Uwaga, uwaga!

Riikka, a gorgeous girl who writes oh so beautifully, and sometimes melancholically, about love and music and Paris and life and butterflies, gave me an award and asked me to reveal some secrets or unknown facts about myself.

Before continuing with the facts, I’d like to pass this meme on to... yrkesskadad because she’s the best friend a girl could ask for (I miss you!!!!); knickknacks because her comments are always lovely; the reasonable environmentalist because I miss her too and want to see her answers; and señorita (in case she hasn’t done this one) because she loves memes (+ she’s supergorgeous). It’d be nice seeing everyone else doing it too, though, so just let me know if you grab the challenge.

Well, here we go:

1) I love having my feet scratched, and that’s probably the quickest way to my heart. It’s something that seems to run in the family: sometimes my brother will walk into my room at midnight, demanding me to scratch his back (he’s the spoilt one).

2) If it wasn’t for my complete lack of self-discipline I would probably be living on cottage cheese and strawberries, just like all those Polish girls I used to know. My idea of beauty is somewhat twisted, but it’s ok, let’s blame the media.

3) Every time I read about someone who’s living or has lived in Central Europe or the Balkans I’m filled with an unexplainable void which shows quite a resemblance to jealousy. One day, when I’m rich, I’m going to have a summer cottage in the Hungarian countryside, or a beautiful flat in Budapest. This is probably one of the few reasons I want to get rich because being "poor" doesn’t really bother me that much.

4) I’m afraid of peacocks, cows and chicken. And no, there probably isn’t any logical explanation for this. There is no way I can watch films about Nazis either, unless I’m begging for nightmares. This fear, I believe, makes more sense.

5) This isn’t a secret because everyone who has seen me in real life knows what I look like, but... I look a lot younger than I am, and I’m seriously considering chopping off a few years of my real age (in order to postpone any age related crises). The other day my brother, the same one who likes having his back scratched, spent a good half hour in shock after hearing that I’m 2 years older than he thought I was. So from now on, I’m 22. OK?

6) I used to live in the same spot as Friedrich Engels, and just one street from the Moscow house where the young Leo Tolstoy spent the winters with his family. That’s kinda cool.

7) It’s very likely that I’m the only person with my name in the whole world. Combine a Swedish first name with an uncommon Finnish surname (everyone with that particular surname is family), and you get uniqueness.