Gwilymm Bowen Rhys – “Er Fy Ngwaethaf” (Despite Myself).

   Hiya people! 🙂 

   Even though I’ve shared a song by Gwilym just a couple days ago, today I feel like sharing yet another one with you, this time round one with a  more contemporary feel to it lyrically. THis song comes from his album called Arenig, and while I absolutely love this album as a whole, this has to be one of my favourite songs on it, just after “Lloer Dirion Lliw’r Dydd” (Gentle Moon, Colour of the Day) and “Clychau’r Gog” (Bluebells). It was written by young Welsh poet ELis Dafydd, who I’m pretty sure is also from somewhere in the Caernarfon area, and the fact that the village of Brynrefail is mentioned here could indicate that too. The music to this poem was composed by Gwilym. Below is Gwilym’s translation of it. 

   A few names, a few songs,
a few fags that are looking for a flame,
a few shadows in the eyes of an old friend,
a few that I haven’t loved until they have gone.
 
A few sunrays that are hot on the back of my neck,
a few of the old faces in the mirror above the bar.
A few afternoons in empty carparks
with a girl from Brynrefail that’s escaping to Prague
 
A few old lads in the corner by themselves
who drink to health every Monday morning.
Whilst these things are there, I will be a slave
to every swallow between now and Summer

Y Trŵbz – “Tyrd Y Nôl” “Come Back”.

   Hey people! 🙂 

   Like yesterday, today I also have a Welsh song for you, but this time it’s a rock one, from the band called Y Trŵbz who’s been a regular in my song of the day series, because of one of my faza people, Jacob Elwy, being one of its founding members. This piece comes fromm their full-length debut album Yn Y Dechrau. 

 

Gwilym Bowen Rhys – “Cerdd Braich y Saint” (Song of Braich Y Saint).

   Hey people! 🙂 

   Today, let’s listen to a song from Gwilym Bowen Rhys’ first album in his Detholiad o hen Faledi (Selection of Old Ballads) series. This song was written by Robert Williams, also known as Robin Fawr o Fynytho around 1870. It’s written from the perspective of a farm-hand, who has been hired by a farmer from a place called Braich y Saint in Criciedd who initially makes a very good impression on his new employee, but eventually, as he starts working there, he turns out to be a very nasty and difficult boss. The translation below comes from Gwilym’s website. 

 

Old Cadwaladr came on his grey mare
From Cricieth to Pwllheli to hire four farm-hands
He came to me quite pleasantly, on his face, a big smile
And I signed up, thinking I’d get the kindest master in the world.

Early on Friday I started on my way
To serve in Eifionydd, leaving Llŷn behind
To a lovely little place called Braich-Y-Saint,
I was there a few days, It won’t pay to say how long.

The slopes where steep an the scythe was blunt
And old Cadwaladr was a very difficult man indeed,
He’d rise in the morning with his cheeks full of wind
Shouting ‘wake up boys! It’s a quarter past five!’

After the boys had risen and taken the horses to water
And had returned, they’d eat flour and water pottage,
He’d order all to work, running around like a mad man
But that’s how Caswaladr was, a hard man t’wards his servants

I was raised at home, I never proved any suffering
But this year at Braich-Y-Saint I’m living on dry bread,
a herring on the forge, with a very bad taste
But you know what Cadwaladr was like, a hard man t’wards his servants

In dismal Braich-y-Saint there’s a bed like a carriage
Where I tried to sleep with my belly half empty
And the old Sow’s meat was hard and tasteless
But you know what Cadwaladr was like, a hard man t’wadrs his servants

Farewell to pulling swedes, farewell to the pick’n’shovel,
Farewell to the thin mare lying in the dirt,
Farewell to the white headed bull and the grey mare,
Farewell to old Cadwaladr, a hard man t’wards his servants.

Phamie Gow – “Sweet Frederick”.

   Hey people! 🙂 

   For today I thought I’d share with you this lovely piano composition by Scottish multi-instrumentalist Phamie Gow, which she has written for her friend. 

Áine Minogue – “Griogal Cridhe” (Beloved Gregor).

   Hi people! 🙂 

   Today I’d like to share with you a Scottish Gaelic lament, or lullaby, sung by an Irish singer who lives in the US. I think I have shared three songs by Aine Minogue on my blog so far and surely must have mentioned how she was one of my most favourite Celtic folk singers and harpists when I was a teenager. I still like her a lot, and this has always been one of my favourite songs by her. Generally, this song has a very interesting melody in my opinion, and I like most versions of it that I’ve heard. 

   It was written in the 16th century by a woman called Mór Chaimbeull after the death of her husband,  the chief of the Clan Mac Gregor, Griogair Ruadh Mac Griogair, or Gregor the Red Mac Gregor in English who was executed at Taymouth Castle. 

   Here’s the translation of this song: 

   Many a night both wet and dry
Weather of the seven elements
Gregor would find for me a rocky shelter
Which I would take eagerly.
Obhan, Obhan, Obhan iri
Obhan iri O!
Obhan Obhan Obhan iri,
Great is my sorrow, great.
I climbed into the upper chamber
And lay upon the floor
And I would not find my dearest Gregor
At the table in his place.
Great darling of the World’s people
They spilt your blood yesterday
And they put your head on an oaken stake
Near where your body lay.
Though now I have no apples,
And others have them all,
My own apple, fragrant, handsome –
And the back of his head on the ground.
I would be glad to be with dear Gregor
Guarding cattle in the glen
Instead of with the great Baron of Dalach,
White silk around my head.
While the young wives of the town
Serenely sleep tonight
I will be at the edge of your gravestone
Beating my two hands.

Is my glass half full or half empty? Or, Bibiel’s take on defensive pessimism.

   Let’s do another journal prompt-inspired post, shall we?! For today, I chose the following prompt from Hannah Braime’s collection of journal prompts called The Year of You: 

   Would you describe your glass as half full or half empty? 

   I figured that with so much toxic, overrated, farting sweet, bright red and just ewwww yuck positivity floating around the world, it won’t hurt if I share my perspective on the glass dilemma, which, based solely on how often people seem to misunderstand it, must be not a very common perspective to have. Besides, I already wrote about it briefly quite recently in this post, so why not expand it further. 

   Like I wrote in that post, people who know me a bit, even some who know me a lot like my Mum, often tend to think of me as an extreme, incurable, even “hopeless” pessimist. And that’s kind of true except it’s not, and not just because I am not hopeless. My brain is definitely  on the gloomy side, and I am indeed a fan of thoroughly thinking through all possible worst case scenarios of a situation, which sometimes ends up spinning into proper catastrophising. Also if I happen to be very anxious, especially for a prolonged time or over a lot of stuff at once or one thing that feels really difficult to deal with, it’s extremely easy for me to slip into ruminating and overthinking, which as far as I know are all classic pessimistic traits. Yet, I don’t think I’m a real, pure pessimist. Many people I know who declare to be or are seen as pessimists don’t seem to get anything good out of the mindset that they have. It only stresses them out, makes it difficult to enjoy the good things in life while they are lasting, and often is very toxic, creating a really unpleasant and tense atmosphere in their surroundings that affects other people around them. For me, ruminating and overthinking can naturally be very stressful too and I’d much rather not deal with them, depression is also really shitty, but I tend to consider these more like brain malfunctions, even if deeply ingrained ones and ones which have been with me for a large part of my life, rather than a  mindset, definitely not a fixed one anyway. Those brain malfunctions can surely affect my mindset, especially when I feel particularly mentally unwell and have very low mood, but they can’t fully replace it because they’re entirely different things. I hope that makes sense.

   My pessimism is not about constant complaining (not that I think there’s anything wrong with complaining as such, as long as there isn’t too much of it and something constructive comes out of it, like yourself feeling better after getting something off your chest), constant/excessive grumpiness, finding faults with everything/everyone or never being satisfied with the good things that you have or that happen to you. 

   So what is it? My pessimism is defensive, so aside from being a way of thinking, it’s also a coping strategy for me. I firmly believe that it’s a lot better to always prepare yourself for the absolute worst possible thing and keep your expectations rather low, rather than hope for the best. Hoping for the best might be easier during the waiting  for whatever is supposed to happen, but if something positive that you’ve been waiting for doesn’t end up happening, or isn’t nearly as good as you imagined, the crash down from so high up will most often be  a really unpleasant experience, and you’re ultimately left with nothing other than your disappointment, and possibly other difficult feelings, depending on a particular situation. Whereas if you don’t expect much, you can only go higher. You won’t end up dramatically and painfully crashing down from anywhere, but you can end up feeling very pleasantly surprised. And, as a defensive pessimist rather than a plain grumpy pessimist, if something does exceed my expectations, I try to appreciate it as much as I can, rather than be like: “Oh well, it’s just an exception from the rule, something will surely go wrong”. It may or may not be an exception from the rule, and something else may or may not go wrong very soon, but I try to be very appreciative and grateful for the things that do go well, and enjoy them nevertheless. In fact, perhaps a little paradoxically, despite being an anxious melancholic with dysthymia, I am also blessed with the ability of finding even small things in life enjoyable and pleasurable, and if my mood is somewhere around what I consider my baseline, I don’t have to try very hard to make myself feel these feelings or focus on it very much. 

   Similarly, when you’re awaiting something that you consider stressful or otherwise difficult, for example an exam like Sofi does tomorrow, I personally don’t think it’s a good idea to try to convince yourself for all means that everything will be fine. I think it’s worth considering things that might go wrong, so that when something does go wrong, you can handle it better emotionally at worst, because you’ve sort of already been through it in your brain, and prevent it from happening altogether at best. You sure can’t always think of every possible thing that could go wrong in a given situation and prepare yourself for everything, but still, going through a few different difficult scenarios in your brain before a situation takes place, even if the actual situation won’t look exactly like any of the things you imagined, can be helpful in handling things in my opinion. 

   I guess though that while this works for me, it doesn’t necessarily have to work for everyone. I guess if so many people promote positivity, positive affirmations and stuff, it must work for them. I only know that my approach works well for me. I’d tried being more optimistic, because everyone, and especially my Mum, says that when you think of good things, then good things happen to you, and when you think about bad things, then you get bad things. And I have no reason to believe that this is not the case for people who say so. But for me, most of the time it just doesn’t work this way. I can seriously count on my fingers all the times when my very positive thinking led to a very positive outcomes, not counting all the situations when I just had a very strong gut feeling bordering on certainty that everything will go well and didn’t feel like I needed to either think of worst case scenarios or force myself to optimism, because when I have very strong gut feelings like that, they’re usually right. Most of the time when I tried hard to think positively about something, the actual outcome made me feel really anxious and overwhelmed because I totally didn’t see that thing coming. Meanwhile, very often, if I think of all the possible awful outcomes of something, and think that one of them is probably more likely than a positive outcome, the thing ends up very positively for me. Not always, but very often. This is part of why I’ve always considered myself an almost ridiculously lucky person, ‘cause apparently I do everything to attract all the bad things yet so many good things happen to me and, more importantly, so many bad things that could happen to me, just don’t. 😀 Admittedly, I’m perhaps not as insanely, , incessantly, provocatively, in-your-face lucky as my optimistic Mum, but still extremely, miraculously lucky. So if my defensive pessimism gives me very similar results to those that optimists get from optimism, I really don’t feel like changing my  brain and re-learning optimism just because optimism is more well-seen by society. It’s also rather boring. 

   I’ve actually been using the term defensive pessimism to describe this before I even learned that there actually is such a term in psychology, which has been coined by Nancy Cantor. I guess mine is a bit different though because it seems like that official definition of defensive pessimism is a little more narrow, only viewing it as a cognitive strategy, whereas I’d say mine is a mix of that plus just a more general way of thinking that is quite stable, I guess like a personality trait, or an attitude or something…? Not sure how to describe it well. Anyway, when I read that defensive pessimists perform worse in experimental tasks when encouraged to use a more positive cognitive strategy, it made me think that perhaps that’s just how it’s supposed to be, not only with cognitive strategies but also the more stable attitudes – that is, whether you’re an optimist, realist, pessimist or whatever else there is, you should just follow your brain and think the way you’re made to think, or the way you’ve learnt to think, in order to make things go well for you and be successful, rather than twist your brain wires at uncomfortable angles to tweak your thinking to what most people consider best and risk electrocuting yourself in the meantime. – What do you think? 

   Interestingly, I guess I haven’t always been a defensive pessimist. Similarly to how I wasn’t always quite as introverted as I am now. I’m pretty sure that the little Bibiel, like below age 8 or so, must’ve been an optimist, and the defensive pessimism thing has developed later on as I was gaining  new life experiences. When I wrote a post about defensive pessimism on one of my old Polish blogs as a teenager (which I remember I called “A Recipe for Luck” 😀 ) I said in there that I thought the main reason for why I ended up being a defensive pessimist was that I often experienced disappointment when expecting to go home from school, or my Mum to visit me in there during a weekend, which often ended up being cancelled or delayed multiple times for all sorts of reasons, which was an absolute catastrophe for me every single time, and that this way of coping became even more strengthened during my recovery from the Achilles tendons surgery, about which everyone kept reassuring me that it will  be okay, and which I also really wanted to believe, but didn’t really have much of an idea at all what to expect, and the whole recovery thing was a lot more difficult than I expected and I was totally unprepared mentally to handle that sort of thing. Even though I remember writing all that with a lot of certainty, I’m not sure it’s truly the direct cause of my defensive pessimism, and I don’t think it matters very much what exactly had caused it, but it sure is possible. My Mum is a bit impulsive and she would often get my hopes up telling me that she’d take me home next weekend, so then that was what kept me going all week long, until when it was almost Friday I’d learn that it won’t be happening just yet.  And so I guess over time my brain could have learned that the more frantically and desperately it’s hoping for something positive to be true, the more likely it is that it will be the opposite. If I didn’t expect to go home next weekend and lived as if it wasn’t supposed to happen, it was a lot easier to deal with such disappointments when they came, because they weren’t really actual disappointments anymore, and when I was able to go home, in a way it felt even better because I wasn’t really expecting it so it had a bit of a surprise factor to it. Generally I’ve never liked surprises very much ‘cause they’re really awkward, but a surprise weekend at home or visit from Mum was always more than cool. By the time I had the surgery I guess I was already quite an experienced  pessimist, and ruminator for sure, but it could have indeed been the ultimate thing that has cemented it into my brain for good. Regardless whatever it was that made me a defensive pessimist, in the end I can say I actually feel grateful for that, because it works for me, so why not. 

   So to answer the prompt question, is my glass half full or half empty, I’ll say the same thing that I said in the post linked above, that Bibielz expect an empty glass, and when Bibielz get a glass that’s half full, Bibielz go “Yayyyyyy! There’s water in it!” This is such a cool feeling, when you don’t expect to be able to find a single metaphorical drop of water to drink all day long, and then someone gives you a whopping HALF a glass. Who cares if it’s half empty or half full? There’s actually something in it, that’s what matters! And you relish every single metaphorical drop of it, because you don’t know when the next time will be that you’ll be granted such a luxury, and it tastes a lot better than if you were expecting it to begin with, because then it would be just normal water and you’d likely take it for granted. And it’s even better when you get half a glass of metaphorical kefir… 😉 

   Now, you tell me about your glass. 🙂 Oh yeah, and what is it actually filled with? 😀 Also if you have a mental illness, I’m curious if/how it affects the way you see your glass. 

Question of the day.

   What are some things you do to cope with stress that aren’t really productive, but not really unhealthy either? 

   My answer: 

   I guess one such thing that comes to my mind and that fulfills these criteria is sleep. If I feel really stressed, or depressed, for that matter, or anything shitty like that, and can sleep, I will usually happily jump at the chance to shut my brain down even for a little while. Sleep is one of the best methods of escapism, imo, but it sure isn’t particularly productive. Unless you happen to have a dream that gives you a solution to whatever is stressing you out, or the stress is only a matter of time and when you sleep some time through, you’ll wake up in a better, less stressful world. I’ve heard that too much sleep can be similarly unhealthy as too little sleep (I’m actually really curious why, because with too little sleep it’s obvious, but I’d like to know what exactly goes wrong when you sleep too much and why) but I suppose that compared to various other maladaptive ways in which people, including myself, try to cope with stress, oversleeping is probably relatively harmless. 

   How about you? 🙂 

Väsen “Lilla Kulturbidragsvalsen” (The Little Culture Support Waltz”.

   Hey people! 🙂 

   Today I have a charming little Swedish folk tune for you all, from a band called Väsen, which name can mean anything from spirit or a living being, to noise in Swedish. Its members are Olof Johansson (nyckelharpa) and Mikael Marin (viola) and in this particular piece I’m sharing with you today we can also hear Roger Tallroth on guitar but I believe he’s no longer part of the group. A couple months ago, one of my readers wrote to me recommending this great band to me, and while I’ve been familiar with them for a long time, I was really glad that she did because I hadn’t actually listened to their music in ages. Väsen was one of the first bands that I discovered when I started to take an interest in the thing called Nordic folk, and learn things like that there is such an instrument as nyckelharpa (which I grew to really like but I’m sure I’ve already written about it a fair bit) or a Swedish folk dance called polska (which is not to be confused with polka or polonaise, though it has a lot of common ground with the latter) which I thought was very funny because Polska is the Polish word for Poland. So soon after she wrote to me I dove back into Väsen’s music, which brought a lot of great memories with it, because while the time when I started to discover Nordic folk coincided with a rather intense time in my life, it was also a very good time overall. 

   But I think my most favourite piece by Väsen is this little pizzicato waltz, I think it’s just so incredibly beautiful! 

Question of the day.

   What’s a question we should never ask? 

   My answer: 

   My Dad has developed a really weird and kind of annoying habit over the last couple of years. If he’s gone for some longer time and only sees me when he comes back home, like after work or something, he’ll often come into my room and ask: “Are you alive?”, or if Misha is with me he’ll ask about both of us. I mean, obviously not. Which is often how I respond to that, or say that I’m just trying to figure that out myself or that I never was alive to begin with, he’s been just hallucinating, or that I’ve already started rotting so he’s extremely perceptive, but I’m starting to run out of ideas. And this has been, like, every single time for several years, like some weird, obligatory script! 😀 And it’s only something that he says to me/me and Misha, thankfully it’s not like it’s his standard, general way of greeting people, just a privilege for Bibiel. So that sometimes I start to feel suspicious. Perhaps he puts some mini doses of various poisons in my food and testing which one will finally do its job effectively but not too dramatically. 😀 

   What’s such question in your opinion? 🙂 

Ellen A. Oskal, Frode Barth, Manu Katché, Palle Mikkelborg & Trygvee Seim – “Sara Helena Bergström Skal”.

   I have mentioned it several times on here how one of the things that I like most about the Sámi joik is how very well it blends with all sorts of contemporary genres, better than any other type of folk music that I’m familiar with. ANd I’ve shared with you guys songs that blend joik together with such genres as electronic music, pop, hip-hop or bluegrass. Today it’s time for a fusion of joik with jazz. 

   This joik tune comes from an album called Árbi, which means heritage in Sámi, the result of a collaboration between Sámi singer Ellen A. Oskal and jazz musician, composer and guitarist Frode Barth, featuring various other jazz musicians. It includes joiks of various people, who I believe must be Ellen A. Oskal’s ancestors or family. Despite I’m not really a fan of jazz, I do like this album. This particular piece, as you can figure out from the title, is the joik of someone called Sara Helena Bergstrøm Oskal, and it also features  French drummer Manu Katché, Danish trumpeter Palle Mikkelborg, and Norwegian saxophone player Trygve Seim. 

Question of the day (23rd May).

   Hi people! 🙂 

   Here’s your question of the day that I was actually planning to post yesterday, so today we’ll hae two questions again. 🙂 

   What is the most fucked up thing a person you know has done? 

   My answer: 

   The first thing that comes to my mind is something that my two later to become boarding school roommates did when we were in nursery/preschool. There was one boy who, aside from obviously being blind like all of us, also had some intellectual disability and I guess something wrong with his face, a cleft palate or something. And one time when he was in the loo, they went in there and started banging his head on the walls from side to side, just as he was sitting on the loo. Thankfully someone has noticed and they got punished by it in some way. I only learned about it from them years later, and it struck me as really odd and quite hardcore cruel, because they’re normally not like that at all, and it didn’t seem like they had any clear motivation behind that, just that one of themm got such an idea and the other followed. 

   You? 🙂 

Lucy Ward – “Julia”.

   Hey people! 🙂 

   Today I’d like to share with you a song by an English singer from Derby, whose music I’ve actually already shared on here, namely her rendition of A Stitch in Time. The song that I come to you with now is from the same album – Adelphi Has to Fly – which was Lucy’s debut album and is really great as a whole. This song however was written by Lucy herself, and I really like how dark and atmospheric it sounds and have always found the lyrics intriguing. I’ve known Lucy Ward’s music for years, and I’ve always been really curious what this song was inspired by. I still don’t know that, but I still like Julia a lot, hence I’m sharing. 

Travelle – “Vacation”.

   Hey people! 🙂 

   We had some really warm and sunny weather over here for a while earlier this week, and when I was planning what to share with you in this song of the day series in the near future, I thought this song would be very fitting, with the weather that could possibly be making many people  think of taking a vacation already, but at the same time it not being the season for that just yet. Our Sofi definitely can’t wait for holidays but the harsh truth is that she’s actually going to have her exams this week, and there’s still a whole month of school ahead of her. But, as we all know, weather can change super quickly and, since yesterday, it’s actually been rather unpleasant outside, with loads of rain and cold winds and clouds. Not so vacation-like anymore. Nevertheless, I’m sharing this summery song with you anyway. It’s still fitting. This song is about being burnt out and wanting to disappear for a while, which I think are feelings that for some people might be even stronger when it’s yucky outside, or it might be totally unrelated to whatever the weather is like. Fromm what Travelle told Universal Music Norway, he wrote this when he was feeling a bit tired and dejected, when there was still ice and snow on the streets, and he had no winter shoes so he got soaked up on his way to the studio. So I think this may be quite a relatable song for many people. I myself am in such luxurious situation that I rarely feel this way these days, because I am largely in charge of my own time and have a job that isn’t particularly stressful or demanding, but I know the feeling very well from school, particularly the first and last weeks of every school year, which I’m sure is also a very common experience. 

Kaleo – “Vor í Vaglaskógi” (Spring in Vaglaskógur).

   Hey people! 🙂 

    Today, let’s listen to a song in Icelandic. I believe Kaleo is one of the more popular Icelandic acts outside of Iceland, as I know quite a handful of people from other countries who like their music. I’ve known and quite liked Kaleo for years, but this particular song was recommended to me last year by SadiRose and I instantly liked it a lot and was happy to hear that they make music in Icelandic as well, as previously I thought they had exclusively English lyrics. This song was originally a love poem, which was then made into a song in the 60’s and sung by Vilhjálmur Vilhjálmsson who was a very famous singer in his home country. I think his version is also really nice but Kaleo’s speaks to me a lot more. I’m not sure who wrote the original poem, but both  Vilhjálmsson’s and Kaleo’s credits of this song credits on Spotify mention someone called Jonas Jonasson (which perhaps should be Jónas Jónasson if he was Icelandic). I just can’t seem to find any info on a poet with this name. The Vaglaskógur mentioned in the song is a forest in the north of Iceland. It seems that the YouTube video of this song includes some English subtitles, but for people like myself who are blind and don’t speak Icelandic, the translation is below: 

   The night is ours, spring in the wood of skies
We head to the heath with our tent, where the berries grow
Take me, dear friend to the mirth of yesterdays
Where our creek runs free and the birch will blow

Light in the mountains, scent from our dearest fountains
The wind is counting your hair in the light aglow

The dew comes forth, our valley is swept with peace
Our dreams come true, who sleep in the wood of skies
On the berry hearth, the last touch of sunlight dies
And the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow

Light in the mountains, scent from our dearest fountains
The wind is counting your hair in the light aglow

Light in the mountains, scent from our dearest fountains
The wind is counting your hair in the light aglow
The wind is counting your hair

Question of the day.

   What’s something you never want to do again? 

   My answer: 

   Have another cat. Not because I regret having Misha, but for a whole bunch of other reasons, First, I feel so attached to Misha that it would be unfair on that other cat, because I’d always want him to be like Misha and probably even if he was “better” than Misha in some respects, like being more cuddly, I wouldn’t be satisfied because I’d want him to be  Misha. Also it would feel similar to as if I decided to get myself another mum or another sister if Mum or Sofi died. A new cat would definitely be out of question if I no loonger lived with my parents, as I don’t think I’d be capable to take good enough care of it. Even if I’d move out of here and live more independently while Misha would still be alive, as much as that would be sad and heart-breaking and despite he’s officially my cat, I wouldn’t take him with me. I can’t imagine giving him his eye drops when he gets his eye problems, or locating and successfully cleaning his vomit, or keeping track of where he is so that he doesn’t go out. I know blind people who are so keen on having a cat that they hang a bell around their neck so that they can know their whereabouts, but sheesh, if it were you, would you really like to hear a ringing sound every time you move? I wouldn’t feel good torturing someone like that, just because I WANT a cat. And my other reasons are consistent with those of my family’s, who also feel the same about having another cat. While knowing Misha has been one of the best things that happened in my life, I think we all feel a sense of guilt towards him at the same time. Because, well, let’s just say it out loud, in the grand scheme of things, he’s quite clearly not happy with his life. A cat who cries like Misha does when he wants out can’t possibly be happy. He thinks he’d be happy if he was an outdoor cat, which, practically, is not the most viable option for a Russian blue who has no idea about outdoor life and has always been mollycoddled, spoilt and taken care of, not to mention has had very little contact with other animals and is very anxious by nature. He can act very courageous sometimes when interacting with seagulls through the window, but that’s as far as his courage goes. He’s not even used to dealing with as much stimuli of all sorts that are out there in the world, so it’s a bit as if you kept someone in isolation and sensory deprivation for years and then you just let him out free and expect to act sane and calm and know what he’s supposed to do. 

   It’s also not a viable option for a pure-bred cat owner. You don’t buy an expensive, pure-bred cat to let him roam around freely so that someone can steal him or a fellow feline can annihilate him. So why do you buy a cat? Good question. Well yeah, ‘cause I WANT! I’m no better than those people who hang a bell round their cats’ necks. I have quite conservative views on animals, at least for today’s standards. I am not a vegan, animal rights activist, ecologist or other  selfless tree hugger. Same about the rest of my family. But the longer we live with Misha, the more we feel like we’re not fair to him. Sure, if not us, someone else would have bought him and he’d still suffer. It’s difficult to think of a life scenario for him where he wouldn’t. But if we didn’t get him, we wouldn’t be contributing to it.

   If you don’t let him out, he cries his lungs out and everyone is sad, stressed out and frustrated to no end. If you do let him go in and out as he pleases, he isn’t safe. If you try to control it and let him out at a certain time, keep an eye on him and make sure nothing bad happens, he’ll stilll cry as soon as you get him back home. Autumns and winters are very much bearable – if you don’t go out too much and if it’s not too sunny – but springs and summers are more of a nightmare each year. Especially for my Mum who has to keep an eye on the door constantly so that no one leaves them open while going out. Misha wakes up with the sun and starts roaming around the house, stopping by every window and serenading it – the sun – mournfully at the top of his lungs. He doesn’t even get much sleep, because every opening of a window or door, every sound of someone going in and out, of a bird calling, of Jocky barking, of people talking outside, every breeze or sun warmth coming through the window wakes him up, so he’s constantly undersleeped and cranky and properly hyperactive. It’s impossible not to feel pity for him, but also his constant meowing and howling and crying drives people nuts so it’s also pretty much impossible not to snap out at him at some point, especially if you’re someone like my Dad, which doesn’t help him at all. Sometimes my Mum gives in to him and lets him out on a terrace, or is just so resigned and desperate for a bit of peace and quiet that she lets him go wherever and for how long he wants, and every single day he’d go further, until at some point he’d go so far that it would start to feel really dangerous and my parents wouldn’t be able to find him, until finally at some point it’s usually one of our neighbours who would call worried that they saw Misha’s fur gleaming somewhere in the distance and give us a hint of where more or less he might be. We suppose that, if nothing bad would happen to him in the meantime, he’d always come back at some poiint, but taking such high risk and waiting when we know that he’s two houses away and could go further feels very silly and irresponsible. Every time he comes back – regardless of whether he wants it himself or someone has to bring him home – as soon as the door closes behind him, the crying starts all over again, except it’s more obnoxious. At some point my Mum realises that letting him out only makes him feel more upset and doesn’t help anything, so again the strict rules are put in place for Misha. 

   I know not every cat is like this. Perhaps even the majority are not. My aunt also has a Russian blue cat who is as laid back as it gets, in fact he seems to me like he’s on the opposite extreme to Misha, he can happily sleep on a rug and even when you pass him by and almost step on him he won’t move an inch. Sasha (the kitten we got on a whim a year after Misha and had to rehome after a few months because Misha didn’t tolerate company of his own species well at all) was a very cheerful kitten  who didn’t seem to need much at all to be happy, just a bit of attention and play, and some food that doesn’t need to be as sophisticated as Misha’s, anything edible and nice-smelling is good. Sasha did have a problem with pooping in every place possible except not where he should, the causes of which we couldn’t establish for a long time and which seemed to be emotional in nature, but eventually it turned out that it was Misha who must have scared him away from the litter box and that’s why he didn’t want to poop there but would rather do it anywhere else. I have no idea why Misha’s like this. I guess it’s just like with people and many just are born with weird brains for no apparent reason. I remember once reading an article about some study that claims that cats have a tendency to be anxious if their owners are anxious too, and vice versa. We’ve always thought it interesting how Misha and me are so similar in many ways, and same about Sofi and Jocky, and earlier Sofi and Sasha. And there’s such Polish saying that I guess could be roughly translated as like the stallholder, like the stall, which basically means that what is yours is like you, and my Mum always says that whenever the topic of Misha and Jocky being like me and Sofi respectively pops up. 😀 So perhaps it’s me who is responsible for Misha being “weird”. Misha’s mummy, with the very original name of Hansa Luft, had some problem giving birth to her offspring and so Misha was born through a C-section, and we’ve heard from a vet that used to be Misha’s vet that cats born via C-section apparently are more likely to be “weird”. Misha’s behaviour has always reminded me more of a severely traumatised shelter cat, so that sometimes I was wondering whether something awful might have happened to him at his breeder’s. He’s always been very fearful, wary of touch and closeness with people, easily upset by things – I mean even things like  slight, unexpected movements, a minor furniture rearrangement or something laying on the floor that wasn’t there whenn he looked previously. – He’s always overgroomed himself, though thankfully it never led to some more serious complications like I’ve heard it does in many cats who do. He doesn’t purr like normal. I have absolutely no problem with that, I love his quiet, soft purr which is more palpable than audible unless you literally  put your ear to his chest or face, but the truth is that it just isn’t a normal purr. 

   Last year, as you perhaps remember if you’ve been around on here back then, Mum took Misha to a behaviourist and he said that the only viable option he sees is to medicate Misha and he gave him fluoxetine/Prozac, which really shocked me initially but, like, what else can you do, I guess there’s no talk therapy for pets that you could try first. 😀 So my Mum gave him that Prozac, which wasn’t easy to administer at all because it was pills and it must be a nightmare giving pills to a cat judging from their struggles. Mum had to wrap Misha up in a blanket so he couldn’t move and scratch her or run away, force open his mouth, give him the pill, close his mouth and hold his face till he swallowed so that he wouldn’t spit it out. Not fun. It wasn’t long until Misha started to recognise the signs that it was pill time and would run away and hide. Moreover, the fluoxetine was making him very drowsy and he wasn’t quite himself. His crying had reduced a lot, indeed, but not because he felt calmer or happier, just because he slept through pretty much all day long. When he was awake, he continued to cry. Mostly though, it felt like there was no Misha anymore, just a little ball of fur with no Misha inside. He mostly hid under beds and didn’t want to interact with us almost at all. Sometimes I would find him somewhere and cuddle him and he’d seem to fall asleep in my arms but that was very clearly simply because he was totally indifferent rather than was in a more cuddly mood. I might’ve as well been cuddling a lifeless teddybear. At some point both my Mum and Sofi started realising that he doesn’t even actually sleep when he is under those beds, just lies there on his belly staring emptily into space with his eyes wide open. He ate very little. When he was awake and you’d call him, he’d just look at you and continue sitting like a statue where he was, a bit like he was too weak to carry out the complicated activity of motivating himself to stand up, standing up, moving his paws and walking to wherever the calling was coming from. Not even Mish ice cream did the trick. So finally, with all the pill troubles getting worse and Misha clearly not feeling well, Mum said she was worried that he could just die one day while laying sleeplessly like that, and we decided it’s best to stop giving him the Prozac, because we wanted Misha back and it was starting to feel rather creepy. He gradually did come back, and his crying wasn’t so much of an issue anymore, so we were hoping that perhaps it will just get better. 

   But this year, spring came again and finally it seemed like my Mum has reached her limit and was at witts end for what to do, as she and Misha basically kept repeating the same cycle with this whole going out thing every year, as if hoping that finally there will be a time when it’ll work and everyone will live happily everafter, whatever “happily” might mean for poor little Misha. And she said that perhaps he should try Prozac again, maybe if she stuck to it for longer than last year, which was only about a week, he’d start tolerating it better and get back to his normal self. And so she started giving him the pills again. She has even been to the vet, asking if there perhaps is another medication that Misha could take, that he’d perhaps tolerate better, or a different form of fluoxetine like liquid, but, surprisingly to me, he said that no. I did some research beforehand and there clearly are people out there who give their cats fluoxetine in liquid form or even topical, or use feromones to deal with emotional problems with cats, so I wonder if he’s just opposed to anything else or what. Instead, he actually said that Mum could even give Misha one whole pill rather than just a half as last year – one half in the morning and one in the evening – and if it’s a problem she could hide the pill in a bit of food. He clearly doesn’t know Misha. I honestly don’t even understand how other cats are so gullible that they can eat a pill with food just fine. Mum tried it first thing last year, but Misha would spit it out as soon as he’d taste the pill in the food. I sometimes feel like veterinarians underappreciate animals’ intelligence. Like when Misha once had to have a urine test, he was supposed to pee into some fake litter, and, much as we expected, he didn’t, because it wasn’t his litter. Is Misha really in a minority who is too smart/hypersensitive? I kind of doubt it, though I know nothing about other cats.

   Also there didn’t seem to be much point in upping his dose if the lowest one zonks him out so effectively. It’s not like he’s aggressive or something. I don’t think I even realised before that SSRI’s can be sleepifying like that, but perhaps it’s just different with cats’ brains than people’s. 

   He’s started taking it at the beginning of May and it’s clearly going better this time than last time because he’s a bit more social and lively than he was then in that he doesn’t hide so much and even plays a bit when he’s awake and is a lot more cuddly and a bit more relaxed than he normally is which doesn’t seem to be just a result of indifference, but he still sleeps through most of the day and night. It always used to be so that Misha woke up first, now he’s often still asleep when I wake up, and I’ve been rarely waking up before 9 this month, most of the time around 11. He yawns literally AAAAALLLLLL the time, and despite he sleeps so much his sleep seems to be very shallow, so perhaps that’s exactly why he sleeps so much more to compensate for it. He also seems very weak, or tired or I don’t know how else to call it. Just acts as if he had very little energy and reacts to everything very slowly. The pill administering hasn’t been easy for my Mum, because it’s so unpleasant for them all and my Mum is worried that he’ll develop bad associations with her, or will at some point totally refuse to take the pills, but we always try to give him something yummy right after he swallows it so he can forget about everything as soon as possible. I also firmly believe that, as much as Misha is very anxious, he also has some really impressive amounts of patience and gentleness for people, I’m not exactly sure how to describe it. I know that Mum actually realises it herself too, because he showed this virtuous trait of his very much during and right after Sasha’s stay with us, and Mum herself called it that Misha has a very “noble character”. So that even if people have to do something unpleasant to him, or do it thoughtlessly or accidentally, even if it affects him a lot he keeps being gentle-mannered, as classy as ever and good-naturedly understanding and forgiving of his peeps’ countless weaknesses. I think he might just understand in his little brain that Mum’s new whim is to give him this yucky pill every day, and he really doesn’t like it but, oh well… he still loves Mum. Today it actually went very smoothly and Misha didn’t even protest at all, so there’s hope that it’ll continue to go in this direction.

   But the biggest concern for me is that he has almost stopped pooping. I mean it’s really getting serious, because yesterday he cried so loudly and pitifully whenn he was in the loo, and was there for so long but nothing came out. Normally you could almost set the clock by his pooping, he would poop every day at pretty much the same hour, unless his breakfast was a lot later than typically, but now it’s good if he poops every three days. Unfortunately Mum wasn’t home when Misha cried yesterday in his loo so she could hear it, only Sofi and me did and told her about it, oh yeah and Misha very clearly tried too but Mum can’t speak his language. He ran to her as soon as she came back (he doesn’t really run much ever since he’s been on fluoxetine) and made a wailing sound which made us laugh because it sounded as if he was saying “Muuuuuummmmmmmyyyyyy!” And then kept following her and crying. She wasn’t particularly concerned. Probably because she didn’t hear how awful it sounded when he was in the loo. I’ve given her my card already when Misha first started to seem constipated and have been telling her for a long time to buy him some Miralax and she keeps saying that she will but she still hasn’t despite going to town almost every day. 

   So yeah, really, I most definitely wouldn’t want to make another cat feel unhappy like that. 

   What is such a thing for you?  🙂 

Haloo Helsinki “Tuntematon” (Unknown/Stranger).

   Hey people! 🙂 

   I thought I’d share some Finnish music today for a change, because while Sámi music is now better represented on my blog than it used to be, there’s still few Finnish songs on here. Haloo Helsinki is a great rock Finnish band and as far as I’m aware they’re pretty popular and chart-topping in their motherland. Finnish radio stations that I’ve listened to definitely like to play them. I have already shared one song by them in the early days of my blog. A couple years ago (guess it was 2018) I had a phase where I was listening to Radio Suomipop all the time. My computer was away being fixed, and I had some bad Finnish music cravings and found that radio station in the stations catalogue on my Braille-Sense which can play Internet radio. I didn’t have an iPhone or anything like that back then yet. And, discovered a LOT of cool Finnish pop via this station, their playlist was just so extremely repetitive, and this song was among their particular favourites as it seemed. I haven’t listened to them in ages now but I wouldn’t be surprised if they still played it like every hour. 😀 I originally really liked it just like pretty much everything from Haloo Helsinki, but Radio Suomipop made me feel really fed up with it, and it took some time before I could listen to it again with a fresh mind. 😀 It’s also a bit funny for me as a Polish speaker because during my Suomipop phase, Sofi heard this song once while being in my room and she claimed that there’s a Polish swearword in the chorus. I’d never paid any attention to that, but once Sofi said that I too started hearing it very clearly, even though what she’s actually saying is korvamaton which means priceless in Finnish, at least according to DeepL. DeepL also claims that the title of this song means either unknown or stranger. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to find an English translation for you, or actually the only one I did find seems to have a broken link or something. But I fed DeepL the original lyrics and it seems to be something about how we all have different backgrounds and experiences and are in a way strangers to each other and about fear and stuff like that. 

Question of the day.

   If you could move to anywhere in the world, where would you go and why? 

   My answer: 

   I would most likely stay where I am. I like it here, and moves are very stressful. But if I HAD to move, and could choose anywhere I wanted, and it would be doable logistically, I’d move to Wales, preferably to North Wales, most happily somewhere in Gwynedd close to the sea, and I’d establish my little hermitage in there. 😀 

   You? 🙂 

Alexander Rybak – “Let the Music Guide You”.

   Hey people! 🙂 

   Continuing the recent Sámi theme on my blog, I thought I’d share with you one more song which is not Sámi, but inspired by joik and with joik influences, from the Belarussian-born Norwegian singer Alexander Rybak, best known (at least to Europeans) for winning the Eurovision Song Contest in 2009 with his song Fairytale, and for playing the violin. Some of my readers might also remember that he is Sofi’s childhood crush, who, as it happens, was introduced to her by a certain Bibiel, who was totally unaware what sort of results it will have and that the whole household will end up having to listen to his “Oah” on repeat for two weeks, and whom she still listens to a lot and has a strong sentiment for. I definitely don’t like all of his music, but some of his songs are really good, and I have already shared three other songs by him on here, one children’s song sung in Norwegian called Dyrene i Afrika (The ANimals in Africa),  which is so easy that I had managed to translate it even though I wasn’t learning Norwegian then yet, then a cover of a Swedish song by Mats Paulson called Visa vid Vindens ängar (Song at the Wind’s Meadows), and the third one a song in English by another ESC contestant from Romania – Roxen – called Wonderland in which he plays the violin. I think this one is really nice and I like the Sámi influence in it. 

Question of the day.

   What is the least stressful job there is? 

   My answer: 

   I guess it’s really hard to say without having worked in a given profession, and also that while what you do as part of your job is very important, it also matters in what sort of environment you work and other circumstances. My job at my Dad’s is probably as low-stress as it gets, but I’m sure that there are many office worker/secretary people who can’t say the same about their job. I don’t know how this thing is called in English, or even if it is a thing at all, but I’d think the sort of small, manual jobs  that one can do at home here, which are usually a source of additional income but for some people who are otherwise unemployable for any reason it might be their only job or especially it used to be the case in the past, like assembling pens, or cartboard boxes, packing up leaflets etc. Shouldn’t be particularly stressful. But I have a feeling that most people who decide to take on such jobs may already have lives that are stressful enough at least in the financial sphere, if not any others. Besides, they can’t be particularly interesting or even mildly challenging, and I think long-term boredom/lack of real purpose can be experienced as kind of stressful in a way too. 

   What are your ideas? 🙂 

Jarŋŋa – “Äno Jiedna” (Voice of the River).

   Hey people! 🙂 

   As I said yesterday when sharing a song by the Swedish Sámi singer Katarina Rimpi, I was thinking about sharing a song by her band Jarŋŋa at some point, and I figured that since I’ve been sharing quite a lot of Sámi music lately anyway so why not do it right away. Jarŋŋa is the Sámi word for the widest part of a lake, and this band consists of the aforementioned Katarina Rimpi, as well as another singer called Mandy Senger. This is my favourite joik tune by them.