I’ve been a temporary time-traveler for over six years now, catapulting myself into the past for a couple of weeks or so every summer and around christmas. There isn’t much left for me here except for memories and for my family. Everything looks the same as it used to, everything is the same, it’s just me that’s changing. It’s probably the same for everyone travelling back to the place they grew up in. The thing about my hometown though is that it doesn’t change much over the years. It’s one of those sleepy little places where restaurants and shops might change owners and branding, but the people going to them never change, so the identity and feeling of the place always stays the same.

There’s also a lot that hasn’t changed at all. There’s still three Vietnamese restaurants in the city and you can still get spring rolls on the high-street on summer nights, the pub I used to go to as a teen is still the same, even though it moved to a larger building, the clothing stores are the same, the kebab place that serves ungodly portions of fat meat is still the same. There’s so many memories and stories interwoven with every place, every street, every building, because there aren’t that many of them. This is only a town of 20 000 people after all.

I remember all the summer nights spent partying in the park, the nights me and Joanna used to drive around town and sing along to cheesy music, the days at the summerhouse. I suddenly remember playing in the attic of our garden shed. I used to call it the secret headquarters and tried to sleep there one summer night when I was ten. It was dark and smelled of dust and hay and mold. Late at night it started raining and some tomcats were fighting in the garden outside. They made gurgly howling noises and I couldn’t stop thinking about ghosts and aliens and zombies, so I gave up, climbed down the ladder and ran to the safety of my bed. We went up there last weekend, me, my brother, my cousin and Joanna. The floor was rotting away and my cousin almost fell through. For some reason it had seemed cozier when I was ten.

I’m thinking a lot about stories like that when I’m here. I guess the flood gates of nostalgia have opened wide. I’ve forgotten what it would be like to live here and most of my memories are fading into anecdotes anyway. But I still like coming back here. Being back means falling into a different pace, it’s like stepping out of real life and breathing for a while. It’s grounding. Leaving and changing gears is the hardest part. Coming here and slowing down is also hard. The transition hurts.

I have a day left of eating mom’s food and plowing through some of the books I’ve bought and not read over the years. There’s rows upon rows of unfinished Kafka, Sartre, Miller and Marquez in my bookshelf. I’ll leave all of them behind when I go back home (my other home, my real home?). Maybe it’s for the best, I’m only going to buy more books I’ll never finish anyway. On Saturday I’m going down to Helsinki to meet some more friends and after that it’s time to unpause my life and get back to present day reality again.

It is  a truth universally acknowledged that journalists and writers must  never write about writing and above all… never write about how difficult it is to write. When I wrote columns that’s one of the first things the more senior journalists told me and it’s a rule I’ve tried to stick to ever since, until now.

I started this blog as an attempt to write more serious posts, to try to cover a topic and not let my own life stray into the mix so much. The fail-button has been blinking throughout the project. It didn’t work.

I’m used to writing more personal texts online and frankly leaving a lot of myself and my personal life out of the equation is just boring. I was going to just quietly change the direction of this blog (it was pretty much dead anyway), but then I changed my mind and felt like I needed to get this post out of my system.

I started blogging in 98. It was all part of my personal website and I had to update the html every time I wanted to upload a new post. I can’t remember what I wrote about, but I suspect there was a lot of existential rambling going on. I also quickly learned that whatever you write online will be read by real people. Talking shit about friends in my blog wasn’t probably the most intelligent thing to do, but at least it taught me a lesson (sorry L & S om ni kommer ihåg vad jag pratar om).

After that I moved on to good old Livejournal. It was a safe and cozy environment to grow up in as a blogger. I was part of a close-knit network of about a hundred strangers that shared intimate details of their lives with each other. I’ve followed some of the same bloggers on LJ for almost ten years now (TEN YEARS!!). I feel like I really know these people, or at least the personality they’ve projected of themselves online, the same way they know the parts about me I’ve chosen to share online.

But as I grew older livejournal started feeling a bit scary, I didn’t know who was reading and I didn’t feel a sort of teenage compulsion to share everything about my life anymore. I still liked writing though.

Growing up online is confusing. How do you mix your professional and personal voice when everything is connected and a quick google search can bring up all kinds of dirt? Maybe the answer is being totally transparent. Or stage-managing your online presence until you’ve turned yourself into a brand. I’m too lazy for branding, so I’ll just stick to a strange mix of eclectic narcissism and hope for the best.

How many different ways are there now of changing your Twitter avatar to show your support for democracy in Iran? So far I’ve counted three. One for the conformists, one for the non-conformists and one for people who realized what the fuss was all about a bit too late and now don’t want to look like they’re not politically aware.

I’m suspecting the avatars on my Twitter feed will stay green for quite a long time, because when do you decide it’s time to switch back? When the protests die down? When Obama decides to invade? When Khamenei manages to suppress the rebellion? Or maybe when that influential tweeter you follow suddenly ditches the green and it’s alright to not be politically correct anymore?

Most people who are going green are preaching to the converted. It’s nice to be able to pat each other on our virtual backs and say, yes, we feel for the people in Iran too. Compassion is good, caring about what’s going on in Tehran right now is good, discussing it is good. But turning your avatar green is sort of like the people who go to LiveAid because it makes them feel better and it shows the rest of the world that they’re actually good people who care. It wont change anything and it will not help anyone.

There are other ways where being connected and viral can help, where the web has already played a vital part in the conflict. Ordinary Iranians tweeting was a way of getting information out there that traditional news sources might not otherwise had access too. And more importantly, the video showing a sniper killing Neda Agha-Soltan probably did more than anything to both escalate the conflict in Iran and make the world even more aware of what’s going on. It’s like Tianamen square all over again. Except this time ordinary people with mobile phones can capture and share news like never before.

During a relatively short space of time citizen journalism has pwned both traditional media and oppressing authorities. The video of Ian Tomlinson getting pushed by a police officer during the G20 demonstrations in London is in a lot of ways similar to the video of Neda being killed. Finding ways of spreading actual content like that online will make a difference, making it easier for citizen journalists everywhere to record and upload news will help. Turning your avatar green for a while might look nice, but is ultimately pointless.

I’ve been covering the EU elections here in the UK today. Mostly did my interviews in and around Stoke Newington and everyone I spoke to voted green. I’m guessing that’s just an anomaly for the area, considering there are a lot of 30-somethings, artists, organic shops and young families around here.

I’ve always been interested in UK politics, maybe it has something to do with the combination of overt politeness and horrible viciousness. I love the fact that these men (mostly) conduct their politics sitting opposite each other in a room that probably hasn’t changed much over the last couple of centuries. There’s even a line on the floor that they aren’t allowed to cross, because if they did they might be able to cut down their political opponent with their sword. It all sounds very quaint doesn’t it.

I also like the jargon which seems almost silly at times, MPs getting really worked up about something, shouting insults, making loud noises. It’s like a sort of civilized football game.

However it seems like the UK government is in for some big changes. I don’t think it can all be blamed on the expenses scandal, it’s just time for a change. It’s something that seems to happen pretty regularly in UK politics. The Tories and Labour taking turns at being in power every ten years or so. People get tired and disillusioned with one party and want change.

Although I can’t really see there being much of a difference between the parties anymore. Tony Blair brought Labour into the center and David Cameron is doing the same with the conservatives. The only reason people would vote for him is because they’re tired of Brown.

Yesterday I thought Brown might have to resign early next week, today I’m not so sure. He seems to be able to cling to his thrown pretty well. Maybe other people will go and Brown will be safe. Whatever happens during the election today will probably be a deciding factor.

Ehm… starting a 30 day blog project the day before a friend is coming to visit you for five days wasn’t really the best timed plan I’ve come up with in my life. I’ve missed a few days, but I will keep going. I’m aiming for quantity here and I’ll see where it takes me.

I’m still finding it difficult to deal with the overt political bias of the British newspapers. I almost choked on my pasta when I read the editorial in today’s The Times. It was a pretty good piece about the upcoming EU elections, however the political message wasn’t very difficult to miss, it was glaringly obvious. The piece was called “The Choice for Europe” and the second sentence stated

No party has made a convincing case for the EU but the Conservative Party is the only viable choice.

The rest of the editorial was arguing why everyone should vote conservative. I’m suspecting that The Times has a conservative or on-the-fence readership that might appreciate editorials that support their view of the world. People who buy the Guardian are probably equally used to reading pieces that confirm their view of the world. How boring. If you read a paper that will never challenge your view of the world, then you never learn anything new.

I wouldn’t say the press in Scandinavia is unbiased, but at least it tries to be. You’d never see an editorial actually trying to persuade the readers to vote for a certain party. It just wouldn’t work. Mostly because that paper would completely lose the trust of its readership.

I’ve avoided most newspapers today. Why? Because of Britain’s Got Talent. I have no wish to pick up papers with deeply unflattering photos of Susan Boyle on the cover and then read about her “rise and fall” from fame. Poor Susan, if she had only known what she waded into.

Most of you have probably heard of her by now, the Scottish spinster with a cat named Pebbles who became an internet sensation over night. Her appearence on Britain’s Got Talent was edited into a seven minute long Youtube clip that’s now had more views than the Superbowl and the Oscars. People all over the world fell in love with Susan and her dream and the amazingly over-simplified narrative of that clip. In seven minutes you get almost every movie, book and fairytale out there. The underdog wins, the ugly duckling turns into a swan (sort of). Simon Cowell smiles at the ugly 50-year-old woman and hearts mealt across the globe.

It’s such a simple, yet effective story. The world suddenly identified with Susan and her struggles. She became the ugly spinster inside all of us. But then it got too much and the adoration escalated to Princess-Di-esque heights. Susan was everywhere and she was amazing, she was going to win, she could do nothing wrong. She was the people’s spinster. But was she really worth it all? Yeah, wasn’t she a bit strange? Was her voice really that amazing?

The public loves when the underdog becomes a winner, but they also love seeing the winner fail. In the matter of a month Susan Boyle experienced both. It must be hard enough for a seasoned celebrity to deal with the ups and downs of fame and almost impossible for a lonely spinster from Scotland who’s never been in the limelight before.

Hopefully all of this wont destroy Susan completely. She’s gone from being adored to being bullied and she’s not famous enough to write a tell-it-all book about her troubles. She’s not famous enough for the public to embrace another rise to fame. Instead she will probably fade into oblivion like Sarah Palin and other media created monsters, remembering the month when she was famous on Youtube and got interviewed on Oprah.

The moral of the story seems to be, don’t try to become famous, because no matter how harmless you seem, people are still going to start hating you at some point.

Three months ago I gave up my job, a good pay check and a pretty calm and quiet life in Helsinki to start freelancing. It wasn’t an easy choice and was it preceded by a couple of nights of caffeine fuelled thoughts buzzing around in my head. Will I make it? Will I make enough money? What will I do? How is it all going to turn out? Since there was no way of predicting how it would turn out I was basically walking along in the darkness for a while, taking a leap of faith into the unknown. It’s so far been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made in my life.

I’m loving working for myself because it means I get to challenge myself every day. It’s not always easy, but at least I know I’m actually doing it all for myself and for my future, not for someone else. If you’ve ever toyed with the idea of going freelance or becoming self-employed, here’s a few things I’ve learned along the way.

1. It’s always easier than you think

Whatever it is you’re going to do, you’ll most likely come up with worst case scenarios that are far, far worse than anything that could happen to you in real life. Usually when you actually start doing the things you’re afraid of or the things that challenge you, you’ll realise that it’s a lot easier than you thought. Because when you’re actually walking along whatever path you’ve chosen you’re going to deal with all the problems and opportunities one day at a time. There’s rarely going to be a huge lump of issues thrown at you at once. Instead you can do it all in your own pace, dealing with the issues one at a time when and if they happen to show up. Life is never scary when you’re actually living it, it’s a lot more scary in your own head.

2. Deciding to do it is the hardest part

Actually deciding to go freelance was the hardest part of it all. When I’d actually made that choice the rest was easy. Then I knew what I was going to do and could just start doing it. When you’ve made your choice and by that I mean, when you’re really, absolutely certain that this is what you want to do, then the rest will follow. All you have to do is let go and get out there and do your thing.

3. Self-discipline is important

I’m still trying to learn this part. I got a really good advice from someone who’s been freelancing for five years, having goals help. A goal for the day, for the week and for every month. Then you have something to get up for every morning and you have actual achievements to look back on every day. It makes it easier for you to schedule your days and your work and probably makes you accomplish more than you would otherwise do. It’s also an opportunity for you to reward yourself when you’ve done something really well.

Yesterday I wrote about freelancers Amanda Lindhout and Nigel Brennan who were kidnapped in Somalia nine months ago. Now it seems like the Australian government is planning to free Brennan but don’t want the media to write about it. Apparently media coverage will make it more difficult to secure a release.

Maybe that’s why, according to the Frontline blog, other kidnapping cases involving journalists that aren’t freelance have been kept out of the media. Apparently big news organizations go out of their way to hush up stories about their staffers being kidnapped. They also seem to be able to secure a release a lot sooner.

Not talking about it and paying the ransom might be the fastest route to securing a release, which in the end is more important than anything else. However these stories do need to get out there. If there’s more victims suffering without anyone knowing about it, shutting up about it doesn’t seem like such a brilliant strategy to me.

Ok you guys. It’s time to roll up my sleeves. I’ve been neglecting blogging for too long. One of the reasons is that pesky addictive little thing called twitter with it’s lure of insta-feedback and a never-ending stream of random thoughts. It’s sort of like being plugged into a hive mind. Sometimes fun, sometimes confusing, sometimes very boring. But it’s also very very addictive. That’s why I’ve decided to go back to my roots and start blogging again.

To challenge myself a bit I’ve decided to write one blog post every day for the next 30 days. It’s going to be interesting to see how it works out, especially on those days when I’m utterly hungover or over-loaded with work. But actually having a goal makes it a bit easier to not just give up after two or so days. If I just decided to blog as much as possible I’ll probably write one post and then give up.

I’m hoping this will also give my jolly days as a freelancer some sort of regularity and structure. If I know there’s one thing I’ll have to do every single day, I might get a bit more organized, which always = WIN.

So there it is. It’s set in stone, posted online, I’m going to blog every day for 30 days. Beware!