Halla

...means "tall" in Quenya.

My brushes dried. I forgot to clean them properly after my friend died. I managed to save a few of them, but none will be quite as good as they were before. Eventually I managed to finish the painting, however, and if you want to see it, head over to Tindomë Art to take a look. I think it's really good, or at least shows progress. I see many things I could have done better but I'm going to be stubborn and be happy with it anyway.

Also, I hate to have to say it, but I did join DeviantART finally. I have resisted bravely for a very long time, because of... several reasons. But to promote my art, well, I couldn't very well avoid it any longer. And so, there's a Tindome Art page there, too...
And then, I uploaded so many pictures to there and elsewhere, that my mobile modem hit the limit and I am now on a ~30kb-speed for the rest of the month. And have been, for a week. Ah, takes me back, doesn't it... It FEELS quicker than the old 56k modem I used to be on waaay back when, but then, the webpages are sometimes better coded, and my computer certainly is quicker.

I've worked a little. I went home for a while. I managed to get an appointment with a doctor and every time I do, it seems they have raised the fee. This one apparently didn't quite listen to me. Sure, he prescribed some medicine to me, but once again, it's all about treating the symptoms, not the cause. When I went to buy the medicines, I managed to talk my way out of buying two of them. One, because I already got one of my sweethearts' emergency inhalators of that one, and the other because the lady at the counter told me "oh, and you know there's morphine in this one, so you might get a bit drow..." "Excuse me? Sorry, did you just say morphine?" "Yes. It's only on prescription, and classified as a narcotics, so..." "I practice four days a week. I'm an elite practicioner of my martial art [well, it's not THAT much of a stretch, really]. I can't, and I don't want, to imbibe morphine. Sorry. What is it supposed to do?"
And of course, all the medicine was supposed to do was to relax muscles around the lungs, to help me not cough so violently. That, however, I can bloody well find something for that is not prescribed medicine or narcotics. Once again, then, a mild noseburn in regards to healthcare! And I know some "friends" have decided my rage against the system is directed to them, personally - well, it isn't. You just work in it, and you can't really do much about it, or about the people who give directions to their underlings, the ones who do the real work, to NOT treat people but instead try and send them home in as many cases as possible.
And it is also directed to those who have tried to send me home, to those who did not listen, to those who try to treat the symptoms but not the cause and to those who disbelieve me.

But we shall see. The medicine I'm inhaling seems to be working, even if it is but something temporary. I didn't even get directions on for how long I was supposed to take it. And he quite evidently did not listen to me when I told him I practice, practice a lot, and practice hard. Oh well, if I collapse on the floor, I can at least point finger. That's got to count for something... or whatever.

I spent many, many hours playing Dynasty Warriors 7 with brother Sludge when I went home. It was great.

Been writing shortstories, and am looking to submit to an actual paying publisher. It's going to be fun to see if it works. The one I'm working on at the moment is an LGBT-oriented one.

Speaking of which, I admit I feel better in regards to relationships now. Recently I felt for the first time something like being not devastatingly sad about not being together with fox anymore. The song "Into the Blue" by Cain's Offering springs to mind, and is really quite apt.
It is such a huge relief to know I do not have to strangle myself - and this means, oddly enough to some, that I feel a lot more secure in my current relationships. They feel perfectly "enough", which is the wrong word for it. But I don't chafe or feel constrained. I suppose at the moment I come closer to something like "poly-fidelity" - I love my sweethearts deeply, very deeply and they make me smile, and I have not now, nor have ever had an urge to seek out anyone new. The difference is I know I could find someone new and it wouldn't immediately be all high drama and angst. I can meet one of the ladies I like and kiss her and it's not a problem. I can do the same to any friend, if I feel like it, and I don't have to have a huge ball of regret and guilt in the pit of my stomach, which I got before if I was even contemplating said action.
I can. I generally, however, don't, whatever it is about. I mostly just want to spend time with my sweethearts, clothed, awake, asleep or otherwise. I like other people too, and some I'd like to know better and perhaps have a more intimate relationship with, for a given value of "intimate". Usually the issue is simply "time". Me and certain people are lamenting that fact, but at least one of those and I have a very similar and relaxed attitude to the whole thing, which is great. We meet, we hang out, there's no pressure.

Speaking of which, it is a bit odd how people translate "went home to" to "had sex with". I don't live that near the central parts of this horrible town, so if I've a friend who does, yes, I will occasionally contemplate tagging along to their place to crash there (note how I am avoiding certain words and wordings here).
I wish people would listen to what I say and not what they want to hear.
It annoys me.
A lot.
Edit: Usually, I'd never do this kind of thing. But really... this was too perfect to pass. Thus, I add a little something to this post: It's the masters of humour, Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie, talking about sleeping with people. Enjoy.

Some deadlines have now been done, and some I allowed to be a bit late, because Saturday evening was great. There was a burlesque event with a bit of WWII theme, which a (handsome) friend decided to go to, and asked if anyone else was going. Well, I said, what kind of an event is it? And I ended up going too. I went light on the outfit-part, mostly because I didn't have that much which was perfectly appropriate, but, it ended up working out just fine.
So, Riddle (a nickname which I came up with after a lightning-quick several-mile-long series of thoughts flitting to and fro, but which, oddly enough, fits) took me along to a place where magic and dining was the theme to see a friend's show, and then we went to the once-palace of dancing that housed the event. It was quite something!
Some of the burlesque dance parts were all right, others were decent, one was really good and one floored me. The compère without compare was really, really good, too.
But mostly, there was dancing.
I met a lady who is one of the people I like and would like to hang out with more, but we never have the time, and though she was certainly tipsy, there was enough mind left for some serious smooching and fun chatting. Then, I left my hat and jacket with her. Sometime later, I got it back. Well, except that it wasn't my hat anymore. It was subtly different, and certainly not mine. The brand, for instance, and the size. She had no idea how it had happened - she had been wearing it all the time. Later on, though, a very happy hat-owner and I swapped hats with a mutual "Hey! You have my hat!" which was great.

But mostly, there was dancing. Oh, how I danced! And oh... how we danced, me and Riddle. Finally, someone to match my energy on the dance floor (apart from Iwhy, who doesn't live nearby anymore...) and, to boot, someone who can lead! Paired dancing is such great fun! I wish I knew more dances, though, but we certainly made do. And also I proved that you can dance hysterically fast jive (or jitterbug - whatever the proper translation actually is) in 5.11 ATAC combat boots.
We didn't dance sedately, oh no. We didn't take care to keep our elbows in or go slower when the floor got more crowded. If anything, we moved to somewhere more open, and danced like devils. It was brilliant, glorious fun and I'm still high, two days later.

And because Riddle lives a lot closer to town than I do, I stayed the night at his place (and here we have that thing I spoke about earlier, about happening to sleep at someone else's place and everyone assuming things - augh, at least my sweethearts know the truth and believe me). And when the church bells rang at half past nine in the morning and then once about every fifteen minutes for an hour, and rang for several minutes, too, we got grumpy and stayed in bed until about two in the afternoon. Which was very nice. There was a lot to talk excitedly about, not the least of which was his collection of games, RPG books and other geekery. He has all the Changeling: the Dreaming books barring just two. No, three - I don't think I saw "War in Concordia" either. Still, it was great to see.

So, today, my shoulders are sore, which is fun. My legs are perfectly all right, but not my shoulders. More excercise needed, then!

Yes, it was a great night out. Oh, the dancing... oh, the dancing!