Mrs. Dalloway's Coffee Break

It is, finally, the beginning of summer. For those like me, who are working indoors all day and fantasizing being outside in the sunlight where, in this particular dark fantasy, every single other person on the planet is sunbathing as we speak and recuperating in the light from the long barren winter of the utmost discontent: this is the alcohol beverage for you. I was taking a power hike after a shift, briskly walking to the beat of my current favorite album and enjoying the gradual greening of nature and the fact that after months, one could feel sweat trickling down one’s spine instead of the freezing Northern gale blowdrying it in an instant. I was being good after neglecting my health for many months out of sheer exhaustion and lack of energy for it.  Spiriting my soul in the luminosity that is Finnish early summer, I had a wonderful idea, and, for a ceremonial ending of my solitary selfcare date, walked straight into the liquor store. For those who are new to the blog: yes, t...

  This is not a blogpost of me coming out of the closet. In fact, I have been so far out of the closet for as long as I can remember I’m almost completely outside the house already, but I can also say that no, I am not really a lesbian.  Or am I? I know young women and gender-fluid persons and non-binary people today like to think outside the containment of a sexual orientation – or gender nomination - box, and this is all good – this is just me talking, and this is me being, specifically, a woman about it. Despite a life-long habit of crossdressing ever since early puberty, and adopting behavior patterns traditionally reserved for the man, I have never wanted to be treated or referred to as a man, nor have I ever entertained a single moment’s desire to transition into one.  Be that as it may, I feel often that what I consider discussions worth having are not the same discussions that are actually being had, and one such notion is that of the ever-evolving spectrum of sex...