Transcendence (NEW ADDRESS!)

VIRTA, H. (2022) 'THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO St. MICHAEL'. 

Hello dear readers, old and new. It has dawned upon me there might still be someone here who might enjoy my fresher content and would therefore like to inform all you loyal friends that I will be retiring the KATKETTU blog site. But fear not, for my Pandora's box of thoughts and words is nowhere near empty but, just as we all are, it's in constant flux.

I started this blog back in 9th grade, aged 15... holy hell, that's nearly ten years ago! As I've grown up, which I've most luckily done, I've started refining my words and the visuals I put in this world. Naturally, having graduated from uni a couple of years ago and having now fully immersed myself in the workforce, my blog pieces have evolved accordingly, toward more thought-out analysis rather than the flow of thought I am glad I started with over here.

As my thoughts and words have evolved, so has their context and surroundings. I've got a portfolio site for my creative work and it seemed only natural to immigrate the blog side of things over to the same web realm. KATKETTU will remain a dear footnote (and my social media handle) as we finally transition to the next incarnation of whatever this blog can be called... maybe just a blog.

You are most warmly welcomed to visit www.kaisakettunen.art for food for thought or maybe even get in touch with me concerning a creative project. Any case, I'd love to hear from you! (email is usually the best, you can reach me at kaisa.kettu@gmail.com)

Best,

Kaisa

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Smoking in long leather coats 101

— or — 

a journey through the fashion student trope, the industry and realisation.

A friend once told me that chef apprentices eat macaroni for dinner. During my time in London College of Fashion I too developed a somewhat of a phobia towards glossy fashion magazines, the fashion week, retail and much more! And for a good reason too: glossies promote very problematic ideals, the fashion week promotes fast cycles of new designs and retail is its very own chapter I wont delve in right now. While focussing on the apocalypse that is the fashion industry, I got so angry and spiteful and bitter I pretty much expelled all things frivolous and sartorial from my head, my home and my habitus.

What once was exciting and cool and wonderful became a massive weight on my shoulders. And not only on mine, but once I started chatting about my new-found hatred towards the industry I quickly learned I wasn’t alone.<br>

On our first year we spent hours on extravagant make-up looks, which brought us closer to paintings, clearly differentiating us from everyone else on the tube. We spent even more hours in avant-garde book stores and industrial cafés playing with Photoshop blending modes. We wore long leather coats and colourful berets outside the campus on High Holborn. We went on a field trip to Paris and only smoked there. And then it all went away, lecture by lecture, once we started realising how messed up all this was. It wasn’t the stuff we found joy in, per se, but the industry behind it all, behind the idea, the image that we subscribed to.

I have come to understand that university is the prime time for developing criticism, skepticism and — most of all — cynicism. Not that we all suddenly started reading Nietzsche obsessively but we might as well have. And this was instantly reflected in our styles. Ironic, I know.

Very soon I ditched Blair Waldorf altogether and transformed by wardrobe into a collection of uniforms consisting of jeans, t-shirts and crew-neck jumpers. Personal styles evolve, some might argue, and they most certainly do. Only here the change was highly conscious.

This is when I came to understand the core, the essence of any art student: the world is bloody awful when you stare at its flaws through a magnifying glass for three years straight. Therefore one must limit exposure to said flaws to the extent one possibly can. Only one cannot stop thinking about all those awful things so in the door walk bitterness. My attempt to save myself was to drop the ‘of fashion’ off the end of my degree title whenever I had the chance and come up with a scheme to enable me to draw forest animals for the entirety of my final year. 

During that final year I had a very poignant conversation with one of my course leaders in which I vividly recall declaring my disgust for anything commercial promoting material goods and to which my lecturer answered: “Well that’s too bad because we live in a capitalist world. Who are you going to work for then?” Or something along those lines. It left me thinking for a long time. Who am I going to work for if not the devil promoting goods?

Somehow my dissertation got written and my final major project got completed and I found myself holding a degree certificate on an airplane on my way back home to Finland.

Six months later I bought my first fashion magazine in three years. They’re still problematic but I’d like to think I am a responsible reader these days. I am excited to design and make my own clothes now. I even bought something frilly bordering-on-frivolous. My degree and having had study all the things that are wrong have made me a more conscious consumer.

As much as I appreciate all the hardening knowledge gained during university I am much more at ease now that I’ve gotten some distance — both mental and physical — to the epicentre of fashion that is London, and be able to enjoy fashion with the lower case ‘f’ that my lectures always talked about.

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One nostalgia, please

With life so very restricted these days, what to resort to in these desperate times?

Sometimes simplicity resides at your pier.

It says a lot when you’re looking forward to your dentist appointment — then again it is the only bloody social event in your calendar. I doubt life as a recent graduate is easy for anyone at any given time, but oh boy has this year been a nerve-wrecking rollercoaster of anticipation, disappointments and anticipation for disappointments. Haha… ? My life has diminished to writing job applications and desperately trying to come up with new hobbies around the house. The other day I managed to squeeze in a random weep-session-bordering-on- a-meltdown. Yay!

Life does not suck for me nearly as much as it easily could — as it no doubt does for many. However, now that Finland goes into another ‘lock-down’ (which is still very little compared to the ones London has seen) I face real unemployment as middle schools will move to remote learning. The brief joy of vaccines making all this go away was — well, brief indeed. Every time there is a glimpse of an end in sight it gets thrown out the back window. It’s been a year now and we’re dying for a break.

I find remedy in old vines that I was too lame to know about back in the day. They provide me the much needed entertainment and distraction being some of the only things that make me laugh out loud these days. Scrolling through the comment section one can sense kinship: person after another declares they are here, watching in 2021 reminiscent of a more ‘simple time’. Yes, me too.

By no means was the world let alone society any easier or better back then. Sure, we had no super killer virus but neither did we have equal marriage laws, or Taylor Swift’s Folklore. Jokes aside, it’s still very easy to miss those ‘simpler times’, to find comfort in reliving parts of the past. Nostalgia is a big thing among my generation, I read, and I completely agree. It is also very wonderful to be able to call oneself a 90’s kid, although technically I only managed to witness three years of that golden decade. Still I and the majority of my friends identify strongly with the turn of the millennia alongside the Nokia bricks, Friends et cetera — even more so now the present has frozen in time and all we have to live by proxy of is the past. So all hail the ingenious vines, family photo albums starring red overalls, and the billionth reruns of the one with that group of friends I wish I was a part of. Bye.

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Lost direction

I have done a bit of a one-eighty. This is merely a result of a year full of existential questions: 

who am I, what do I like, what do I believe in?

Looking for that direction I lost.

I am in my last year of my uni degree now and I find myself asking the same question all the time: what do I actually want to do? According to my casual research — aka conversations with trusted friends — this is fairly common among final year students and especially common within final year creative students.

I started university with a set goal, a bunch of ambition and a great lack of experience. Cue the experience and everything else got turned upside down. For a good while I thought I had lost all that ambition I had as an 18-year-old college student stuck in a little town, dreaming about a grand future in a metropolitan city. Now that I have lived in London for almost two and a half years I, ironically, miss the little suburban town back in Finland. I miss the trees and I miss the scarcity of people. There’s way too many here (and the Christmas tourist wave has not helped a bit!).

My degree and life in London in general have shifted my goals to a whole new perspective. I no longer want to do any of the things I was longing for just a few years ago. In fact, I have no clue of what I would like to do. I might just take that piece of advise and apply to everything and see who takes me — and then figure it out from there by eliminating all I can’t stand.

Reflecting on 2019 I complained way too much. I still complain way too much but I am starting to try to accommodate to my situation and see all the good in it rather than pining over something I had in the past. Truth to be told, I would not want to repeat all of college even though I am very reminiscent of that time. I probably wouldn’t want to move back to that little town because finding a job there was absolute hell. So I am starting to appreciate London in a more realistic manner than when I first moved here in awe of a lamppost.

Some of that ambition is being gained back and, consequently, goals are starting to form from the fog I have been staring for the past twelve months. Next week I am going back home to deliver a presentation at my old college. Building the presentation has been a great push to reflect on my time here. I don’t want to discourage anyone from coming to study here but rather to provide a disclaimer to think twice rather than jumping into something this big like I did.

I am hoping this is all just part of actually growing up (I am starting to genuinely see the appeal of a Monday to Friday office job). It is hard changing as a person. Appreciating completely different things and feeling alienated from your past self puts you on thin ice.

I stopped social media and writing my blog almost two years ago. Back then it was a conscious choice to retain my mental health to a somewhat sane level. Over time new reasons emerged and I started to pay attention to the culture and behaviour on and around social media. Why do I take all these images and post them online for everyone to see when I don’t really care about other people’s pictures of their breakfasts? Why do I need to share my thoughts on a platform like my blog? I don’t really remember why I started doing it. Most likely someone else I knew had a blog and it seemed like a fun thing to do.

There’s just so much online. There’s so much I am in constant battle trying to avoid it and enjoy something real, outside urls and hashtags. Yet here I am again. Because reading back, looking at the images from the past communicate that clarity that I yearn for now. I could just write in my diary but writing for myself doesn’t require such structure and curation as publishing online does.

I cannot really justify hating social media and writing here. It does make me a hypocrite. Being this lost demands some action, though. In the past this blog earned me an internship and help me develop my writing as well as other communication skills. That’s my reason to write again: to give me something productive (ish) to do and hopefully gives me some direction. If having a blog helps me to get a job, I’ll do it anytime.

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Farm Girl Café on Portobello Road

Where: Portobello Road, Notting Hill // When: Mon to Fri 8:30am to 4:30pm, Sat to Sun 9am to 6pm

What's there: cafés, boutiques, cute houses // How much: coffee about £4, cakes about £5

How to get there: central, circle or district line: Notting Hill Gate

Sister Jane is open Mon to Sat 10am to 6:30pm and Sun 12pm to 6pm

Portobello Road is just so lovely on a quiet Wednesday afternoon! Indeed, the same road Julia Roberts walked down in Notting Hill gets rather crowded time to time so make sure you go on a weekday rather than weekend or high-season. 

The crowds are not here for nothing, though. Listed as a Wes Anderson destination in London's Time-Out magazine, this is probably one of the cutest neighbourhoods you'll come across. Pastel-coloured walls and doors are so incredibly photogenic it would be a shame to forget your camera. Opt for a cute outfit to match with your surroundings.

Once you need a break form this mini-semi-professional photoshoot head down the road once you spot a tall white house with Sister Jane's logo on the wall. Walk through the courtyard to find yourself in an adorable café. Farm Girl's waiters will welcome you immediately and seat you while you mesmerise this aqua-tiled vision. 

Take your time with the menu and experience the multiple wait what?!-s. The place has probably the most hipster-y coffee menu. No wonder the place is founded by an Aussie. Unfortunately, I cannot vouch for the drinks since I had already had way too much caffeine that morning, but my lovely friend Katy ordered a chai latte and seemed to enjoy it very much. 

Foodwise Farm Girl serves wonderful-looking lunch that is relatively pricy. Most of it is vegan, or at least gluten or dairy free. Personally, I opted for a rose cupcake. I paid £4.50 that sort of hurt but, man, was it good! I also have to give tons of points for presentation. The china was as lovely as the dog head created with pink sugar. You'd think this much pink would get too Umbridgy but no, we're fine.

A good way to rate places, at least in my opinion, is by their bathrooms. Again, Farm Girl scores high. It's almost as walking in to a Glossier pop-up shop: pink, red, big mirrors and neon lights. The poor waiter got very confused when in the end I started praising their lovely loos. Still, a good bathroom is like a cherry on the top. If it's done poorly it can ruin the whole experience.

Overall, the place is a tad bit pricy but I would go there again. The atmosphere is relaxed, the environment instagrammable and the service very friendly. A friend of mine refers this as convenience cost.

The main reason I ever go to Portobello Road is Sister Jane's flagship shop. Cute, cute, cute! It's right upstairs from Farm Girl (very convenient!) in a two-level attic space. I first discovered Sister Jane in Cannes, France a few years ago and fell completely in love. The clothes are about £60 and very good design. I own quite a few pieces and can definitely vouch for their quality. The best thing is that they organise sample sales once a season. Last time I walked out with six pieces that cost me £30 together. What a bargain! The shop is definitely worth checking out even if there isn't a sample sale. It's like another kind of wonderland.

What to bring: a Wes Anderson outfit, to match with the doors // camera, preferably polaroid

Matching background for my outfit!

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Columbia Road Flower Market

Where: Columbia Road, Shoreditch // When: Sundays 8am to 3pm 

What's there: flowers, farm and cafés // How much: bundles from about £4, cash

How to get there: overground: Hoxton

My favourite flowers

Sundays are, believe or not, a bit slow even in London. I don't know if it's my mother's persistence on avoiding shopping Sundays or just the general quietness of the end of the week that often takes me to a market of some sort. Having just stated London is dead on Sundays, the markets of London, on the other hand, are absolutely thriving! And it is the most miraculous thing you've ever seen!

Hop on overground and head to Hoxton station. It's a nice and brisk 10-minute walk to the market. Don't forget to get some cash on the way: there's is a sneaky cash machine on a blue wall, easy to miss. The way to the market is relatively easy and if there's any difficulties, just follow the trail of people carrying bouquets. Foolproof!

First thing you'll hear is lovely chatter and a guy playing a guitar. The vendors are shouting the most creative Cockney chatter. "The worst mistake of your life!" yells a man pointing at my bouquet behind a massive mountain of tulips. A little spring shower doesn't matter either. Quite oppositely, it only makes the atmosphere cosier.

It is worth walking up and down the road before buying anything, just to make sure you can grab the best offer. But don't contemplate too long. These flowers go quickly! Instead of pre-made bouquets opt for bundles and get crafty back home. It's a fun and hygge-approved way to spend a Sunday afternoon with family or friends. Also, it comes much cheaper and somewhat homelier as well.

Once you're there, check out the little streets branching from Columbia Road. There's loads of little hidden boutiques selling incredibly cute vases, pots and tin boxes. Keep an eye for artesian cafes too. After all, it's sort of early and if you're anything like me, you've only had a cup of coffee this morning. On the other hand, it is worth suffering for a little longer and head to Brick Lane to Beigel Shop to spend that leftover cash. Trust me, these bagels never let you down! Get some plain ones to take back home. They're only £0.30!

What to bring: comfortable shoes, don't even consider heels // canvas bags, at least two //

a raincoat, rather than an umbrella // sunglasses // cash, £20 should do for flowers and bagels

On your way to Brick Lane, do stop by Hackney City Farm to say hello to their chickens, ducks, goats, baby goats (they'll melt your heart!) and donkeys. Despite its numerous parks and commons, London still lacks the animals this countryside gal is used to. A fifteen minutes with these furry friends are worth a month's therapy sessions.

Beigel Shop on Brick Lane

Sunday afternoon bagels and planting

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the fifth year

I’m sitting at a café in Helsinki airport and I just stopped to think about this whole year. There was really low lows but also, in contrary, really high highs.  As my father said in his speech on my graduation: Kaisa is a person who feels everything, it’s never neutral. I lost that for a moment but I managed, with great strength, different sort of strength I’ve known before, to get past that.

This year I have taken action and I must admit admiring myself for that. I felt stuck so I moved on. I felt bad so I made an effort to feel better. I solved problems. I pushed myself outside my comfort zone, for the first time in ages and it felt so good. It was exactly what I needed.

As I’m writing this on New Year’s Eve I can say I am in a place in my life I feel good. I feel happy. I feel safe. I feel passionate. I feel comfortable in this very moment. In some point I found myself trusting the world and the people around me. For that I am extremely glad. I am back being that fearless me I used to be. 

In 2018 I want to work on that last insecurity I still have. I am starting running again. I am starting stretching again. I want to get in shape in order to being able to like my body as much as my mind. I have a strong feeling this will also help with mental stability which is an issue I am far bored of standing for anymore.

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first autumn in university

My hair turned yellow. Taylor Swift's new album was horrible first but okay after a few rounds of listening. Wine, all kinds of wine, is really good. My brain is able to pull an accidental all-nighter. Turns out clothes don't wash themselves and the house is going to be cold if you forget to turn the heating on.

Autumn in London was magnificent. I am surprised the amount of anxiety I've had has been pretty much non-excistant. I have to be honest, when I first applied to this uni I was scared of how it was going to be. Of course, it's very different: it's not academic, it's not that theoretical, it's insanely intensive and most of all it's so much fun! 

We have a squad and it's just wonderful. We go to events together, we have parties together, we go out together, we have photo shoots together and we sit in the student lounge laughing at everything together.

I'm heading back home to Finland in a week. These three months have been filled with hallways, lectures, laughter and learning how to manage life on my own.

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Hello, I live here

Quoting myself: "To be honest, I'm starting to get jealous of myself." Ever since I got to London about a month ago things have taken, and get this, a really, and I mean a really good turn! First I must clarify that the way London works follows: every day you meet someone who knows someone who knows someone whose sister's husband's cousin can help you in one way or another. Either it's London or my karma is being extremely good.

So this is where I live now. I've been posting glorious pictures and videos on Instagram overlooking the rooftops of my street from my skylight or gazing to the great antique mirror on the other side of my attic room. A friend asked: "Were do you live?" to which I thought the only appropriate answer was "in heaven, obvs."

I've been getting home quite late this first week I've lived here. I climb the stares all the way to the third floor and collapse on my bed, on those pure white sheets and laugh out loud because that's how happy I am. Then I wake up in the morning either to the sun shining through the skylights or the rain quietly hitting the roof and I laugh out loud again because that's how happy I am.

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just London's luck

I have this one friend whose luck is unbelievable. Honestly! The most incredible things just happen to happen to her. I, on the other hand, am a person of relatively neutral excluding the fact that I seem to really attract accidents. But when I’m with my friend I get to enjoy a piece of her never-ending good luck. It’s either with her or in London, apparently.

I’ve had the most crazy, absurd good luck for the whole time I’ve been in this metropolitan. I’ve just happened to meet people who happen to work in the same industry I once wish to. I got a place to live at by a such a lucky coincidence. Above all, I haven’t gotten nor felt lost, anxious, unsure, sad, terrified… the list goes on.

I tried to keep panicking in the minimum before I got here. There was a lot of things to stress about and time to times I felt quite overwhelmed by it all. So it happens that mom and dad were right, after all: everything is sorting out better than I could have ever dreaded to dream. Was it faith, god or life that is holding me up I’m so very thankful of it all every single morning. I thank for this life and that it has taken me here, to London.

I feel very strongly I’ve entered a new chapter in my life. It feels like a completely different life, to be honest. It feels like mine but only the version that has ever only existed in my head, in my dreams. And now it’s true. Now I’m living it. I’m a bit scared it’s all just a very beautiful dream and that any moment now I’m going to wake up to half life.

I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I’m in the best place, mentally, I’ve never ever been. I have a new, wonderful city to explore, new people to meet and talk with and quite frankly — a tabula rasa in every way. For the first time ever this life feels completely mine. It’s the best feeling I’ve had in a while. And that is making me, slowly but firmly, trusting in life, faith and even luck.

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London baby!

My first week in London feels like a month, to be honest. There's so much to see and experience I keep forgetting I actually live here now. London is my home city now. So far I've been loving every bit of it: the unique people, the boiling hot tube, the architecture, the flukes. The city changes every day, every hour, even every minute and I think that is just amazing.

So what have I been up to? I've enjoyed lovely afternoon teas (yes, multiple times) in Covent Garden. I've carried numerous bags from Westfield after hours of shopping. I've sat in the library completing university's pre-arrival tasks ("Sunglasses" seen above). Last but not least I've attended London Fashion Week with the company of the ever-so-lovely Veera who was visiting London last weekend. I found a beautiful rose-golden ring by Tada & Toy to mark this new beginning in my life.

I'm in love with this city I can call my home. I'm in love with this life of mine and where it has taken me. I'm in love with the words one of my friends wrote: "Maailmalla on tapana antaa ja kantaa, kun luotat sen voimaan" (translates to: "The world has a habit of giving and carrying when you trust its power")

nail polish • Essie "eternal optimist" // ring • Michal Negrin

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autumn is here!

Aaaand I love it! This is my absolute favourite time of the year! Primarily all the earthy colours of nature, fashion and mind are just so relaxing and comfortable. Secondarily my life seems to take a whole new turn at this time of the year and it's oh-so-exciting.

As I'm eagerly waiting for Saturday when I move to London I've been busy enough to almost forget it. It's been a whirlwind of meeting friends, shopping for necessities and constant panicking over accommodation. Last week the latter sorted itself out so now I'm light at mind and sleeping through the nights.

Amongst all the more or less fun running of errands I've somehow managed to make time to attend the Gloria fashion show held in Helsinki's Cable Factory. It was a magnificent event and, in my opinion, more enjoyable than Aalto's show. I still have one more fashion show left in Finland and then I'm heading to the London fashion week with one of my best friends. I can't wait!

Last Sunday we went on a little day trip to Tallinn with mum. I got my head messed up by the sea sickness pills and so the day was sort of a haze. Still, we enjoyed delicious Indian food, found a great sock shop and took a few photos every here and there. In the picture I'm wearing this beige sweater from & Other Stories which, by the way, is the softest piece of clothing I've probably ever worn. I've been basically living in this sweater and constantly painting my nails in this dark red Essie polish called shall we chalet. Did I already mention I love the autumn colours?

Some very good things (in addition to those mentioned above):

Baby Driver (2017)

Game of Thrones

& Other Stories

white wine

horse riding in pouring rain

oversized washed denim jacket and dark red lipstick

my 'London Baby!' Spotify playlist featuring:

No Other Way by Paolo Nutini

BLIZZARD by Fauve

I Don't Know by Wax Tailor

Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood

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jealousy

It only takes your time and eats your mind. Why is it that we look at the next person with a silent disgusted look on our face? I always say how I don't want to spread hatred or jealousy yet time after time, amongst certain people I can't help but feel I'm lacking something and they have it. It's an unwanted competition I try to walk away from but the toxins are already loose and oh, the temptation to give in to them is luring.

When I sit there and the other one tells about the things I get jealous of I try to think it this way: it’s their life, it’s their choices and their values. Mine might be more or less different but nevertheless capital M mine. In this life of mine I get what I’m given and I can make the most out of that. I’ve been given so much — much more than most — and still there will always be others who have been given more. It’s not my loss. However, it is my loss if I give in to jealousy. I don’t know why is it so hard to remember there’s no gain in jealousy but the absolute opposite.

Today I took the train to the capital. As I was sitting face towards a window on the other side of the corridor uncertainty stroke me. I started looking around: what were others wearing, who were they with, what were they like. I regretted what I had chosen to wear, which choices I had made with my look, with my values, with my life. Before I knew the toxins were eating my confidence. Lord, I hated it. So I popped my headphones in my ears and turned up mellow beats. I shaped up and put my elbow on the windowsill, closed my eyes and started tapping the floor to the rhythm. I played piano with the fingers of my right hand. I opened my eyes and there was an old man standing in the lobby of the train, tapping the floor with his foot in the same beat, looking at me and smiling. I smiled back.

As I understand it, jealousy is about not feeling enough. We need attention. We need recognition. Well, at least I do. One smile, that’s all it took to vanish the toxins. One smile and I gained back my confidence. I got that smile by not envying the others but fighting against it.

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scrap that!

It seems that the life has always something drastic planned for the end of the summer. Somehow things escalate and I find myself in an odd and new situation. Call it my subconscious or fate or something completely else everything needs to change when we hit August. That's what I always joke about: for me the new year starts in August, not in January.

Life-update! I am on my own and off to London. That happened quickly you might mumble — believe me I do too. So I might have noticed some clearing places available at the uni of my dreams and I might have applied and I might have even gotten accepted. Yesterday. Last time I wrote about dreams and how they require work and a tiny bit of luck. I realised I feel like I've never done enough and I'm really not the number one believer in luck. Yet somehow I happened achieve something I thought was completely out of my reach.

Yesterday was a truly wonderful day and as I walked home I had to genuinely smile the whole way. Part of my joy comes from freedom and excitement of London. Part of it comes from the creative space I've only recently re-entered. I've sworn I'm officially the worst at making up stories. I come up with an idea for a scene but that's about as far as I can get. Scrap that. This week I was at a bookshop with my sister and browsing through the paperbacks when I noticed an interesting title. Of course I misread it and in the end it wasn't that interesting at all. But what I thought I read sticked to my mind and slowly it escalated me creating a storyline in my head. I got home and grabbed my notebook and started writing. I've been writing the whole week and have five whole chapters ready.

My life is yelling scrap that! straight at my face and I think it's about the time to start listening. It's a new beginning — once again — and a chance to let go of prejudices of what I think I can or cannot do and what can or cannot happen. It came to the point I was yet again panicking about the accommodation in London when I realised it's all going to sort out, not on it's own for sure, but there's really no need to panic. And I scrapped it all and tossed it in the bin. Life is life and you know what: London baby!

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anything is possible

We’ve heard the words a million times.

Dream big, achieve big is the mantra I live by, I’ve always had. Considering myself as something really special is both empowering and deceiving. It gives self-confidence but at the same time it creates an illusion that one would better than she or he is. This is what happened with me. I used to think I’m oh-so-special and during the last three years that bubble has broken and later been rebuilt little by little leaving holes to allow criticism and to see and understand the actualities (but not to rely on them too much). I’ve been sky high and I’ve been close to the bottom. Now I’m somewhere in between building my way up carefully and self-lovingly trying to remain somewhat down-to-earth.

Believing is vital but not enough. I believe in myself, I've always had. In upper secondary school I realised all that believing is wasted potential if it’s not used to anything. So I worked really hard to earn evidence, to show others and myself my worth and the worth of what I believe in. Because almost equals nothing in the end. The thought in my head is nothing to others because they cannot see or hear it. It exists only to me until I put it in action. To achieve something big others must see my greatness. They need evidence.

Not everything is meant to succeed, though. That is a brutal fact everyone needs to understand sooner or later. It’s a brutal world in that way. I thought I could do it all and it drowned me. One must learn when to give up because living in a fool's paradise is waste of time and potential in addition to it being so unhealthy to one's mind. You can't be an artist to earn your living if no one buys your art. Giving up on dreams hurts like hell but it’s better than living in denial.

I have big dreams and I am ready to work for them. I've questioned and criticised my dreams many, many times and pondered are they really what I want, worth all the time and effort. I've come to a conclusion that my dreams are what I live for. They are my safe place. They are the core meaning of my life.

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20

Still not a grown-up.

Nope. Wasn't two years ago, wasn't a year ago and definitely aren't now either. My life changes each day, drastically, and yet I sort of like it that way. Some days I feel so sure of myself and where I'm going and then there are periods of time I feel like a 10-year-old never ready to leave home. It's confusing.

A year ago I talked about changes. Had I only known there were much more to come. It's been a whirlwind, this whole year. Somehow I've really loved it although it's been incredibly exhausting time to times. Changes don't scare me as much anymore. I'm not neutral but I know I can take them. I've grown, I've gained courage and knowledge.

Now that school's over I thought I'd be on my own. I couldn't have been more wrong. I have a bigger and more loving group of people than ever before. My friends and family are all kind of blending in my head. We're all a big family. We all care about each other. I'm part of something. 

Next year. I don't actually have a plan and, actually, I'm not scared. I'm not panicking and that feels great. I feel very young and alive, like never before. I've been a puppet in my own master plan. Now I'm finally the leader in that game. I've become a human during this year.

I want to see what's around the riverbed. I want to see where the wind takes me. I'm going to continue growing my confidence and courage. I want to get rid of being scared of absolutely everything. I want to live. This time I'm still not 22 yet, but I'm happy, free, confused and lonely at the same time. It's been and it will be miserable and absolutely magical. 

photo credit // portaits by Suvi Ojala

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Prague

Praaaague! We went on a little vacation to the Czech Republic and it was the best thing ever! The Saturday following my birthday we walked in the doors of the beautiful hotel we stayed in. First thing we get upgraded to a fancier room and, my lord, we were just over the moon! We caught the sunset as we walked to the castle of Prague after having had a delicious local dinner of goulash.

The city was so beautiful. My feet hurt the whole Sunday but there was so much to see I kept going with a bit of complaining now and then, as you do. We walked through all the major attractions. My favourite thing over everything else was the cafés. We stumbled upon the most gorgeous places such as the Národní Kavárna, Café Louvre and Palanda (aka the BEST burgers!. The waiters called me madam and it was oh-so-fancy in every way.

Max took me to the historical fort of Vyšehrad on Sunday. Behind the great brick walls opened the most magnificent view. Another magnificent view was in the shopping galleries: hundreds of shops with crystal clear windows. It wasn't a shopping trip, per se, but I couldn't help but pick up a gorgeous blue swimsuit from Topshop and a pair of black Bata heals not to forget the Czech sparkling wine that we are yet to try.

It was honestly the most wonderful vacation! I'll be back without a doubt. I fell in love with the city, the light, the food and the atmosphere. Prague made it easily to the top 3 of my favourite places.

On to my holiday wardrobe. The first day I chose to wear classic navy shorts from Zara and a light cotton shirt. It's usually quite cold in planes so I threw over my favourite piece of clothing at the moment, the light blue cashmere sweater from & Other Stories. I've come to a conclusion this sweater is one of the best things I've ever owned. It's light and travels easily in the handbag. The colour goes surprisingly well with almost everything.  Another must-have is my black leather Longchamp I got from mom. It's the perfect size to fit a camera, a notebook, a water bottle and the essentials.

On the second day I wore blue gingham shorts or as I refer them: the pic-nic shorts from Zara. I paired them with this gorgeous new lace top I got from JC and a boater hat I had been on a hunt for for ages. My trusty Australian Steve Madden sandals went perfectly with the outfit but unfortunately didn't really nurture my feet after tens of kilometres of walking.

On the third day I dropped the hat and changed the short+top to this lace dress I got from Asos. It's the same Zoella had last summer and that I craved already back then but it had sold out. So when I realised they had brought it back this summer I instantly ordered it. It's very loose and light weight so it's just perfect for those +30C days when it's almost too hot to wear anything. The dress is so soft and I'm absolutely in love with it! It's definitely part of my Midsummer look.

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