for some camping would be fantastic. Oh, and it was. Took the train to Kohila (costs as much as a bus ticket if you buy it from the driver, i.e. more expensive than a regular bus ticket.. I resolve to make more use of trains soon) and biked out from there. Passed up buying beer until we made it closer to the campsite, which we later found out to be a misfortune, as the closest store on that end of the trip closes at 4pm on weekends. Makes sense, right? No one puts their party shoes on after that time on a Saturday.. Anyways, found out the place while evading wild dogs and enjoyed some kuklid (sort of like biscuits) and grilled sausages while playing the relative-get-together-game for a while. Got my ass kicked in a basketball shoot-out by her drunk uncle, who then started calling himself Jordan non-stop. I put smiles on faces, that's me. After escaping from the madness (and after enjoying a fucking a m a z i n g kringel made by her vanaema), we rode once more past the dogs ready to break-dance our legs into chew toys and headed for Järlepa järv (lake). After long length, found our way past the mõis (local mansion once belonging to the Baltic German feudal lords), locked up the bikes together for the night and ran cheering into the bog. Words drop out of usefulness in describing this part of the journey.. absolutely brilliant, it became. Found a dry spot (more like the dry spot) about half-way around, facing the sunset (a phrase used somewhat lightly, as it doesn't exactly get dark again for more than 5 minutes until late July), with the door a meter at most from the waves lapping silently into moss. Made Tuuliki a pro with her first bear-bag, roasted some õllevorstid (beer sausages) and burgsid, and.. well.. breathed it all in. Deeply.

Next day made it onto the 'road' (another lightly-used term, and something that makes me wildly proud of Laika's performance given the fact that I can see the stitching under the tires in some places) around noon, bidding a 'tšau' to Järlepa järv and the two residential swans (and five ducklings and two ducks and a billion tadpoles and the signs of põhjapõder (reindeer) and metssiga (boar) we found around the tent), and in wistful glances at the place as long as this sentence, headed in a south-east by north'ish direction. In avoiding big roads, we found out what the different styles of lines on the map meant. The one we took initially, for example, is described on the legend as being something used about 150 years ago for logging and now is mainly just a jumble of rocks. Incredibly beautiful, and despite running through situations in my mind of how long it would take to hike back to civilization and find a bike tyre the deeper we got in, it was.. well, still incredibly beautiful. Made our way basically all the way around the lake and bog and mets and such on that road, which took us to Oru; another 'town' with an old mõis, school, and jumble of Soviet communal farm buildings (well, another light term: more roof than building in some cases. In Soviet times, you made use out of what you could get your hands onto. This architect got roof pieces.). From there, Tuhala. Amidst gathering storm clouds, we peered into the Nõiakaev ('Witch's well') and loaded ourselves up with some natural energy from an energiasammas (energy-post.. in a spiky editorial I'd like to write, I'd very much propose replaing the Vabadussõja võidusammas due to be opened tomorrow with one of the log posts as in Tuhala.. much more fitting and much less of a fucking annoyance). From there, made our way back off of our shortly-enjoyed asphalt and onto a mid-quality gravel road for a long though equally fantastic bout.

It should be mentioned that in almost no, I repeat, no small Estonian town, both to my and Tuuliki's aggrivation, can be found as much as a bar to order a bowl of instant noodles from, much less small restaurant or .. anything. HahahahhahaAAARRRRRR.

Journey went something like Tuhala-Nabala-Lähtse-Kiili-Mõisaküla-Kurna-Jüri-Lasnamäe. Altogether at least some 55 km. And a delicious Puls ingveri õlu to follow (ginger beer). All with Tuuliki. Here's another spot where words take their leave.

Brief Estonian recap: Rongiga Kohilasse, rattaga Järlepasse siis sissemine rappa ümber järve, seiklusemine, telgimise kohta leidmine, telkimine, siis tagasi Järlepasse, mingi metsatee ringi Orusse, Tuhalasse (nõiakaev), Nabalasse (pärast aega ja tormi), Kiilisse, Jürisse (ka pole mingit kuradit restoranit) ja lõppuks Tallinnasse. Homme: Vääna-Jõesalusse! Uued kummid? Vist mitte.. sõidame ikka edasi!

Today: some work. Grudgingly, hurried, necessary.

Tomorrow: Jaanipäev!!

Somewhere in the blog archives should be attempted recants of last year's. What is tomorrow.. I rest even attempting to ette kujuda (.. mm.. jah.) the living. Heading to somewhere around Vääna-Jõesuu, mere ääres (next to the sea).. Saun, sõbrad, vorstid, õlu, päikeseöö .. ja kõik koos Tuulikiga.

I'll make attempts to translate all of that as everything goes forth. Literary expression always follows in the wake, though.. it's the 'then' .. the inexpressable and uncatchable moment which carries the full interpreted meaning and warmth.

Edasi, вперёд..

Põgus (transient).

Summer is at hand, fresh news abounds, and as such, my posting here has been somewhat scarce.

I have a new jalgrattas (bike).. well, new meaning it was made in Germany sometime in the 70's.. named Лайка (Laika). All those unaware may check Wikipedia for the Russian historical reference.

We (meaning myself in the same boat as Tuuliki) have also bought a paat (small inflatable, rowable raft.. get the pun?!) and already made a few trips on it. First was on the sea, which was incredibly calm until a good meter out, when we made discoveries to the absolute seaworthiness of its form. Gained the name 'Laineke' (little wave) from the maiden voyage, and our near hypothermia. Took it down Pirita jõgi (Pirita river) yesterday, on the way to the sea. Three hours and almost made it.. handles rapids well, though being a raft and not a canoe as I am used to, somewhat interesting to steer. Thunderstorm and a necessary portage put a pause on the voyage (plus having to work), though it will come to completion.

We have around 40 salat plants and 15 basilika growing on the balcony. I want to eat them. Now.

Tori's coming. If Falklanders don't eat her first. That means Soome on Saturday!I know what you're thinking: that oddly looks like Estonian President Toomas Hendrik Ilves and King Juan Carlos I of Spain, and their wives Evelin Ilves and Queen Sofia are problably close behind, and it seems like its right outside of Saiakang kohvik (where I work), and that, well, Aadam probably made cappuccino/espresso machiatto milk for them when they stopped in. Well, you're oddly correct. This time.

Sun is up until 1 and the breeze is warm.. that means an entire post on trip plans using every possible device supporting mobility!

Seems a good close for this Twitter-style update. Like I wrote: breeze is warm.. beer and park before work places the Shiraz trump on the like of it all. Sõna (word).

Edasi, вперёд..

A.

Kevad schmedad (Spring.. schming?).

Uffah.

I feel as though I contain a tumbling bluster of news-ish and straight unconnected statement-ish items that would fold nicely into a post such as this. I've been far too uninformative and very much wound this way and that. Given that I'm sort of procrastinating before going for a run (first of the year, if you don't count the running every day as a slave to peoples' consumerist whims), this post probably won't account for anything much and is a run-up in the up-running to upping and/or wakeboarding my way through expression. Have at it. News style.

Job is job. Work dominates an abundance of time (topped out at 78 hours a few weeks back), and time not working becomes guilt. Haige (sick), eh?

Apartment is fantasticalicrious. Brilliant, if you prefer a real word. Still in the same place as was nearing a year back (Soviet stack with no maple syrup, just pigeon refuse). Tuuliki bought drapes (just in time, as the sun is rapidly laying a smack-down on the night already) and we spent a morning moving furniture, so the place very much looks and feels like minu, like mine. Problem: far too expensive. Landlord is demaning prices the same as of, well, one year back. Before the housing bubble became a crater (to go off-topic, the big non-economic news of late was a meteorite falling through ice in a lake. Woozah!). To illustrate, when putting in the same statistics for my apartment as now (34 m2, backwoods of Lasnamäe (the Russian-language dominated banlieue, about a 25 minute bus ride to downtown), no washing machine, one room, and with keskküte (central heating) that amounts to an additional 1/3 of rent, or in laymans terms, an ass-intrusion, in the winter), the majority of apartments which show up for the same terms also show up with nearly 1/3 of the price per month. I've tried to debate with friendly, slightly racist and sexist though very accomodating in a landlord position, Dima, to no avail. Wait, avail was begotten. 500 kroon discount from rent. When I talk about places being a third of the price, I'm already using that figure. One more month for debate, and then it's off to a different section of the city, with all 2-3 boxes of my posessions in tow. Plus the bottle of Leedu (Lithuanian) herbal liquor, Läti (Latvian) herbal liquor, Vana Tallinn (Eesti liquor), ginger wine, Baileys (Tuuliki oma), and two bottles of vodka in the freezer. Respectable!

Tuuliki. Well, everything in this circle of the sky is fantastic. We spent a weekend in Tartu early last month and are sending warning flares over Soome signaling our imminent arrival for a day, most likely laupäev (Saturday). Few hours on the ferry, then IKEA and H&M will know our presence. Hoping to score a car as well to see some non-Helsinki, which I also assume will not be closed for business this time around (see posts from a year ago if you demand explanation of the woeful tale). Also scouting out possbilities of heading to Vladimir via Peter sometime in summer, where she has a dacha-dwelling grandmother knitting rugs. Thus the vodka in the freezer, to start training for over a week's time back in Russia. Поехали!

I'll throw in some more lines about types such as Allan and Nadja, Kaarel and Tomm and Markus and Kertu and Anneli and Karolina and on forth and so with be thus for .. I forget what prepositions mean any more. In short, there's good hanging with good people here at long last as well.

Tori's making her way here in May/June. I expect travel proposals and schedules from many more people heading this way as stat as stat may allow!

Far more to come. More or less in inglise keel, and much much less coherent.

Edasi, вперёд..

А.

Põrandal . (väikese luuletus)

istusin köögis

põrandal

jõhvikajoogipakk käes

pesumasin valgus

mingi sinine

lülitas sisse

mõtlesin,

ilus.

kõik

kuidas ise pannud

tahaks ka

'creativity'

nii lihtsalt

sisse lülitada.



A.

..edasi, вперёд..

Nagu .. nagu õunakõlarid (like apple-speakers)!

Nii.

A realization of late is that a very decent portion of my daily life is run in the mode of .. yes .. the popular party perpetrator know as 'Catchphrase'.

Päriselt (really)! It's actually quite enjoyable, while at times aggravating (especially if the conversational partner is worse at it than a vodka-enhanced Пётр Столыпин (Pyotr Stolypin). That's right; he's not even alive.). Nearly every complex attempt at phrasing often turns into a timed adventure. Timed, given how much I really care about expressing it or how long the other person really can stand listening to my jumbled, hand-accentuated tirades of slightly off-beat words. Adventure, as you find the farthest, least coherent and least used roads towards finding a likewise less-used word or phrase.

For example, I may start talking about how I need to buy/make (curses) drapes for my apartment in place of the decorational saran wrap (i.e. lace) curtains now in place. Problem: I don't know/remember the word for 'drapes', 'curtains', or anything similar. Closest I can fit is something like 'varjad' .. things that shade another thing (as in 'vihmavarjad,' or, 'umbrellas'). Let's say I offer out the 'varjad' option, garnished with some sped-up garnishing about it being in my room in my apartment. With the exception of Tuuliki, who is amazing at pulling out some sort of logic in my salt-water jumble of a sentence, most meet the arrival of such an explanation with blank stares and a sip of coffee, if a mug of coffee be in their hand. Thus erupts a momentous and cascading assortment of variations and semi-related detail: made of kangas (fabric), hangs from the wall or ceiling in front of a window, something I really need to invest in before the quick-approaching summer and the start of daylight somewhere around 2 or 3 am and when I have wishes of effectively sleeping somewhat past that time. At long last, the long-hunted word, familiar or not, questioningly emerges.. 'kardinad??'. As it's often an entirely new word to my patchwork of vocabulary and expletives, I repeat it and often go forward, regardless of if I can confirm or deny (it's actually on a good 90-something procent of the time.. the rest of the time, it just makes for the explanation being more interesting and odd). Then on to the next cycle of roundabout specifism!

Fantasticistic, if you ask me somehow.

More on the here and there's, the who and how's to come. Tulebgi ikka.

Tõlkimine tuleb.. või midagi ise oma mõttedes. Ma ei viitsi nii palju inglise keeles kirjutada, või rääkida, või mõtleda üldse. See mulle väga meeldib. Kirjutan siis kõigist veel, ka.. oma reis Tuulikiga, mu soovist hoopis rohkem reisida, mis on reisimine, mis on mis, kuidas on kuidas ja kus või kuhu see kõik jalutab.

Edasi, вперёд..

Külmatuule.

Noh, nii. It's been a bit since any last bits of incoherencies have scattered themselves across these pages. It's been a shorter bit since the official mark of the sünnipäev (birthday) has occurred. What would logically follow in streaming text form would either be an update or a long and theoretically endless reflection on one or many things. I'll go for neither. Or bits of both. Or some cake and beer. Most likely the latterish.

The shifting of light is fantastic, though odd, on the way back toward the summertime dominance of daylight. I very often feel like I accomplish too little, that my list of 'tehtud asjad' (done things) that can be sorted from the day is often even lacking the title. True, it probably is shorter and less detailed than it could be. It's also much easier right now to at least temporarily blame it all on the extension of hours during which printed text is somewhat visible for more than a pair of hours. In that thinking, when it was dark and I was able to scratch out at least one identifiable area of 'progress' from the mid-section of the day, the quick approach of evening pushed things ahead and I felt as though the workable, productive part of the day was brushed up. With further edging in of daylight from both sides and the approach of much, much more, I suddenly feel like the one or two things actually knuckled into place is met with mitu veel tundi (so many more hours) of .. whatever seems to fill that space. I'll soon either become comfortable with the fact that I have, and allow myself to enjoy, 'free time', or I'll dive into increased levels of caffeine and actually implement the active part of the word 'motivation'. Developing a balance of both would also probably be fulfilling. Not very different from the sense of satisfaction that may be derived from cake and beer.

Here's the part where I drone on about the oddities and uneasy feelings rippling through everywhere (including here) as a result of the majanduse kriisi (economic crisis). Well, fair enough. It's my form of expressing the minimalism which may be appreciated, especially in such times. Sobib.

Kas meri peegeldab taevase värvi, või ongi teistpidi?

Does the sea reflect the colour of the sky, or vice versa?

Las, et see küsimus lihtsalt riiputab..

Edasi, вперёд..