post-finals stress relief treatment

I can't count how many sandwiches I made during the last two weeks. I don't want to see a single math book ever again! The finals are over yet again but I can't seem to switch off. It just takes time, I guess. All that stress needs time to fade off. Here's how:

I've been sleeping like the beauty. I've been watching movies and playing piano. I've been doing things that I love. I returned to the books of the living. It's a good-bye to flash cards and a hello to paint brushes and afternoon teas.

I've seen friends and got some new ones. We sat in a coffee shop thrilled of excitement, talking about our amazing plans for our futures and realising there are good people left in this mad world. I've been so set to my usual patterns for a while now. Today I realised I want to see new films, listen to new music and meet new people in addition to the dear ones I know and have.

It's the light and the warmth. Winter is always tough. I've never been a fan of Spring either but this year there's something sparkling in it. I've said I had the best summer of my life regarding the last one. Now I have a feeling this might just edge it off. I'm excited, for the first time in a while!

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the emotional rollercoaster of finals

The daunting door of the auditorium is staring at me. It's less scary than the one of the hall. I have half of my possession stacked in a basket that I'm carrying. It's been over ten years of education and here I finally am feeling the most certain and uncertain of what will follow. There's no point adding up the points I already have: it will be what it will be despite the fives and threes.

The topics look clear. I look through the material: nothing interesting really. Luckily the third title allows me to write about philosophical nothings and nice make-the-world-better blah blah blahs. In half an hour I'm done with the mind-maps but I'm concerned with my rapid time-management and decide to spent another hour on planning.

The first draft is a messy word-vomit on the paper. It's not even long enough. So I scratch that and start over. There's a lot to fix and I spent the next hours trying to make my best effort resulting in the second draft. It's still too short and doesn't feel right at all.

There's still a little over an hour left but the blister on my middle finger is crying out of pain and my head isn't feeling the lightest either. I get myself together after a brutal pep-talk and start to work on the third and hopefully the last version. I have to force myself out of my comfort zones, to think outside the box but it all is worth it in the end. I get to hand in the most perfect paper I could have produce in those six hours and possibly one of my best works.

I run out full of cafeine or euphoria or the two mixed together and declaring the world of my success. The tears of joy quickly turn into the tears of sorrow as I slouch from the philosophy exam and into the tears of pure disappointment as my bliss gets wrecked by the reality of the english results. That is followed by two hours of crying and comforting words in the phone. I am, like we say in Finland, as if I had sold my country. 

Nevertheless, I eventually get over it and move on to painting with watercolours and dreaming of a beautiful afternoon in a beautiful living room reading magazines. 

photo from Wes Anderson's ingenious The Royal Tenenbaums 

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treasures

I'm a hoarder of beautiful things. I am very proud of my absolutely gorgeous collection of magazines and coffee table books. It's not just any magazine or tin box I save, no no no. I've always had a very precise visual eye meaning only the best and most perfect items find their way to my shelves.

On the bookshelf

Printing photos has risen to the level of a guilty pleasure. I might honestly drown in them. I absolutely love scrapbooking and putting together albums — anything involving layouts, really. What I do is I pick free catalogues from stores, cut nice pictures out of them and just paste on notebooks, boxes, albums, you name it!

On my bookshelf lies also the box of letters. I don't even know where to start with these. There's something wondrous in written words. It's the effort, I guess. The stories come from the next town and a million miles away.

On the desk

By accident I have a little bit of a red theme going on at the moment. These all are little nicknacks I've gotten as souvenirs or second-handed from mom's drawers. The typewriter is one of my most precious treasures. It was an 18th birthday present collecting dust on the desk. In addition to being a real beauty there's nothing more inspiring than the sound of typewriter. 

Keep it quirky and store your painting brushes in a vase. Speaking of quirky, that's possibly the main criteria here. The more obscure and peculiar the more compelling. I'm a curious person.

mug • Maxwell Williams (Australia) // daily journal • Frankie (Australia) // double decker • Churchill's // phone case • Cath Kidston

In the wardrobe

My wardrobe is far from Carrie's astonishing walk-in, but it's a start. The clothes would be too much to feature so I'm focusing on the middle shelf. A few thick-paged fashion magazines out of which the Gentlewoman is my all time favourite. There's also my Icons of Women's Style I got for Christmas a few years ago. When in doubt, trust in Grace.

envelope bag • Marc by Marc Jacobs // the Gentlewoman // L' Officiel de la couture et de la mode de Paris // the Marc O'Polo Diary SS/16 // Icons of Women's Style • Josh Sims

On the second chair

I used to do ballet when I was little and recently I got into it again. The slippers have been in my possession for just a short amount of time but have already a special place in my heart. The Louis Vuitton is a present I am almost afraid to touch and I protect it with my life once it's out. The tiny mirror is, once again, gotten from mom and at least as special as the typewriter. I like to consider it as my lucky charm.

ballet slippers • Bloch

On the vanity

I'm skimpy when it comes to makeup. The other day I realised I've only ever bought one palette and the rest is inherited from mom's hand-me-downs. A glorious gem of mine is the motorcycle tin box in which I keep my bobby pins and hair bobbles. I've loved this box as long as I can remember and finally sort of borrowed it and never returned it. 

purse • by Malene Birger // lipstick • YSL Rouge Volupte 14 // makeup brushes • Zoeva // earrings • house of Elliot // watch • Daniel Wellington // sunglasses • Vogue

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