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A rock fan. A thinker. A psychic empath and a channel, a Tarot reader. A single polyandrist looking; The lover of men, kings, and gods. An eternal romance analyzer.  A romantic pervert. Generation X Rebel. A psycho-spiritual life coach.

The day the spirits burned my diaries

This one I'll never forgive them

There’s a lesson to be learned here. If you have “spirit guides”, they may give you the worst advice… Don’t listen to everything they say. We all know “the voices” can tell you to do stuff you’ll later regret, like to jump off a building because you’ve been convinced that you can fly. The God voice still doesn’t understand why is it that people cannot fly… Well, I don’t have to tell you why.


It was 2012, I was still under the impression that my spirit guides were actually on a higher level of understanding than I was, and I was, despite my doubts, doing my best to give them the benefit of the doubt and trust them. I was trying to teach myself blind trust. Blind trust, by the way, not the way to go. Not at all. Make them earn your trust.

I am too embarrassed to tell you what promise made me decide to burn those diaries.

An obsessive writer

When I was a teenager, I used to escape the boredom of my world into writing diaries. I am an obsessive writer, I have always been, I think by writing. My world makes sense once it’s in the written form.

I started writing diaries in January 1992 on a daily basis, after getting a ready dated diary for Christmas. It only had one page for each day, which wasn’t nearly enough space, but what it taught me was to make it into a steady habit.

I kept it up until December 1996, after which I moved to Tampere, and no longer felt like I was bored to shits.

My mother’s idea of what was in those diaries

My mother, apparently, thought the contents of my diaries were mainly me going: “mom is a piece of shit, my mom sucks, mom is an idiot…”. This is basically what I sound like now. 😀 I guess it was her maturity compared to mine, she KNEW that she deserved that. 😉 Now I’m old enough to know she was right… 😉

In reality, my diaries contained the odd occasional line about my mom. “Went shopping to Seinäjoki with mom”, that kind of stuff. If there had been an unusually strong fight, I would have summed it up as “had a fight with mom”. As what else is fucking new, right? I wouldn’t WASTE my precious pages on complaining about her. One of those diaries cost me 100 markkas, which was a lot of money, NO WAY I would waste that paper on blabbing about my mom like some fucking loser! (Luckily this digital space is a lot, lot cheaper, and the loser title is not far from reality.)

What I wrote about was rock n’ roll and my philosophical ponderings. They were about boys whenever I had something to say – which was most of the time. Philosophy, guys, and rock n’ roll, the main themes of my diaries.

It is important you burn your diaries

In 2012, I visited home and I was urged, by the spirits, to burn my diaries. It was important, apparently, to keep them out of the hands of… “the press” in the future. I had always written them thinking I’d publish them one day, in some edited form, and my mom, in spirit, was scared shitless that would happen. She is still scared to shits someone might read my writing, hence 0 blog readers after 19 years of blogging. Thanks mom for blocking my manifestation power completely… (There are other reasons, I admit. Plenty of them.)

Anyway, as the celebrity aspect was already emerging, I believed the voices. I was still a novice in the spiritual exploration, and I wanted to show them good faith and torched the diaries. The dozens of them.

The random page about Aerosmith

Before I did, I opened one of them at random. It was the description of the Aerosmith concert during which the backstage door dude asked me to come meet the band. What a choice. And yet… I burned them. I have such a need to get them back, that I keep imagining some crazy scenario of them rematerializing somehow. I am in no way purged or relieved they are gone like my mother feels… Because nobody will ever find out how much I hated her growing up. The irony is that I never hated her. Even if I could say I feared her and wanted nothing more than to move out, I never hated her. Now I do. Now I most certainly do.

“Mom is so stupid!”

The sad thing is, that the one word that I kept hearing among the emotional noise regarding my diaries was “tyhmä”, as in “stupid”. I thought what the voices were saying was that I’d embarrass myself if people knew how stupid I was at the time. However, the little texts that I have left from those days… I know I wasn’t stupid. Far from it. The voice was my mother saying it would be embarrassing for people to hear how I kept telling them “mom is stupid”. I wish she had secretly read a page or two. There was never a word about how stupid she is, all of that was completely in her own head… And now, I have no way of proving it.

This is how my missguides earned their name.

The few lines left

You can’t take your hand off the hand of life,
But don’t let it walk you.
Dance with it.
1995 (19 yr.)

You are the only person in this world,
who you can’t live without.

You are the only person in this world,
who you can’t send away when you feel like it.

I wanna forget that I exist.

1995 (I remember exactly what I was feeling and thinking writing this. I was so frustrated with myself and my lack of skill compared to what I wanted to achieve. What I wanted to do, I’m not sure, but I think I wanted to write songs.)

Parents hate rock music because it
keeps the kids distracted from school.
– and for the very same reason, the kids love it.
1994 (18)

A man does his everything
for the woman he loves
except betray his best friend.
1993 (17)

I’d like to but I can’t
I could but I don’t want to.
Beginning of 1992 (16)

I can deal with guys
the only problem is:
They can’t deal with me!
Beginning of 1992


I am still that same person. Only a lot more of the same. And about a hundred times more frustrated with very similar frustrations. It would have been good to have the chance to compare those texts to my current ones… But. Unless they materialize out of thin air again, they’re gone.


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