My most scary movie experience as a child

Yesterday I set back again to get really think over the last post and how happy I was to read angst again, and I still truly am happy for all the angst, but when did I become so fascinated by angst that reading a well written story dripping in it gave me a psysical reaction in my body?

So I was thinking back and came to a conclusion that this has to be something one is born with. I mean, no one has ever taught me to like this, and I've loved angst since a very small age.

When I was 6/7 I watched a show called Digimon, and the best scene in the whole series (for me) was when the main character got bound to a pole and the enemy repetedly beat and clubbed his Digimon (his companion, that is), with intention to kill him.

I remember being to ecstatic about the scene that I could barely sit down. I just loved something in the helplessness of the main character and the torture of his beloved companion.

And this can't be anything taught to me. I can't remember what the ratio of genes vs society is when a child grows up and become a person with a personaity, but I remember that personality IS mostly genetic and born with. I can't think of a situation in my then very short life that would've made me like angst or taught me that angst is okay, as almost everything directed towards children (and young children that is) has a strong moral code. Happy ending, the good guys win.

The angst I like(d) was very specific toward torture, and mostly emotional torture, even as a child.

But angst out of that context scared me. I was midly traumatized when my mum was watching TV - I don't know if it was a documentary or movie - but a woman gave birth to a stillborn child, that died in the womb moments before it was born, and, oh my god, the woman's agonizing screams when she realize they're too late and her baby is dead are still drilled in my brain. I still remember that scene, how scared I was, how incredibly sad everything was.

I was just about seven when I saw that, and I was not prepared for such emotions. I was so scared of the mere thought of the dead baby. I mean, I was a baby just a few years prior and, oh man, that really messed me up.

I did alway listen to music before going to bed, and I had a CD of children's songs that I listened to, and there was one song about the tale of a frog turning into a prince. The lyrics went at one certain point like this: "han var en prins ändå" (he was despite all this a prince) but I heard it in my head as: "prinsen dog" (the prince died) and everytime that lyric came up I saw the dead baby in my head and I made myself scream inside my head so I wouldn't hear the "prins ändå", or "prinsen dog"as I heard it, because the dead baby could not be unseen. At some point I went up and skipped the whole song because it was way too heavy for me to even think about the dead baby.

I never told my parents how scared I was of the dead baby or the mother's screams. And that, my friends, is, and will forever be, the most scary experience I ever had watching movies. You can throw any horror movie at my face, any torture scene, anything, and nothing will move me and scare as much as a stillborn baby and the cries of its mother.

Long post about Literature

Hell yes, it's time to break down literature and kind of what it means to me. You might know I write a lot and thus I read a good share too. During this summer I've been really down the fanfic rabbit hole and I've spent far more hours reading this summer than usually, so I felt like a post of this is sufficient.

Well. I learned to read by myself when I was 4. So, yeah. I was the best reader in my class when we started school at 7, and I loved reading. The first "thick" book I read on my own was Harry Potter and the Philosofer's stone (what a classic!!).

Fast forward a few years. I always read during the evenings, as it became a ruitine for me. I was particulary fond of fantasy books (also a classic). When I was 14 I started reading in English and was struck by YA-books and it was the first time I read a book that was directed toward teenage girls, as the books I usually read was directed toward boys. A new world opened.

I got a stipendium for my writing when I was 12. Wow that was cool.

Gymnasium, the first bump in the road for book lovers, was managed perfectly. I had time to read. I was so good at managing my learning that I didn't need to study for tests at home (also known as fucking listening at the lessons).

University, the ultimate bump in the road for book lovers. I studied 60 points literature. Well. This is when the love for reading usually dies. It didn't for me. Why? I cheated in school.

I'm not proud for screwing up my university education. But I did it for myself. I was a train wreck and at the brink of serious harm of myself and I had to do something. So I fucked up my education, but managed to get through all the courses. And it saved my love for reading.

You see, literature at university level is mainly, if not only, focused on "analyzing the description of society through the lens of fiction". That is what it is. It's soo description driven that you figure it out pretty fast. We analyzed womens' place in society, and we analyzed stuff that might be seen as outdated. How white male authors described tribal societies in Africa. How Russian authors described simple things making it hard to get what the hell they're describing. How Norwegian authors described what is canonically called "angst" (which in here means fear rather than acutal angst). And society and society again.

You know I'm a veery characted based person. Yeah, yeah, descriptions here and there and society, whatever, but characters? Give me my characters!!!!!

And this was commonly totally overlooked in university.

Characters are not overlooked in other fields of literature. If I've ever even mentioned about this to any of my classmates, hell, let alone the teachers I'd probably get the boot, but fucking hell, FANFICTION OH MY GOD DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED

I've read a 150 000 word long series in the past like two days and fuck me backwards if it isn't too good for my own good.

When I get into a (written) character my body starts to react as the character. My pulse rise, my heart beats faster, I twitch alot, and I get a feeling similar to heart ache, but it doesn't hurt it's just so intense, and ofc I find fics with authors similar to myself with angst up to the chest. I want to scream into a pillow, I got a huge reaction from the latest piece of work I read.

This reaction is even bigger than watching movies ever has given me.

Because when you, by reading, do the psychological, cognitive act of imagining stuff yourself (contrary to movies where you are served the scenes), you get moved in a totally different way that I wish every human being could experience.

I've had the best reading experiences this summer with fanfics serioulsy. I'm still so moved, and keep imagining future scenes in my head. How the main character will know he has a friend on his side and is not completely alone. How he would be executed for falsy treason. ASDGHJK.L-

I'm just a very emotional ball of energy at the moment, excuse me.

My appearance

The biggest "insecurity", if you want to call it, when I was a child was an interesting one. It still affects me in some minor aspects to this very day.

I think it started when I was 9 och 10, the age when appearance start to matter somewhat to a girl. I looked at my friends in school, at their noses, their lips, their eyes, their chins, you name it, and I could see unique features in each of them. One had a scar under her nose, another one had gorgeous coloured eyes, a third one had a big gap between her teeth.

All features that made them THEM.

Then I looked at myself in the mirror only to see.... a random child. According to myself, I had nothing that was unique about my face. I had a normal nose, normal eyes, normal lips, boring hair, nothing that made a difference in my face.

I got paranoid by this. I thought I didn't have an appearance. I thought not even my own mother could recognize me at a random place. I was convinced my friends only recognized me by my voice.

I can't say I hated my face, but I was frustraded that my face didn't seem... natural. It seemed like the animated example of a Finnish child, not like an organic, unique face. Like a background character.

My identity relied 100% on my behaviour. If my appearance wasn't what made me unique, then my behvaiour would make me.

I've always needed to stand out, to be somebody, and my face couldn't support this need of mine at that age. I was acting out sometimes, I was loud, I was the best girl in the class in school without being a good girl, I was the theatre kid, my identity WAS my personality and not appearance.

I even avoided makeup, because what difference would it even make? My face was bland and boring, and I disliked the thought in making an effort to change the face.

This all changed in seventh grade (age 13) when I learned the hard way that my personality wasn't really a desirable one, and out of frustration I grabbed the pencil eyeliner and that became a trademark feature. I did now have something not everyone had. Ugly panda-liner around the eye. Hah, even if it wasn't the most beautiful makeup, it was still something important to me, and I can't hate that makeup to this day.

Later on it was something else. Glittery eyeshadow. Liquid eyeliner. Eyeliner wings so sharp they could kill a man. Double wings. Black eyeshadow. Eyeliner around the lid.

Since I started doing my makeup (oct/nov 2008 if I remember correctly) my paranoia of not being recognized by my loved ones bc of "not having a face with actual features" has eased, even if it as late as one week ago made a suprise visit to me.

Writing sex

I'm in a "post-every-other-day"-mood so it's time to sit down and rethink through my actions. Well, this is not at all as dramatic as older posts have been, and my embarrassment takes me three days back, so it's not some angst from years back.

While watching porn hasn't really been my thing, reading sex is a much more pleasent experience. This doesn't mean I google around to read shady sex stories just for the sex, rather if a story has a nice sex scene in it, I like it very much. Both queer and straight sex is nice to read about, according to me.

WELL this is now the bridge over to the real story I was going to tell you.

Over the past weeks I've read a nice lil fanfic that, for a change, is not a lenghty masterpiece worth the Nobel Literature Price, is not a sadistic, angsty story about torture, and not a dramatic piece of redemption, no, no, it's a cute little romantic piece.

Romance. I never read romance, but at that moment I craved it between those two characters, so I googled a cute fluff story and got to reading.

I knew the author was less experienced than the other internet authors I've read and probably a little bit younger too, but when she at the end of the latest chapter asked the readers "what do you think happens next?" I wrote a comment suggesting the characters would have sex.

After my comment, more readers called for sex scenes, and the author made an announcement that she'll practice writing sex scenes, though she's never done it before.

And then it hit me. What if this girl was even more younger than I assumed? I just assumed she's an 18 or so year old woman, with actual experience of romance and sex and all that jazz, but what if she's actually just 14 or something like that, and she's never had sex before, and I had put a snowball effect running where her few readers ask for sex and she's not comfortable with that? I got bad conscience and hoped that she was okay with writing sex, now that there was clearly a request for it.

Today she posted the newest chapter and I set up a cozy reading spot in the sofa and the first thing I did was scrolling down to her author's note where she wrote she did in fact rate the story M in this chapter.

All my worries were uncalled for. She did a great job writing the sex scenes and didn't seem to hide the fact that she really committed to write it. Yes, there were some clichés, but also stuff I though were good additions, and this poor girl still writes in her author's notes that she's "nervous about this chapter".

Okay, so now I'm going to write her a nice comment for this chapter so she's not terrified of what the horny readers think.

Oh, and one final thing. Even if this is a privat issue I don't feel like this is taboo. People write sex and want to read sex and it should be no weirdness around it. Period.

We're BACK at theatre ramblings!

I guess you missed those mad ramblings of mine where I just  t h e a t r e ~~ and never shuts up? Probs not, hehe.


I wrote yesterday, in one single streak a monologue for myself. The same one I like a year ago mentioned briefly that I figured out, but I never wrote it down until yesterday. A monologue about the nine levels of hell.

I'll use this monologue at an audition in September. Now I just have to figure out which emotions and which speed I'm going to use during which part of the monologue. The time limit is three minutes, and this monologue is like 2:59 sec long, so I can't afford missing out the final line because the final line shows the whole point of rambling through nine levels of hell.

Chock factor. That'll be the ticket. I don't know that kinds of monologue people tend to use in auditions, but I hope a chock factor will make me stand out more.

I know which emotions I'll use during the final part. The emotion of total tiredness and ready to give up. If that even has a proper term in English, I don't know.

I'm positive that they'll accept me into the programme. I've seen their performances, and there are actors with way less experience than I in there. One can only hope they'll accept me into the company. Äh, hopefully I don't sound like a moron right now with "im the best lololoolol" - because honestly, I'm scared that my skills have become rusty as I've not acted properly for a year now. What if they just think I bragged my way in my application and I'm actually just a mediocre piece of shit?

I want to be more than that. But having a straight face in a monologue about the nine levels of hell with a bittersweet ending is maybe already more than mediocre?

Blogs and the inevitable change

Blogs are kind of a relic nowadays. Few people write blogs (sometimes I feel like I'm the only one actively writing but I don't care because I like it).

One of the blog portal of the part of Finland I live in, Ratata, is closing down. A friend of mine have (had) her blog on there, and now she has to download everything, every heartbreaking moment she'd shared to the world, and yeah, stay alone with her dark thoughts. Every blog on that portal is to be closed down.

I was one to read blogs. I love reading blogs! I remember being addicted to one blog that served as reality escape to me when I was 13-14 and the woman who wrote the blog really did cheer me up everyday. This was a time when a single post could get way over 100 comments. She now gets 20 at the most. That was a glorious time. The blogging golden era. I loved it.

Yes, there is Youtube. But Youtube is such a different format and with all the drama going on, a very shallow portal. I use Youtube mainly to listen to music, because my attention span with long videos is not the best. I miss when a 6 min long video was considered long. Now the uploads can be up to 40 mins long, and I can't handle that really well.

Blogs are so much better in that case. And I can't deny I love writing onto here.

I was 13/14 when I had my first blog. In 2010 I created my tumblr (unioncolours.tumblr.com), and the tumblr is only a medium for beautiful art and funny quotes, so it's not like a blog-blog, but in the beginning it served as a blog. But I've kept up this certain social media for close to ten years! In 2014 I created this blog, and that is five years ago. FIVE!

Sometimes I get the feeling that blogs are looked down upon. Why is that? Why is a blog worth less than a Youtube-video, or an instragram? It's barely worth writing long, personal captions to your IG-pics as it seems like your followers don't even read them, when as here? Well, that's the point.

Instagram is only for consuming. Consuming pictures and wonderful shots, a false recreation of others' life. This is where blogs could fix the cracks. They could show more deep stories about the person behind the screen. Youtube could be good too. I made that one Youtube-vlog-thingy one year ago, but I'm not sure it had the effect I wished. I don't think people even watched it.

That's why I think blogs are underrated.

How to party hard in Germany

We arrived at Wacken after a travel from Malmö that was about to take a lil bit over 5 hours, but we didn't think we'd have to queue for 4,5 h.

When we had the tent up it was pitch black because we're spoiled Finns who didn't take into consideration that the German summers do not include neverending sun.

Everyone was drunk as fuck as we came to the festival and there were so many lights, sounds and PEOPLE that my friend cried and I laughed. The Germans do know how to party in the tents, I mean, they had built MANSIONS out of tents, and brought with them better sound systems than a movie theatre has that were powered by diesel generators, it was soo crazy! So you heard TAKATAKATAKATAKA from all directions. Luckily I'm not stupid and protected my ears and hearing so no tinnitus in these ears.

After a good nights of sleep in our tent we queued for three hours to buy festival t-shirt and one of us got sunstroke lol.

The first day was amazing, so many nice people, so much music. And I saw Sabaton. Fucking hell, I love Sabaton so much! If you'r interested in war history, give them a listen, as they write songs about wars, mostly I and II world war.

Anyways, the second day our feet hurt from the day before, but we ate the best mozzarella bread ever so we ignored our pain. I saw Within Temptation and Demons and Wizards, and Eluveitie, but a thunder storm came and Germans are afraid of thunder storms because some time before many had been injured (or died) during a festival when lightning struck so we had to go back to our tent that was 2km from the festival (bc so many people camping, there was square miles of tents, and we were in the very far back) and then back and ow - the feet!

Crowdsurfing is forbidden in Finland, not in Germany. People crowdsurfed so much and it was so intense and funny and scary at the same time, but it brought the whole audience together and there was so much love in there and love for music and for other metalheads!

The last day we were all so exhausted from the standing and jumping and walking. I didn't even do my makeup (few other women did actually, we were all nasty together) and even if I showered the day before one smelled of sweat.

Yeah, sweat. The festival consisted of 65% men ish (like 50 000) and men smell when they sweat, but it felt funny that nature has a part in this and we're all nasty but we don't care because music is more important (I probably ate dirt and other people's piss when eating from the ground because men like to pee wherever they can shove their dicks so)

After Delain and Powerwolf the final day I was so ready to die. Being in a festival with so many people and so much loud sound makes you tired and out tent was wet and we were a bit miserable. And the Germans are very good at packing down a festival. By the time we awoke at 8:30 a good third of all the campers had left. They left straight after the last concert! Craycray, I say.

I have no regrets! Being at Wacken was really the coolest and craziest thing I've ever done! I will remember this week with love as long as I can.