Pointy ears

Lossë

2012-02-12T18:04:00.004+01:00

...means "snow" in Quenya and I don't know if I've used it before but I don't really care. Repetition is good in language studies.

I went skiing to the supermarket. Therefore, because all contrary evidence is trumped by this fact, today is a good day.

Well, there was snow, lots of it, so why not? And because of me living on the outskirts of town and it being in another region of said outskirts, I figured a bit of a roundabout way would be nice. And far safer to ski, than to bike, and much less boring and a lot faster, than walking. So I donned my skiing gear and set off, locked the skis to the bike rail, bought groceries and then returned.

And thus, it has been a good day. Like I said, this event trumps everything else so it cannot have been a bad day. Tada.

Fírima

2012-01-22T23:58:00.000+01:00

...means "mortal" in Quenya.

I spent the morning in bed with Sherlock. BBC's Sherlock, the Benedict Cumberbatch one. Well, of course I did! I woke up at far too early, and since my new supposedly smart mobile phone can play videos from YouTube...
What I did, then, without any innuendos, was watch YouTube videos, read dr Watson's blog and other such fangirly things. It was great. Then I got up and had breakfast and kept obsessing. Safe to say, I am in... well, the admire kind of love and lust. I am perfectly well aware of the facts that it is a character, it is on TV, it is not real, and that makes me crave more, more, more of the series.
I am somewhat acquainted with the Sherlock Holmes mythos, but I still cried at the end of "The Reichenbach Fall". DAMN but they're good actors.

When I watched the Sherlock movie, along with a good friend, we squeed and agreed that it could have been made better only by some making out, but then, the lovely tension would have been less delectable.
Then I watched the tv series, and well, yeah, sure, the movie is decent but oh dear me yes please the tv series. The acting is... great. Just brilliant. And the fact that strong friendship can be portrayed in such a way, that it can be so strong that it is almost palpable, despite being so-called fiction, or maybe all the better for it...
...but that is a discussion for Literature majors, not me.
It is simply brilliant.

I watched "The Reichenbach Fall" again tonight. It was beyond words. Love and friendship.

My days are mostly spent away from people. Painting, playing Dynasty Warriors 7 Xtreme Legends with Sludge and... well, that's that, really. But I did get on a ferry and a train and then I had an unrestful night's sleep and then I met... Well. Yeah.
It hurt. It hurt something crazy, and it hurt because I was forcing myself not to do all those things I wanted. The nose to my neck caused me to do the same, however, and I couldn't help but fall a little bit more in love all over again when that dazzling smile was fired in my direction.
Well, if one looked into my eyes there must have been no secret as to what I felt. All the emotions, I suppose, even the less cheery ones.
Then we found a secluded corner in a very quiet restaurant, and I suppose I have never been so not-hungry in my life but I ate anyway. It took forever. There were many silences, but they were as necessary as the words.
In conclusion, there were some things said and done that I needed, to be able to shake free from the choke-grip that sorrow had on me, and to be able to walk straight and smile despite the tears. There was nothing wrong with the love, the closeness, the... well. There was just a wrong with... me.
I'm happy for this opportunity. Face to face is always preferable. And I'm not angry, still. Why should I be?

And there's still this utter inability of mine to drag my eyes away from theirs, to refrain from breathing in their scent, to not hug just once more. It's okay. I know it's over. I'm happy I can still do those things, but they're not part of fooling myself.
And then I went back home and into hiding.

One day this coming week, I'm going to say hi to a psychologigigisist. You know. That thing. They're going to do a bit of research into me. Find me some neat labels, I guess.
They said they don't think it's full-blown paranoia, more like a mild case of agoraphobia.

I say, it is healthy suspicion and a good dose of trust-issues. And I bring this up because I am uncertain of how much I really want to keep this blog public anymore. I've been writing things that, in retrospect, make me a little uncomfortable to know it's out here. Things that I imagine people could use to hurt me. And I do not trust people not to do so.

Oh well.

Self-medicating with dark chocolate and some more Sherlock fangirly things. No fanfiction or such for me, though. I feel uncomfortable when views in fanfictions etcetera get even the slightest bit out of my percieved view of things.
But still. Oh yes, Sherlock.

Did I mention that, from a lack of better ideas, my ostensibly smart mobile phone is called Sherly? Computer is Vincent (was TimeLord before it crashed), old camera is Kerberos, iPod is... and so on.

Back to my medication. Look at me again with those expressive eyes, will you?

Nyérë

2012-01-14T02:04:00.003+01:00

...means "sorrow" in Quenya.

I wish I was calling you to see if you are sleeping, and if you're sleeping, if you're dreaming, and if you're dreaming...
...but I'm not and I'm never going to again, am I?

Always you until the end of the world...

All the weights that keep me down
seem heavier than before
they hit me in my face
though you feel nothing.

All in time will heal you say
your words are therapy
/.../

Apoptygma Berzerk, "Until the End of the World"

I wish someone would tell me what to do and how to act and behave, because I have no idea.

I don't know if I want to punch you for being what seems so damn unfair to me, or to shoot myself for being what I am and being unable to change it. I want to hurt you because you mean so much to me and I look at the pictures and all I do is cry because I see your warmth and light in them and it isn't for me anymore. I see them and I see you and I see what was and I can't wrap my mind around that which is "now" because it is all so wrong.

I just hope it wasn't the easy way out, the way you went because it was easier than talking with me, communicating, trying to work things out. I think that if I found out it was, I'd start feeling something I don't like to feel, and that is revulsion, disappointment and bitterness. But still I wish you would tell me if it was.

I guess in the end, whatever I was, it wasn't good enough.

Please. May it not have been a decision not to communicate and take the easy way out.

And yes. I'd cry and I'd thank the world, and it wouldn't feel like any kind of wrong at all, if you decided to say "look... if we just talk, come to some conclusion about how we could solve this, we could still go on". And I'd do my best, and I'd try. Because I believe in communication.

Stupid, for certain... but me.

If ever you read this: I'm so very sorry.

No title #2

2012-01-12T00:49:00.002+01:00

Again.

And I'm crying my eyes out and I wish, I wish, I wish I wasn't how I am and all that I am. I don't want to be anything but monogamous and monosexual and everything mono. I don't WANT to anymore. It's lost me two loved ones and although the first, in truth, I suspect might have been a good thing, as he is happier now, the fact that for the second one, personally, it will probably be a good thing too, doesn't help.

I look through the blog and see the tendrils of depression everywhere. I look through it and see a year of mourning, and finally feeling that odd feeling when the sorrow abates.

If I look ahead, I suspect I see another year of mourning. This time, mourning someone whose time I was allowed to share for much too short a time. I know people who will smile smugly and nod to themselves that they're not surprised and they saw this coming and it was such a short time, wasn't it, a year only? Plenty of fish in the sea and all that.

I promise you, right now: I will become violent. I will let go and I will not rein in the beast inside me. I will dredge up all the shadows of the anger and violence I once had inside me and I will let it out and I will not regret it.

There are those that will say "well, good that you finally chose one of them then" and the same applies. You really haven't been paying attention, have you?

Don't anyone fucking dare belittle either the love or the sorrow!

You were such a light. Within three seconds of calling you, I'd smile.

And I don't suppose it matters at all, but right now I feel like I could forego everyone but my other sweetheart, just for you. I could. I would. But it wouldn't change anything really, would it? I said I wouldn't beg and scrape and scream and do stupid things, and I won't. I imagine that I know that you will feel better for this. That you follow your instincts, and it will be better for it.
I love you so stupidly much, no less than one year ago. You're still a light. I was prepared this might happen, but by the gods I was hoping for more time. So much I never had the time to do. And I carry my regrets around like a standard again, and I don't know how to get rid of them.

Surely no one can expect me to go to work tomorrow now? Yet if I call in sick I shall not be able to feed myself or pay for the roof over my head. Then again... this really was the last straw after a year with many, many bad things.
Oh, good things, too. Pity one of them just walked out of my life.

I don't want to be like this.

I'd do that for you.

And though I respect that it was good you did it right away, still... this gives me no proper closure. No proper goodbye. Fuck it, fuck it well and damned proper in a really bad way, I can't even get a last kiss, or see you smile at me in that special way one last time.
No last kiss. That hurts, you know. Really hurts. Not just because in our kisses were such a love, such tenderness...

Never mind, really. It's over and I feel like I was hit by something big, hard and unconsciousness-inducing. You, oh love now lost, I wish the very best. The very best! I just wish it was with me.

Ronyo

2012-01-01T21:02:00.002+01:00

...means "hound of chase" in Quenya.

Moodswings. So bad that I can almost register how many hours one episode of "up" or "down" lasts. And the "downs" are very, very bad indeed. I can't handle anything properly right now. Someone else feeling down? Cue feeling insufficient. Someone else doing something nice? Cue feeling left out. Someone else just, you know, existing? Cue feeling an overwhelming urge to run the hell away. I'm trying to self-medicate with the darkest chocolate I can stomach eating, and sometimes hanging out with Sludge and playing Dynasty Warriors 7 Xtreme Legends, which is proving to be even more fun than ordinary DW 7, and more fun than I anticipated too. But that only lasts so long and Sludge has other things to do, too.

And the fact remains that moodswings are moodswings and though I was up (rather chipper the night before yesterday in fact, pretty decent yesterday and even this morning), I am now down again. I was so down before that, that I don't know if it was me who was talking, doing, thinking, or the depression. I haven't really been altogether well the past year, but I have had episodes of feeling fine, and a lot of the time good, even, but the autumn has seen a lot of bad things and it appears that I am now unable to just "snap out of it", or indeed do anything but get up to the proverbial surface, breathe a few panicked breaths that are half water anyway and then get dragged back down.

It doesn't get better. When I'm up I always fear the downs, because I know they will come. This is worse than I have ever experienced, and my pre-menstrual moodswings are pretty debilitating in themselves, but this, this is... teenage bad, hormonal medicine bad, it's... it's impossible to come up with something to make it go away.
The root of the problem lies in me, and I have no idea how to deal with it. It's like an illness. Like having the flu, except it's in the mind, in the soul, in the thought-processes. I wish someone could help out, or give me an explanation that makes people realise the severity of the problem (rather than "moodswings" which sounds relatively tamed compared to the problem in itself).

And all the bad things come creeping up on me. All of them. I know I did the right thing in doing this choice or that particular thing, but... did I really? Both "did I really" and "was it really me who did" may apply. And All the bad news, and all the little issues, and all the big issues, and the monetary trouble and the insecurities and unfulfilled wishes and so on and so forth, and bad news former and latter and new and upcoming.

I so wish I could handle this. I so wish I knew what it is, and why, and could combat it. I wish I could function normally, in private, with another person, with a few people, in groups and in public. Or at least knew how to not crash things. The pain that is invisible is no less real, I'm afraid.

Ringa

2011-12-29T17:25:00.003+01:00

...means "cold" in Quenya.

Winter. A time for endings and ends, for deaths and for rest and oblivion. Only, I wish it didn't hurt so, and I wish there was more of the certainty that was there before the decision and the going-through with it, afterwards.

I've never really left a gaming campaign like this before. I've seen hiatuses and endings and loss of interest but this time I made the conscious decision, brought on by many many reasons one of them being a storyteller's unwillingness to tone down on certain themes and moods because of a gamer (me, duh) and another being my own idiot schedule which sees me fret over being the biggest preventer of gaming for everyone. After all, if I say "no sorry I cannot" and people say "oh pity then we won't" I feel bad for them, and if they still do game, even if I am ostensibly all right with it, well, I am not. I don't like being left out.

I pity the poor character. I feel like I'm letting her down. But after all, now I won't have to feel like I'm bogging everyone down anymore. And that, I think, might be the important point.
Look, already they are planning on getting together more often.
Which of course makes me feel even more miserable, but that's just a passing fancy. It is not a bad thing, and it is not something that is "real". It's just part of a dysfunctional thought process.

But there is no way I can force myself to feel comfortable with gaming anymore. Sure, it deprives me of the only gaming group I know, one which I've had marvellous adventures together with... but eh. Winter. A time for endings.

I just wish other things could end, too, like, depressions, misery, dysfunctional thought processes and the constant, choking fear of going broke again. There are good things in my life, really, there are! It's just that the darkness clouds them over and I can't draw strength from them or find joy in them. If this is part of some bipolarity or going deeper down into this neat little depression I'm not at all sure I want to be along for the ride. Let me out of this, dammit.

Rasta

2011-12-14T16:08:00.003+01:00

...means "twelve" in Quenya. The emphasis is on the first "a", so not like the hairdo word of English.

Insert a few tittering, half-mad giggles and bits of laughter here. After I crawled my way to a doctor and said doctor didn't listen entirely but still decided to give me some medicine for my lungs, I thought hey, this isn't so bad. I've been using the little inhaler with a brown bottom every day, and the one with a blue, when needed. Just as it was intended.
However.
(Of course there's an however. There always is).
It is said that sometimes, it takes a few weeks for the medicine to really start working. Does that also apply to the drawbacks and side effects, too? Because if it does, then I hit one of the worse ones. Of course, but, still. It could just as well have a lot to do with the general darkness of the days - there's not a lot of daylight, though there's only one week left before it goes better again - or the rather disturbing experience with the fight on the commuter train, or... well, the fact that I'm in a city and people are looking strangely at me. (And as for me, it seems that wherever I look I see them - humans, all around, and all carrying a bit of darkness, like something sticky clinging to them. All their lost hopes, their petty angers and annoyances, their crimes and their ugly secrets, their bad self-esteem and their intolerance, it is as if I can almost see it. I have felt this for some time, but suddenly I could actually put words to it). Or, just, you know, being their own little selves.
The short of the long is, I am getting increasingly uncomfortable and, well, paranoid. Today I could hardly force myself to go to the little corner store and get something to put on my bread for tomorrow morning. And in the store, it was all I could do not to hyperventilate and drop everything and get the hell out of there. Humans, humans everwhere. A family with two young kids running around. People talking about really stupid stuff and yet saying nothing.

It feels like a bad case of paranoia and skittishness. If it's the medicine, then good, I can counter it by that knowledge. But if it isn't, well... I don't know. Maybe I should use it to be allowed to stay away from people. To sit inside my room just painting. After all, if I have to have all those stupid, small and big, illnesses, then I could just as well use them, I guess.

...I really don't like being around people. Some cities are all right. Some better than others. This particular one has me up the walls with discomfort. Everywhere I go there's the small nagging suspicion that someone might hurt me, deliberately or through a bigger action of intending-to-hurt.

Luin

2011-12-05T11:46:00.004+01:00

...means "blue" in Quenya.

Once long ago I was young and naive,
I dared to hope and I dared to dream.
Once long ago lights were brighter for me,
this world was mine to keep.

I traveled so far defying the dawn
just to see where this road leads.
My foolish heart, unbroken, unscarred, was whole
...and then there was you.

Once long a go I felt lost without you
and life had lift me high and dry.
Once long ago didn't know what to do
alone inside my mind.

So far away, from where I'm today,
no one can reach my heart,
until the day my darkness fade away
and into the blue...

Out of the darkness and into the blue
still broken and scarred but I'm over you;
for every scar and every tear that falls
means I'm healing.

Where are you now, are you thinking of me?
When you look in the mirror, what do you see -
the burden you bear and the secret you keep
reminding you endlessly?

I've been broken for a while
but I'm not missing you.

Out of the darkness; into the blue,
where you don't want me and I don't need you.
Though I'm down and though I'm torn apart
I'm still breathing.

Out of the darkness and into the blue
still broken and scarred, but I'm over you;
for every scar and every tear that falls
means I'm healing.

Out of the darkness; into the blue,
where you don't want me and I don't need you.
Though I'm down and though I'm torn apart
I'm still breathing.

Out of the darkness and into the blue,
where you don't want me and I don't need you.
Though I'm down and though I'm torn apart
my heart's beating.

"Into the blue" by Cain's Offering

Recently, I had the first experience of feeling that I was not only unhappy that it is over with fox. It was incredibly relieving. It takes time, but at least I can think about it and not choke up anymore.
Around that time, I believe, I found this song. And it really is one of the best songs on that theme I have heard. Not soppy one-man high-pitched pop lamentation, but... powerful. Also, the fact that it's powermetal and who that band is made up of might help. I did correct the lyrics I found elsewhere, though. Really, now, confusing "heart" with "hunt", and in that context? One might almost think you'd never heard another dialect of English than your own.
Out of the darkness and into the blue, indeed. Nicely put, Cain's Offering.

Halla

2011-11-28T14:37:00.002+01:00

...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!

In Noctem

2011-11-05T00:38:00.002+01:00

Carry my soul into the night,
may the stars light my way!
I glory in the sight
as darkness takes the day...

Ferte in noctem animam meam
Illustrent stellae viam meam
Aspectu illo glorior
Dum capit nox diem

Cantate vitae canticum
Sine dolore actae
Dicite eis quos amabam
Me nunquam obliturum

Sing a song, a song of life
lived without regret.
Tell the ones, the ones I loved
I never will forget,

Never will forget.

"In Noctem", by Nicholas Hooper, from the soundtrack of "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince"

And really the only words I could find to express... express... Uhm. A friend died. About five hours ago as I type this. I know exactly where I was at the precise moment - I was waiting for a bus. Very mundane.
We were going to meet tomorrow. Going to meet, and share a fun experience, and I had been giddy with anticipation because it would be so cool and fun, and we'd have a laugh about it, and it would be a really nice thing to remember. I was sure it would be.
Only... we're not going to meet anymore. Twenty-four hours before the very hour we were going to meet, he died, of cardiac arrest. He just fell onto the floor at his job, or so I heard, and they could not resurrect him. He was going to be twenty-seven years old in two weeks.
We had gradually grown closer the past year. It was really nice, and I liked him a lot. We had half-decided to go to Granada and perhaps also Cadiz, next year, to geek out over the remains of the Moorish kingdom. We were going to go there because no one else seemed interested. We were going to travel together, DAMN YOU, and damn you for dying on me! Damn it all for being this way.

I think I even was a little bit in love. Nothing untoward, just a crush. He was handsome, too. It's not more than a footnote, and it doesn't make it much worse - it can't be much worse than it already is, for whatever reason.

I will miss him so much. I don't know if I can work tomorrow, but I'll... try, I guess. One of my sweethearts were seconds quicker than me in finding out, and even closer to him. I think they would have been the closest of friends, given just a little more time - they really hit it off. As we both cried, each on their own side of the connection, I said "I want you to hold me." And he will be, in a few hours. Well, no one was going to sleep very well anyway, so a night-bus ride won't make much difference, will it.
It's the first time I've said it like that. Ever. I seldom make such demands, if ever.
But it's not just for me. Tomorrow, at that very hour when we were going to meet, me and my friend, there will be no larp. There will be only a meeting-up of all of us who knew him. It's going to be hell, but that doesn't matter. It will be something, at least.

Listen, you handsome bastard. I'll miss you, damn it all. Damn your heart for giving up on you. Don't you dare leave those who loved you without saying goodbye, you hear me? I know you dead ones can do that, so visit her. She will be happier for a proper goodbye. You're gone, I know, and I can't do much about it, and I want you to not have died - not to come back. I don't want you to have died at all. I understood from the start it was not a joke, but I wish it could have been.

You're dead, and we are not. We move on. Like a train that goes only one way, where you had to get off, and we, forever glancing back at you where you stand - perhaps waving, perhaps with your back turned - moving on. Impossible to have you back onboard, impossible to get off and run back to greet you again.

I will miss you so much. And I will miss all that you could have brought into my life, and perhaps, all that I could have given to yours.
(Don't mistake this, readers, for me pining for someone I loved hopelessly and so on. That's not what it is. He was a friend, and that was what he was. But I mourn, and I grieve, and the love one has for a friend is sometimes confused, by others, for something it is not.)

I will miss you. Rest well, my friend. I trust your Allah will take you into his arms, and greet you like an old friend.

Carry my soul into the night,
may the stars light my way!
I glory in the sight
as darkness takes the day...

Ferte in noctem animam meam
Illustrent stellae viam meam
Aspectu illo glorior
Dum capit nox diem

Cantate vitae canticum
Sine dolore actae
Dicite eis quos amabam
Me nunquam obliturum

Sing a song, a song of life
lived without regret.
Tell the ones, the ones I loved
I never will forget,

Never will forget.

Till ar ais Alba #2.beyond

2011-10-31T11:14:00.002+01:00

Miss Stubborn - since that was the name of the bunk bed she slept in - indeed did join me, and I decided to invite her to come along for the whole of the roadtrip. And THAT was a good idea.
Turns out, too, that we:
Arrived in Edinburgh on the same day.
Slept in the same dormitory at the Art Roch hostel, only a few beds away.
Changed hostel the same day.
Ended up in the same bunk bed, hence, why we started talking.

and what's more, we

had met before - she was looking at the drawing class that I attended at the Art Gallery
and she took a photo of me in front of the Queen Mary, the very first day of my stay...

So, seeing as there is no such thing as coincidence...

The road trip was amazing. St Andrews was a wonderful city, and I have no words for how great my two hours of clarsach lesson were. Not only did I have a wonderful time, learn a lot about the clársach, but I actually played on the Queen Mary replica. I almost swooned when I realised I was expected to. It was... beyond words.
That evening, as my health problems got worse, I figured that if I didn't wake up tomorrow, I would have nothing that I regretted not having done.
Dundee was not good for my health, though the hostel was wonderfully labyrinthine and me and Miss Stubborn had a great time anyway. I went to the Ninewells Hospital A&E, and they could ascertain that it was not my heart, at least, but that I ought to go check up my lungs. (They're right about that, I am even now breathing mostly thanks to a prescription medicine one of my sweethearts gave me, since they had a spare, but, I need to actually get to a clinic that will accept me - which, as it happens, isn't everywhere, like it should be).

We went north, to Edzell Castle, meeting the caretaker that can't have been anything but a Weasley cousin. The hair, the eyes, the nose, the voice! He was also incredibly helpful when Miss Stubborn fell and twisted her ankle in a small stair, and lent us a wheelchair so I could push her around so she could still see the surroundings of Edzell Castle.

The mountains enveloped us as we sped north on small roads, my Special Edition IrnBru proved strong, interesting but not as good as the original, and fairly soon we were more quiet than talking. Words started failing us, because "beautiful" can be used only so many times. We went through late-summer to autumn to almost-winter and, indeed, when we arrived in Braemar, there was a light dusting of snow on the tops of the mountains. The clinic there had a electricity-driven typewriter and was open two hours a day, with a delightfully whimsy doctor who confirmed that Miss Stubborn's ankle was only twisted, and gave her a special bandage for it.

The hostel was so quiet, so restful, that I wished I could stay for a week. It was, once again, huge and somewhat labyrinthine - I'm trying to figure out which hostel I stayed in during this journey was the worst, and it may be a tie between the Art Roch and the Dundee Backpackers - and once again we had a whole dormitory to ourselves. While Miss rested, I took a walk to the little store on the other side of the river in Braemar, marvelling at the scenery, the quiet and the sense of peace. It was wonderful. We then cooked a nice dinner and went to bed early, only to get up equally early, to get going. There was no hurry, though, and we stopped again, and again, to take photos and breathe the fresh air.

I noticed something, too: the chest-pains had gradually subsided since we left Dundee, and since, I have noticed that whenever I am in a city, or accidentally catch a whiff of, yes, I sincerely hate you now, smokers, smoke from cigarettes or too strong a perfume, they return...

As we climbed higher in altitude, suddenly there was snow all around us, and we had a snowball fight on the summit by the Glenshee Ski Resort. It was so cold we almost froze our fingers off, but we stopped again and again anyway.

Taking the road past Edradour, we then went towards the Trossachs. Somewhere near Aberfeldy, the Scottish roads got the best of me with four sharp, nice stones sticking out from the edge by the tarmac, and I, meeting a huge lorry, hit them. Cue flat tire. But we had the help of an incredibly nice couple of Scots, and soon were on our way again.

Loch Lubnaig was as beautiful as always, likewise Loch Venachar and the Trossachs. The water level was very high, and the sun made the day even better. Duke's Pass was, with its stark beauty, a given stop. And then, there wasn't much else to it, but to go to Stirling, on wider roads, and find the hostel in an old church, quite near the top and the Castle. We had an even better dinner, so good, that we had to save the dessert for breakfast the next day!
And despite that day being my last in Scotland, our last together, it was a good one. Stirling Castle is gorgeous after the refurbishments of the King's and Queen's chambers. I really mean it. If you can, go there, and hesitate not to pay to get in, if you're not a Historic Scotland member. Do it. It is so very worth it. All the ceilings are beautifully painted, the Stirling Heads are colourful and gorgeous, the Queen's chambers as opulent as they ought to be... yes, it is really worth it.

We drove to the Airport, bonding even more those last few hours, and then left the car, and sat down to have our last minutes just talking. But all things come to pass, and Miss Stubborn had to get into town, and I, to my flight. I managed not to cry, but it was close. We had become very good friends.

The flight home was predictably a morose event, but at least I had my Lord Dunsany collection to read...
And now, I have photos in abundance, and memories that make me smile a little every time I think of them.

Till ar ais Alba #2.3

2011-10-16T00:13:00.003+02:00

Yesterday went marvellous. I went through the National Gallery of Art at an astonishing pace for being me, and managed to see the paintings "The Quarrel of Oberon and Titania" and "The Reconciliation of Oberon and Titania" as they hang beside eachother. Many of the paintings were marvellous, and I took care to study the technique used too. After some soup in the restaurant I joined a drop-in session of red conté on easel sketching of the Three Muses sculpture for an hour that flew by! It was very, very rewarding and instructive.

I met up with my iaido friend and went up to Arthur's Seat, which was a great experience, as always. Then, we had fish'n'chips and talked the evening away, also together with his flatmate that I've met before. And, that was the day, pretty much. I didn't sleep very well, I woke up several times for no reason at all. I think it might have been the building and atmosphere. Today, however, I switched hostels as planned, had a cup of tea at Black Magic Café and then, ahem, spent an hour or so painting stuff for the GW shop... Hey, what can I say, I like the staff who work there and the general atmosphere!
Then, I met up with Lacryma, we had some late lunch and generally talked the day and afternoon and evening away. It was great. Some of his paintings are marvellous. Well... all of them, really.

And that was my day. I've talked a bit with others here at the new hostel, which is nicer but not warmer.

Also, might be that this annoying thing that almost had me faint today, might be some sort of cardiac arrythmia. Which is bad. And have been growing worse just these past weeks. It's very "bleh". Especially since it more or less requires professional healthcare. Oh well. Tomorrow roadtrip. Might be joined by a Chinese girl the first leg of the journey. But the most important part?

In St Andrews lives mr Simon Chadwick, clarsach player. Tomorrow, I've got two hours worth of clarsach lesson.
No, I can't afford that EITHER, but I'm rather living now, than surviving in January. Just because, well, I'm here, now, and he's in St Andrews, and... yeah.
I need to go squeee some more, and then sleep.

Till ar ais Alba #2.2

2011-10-14T12:48:00.003+02:00

Well, the day only got better. I got me a small sketchbook at Greyfriar's Art Shop, and then was drawn into the National Museum of Scotland. And we all know what happens when Ellie enters a museum... yes. That's right. "Hours later..." I dislike the new entrance, and I don't like the "mysterious gloom" they've decided on. I preferred it when one entered the glorious first hall with its ceiling windows and all. The nature exhibitions didn't interest me but looked nice at a distance, however, the exhibitions of cultures all over the world were really nice. A bit light on the text side but that's not necessarily bad, I guess. They'd addressed the issue of being in possession of another people's artifacts (mundane and sacred both) in a better way than anywhere else so far - that is, they acknowledged it at all, and had some info about what they'd done together with the people from whom the things originally came. I write a note to them about cham/tsam dance, though, as that seems rather to have been something Tibetan Buddhism adopted in its bid to become state religion in Mongolia in... was it the 17th century? It's the usual story - to take over, assimilate. Your children are not shamans, they are lamas! Your sacred sites are really Buddhist sacred sites, let's build stupa and monasteries there. And so on.

My favourite exhibition, the Lady Wu something Gallery had been severely diminished, and there are no beautiful Chinese Muslim calligraphy displays anymore. But still, nice to see it.

Of course, I visited Queen Mary and Lamont again, and felt the yearning rise again. Oh well. Did not go to see the Viking stuff, just passed by some new interesting finds, but like I said, the time had... well... passed.

Passed by Viewcraig Gardens 31 again. Still looks very nice and clean. Odd.

Had a small Longmore together with an iai friend from Genbukan. Very nice catching up, talking about iai especially, but also 40K and the like.

I did sleep well, but for some reason I was very sleepy when I woke up and went to have breakfast with Lady Imaginarium (I've used other nicknames for her earlier, but I can't remember them at the moment - in any case, the most beautiful woman in Edinburgh, and the one with the most style) at a café. It was great! She's amazing, and inspiring, and as always I felt positively clumsy and almost dressed down beside her. Very inspiring, it is! She's so creative and her imagination is quite something.

Now to visit the National Art Gallery, to see the painting of the quarrel between Oberon and Titania. And then perhaps sleep... but then, a trip up to Arthur's Seat with my iaido friend!
Also, Borthwick's Close disappeared yesterday. But I found it today.

As my stream of babbling probably tells you, I am having a great time here. Random discussions with hostel-stayers helps spice it up even more.

Till ar ais Alba #2.1

2011-10-13T12:53:00.003+02:00

This'll be cleaned up later. But for now, primarily for my sweethearts...

Plane trip went well. Took good old Lothian 35 to get into town. It's 1.30 now, imagine that. Discovered it went past mine and BraveSir's old favourite the t-shirt factory. Did you know they still haven't torn the buildings all the way down? People are living in some apartments, those that aren't boarded up!

Last time I went, but one year ago, it was like I had never left. I think I needed closure then. Now, it is like... returning, maybe. Forrest Café is closed down, Electric Cabaret has moved.

Sitting in Art Roch hostel. First thing I heard stepping through the doors? "Sympathy for the Devil". Good hostel. Worse of a maze than any building I've stayed in. It's great. Also, my earplugs saved me from what kept everyone else up - a snoring man of the OH HAI IMMA KEEP EEEEEVERYONE AWAKE kind.
And now I'm looking up at the castle, across Grassmarket, and today I'll be going to an art supply store, and then... well, who knows. Breathe a little. Maybe the NMS, or the Art Museum?

Also, I have now been at the Greyfriars Kirkyard as the clock struck midnight. Yes, I admit, I'm such a goth.
Didn't go near the worst part, and decided to be polite and take off my hat as my head started aching. It subsided, for a while. When it returned, I decided to bow, and take my leave. As I stepped outside again, the headache disappeared. Of course. Well, Loriel, you'd know about these things, don't you?
"There's no such thing as ghosts." Pfah.

Now, to finish my IrnBru and enjoy Embra. I really like being here. Really. Wouldn't mind having company, but hey, I'm meeting with at least three or four of my friends here today or later this week, so...

(Love you lots, sweethearts.)

Celva

2011-10-12T01:18:00.003+02:00

...means "moving animal" as a general word, in Quenya.

Knot in stomach eased after a good practice. The knot, put there by knowing some people closer to me are not going to be together anymore (which makes me more sad than I can say, also seeing how I recently experienced something similar myself, I can say that I fairly well know at least how one of them must feel), by stress over my trip and by several other things, was a particularily heavy one. I am very relieved another keytimer could work next Wednesday, as I was more than a little stupid in not checking the date and day properly. Indeed, I could be called "blithering idiot" for less.

Yesterdays iai was great. Marvellous. I never have experienced my cuts to feel so (comparatively) flawless. Wonderful! Today's, a little less, but that's because I took some responsibility for the coaching of others.
The shoulder doesn't hurt very often any more, not after practice anyway. It might feel a bit tired, sometimes a wee bit sore, but no more than that. It seems it is starting to work out, which is such a relief.

Way too late to be writing, really. So much to do. But all schoolwork has been done, and the latest painting, if I may say so, is another little piece of greatness. To paint with oils is really, really fun. I like it a whole lot. Tomorrow will see me zip around like a kitten with quicksilver in its veins, but I feel on top of things, regardless. Great feeling. I only have to avoid looking at the lower part of my "To Do"-list.

Thought a little about my sweethearts. One is a little like the moon, shining very brightly, very focused and "there". The other is a little like the stars, shining less strongly from one point, but scattered, always there when one looks, brighter or darker and with a beauty a little easier to just miss.
Love them very, veyr much, and I am so, so happy, that they are a part of my life. Being in the presence of one doesn't diminish my feelings for any other the slightest.

Having said that, I must also say that it doesn't hurt as bad anymore, thinking about fox. I don't stop everything I was doing every time anymore. Just... most. I haven't quite accepted it, yet. But it is not as hard to repress. It happened, and, life moves on.

Scotland. You haven't been calling me as eagerly this time. Will you still welcome me? I might miss going to the west coast, but... I am sure the mountains won't mind me spending time there instead. Tomorrow, tomorrow. Will be interesting, trying to get my watercolour paints through security. Hopefully it works out. It's not like they're dangerous, little pieces of paint.

And no, I can't afford this. Not really. But I was saving up for a trip to Japan, and I can't just survive - I have to live a little, too.

Quén

2011-10-02T13:03:00.002+02:00

...means "person" in Quenya.

Been long since I wrote. I may have had things to write about, I may not have. I remember some, I've forgotten others. My Medieval Week came and went, with a few interesting changes. It was... very odd, to be, well, as I am now. To not spend so much time at all with anyone, and most on my own. I found that I appreciated Iwhy's company a lot, and it was a great joy to have my sweetheart there, though of course their family came first and foremost. Also, they lived for two days out by my childhood home, with me and the rest of my family (surferdude-brother off working, though), which was fun, interesting and good. Father and mother took to the little one very well, and father made the little one a nice wooden toy car.

It was an odd Week, comparatively, but a good one. I lived with brother Sludge, which was a great idea. Walking distance, and every day saw us play Dynasty Warriors 7. Good times, great times! I enjoy the hell out of that game. I met with friends old and new. I bought pearl-spreaders almost as soon as I got to the market on the first Sunday, no surprise there - and they were gorgeous. I re-threaded them almost immediately, and felt a peace of sorts. Finally, I am looking almost like I imagined, so many, many years ago, like a proper Gotlandic Viking woman. It took time, but it was worth everything. I got many well-deserved compliments to the effect too, and was known as "the woman with the eight rows of pearls". People sometimes would come up and say hi, but not remember my face - they remembered my jewellry! I had lots of fun.
I didn't dance nearly as much as I had hoped, in fact, hardly anything at all. I grew tired early, but woke early too. And on the Tuesday or Wednesday, oh, what joy it was - I got up early, and made my way through morning-beautiful Visby, to the archery range, and there, my eyes growing misty as I remember, I loosed the first arrow in six years. Wonderful, amazing, admirable Fundin helped me find a way to shoot that doesn't hurt my shoulder, or my back! I was giddy with excitement. There were many nice people around, and I felt a bit lost sometimes - I'm no longer familiar with the terminology. But regardless, I felt good. And I didn't bother with wimpyness, a few days later, on the great longbow competition on the Friday, I participated. With my weak bow, the one that, with its current string, hardly shoots twenty metres (which is the first range, then it's thirty, forty and rattle-round).
People asked me afterwards, how did it go, did you go through to the next round? No, I said, I didn't, but it went awesome! They looked like questionmarks.
Well, until I told them how much I'd been practicing beforehand, and how well I had been shooting. On twenty metres, one needs to get twenty points with six arrows to pass. The maximum is, I think, thirty. I got sixteen, which actually isn't my worst result ever, and I'm almost happier with that than when I got through to thirty a few times. I got sixteen, and all my arrows hit the target and earned me points, and the majority were all right, and one even hit the inner yellow area! Most importantly, it felt good and I used good technique.
I go all warm and fuzzy just thinking about it.
Of course, it's me. So why shouldn't I participate in a longbow competition, the largest in Europe (northern, at least), when it's the second time I shoot in six years?

Post-Week depression almost hit, but I had a good remedy in going to visit both my sweethearts, and then going to a lrp with one of them. "Lilla Lugnet" was brilliant. I had a few hours of "almost bored", which was when I delved deeper into Vincent's mind, and sat in her tent (a rather stylish one, mind) writing letters and thinking.
That's the character I played, again, the indomitable sir Vincent Ravenscroft, daugher of the Ravenscrofts. Mother a Duchess in her own right, father a Duke, and therefore eligible to be called "Lord" she nevertheless prefers a plain "sir", since she is an heiress, and wears the titles of Baron and Earl as well.
It's been a right bother, but interesting, to look up old and extinct titles in the Peerages of England, Scotland and the UK. Ye gods it is a maze filled with thorns and briars. I now know more about said system, titles and so on and so forth than I ever even knew existed. I made up the titles of "Duke of Cumbria" and "Earl of Findlater", because I do not wish to step on toes, or get into trouble. They take these things seriously, and she is after all just a made-up steampunk character (she informs me that she begs to differ, but she's just in my head... and in my wardrobe...).
The lrp itself was great. Oh, yes, it was. The cottage, its buildings, the tents some chose to live in (fresh air, very healthy, and the premise was that we were all visiting a health farm, so it was logical anyway)... the piano bar, the dinner arrangements, the lake... the characters, the gear, the adventures and the very proper amusements of croquet, horseshoe-throwing, cardplaying and chess... tea, always available, as well as the healthy water... scheduled swims in the lake, a showing of a silent movie (it was great!), walks around the grounds...
Vincent had planned a quiet retreat, reading and strolling around. Instead she meets a host of charming people, half of whom she immediately fell a little in love with, some in lust. She charmed them all (indeed, an oft-repeated comment, once ingame and a few times offgame, was "I don't think there's any one of us that aren't just a little bit in love with her!", mostly from the servants - they were awesome, by the way, all of them, and I had a lot of fun making them blush or grin when I lifted my hat, greeted them politely and smiled), more or less, fell in love with one and was heartbroken when said woman flirted with another, recovered after a few hours (because she's Vincent) and finally got to know mr Charles af Chapman properly. They'd met, two years prior, but circumstances were against them. Here, however... Of course, she still has no idea that he paid the staff to put her in the same tent as him. She'd probably be flabberghasted... and amused and flattered.
And I discovered why she dresses as a man, and wears a moustache (I bought one beforehand, it is perfect, easy to wear and remove, but ye gods, how do people stand growing them and eating with them?): She feels more comfortable in it, she feels more at home. It feels right to her. She wore a dress one evening, and a stunner she looked, and she certainly enjoyed it, but... yes, it is dressed in trousers, waistcoat, shirt and jacket that she really feels herself. Interesting.
Speaking of dressing as her, damn I/she look/s good.

Then reality returned and I almost hit the wall. It was so stressful, so bad, so awful that I could hardly lift a hand for a while. But I found someplace new to stay (I had an emergency place, as you recall, but it really was too far away from everything), and after about a month of being on the go, I could stop and wind down.
I visited my grandparents, which was very nice. I visited my sweethearts again, which was too. I went home, which was probably the best of all, and lately, I actually worked a few days, and at this very moment, I am looking at a painting of which I am incredibly proud. Finally, I have the chance and circumstances permit, that I paint with oil colours. It is a relief, a catharsis, a... joy.

And speaking of which, I shall return to that. Yesterday I had one of those "release days are the most busy, but also the most fun, to work"-feelings. I love being the full gang of us. And I got myself a water bottle with the Imperial Aquila on it! Us and Gothenburg have a few left, but those are the only ones in Sweden, and, I very much doubt we'll get them in for next year's shop birthday. In fact, when this financial year ends, I doubt they will ever be made again. Feels good to, for once, be able to get something limited. The very idea of "limited editions" generally makes my skin crawl.

Must now get to planning October. Japan, Scotland or gaming with people in Gothenburg? Or the two latter? Or a harp? I know I ought to not spend this sudden rush of money (which is all a loan anyway, of course, one more reason for the earlier mentioned stress), but, I need to go to Japan. Really need to.
Planning. Not my strong point.

Also, removed big birthmark on cheek. Not as big as before, in fact quite flat, but might go to plastic surgeon to get it properly removed. Felt good.

Lú

2011-08-03T21:45:00.002+02:00

...means "a time, an occasion".

Summer came, and it was lovely. At the moment I'm on the level of "broke like never before" again - not working at all in May and June can do that to you. All my money for going to Japan, whoosh, gone.

So I'm looking more than ever before for a new job, and a new place to stay - I stayed in a friend's one-room apartment for July, and it was lovely. A one-room apartment is just the thing for me! Or two-room, but, hey. It was wonderful. My own place! It looked "Elliefied" after one day, and smelled that way too. Unfortunately, the owner returns from Ireland soon and I don't have any money for rent anyway, so, in one easy move I packed all my stuff and it now resides in the childhood room of Egladil, whose parents live out in the forest somewhere the buses run four times a day. Two hour walk to the commuter trains, it is, but one can take the bicycle and lessen the time it takes somewhat. But it is out on an island, there is quiet and calm and huge trees and I can see the water from my small window and, there are two kittens. Kittehs, kittones. Zooming around the house like comets. It's a proper job, keeping them from crawling down into my boxes and bags, but it's lovely having them nearby and being able to pat them when they lie still or come close. Though of course all my clothes are a wee bit hairy right now. Only the white hairs seem to stick on black clothing, for some reason... Odd, I know.

Been wearing my "Pride ribbon veil" or just hair decoration this week. I think I managed to get most of the LGBT[insert rest of letters here, oh, what the hell, let's just go for GSM - Gender and Sexuality Minority] colours in there, though I missed black and pale yellow! Well, that can be rectified. There were actually people who noticed and guessed correctly. For my part, I've taken quite a liking to it! It's very colourful and it speaks to the Changeling in me (Changeling: the Dreaming, remember).
The fact that I have two sweethearts is beginning to trickle out to not just closer friends and family, but to gossiping neighbours and childhood acquaintances too. Sometimes the looks on their faces, if I'm there when they're told, is worth every slur and word of derision...

It's been so hot in the store that I have barely made it through the days. I would come home with the beginning of a migraine every evening, and spend one or two hours like a mindless automaton, before my head and body had regained some semblance of strength. The three fans moved the heat around, but no more. Drinking water didn't do more than keep me from dehydrating completely. Going outdoors was a bliss, even with the air pollution. It's worse inside anyway. But then I started buying a kind of water spiked with vitamin B and zinc and stuff, and allow myself two small pieces of chocolate every day, and it got better. But still... I could use a shirt for two days at the most before having to clean it. And I had to go into the bathroom to pour cold water on my hands, and once a day on my feet, to keep the pain down, and always keep a bottle of eye moisturiser fluid something around.

Ödesväv/Weave of Fate was not a very good experience. There are a lot of reasons for this, amongst them the fact of distance (it's not FUN having to walk for two hours to get around the lake), not very nice behind the curtain plotting arrangements, the usual blindness for giving EVERY lrper a good lrp and not just those living in the village. Yes. I say village, because that damn well isn't a city. Town, not even that) and so on and so forth. A right bitch of a Fair Folk Queen didn't make matters better, though we decided to turn some of the whingyness into a lesson when talking about it afterwards. Only once or twice did we manage to recreate the magic from last year. More specifically, after I told Highelf that "dude, I am not going to jump you! Your girlfriend who is standing over there is supremely cool with the fact of our characters being what and how they are, and she was the one who suggested they renew their vows of marriage!" Then, we managed to do the "otherworldly Fair folk creatures", him and me, as they should be done, and I was a lot happier. Damn, we were cool, the two of us and the three of us - Dream, Hunt and the naiad Nami. And our campsite (well, in the future, I don't think we should even have an ingame physically existing campsite) was very, very beautiful. Out on a small, thin strip of an island, with flat ground and trees lining the shore, with decorations all over of various kinds.

And earlier this summer, my two sweethearts met for the first time, and it went far better than I feared. They don't need to be friends, in my world, but it was important to me that they meet.
After the lrp one of them came to visit me, and on an odd whim (well, no, not really - we both know how peaceful we feel when on the island) we went home. And fox kindly said he was okay with us living there, so we did, and I still feel a bit tearful when I think about it. For sure, I still love him, no doubt, but that he so readily accepts at least one of my sweethearts, and even likes said person, and that we feel like such good friends, that is wonderful. I am very happy.
When that week was over, my other sweetheart came to visit me, but on the mainland, and that was lovely, too. I wish I didn't have to work, but there you go. We had a lovely week and I am very fond of the thought of exploring a certain museum with him. We managed one special exhibition and one floor this time, so there's two or three floors left! And we spent a long time merely ogling and climbing over the cannons outside, just to see what calibre they were and the different inscriptions and pompous coats of arms and...

Work and living space troubles have been stressing me so much I've been snapping at people, but my sweethearts still manage to give me butterflies in my tummy. And I got to practice iai once, too, thanks to Stille-sensei being able to borrow a hall. Our keys still don't work.

Other than that, I'm being creative. Seven pages of fiction to get to know sir Vincent better, written in three hours, amongst other things. And now, home, on my island... preparing for the very best week of the year.

Filici

2011-06-22T23:58:00.000+02:00

...means "(small) birds" in Quenya.

There's something about Ruth Notman's version of "Caledonia". It simultaneously brings a profound longing to the fore, as well as calm and peace.

I really miss Scotland. I thought of writing something about it in May; after all, it's been three years now since I left. But I couldn't think of anything worthwile to say.

There's not a lot of money for me right now. I'm so very good at living on a tight budget, but I'm so very tired of it. And it's so very... well, it's not good for anything, least of all my health, when I know just how large my salary will me - and by large, I mean "Did not work one single day during May".

But Scotland's always there. Telling me it exists, telling me I should go there. Go home. I am going to another home as often as I can spare, but...

Sometimes, I get so weary of always longing to be somewhere. Often, somewhere else.

Doesn't make it better that my sweethearts live far away. Not only do I long for other places, I long for other people, too...
I'm just daft. I could change things. But I fail to see a good way of doing so without sacrificing other things that I'd just go around longing for. Stupid, I know.

Vanima

2011-06-07T22:58:00.006+02:00

...means "beautiful" in Quenya.

As the connection on the ferry is guaranteed to go down, I wrote the following in a text document:

"And so, I return to home. From the moment I stopped on the train platform, waiting for the train to arrive and take me to the harbour, I was close to tears. There was relief, happiness, and I could not stop smiling, though at the same time my eyes were watering. Going home!

The sun smiled upon me, the leaves were all so green, and the sea welcomed me back. I have missed it, so very much. It's always so emotional. And even though I feel a bit lonesome, because neither A and E aren't with me (and I'd love a warm hug), well... I'm going home to Gotland.

I had some less savoury news recently, that has made me think of that tricky business called "what to do in the future". I don't really want to live in Stockholm, but there is the matter of practice, and I am a member of a very, very good iaido club. My job, which isn't giving me enough to actually make a living out of (though always there's the tantalising promise of more - yet where am I now, with not one day of work in May?), feels less and less compelling, I am sorry to say. I am going to continue studying art this autumn, but what next? Since both sweethearts are in the same town now, well, that town does have a certain appeal - but it is not the town in which one can find Kensei Kensan Kai, and it's so very much farther from home.
And, Scotland calls, as always. Scotland, and Japan.

I want to have the freedom to travel there whenever I so desire. I am hoping my art will help me get to that point. I think I'm showing enough diversity that people should feel comfortable in giving me directions for commissions, and that I can also paint after my own head. I am loathe to part with my paintings - I take pride in them, but not self-aggrandising pride. I'm just really pleased with what I manage to do, and I am happy with myself and what I do, and, I want for others to be able to enjoy it, if they like. I'm, I guess, happy that I create things that I like myself, and that seems to be something others like, too!

It is hard to describe the pleasure and profound satisfaction I feel when I paint. While I paint, and when I'm done. The entire process is one of utter and complete joy. Even when in the throes of artist's block or annoyance at not finding the proper subject, or colour of paint, or blend, or the brushes refuse to cooperate... it's joy. I pour myself into it, and I emerge hours later feeling dizzy, happy and refreshed. And, sometimes, hungry and lost and confused, because I forgot to eat and drink and so on. Which is part of the enjoyment.

Some days, I feel almost an itch. An itch for a particular medium, or size of canvas, or just the feeling of a brush across an uneven surface. Well, not almost. It's there.

I'm on the ferry at this very moment of writing. I've had "A History of Scotland" playing in the background, and now, selected parts of "Return of the King".

And if there was one thing, it is that I feel, and I feel so strongly, and it hurts so much at times. Longing. I guess it's part of me, eh? Bloody pointy-ear, I am. Always the yearning for the sea, too."

Going home was a very good idea. Leaving didn't feel as much of one.
I realised I have been somewhat amiss in my showing off what Dream actually looks like. So here you are.
The photographer of the un-cropped and original photo is called Martin Olsson. The photo is somewhat relevant, as this past weekend was the pre-lrp for this years Weave of Fate, or Ödesväv. Well, one of them. Skogens Väv, or The Weave of the Forest. From the perspective of one who lrps a Fair Folk, a rather uneventful and calm lrp, though it was spiced up by the Fair Folk Queen visiting for one day, and by the flip-out, end-it-with-a-bang and growl a bit at the elves then tell them what to do-thing at the end. I kept going with the theme of making the elves grow as a people, and as individuals. Some are starting to get the hang of it, others don't. It was a bit exasperating and exhausting to have only that to do, but, it's better when there's more of us. Maple leaf was a great companion, also, said lrper is a wonderful woman who lives not far from here and has several sewing machines and a hobby room. I like the thought of what we can do together before Ödesväv...

I went swimming (or at least flopping about in the water with a piece of soap) both Saturday and Sunday. It was great, at least, after I warmed myself up with some morning semi-yoga-gymnastics. It's... summer. It creeps up on me and BAM! suddenly it's there. It was bleedin' spring just weeks ago. Oh well.

Sometimes I take a step back and think about how much time, effort and money I've poured into that one costume. It's staggering, and it makes me proud. The crown is a work of art and I love it to bits. I've worked on the costume throughout the year, too, so that it's even more elaborate and fluttery now, and, I'm making another crown and several more pieces of clothing. To be able to change around and look slightly different at any time I so desire. I am, after all, Dream, and ought to look different to any who look at me. Tricky to do with lrping, but, one can still do one's best to amaze people. Too bad the eight hours and more of pearl embroidery on the tunic-shirt-thingie doesn't really show in pictures, nor all the glitter everywhere.
But to sum it up - I'm proud of this. There is a lot of chiffon, silk and so on in this, but most of all, hard work, a thoroughly enjoyable creative process, and a lot of pride in a job well done. Thanks go out to Hunt, Farahir, otherwise known as Highelf or Zera and several other names, because without his taking me by the hand and dragging me along, this would not have happened. If you want to know more about the costume, I could write about it later, I think. Just tell me.

I'm rambling again. Will stop now.

Malina

2011-05-21T15:15:00.003+02:00

... means "yellow" in Quenya.

I managed to take a short visit to home, before work and practice for the upcoming National Championships made me decide to stay in this stupid town until they were over. It was very nice, and very restful. I had good weather and me and Sludgecrawler managed to clear one stage in Dynasty Warriors 6 (the Musou mode) on "Chaos". Some of the characters are fairly high-level now, but we did a bit of a return to basics and ran one or two stages with lower-level ones - I think level twelve or something. Always nice to do that. For sure, Guan Yu, Zhou Yu and other favourites are fun to run around with, but, one likes one's diversity.

I have, of course, painted, and it's all on the other blog. I removed this one from a few search-functions, with the result that the visitor count has dropped a fair bit, but really, that's not why I write. Some of the things we've been required to paint have seemed near-impossible challenges at first, but with the help of Harry Potter audiobooks I've conquered them all! And had lots and lots of fun. I receive compliments, and not few, either, but most importantly, I'm happy, myself, with what I do. It's incredibly fulfilling.

Spring came suddenly and I don't mind its being here. In under a week there were big green leaves everywhere, and as I type this, I'm still happy over my discovery that there were late-blooming pink sakura across the road from one of the bus-stops I jump off at. It's been ridiculously warm at times, and I had a lovely day out with one of my sweethearts. In fact, I've had several lovely days out with my sweethearts, and some of them have been at the national park in Tyresta. I like going there, especially during weekdays, because there aren't that many out walking then.
Speaking of which, I'll be calling them A and E from now on, from Anar and elen which are Quenya and mean "the Sun" and "star".
Last time I went to Tyresta, me and A actually took off our shoes and sat with them in the water for a while. It was cool, but not icy cold. And we saw several snakes, one that was swimming, even. This stands in stark contrast to another day, about a week earlier, when snow decided to intrude upon the month of May. SNOW. And not just snow a little, no, it stayed on the ground! Still, snow-covered sakura (that is, cherry flowers) is very beautiful.

Easter was uneventful - I worked, and that was about it. It wasn't unpleasant, though, and I had lovely skärgårdssill (a sort of pickled fish) and that felt quite Easter-y enough. Easter, Eostre, Ostara... I also attended the Stockholm by Night lrp, which was enjoyable in that angsty, VtM-sort of way. Though that night had nothing on the next one. Poor Karen, I almost feel sorry for her. She really had a very, very bad week, that ended even worse. The Prince of the city liked her... but not in the social way. An old acquaintance that she'd rather not ever met again came to visit, and justice was done with the help of his hand. Justice, after torturing a poor mindscrewed Gangrel, who could, really, if one had seen things from a different angle, been considered innocent.
The after-lrp hangout was great, too. "You're really in love with him, aren't you? You're shining." said a friend, when we were talking about one of my sweethearts. She's quite right, of course. I am, with both.

Sometimes, having more than one love-relationship is really great. At other times, it's twice the discomfort and pain. There have been issues between me and both of my sweethearts, regarding this and that, and I'm beginning to work them out from my side, but of course there's always going to be things. And sometimes it's almost unbearable. One is working out an issue with A, and would love to turn to Is, but there are issues there too, so one is just stuck with two sweethearts whom one love dearly but can't turn to either for help.
Then, of course, when things are better, one can, and that's a really nice thing. A really helped out by asking me a tricky question, that made me think twice about something that was up between me and Is. And E tends to be able to point me in the right direction for what I need to think about with A. Very good, that.

I got the question, "So, he's your third, then?" about someone. Nope, definitely not. A friend I don't mind making out with, for sure, but, I'm certainly not looking for anyone else at the moment. Not actively, and not passively. If something happens, sure. But I doubt it. I'm very happy with my E and A, and I barely have time to meet even them, as it is...
There was a Tumblr post a while back, about someone saying how they were a bad representative of their sexuality. S/he was bi and polyamorous (and don't get me started on the mix-up of Latin and Greek - I know full well). I could only nod and agree. One already has to put up with the stereotyped idea that bi/pan/anything-other-than-monosexuals are merely promiscuous and unfaithful degenerate sluts. And then along comes those of us who, regardless of whether these things are by choice or not (I vote "not"), fall in love with more than one person at the same time. There are those of non-monosexuality (in this I include the so often considered two exact and unavoidable polarities of hetero- and homosexuality) who are very much the one-person-love-at-a-time type. Just as there are those who are monosexual and not.
But I'm not really doing "my kind" any favours, by falling into both these two much-bashed categories at the same time...

On another note, Gothenburgh is prettier by far than Stockholm this time of year! I loved it when the weather actually decided to be sunny - it's nice outside even when raining, but I took a walk with E when it was sunny and that was great. Being asked to teach in my old, and first, iaido club Shobukan was an honour, and felt a bit odd, but also good. And people seemed to appreciate it (well, most, anyway, and those that didn't will, I predict, either learn how a proper mind of iaido should be, or quit fairly soon) and have fun and feel that they progressed in their iai.

I also got the chance to meet the Trolls, all of them, which was nice, even if we didn't do anything but just hang out. A painting of Dunstaffnage Castle that I made, I gave away to Egladil, since I can't remember that I gave him something proper for his birthday and anyway, we went there together.
First proper painting (not counting my watercolours, though) that I give away like that.

All in all, time's been fairly good lately. A makes me smile withing ten seconds of him calling me up, and given that I love his smile, too, I tend to be in a good mood around him, and try to make him smile. So it was nice staying with him for most of the time in Gothenburg, and feels odd now not to be around him. And, for that matter, not have the opportunity just to nip over to E. One just took the bus or the tram!

Also, there's a ferry on Sunday evening. Sounds like a better idea than the morning one on Monday...

Lindë

2011-04-14T22:15:00.002+02:00

...means "tune, song, singing" in Quenya.

These... are good news. There is a short clip, of ten minutes and twenty-nine seconds length. It was made by Peter Jackson, ten years later, and it made me forget all of what has happened for the past twenty-four hours (failing to procure cheap tickets for one sweetheart, finding instead a bit more expensive ones; finding out I'd screwed myself over royally by not listening to my instincts, not checking dates and all in all, being a bit of an idiot and finding things out too late; having a very bad backlash of six-years-all-gone and then having one of my top four worst nosebleeds ever that took a very long time to abate leading to sleep deprivation; having to work with much too little blood in my veins; not daring to go to practice because of this) and just go squee, and feel very, very happy.

The clip is a small videolog, beginning with a smiling PJ stepping through a doorway in Bag End. And from there it just gets better. I lost myself in the familiar sight of Imladris - Rivendell - and felt the same breathtaking (literally) emotions choke me up, as the first time I saw it. I did not get up to try and walk through the screen this time, but there was that intense, utter feeling of "ah, there it is! Home!"
There's nothing ironic, nothing half-hearted, nothing odd to it. There's just the most intense feeling of home that I have ever known. The truest.
Lothlórien is beautiful beyond measure, the Shire is lovely, the Grey Havens a heartwrenchingly beautiful place, Rohan stirs my heart as well but... Imladris has something... that is me.

And I know I'm behind, but Martin Freeman as Bilbo can be nothing but brilliant. Though I shall certainly be a little cross if it puts "Sherlock" season two on hold.

Otherwise, some things have not turned out as expected, and in fact, I'm rather weary of the way some people take out their own insecurities. I'd fix it if I could, but I can't. It's something one must do on one's own.
I have been very creative. Done some painting as per school assignments, but also started on one just for pure pleasure, and, I'm writing a random piece of fiction: Lord Katarina Wallén meets a random Regent I made up, in certámen "combat". It doesn't sound as fun written down as it did in my head, though, mostly because before I did research, I had a lot more leeway in how to describe the ritual...

I had fun during the VtM lrp in Kalmar, on my own, without dear Mattias Wrede by the side of Reg. Managed to do stupid things and good things aaaall on her own, she did. I enjoy playing her. She acts so lively and outspoken, but goes deadly serious when the situation requires it. And the good stuff continued after the lrp, as the organisers allowed me to crash on a spare mattress of theirs. I had nowhere to stay, but went there hoping I'd not have to sleep outdoors. And oh, what a pleasant stay it was! Sunny, warm, three (!) cats to cuddle, lots, and lots, and lots of nerdy, geeky stuff, humour, fun and just... talking. I get along real well with Kultist, it seems. She's pretty rad, to use a... modern term.

But I am very tired, and it takes a while for that amount of blood to be restored (I am unfortunately not exaggerating when I give the estimated loss of being at least half a litre), so I shall be off to bed now. Unfortunately not at home, but it's a comfortable bed anyway.

Wonderful compliment of today: "I think you should, you're like a young Galadriel."
As a reply to my desperate wish to go to New Zeeland and be an extra in "Bilbo". Yeah... my sweethearts know me well.

Cambë

2011-04-07T15:49:00.004+02:00

...means "hollow of hand" in Quenya.

Why is it that trust is so damn tricky? Love's so very easy... happens without me having any say in the matter at all, but trust?

And I find that if I cannot trust in someone's own strength, in them being strong enough for themselves, then I cannot fully trust them, either. I can carry people, for sure, and I can be the strong one in a relationship of any kind (friendship or whatever), and lead the way, help out, and so on.
But if that is the case, I cannot fully trust a person. I need to know there is strength there. Strength enough that they can trust in themselves and in their own strength.

Is it about my perception, sometimes? That I perceive they have not that strength? When in fact, maybe they do. Yet, I cannot feel it, and I'm not sure how to properly communicate so as to find out. Often, such a feeling proves right, yet there is that "what if".

In any case. I'm fairly sick and tired of all the broken, meek people everywhere, needing constant reassurance from their spouses, friends, co-workers or what-have-you. Reassurance, reassurance, affirmation, affirmation, affirmation. Stop it, you fools! One needs first to be able to affirm and reassure oneself, to see one's weaknesses and to accept them, then, when one can be certain that one does not hang up everything on everyone else... THEN, and only then, can one actually get anything out of seeking reassurance and affirmation from others.
Stop it, by the gods. See what made you this way, look at how you were treated as a child by your parents, look at how you act now, READ UP on it and then... please... become a hale and healthy person.

Not likely it'll happen, but hey, I'm trying to spread the idea at least. Sometimes people pick up on it.
I'm in lust with a few people. I'm in love with a few more. But in trust? Well, I'm not sure I want to answer that...

I'm far from the internally strongest person there is, I'm sure. And I've got a few bad sides that are really icky and not very nice at all. But I've got a strength, at least, and I know I can get through situations, and I know I can depend on me. It's just that... everywhere, people are so broken. And after a long enough while, I get itchy and want to get away from them for a while, because of their insecurities and their dependancies. I'd love to be so strong that I didn't, but like I said, trust. Trust is by far the thing I've the hardest time doing.

Tano

2011-03-09T12:58:00.003+01:00

...means "craftsman, smith" in Quenya.

I've been (very well-deservedly) spoiled with love the past weeks, well, love and all that comes with it. It was great to have one of my loves here, and not be working every day. We watched "True Grit" among other things and whatever I expected of that movie, that was not it. It's a great movie, really! I was continually surprised. So few clichés. Oh, and they randomly kick children. Love was also surprised, and we had a good laugh. In fact, we laugh a lot, and often. Such as when we yell Harry Potter spells at eachother with sticks (wands, of course) in hand, and discuss our favourite Hogwarts teacher. This might be a side-effect from listening to the HP audiobooks while painting, but regardless - we have a lot of fun.
For which I'm happy. I'll take any happiness and love I can get, and deal with the hurt and pain later. He's not entirely comfortable with me being how I am, much like fox, but what the heck, then I deal with that when it happens, and no "what if"s or worrying about it. There's been enough of that in my life.

My other love and I have been busy in our respective lives, so there's not been too much communication, but it does feel good to hear "I hope things work out for you two" from him - if nothing else then because I can write it here so that people can see that yeah, it does work out for some people. I've been reading a lot of tumblrs and blogs about poly and so on, maybe because it feels good to know there are more out there. I don't always need that knowledge, but right now, I do. Pea Brained Poly is one, as is My Poly Life. Neither is entirely safe for work.
To give you a bit of a perspective, though, I'll say that in the middle of trying to find words for the overwhelming emotion of love, I starteed crying helplessly, because with relaxing that much, came the sorrow that I've been unconsciously repressing. It still hurts. It will, for a long time, because it takes me a very long time to mourn for lost lovers.

I mentioned painting, and painting I have been. I'm shyly proud of my latest painting, a ver colourful phoenix. It feels almost indulgent and lazy - to sit down and PAINT, to my hearts content, and it's schoolwork! How awesome is that?

Yesterday I smelled something strange in the air - a whiff of spring. The light during daytime tells me of it too. Small things, changing now...

Am reading another de Lint - "Jack of Kinrowan". The first novel of two was nice, and as usual, surprising and delightful, but the second one is really, really good. I love it how de Lint makes the Otherworld just... feel as it should. It's a half-step sideways, and I seldom find anything that makes me feel "hey, that's WRONG", though I've already my very own view of the Middle Kingdom.

Been listening a lot to Placebo, especially "Every me and every you" and "Running up that hill". Not necessarily because the songs fit my mood or the text is meaningful at the moment, just... they're good. Them, and "Bullet" by The Dreaming (how could I NOT listen to a band with that name?).

Had a lovely and exhilarating and fun between-sessions Play By Text gaming with my Tremere character Karen, of Stockholm by Night. That smell? Yes, that's the smell when you're standing knee-deep in excrement, my dear. I look forward to seeing where this leads. Though I'd be much happier if she'd a bit more in the way of self-preservatory urges.

Regarding iaido, there's not been as much the past months as I usually like. Much because I've been in the wrong parts of the country, and then because I ran a knee into a chair, and then because my shoulder is a right bastard. What HAS been, however, has been good. Yesterday was all koryu, and indeed, all Chuden. I learned a new kata - yay, one more that, to the unknowing, looks like an advanced form of sword ballet! I so very, very much enjoy koryu. It's given me something to latch onto, just as I'm losing spirit, what with my damned shoulder never getting better. I don't feel bad about using the shorter, older iaito, because it's better for koryu anyway. The other one, he's a bit too tall for it, really.

Am also considering another trip to Scotland, just... because. In May, perhaps.

A quote

2011-02-25T23:25:00.000+01:00

If you wonder, ask. If you've got something to say, speak. And if it can't be expressed in words, do.

/Elenaria ni Aesin

Celva

2011-02-25T01:18:00.003+01:00

...means "moving animal" in Quenya. (See also kelvar and olvar).

Sometimes, things are so brittle it seems, they will shatter if I breathe. Sometimes they are that much stronger.

Ten years. Finally. That right there is a love-story worthy of its own book.

Walked around today. Just... walked. I forget how much I can enjoy doing that, if I've nothing to do, in a city. I miss Edinburgh and I think I'll go back soon.

Wounds are still raw and bleeding. May be more will be added, may be not so.

As soon as the winter seems to lighten its grip a little, snow returns with a vengeance. I'd not mind as much had I the chance to go skiing every day.

Am painting, and painting, and trying to paint more. It's all at Tindóme Art. Well. Most of it.

Shoulder behaving badly. But practice was a relief, even with that.

The mini-lrp with the Fair Folk of the Ödesväv campaign was really nice. Slow, sleepy but, it picked up pace, and things went... the way I/we/Dream liked them to. Also, wonderful weather, wonderful photos, and wonderful surroundings all in all.

Gothenburg was nice, a wee bit of Exalted was nice, down south was nice too even if, damnitall, that blasted cold really could've been just a wee bit less adamant on freezing my fingers off.

Re-reading "Conversations with God" by Neale Donald Walsch and enjoying it.

In other news, so much is happening, although it is as if I'm in a fast-moving sludge of things happening, rather than a whirling storm, that I can't really write much about them. But regarding one thing, I'm happy. If you isolate that very thing, I am very happy about it. Though it seems many find it strange and odd and seem to think I got over things very fast.
Believe me. I didn't. Downside with loving many? You know how things hurt with ONE person? Yah, try that, only... aye, with many.

Cullo

2011-02-04T01:15:00.003+01:00

...means "red gold" in a poetic sense, in Quenya.

Out of the closet, out of the wardrobe. I've got two sweethearts and I'm very happy about that. I'm very sad about fox. And there's nothing strange in these conflicting emotions.

I feel so incredibly free and relieved when I paint. This is what I want to do, I think as I "wake up" after another session, to another painting staring back at me from the easel.

Open to the world, and I'll deal with people's reactions as I go along. One of those whose reactions means the most to me, held me tight, and squeed in delight, as did another, far more distand friend.

Maybe one day I'll tell the story of how ten years went by, one by one, until the day came, that suddenly, carefully, gently, gave the opportunity of saying to this person, in front of everyone, "I love you" and have that person say it back. It's unfair to say we've waited... but the time has passed. Then is then and now is now and it's they way it is. This will have to suffice, I think; that small step by small step, we are finally allowing ourselves to get to know eachother as something other than friends. I'm very happy, but incredibly anxious about it. A bit apprehensive. But mostly stunned and happy.

Sorry, now. Got to go and hug the sweetheart that happens to be resting on top of the bed after a cup of tea and reading "Tigana".

Tingilya

2011-01-27T01:05:00.006+01:00

...means "twinkling star" in Quenya.

And so, it became night. And a fragile song like that of an electric xylophone, or perhaps just the tinkling of binary raindrops falling, a bit like green inverted katakana down a screen, starts playing. I'm a firm believer in dealing with it, and hopefully, coming out on the other side a better person.

I'm not happy. But I'm flying. I have a ghostly feeling. But I'm flying.

I was intending to burn, always intending to, but pretending to fight it.

There will not be enough hours of sleep tonight. I can't allow myself that. It's time to race again, first alongside and with the wave, and then ahead of it. Gotta run, there's no time to whimper.

Realities are right beside me, and once again I touch a mirror - one day, I'll find one that allows me to step into the other reality, the one that's so much sharper, so much real-er.

I'm solar, bipolar, panic, disorder, seems harder and harder. I'm like a comet rushing forward, and sometimes touching others in my wake, ensnaring them and circling them for a while on my rush forward. I shall be so relieved when it is over, but for now I will rush almost heedlessly. I wake them up and I confuse and I... do something. Affect, I think. Sometimes others affect me. I hope it's for the good. It is, always, isn't it, in the end? There is no such thing as coincidence.

Tonight is a last time. There are always last times. You just don't always know that.

Diamonds for tears.

It's only inside my earphones though, even if the world around me tells me its bigger than my screen. It's been a relief feeling above the line but I guess there is a lot to still figure out and wade through. My self-portrait look at me with that thing in the eyes I see sometimes - eternity. Someone said something, somewhere out where the green katakana raindrops fall in a quicksilver twinkling tinkling between the pings and pongs, which doesn't fit, but fits in whereveranotherplace:

"I love you, and even if you died, and even if you never loved me back, I would love you anyway."

And it's night outside, and it's winter outside, and I had a dream that you were with me, it wasn't my fault, you rode me over, flipped me over...
My never.
Will you wait for me?

Between the lines, read them every second one and then again! Between the lines and in every first letter can be read "Elenaria save me" and I will. Always. If all of our days have no more light, and all of our dreams are lost tonight, the stars can all fall, and everything turn to grey - I will stay.

I'm flying and it's out across the oceans for me. I always knew I would burn. Stop thinking about Icarus, because he's got nothing here to do, no place in this. I knew I would burn, but at least I carry myself.
I've still got my wings, what do you say about that?

Between the chattering of code and quiet rush of datastreams I see them falling like snowflakes - the letters. Sometimes whirled away by the wind. I see them in my head, too, that's where they really are. They're there, all of them, except they were there. I chill your blood just by being here. Just don't deny it, don't try to fight this, and deal with it... and that's just part of it.

I'm in my reality, and I'm in someone else's. That's where the trouble begins - when two worlds collide. I'm one foot in this one, and one foot in that one. I'm real, but I'm words. I'm colours and I'm spattered paint and lost letters, a wayward note of a song and I'm long past gone.
I shouldn't be here, and we know it. But I couldn't walk into the screen, and I can't now. I'm going to, one day - step sideways. It's just a matter of time. Until then however, I've to live. And so live I do. Leaving others behind when time comes. Lost the friends that I needed losing, found others on the way. I've kissed the lads and left them crying; stolen dreams, yes, there's no denying.

And in all of this, there's me, thinking just a bit too much. I'm tired of hiding, and so are you! There once was a time I was sure of the bond, when my hands and my tongue and my thoughts were enough. We are the same but our lives move along.

It's all there. They're all there. Every one of them. I don't tell their source right now. No need. No wish for it. But in the odd twilight of dusk I seem to almost see the Otherwhere, and in the promising brightening twilight that is dawn I see it too.

Nowhere to run, pointless to hide. Just lay there and scream, pretending to try, pretending.

Things took a turn, lust or desire? You live and you burn.

Stars shield me, brightest star shine my way. Going now. Sleep well. No anger anymore, it's... washed away. The tinkling sound, like a laughing tiny brook or the falling of silver petals, is quieting. Anger has abated. No one is guilty, because there can only be guilt, if we decide something is wrong, and there can only be something wrong if we decide it is, and why decide on something to be wrong? Decide rather what is good, and let the other be, so that it has nothing to sustain it. No guilt. Let the guilt go and do not regret things about your own personal life.

You see, see what can't be seen. You repair the damage done to me. Please come to me, and give me peace of mind.

Eventually, all will be well. I will not say, "Do not weep", for not all tears are of an evil. I will stay, before I go. ...I am not there, I do not sleep. Why should I ever leave, when the Highlands call me back? When the land of gods and spirits is waiting for me, ever waiting? When ever the earth delights to feel my bare feet and the winds long to play with my hair. No, never fear that. But one day, the sea will call me home. After all...

...i Aear cân ven na mar.

Lanco

2011-01-26T19:44:00.004+01:00

...means "throat" in Quenya.

Rrrright, you hypocrites! So, it's not my fault, is it? I'm not to blame here, am I? Oh. Yes. I. Am. I did it. I kissed him. And it was certainly a very conscious choice, and it was just as conscious to immediately be honest and to tell fox about it.
Stop giving the guy a hard time. Stop avoiding confrontation by talking to others, or around it, or excluding people.

Oh yes you are doing it. You know how, because it's been done to you, once. You know just what you are doing.

And you're jealous. Stop being that, too. It's an ugly, ugly thing, leading to nothing good.

And you're looking for affirmation from others, because you can't affirm yourself, so you need others to do it for you. And you need the affirmation because you're empty, broken, half-done and have a very wobbly self-esteem. Perhaps even self-confidence?

You want everything to go on like it was before. Newsflash: It won't. It never was going to. And guess what? It's all right. It's the way it's supposed to be. Stagnation is bad.

To turn back to other matters, and perhaps back on some kind of half topic, if it hadn't been Anselm, it'd have been someone else. Whoever came up next. It hurts still, yes, and I miss what was good and all but, there is no denying the freedom I feel, even if it was bought with tears, and the way I sometimes look around and realise that from now on, I can be open and talk with anyone about anything. No more being quiet around the ones that should most know, to "spare" them. I become attracted to and I fall in love with, people. Usually, many at the same time. I hurt as damn bad as anyone when it ends or goes badly, and I love as strongly and truly as anyone.

My week down south was interesting. I hope I brought something good with me, too. It was lovely to meet the young one, amongst other things, and also get to dress up to good music. Also, Ardbeg Supernova is better than sex. Just saying. Give me a bottle now.
Started an art blog at tindome-art.blogspot.com as part of my art course. Am writing this as a way of putting off starting a painting in impressionist style with oils.
Impressionist. Gah! I mean... I just paint! And some impressionists seem to be pretty close to the way I paint in any case. But I guess again the need for labels gets the better of people. We'll see how it goes.
The ferry-trip today was very peaceful and beautiful. I love being back up here where there's proper winter because it really wasn't down south-er.

So... yeah. We're in love, I'm in love (or used to be - I'm working hard on getting over it; it feels as if I need to, in order to be fair with him) with fox too but that doesn't work out so we're friends. Get over it, get a therapeutist and get on with life as a better person, instead of going down to your knees and deeper into the murk that is petty behaviour and acting like it's still the old school days.
And I'm still in love with Sunshine and I'm always going to have a friendly crush on Maur (who's got himself engaged, hurrah for them and many heartfelt congratulations!) and I've fallen out of love with others and I'm going to fall into love with yet others and it's all what it needs to be.
Everything leads to something good in the end. But it won't, if we intend on going into it with the idea that it won't, and we're going to be stuck in woe and gloom, if we choose to believe that that's were we are, ought to be and are going to end up.

No one is going to make your life awesome but yourself, and you've damn well got to work towards it to reach that point.
It's time for some REAL introspection. Look deep into yourself, don't hide from your own feelings, deal with them, try to figure out if you're doing anything out of fear or out of love, and then, accept it, and move on.

Happy hippie bullcrap? Then stop listening, why don't you, and let's see how long I can stand being in your presence. Argh.

You know... I seem to recall I decided to bring this kind of rants somewhere else. I usually do, but this once, juuust this once, it seemed appropriate. I am, after all, going through stuff and working through it all. If I needed an excuse.

Cuina

2011-01-16T01:31:00.000+01:00

...means "alive" in Quenya.

...well, I will keep calling you to see, if you're sleeping are you dreaming; if you're dreaming are you dreaming of me?

I've opted out of a lot of social stuff the past days. I spent a lot of time being unable to stop crying, and breathing sorrow. Then I passed through a phase of anger, and came out the other end floating among the splinters of ice, and not quite knowing much at all. I did get out of the apartment once, to take a long and very, very rewarding cup of tea with LittleSir. ...you know what? As of now, her nickname changes. It's going to Trollishness instead. If she's okay with that?
Anyways. A very good time it was. Felt like breaking through the surface in a few ways.
And then, I went over to Bob's and had a jolly good time with "Dynasty Warriors 6". We finished Zhao Yun's Musou Mode on "Master" level, and I think we got "A tactician of renown" or "A true hero of the land" as an evaluation, yay! We did a take on leveling Dian Wei up, to be able to finish his Musou Mode too (urgh...) but abandoned it as quickly as possible and had fun instead. I've missed playing with Zima Yi! This has got to be the game where he's got the very coolest weapon and attacks and movements. Then we tried out the "Chaos" difficulty level, and yes, it WAS hard, but I think we know how to beat it now! Am looking forward to play more, now that it's easier for us to have the time.

Also, started out on the art course. It's interesting and challenging already... even if it's a bit dry reading about various -isms, and the website was coded by a MORON. But I went through father's mother's old box with paints and brushes and things, and dear me, I to get a lot for free starting by using her old equipment. It feels very good.

Haven't been out of the apartment other than mentioned above. I will, I need to, but... I guess it's residue, eh.
Seems to be working fine so far to live with fox as friends. We don't get in eachother's way and all I need to do is remember to not plant a random kiss on his cheek and such. Well, almost all, but you know.
It still hurts. There's no getting around that. But it works, at least it works out. And despite all the bipolarity at the moment, I actually feel all right. I'm not dying inside anymore. Sometimes there're dizzying throws between sorrow and "in love" and back but it seems I can handle it fairly well. One just has to... you know, keep going.

Oh, what wisdom I share today! Well, let me remedy that by this excellent link. There's one person to whom this is dedicated, but I'm sure he's willing to share it with anyone who likes it as much as I do.

Hlussë

2011-01-10T11:59:00.003+01:00

...or lussë means "whispering sound" in Quenya.

It's painfully beautiful outside; sun shining and the snow still staying for a while. The sky wakes old memories and with them comes a sense of freedom.

A sense of and wish for freedom I can do little about, however. This is one of the more prominent moments for which I was planning ot use my getaway stash. But it's all gone.

All the "never again"s. All the hatred directed inwards to myself. Trying to breathe air but breathing only sorrow. The sky whispers of magic and the air is still the air of my island. The music of Thomas Almqvist does its best to soothe me. I can almost see it - the world beside the world, the one I'm supposed to be in. I'm so close. I'm going to try sidestepping into it. After all, I've seen it in pictures. Can't be that hard, can it? It's just another reality.

And the wind keeps making the clouds fly across the blue, blue sky. There's magic there, too.

No title

2011-01-08T13:11:00.002+01:00

And the world goes on as before even though it's ended and if I could remove everything about me that is bisexual and polyamorous I would. I really, really, really would. It's destroyed one of the most beautiful things in the world and it's caused pain to others and it hasn't given me nearly enough to compensate. And I would take it all back and I would forget everything that was something that caused this and I really would like that knife now, because I am the way I am and usually that's a good thing but right now I damn it all to hell and back. I don't want to be this way anymore. It's destroyed everything because I couldn't make myself be any other way.

And last night I had the worst nosebleed ever. It was, very literally, like a water tap. No trace of dripping. It was like running water.

I don't regret whatever good came out of loving others. Comes. What. Ever.
But I do regret that I was made in the way that I can't stay monogamous and monoamorous. And that my love, which is so easy, causes hurt. Hurt to others.

And I hate that what most invades my thoughts right now is all the practical stuff. Telling people. Material things. Not living together. Completely losing that one stable point. I need one stable point. It takes me years to acquire one, to feel that way about something. And it's probably going now.
We're going to keep talking about it. It's rather undramatic that way, and we're not screaming and yelling. We hug and we love and we like eachother still. We've still got friends over and we're going to keep roleplaying and stuff. But it's ended because even though the relationship itself was a strong and good one, and with many good things in it, the two people in the relationship had one strong point where they couldn't reconcile and that broke everything.

Gods, but I love you, my fox.

All around me darkness gathers
fading is the sun that shone
we must speak of other matters
you can be me when I'm gone.

Ammë

2011-01-04T01:44:00.003+01:00

...and ammil seems to be the words for "mother" in Quenya.

Ker-blargh. I might actually listen to mother's advice on getting an evaluation done. Aspergers or bipolar or schizoid or whatever, or all at the same time. I don't care, it'd be damn practical to be able to, instead of saying, "I'm, uh, strange, and I think like this, except for sometimes, and I've got these moodswings that come at random and besides, I'm never quite in one reality, and sometimes I feel really strongly whereas at other times I'm almost completely blank..."
But I'm not sure. It'd be a possibility to take an "easy way out" and just blame stuff on whatever diagnosis someone deigns to stamp on my forehead.

Then again... there are evenings like this, when I have to really fight to not just go all doom, gloom, annoyed, irritated and SCREAM at people. Without proper reason. Or at least, most certainly without being able to think straight and proper that hey, this is ridiculous, let's stop feeling this way, or, at least, thinking this way. And it's so stupid! There is no reason to feel that way! I should be happy, enjoying the gaming and being all in love and everything. Which I am, too, but... whatever happened to the really good mood I was in earlier?
And then I take a piece of chocolate and try to kick myself in the butt and I go aaaall the way up again, then down, then up... argh! Please make it stop? For certain, the entire emotional state I'm in at the moment is volatile but, it's... quite often that way, isn't it. And I thought it's volatile in the positive spectrum, still. I'll... have to think about it.

Tried out Skype with Anselm the other day, for a while. He said something that made me think - "Why do you always say something like 'Thanks, yes, except, well, yeah, it's good that you think that, at least...' when I say you're a good person and nice?"
Yes. Why do I? Why do I feel the need to somehow deny the fact that others think I'm good, or nice, or honest, or kind or whatever? That's not really up to me, is it? Even if I seem to live with the idea that if they think ONE thing about me, they really ought to know the entire truth, and if they did they might not think that way anymore.
Well. That's for them to find out, eh. And then decide to change their minds if they like.
I can't actually modify that myself, with force of mind... though I don't doubt it to be possible, but that's another discussion... even if it seems logical that they should think the way I do. Again with the "living inside a box in the real world" thing. I'll just accept it. I'm going to practice, at least!

Also, managed to switcheroo some days around so now I've one more day's work but can return home again earlier, and keep on roleplaying! Happy elf is happy. It's a wee bit empty in the house now, though, compared to earlier - heck, there's only six of us!

Today I got a package, and I was very very happy. I lost my beloved haori this summer, and I'm still sad about that. It was a wonderful thick material, with woven wavy shapes and it was warm and large. I found one on eBay that had woven shapes that looked like waves with crests here and there and immediately bought it. It's smaller, it's not as warm, but it IS a black haori and I have been missing mine a lot.

Snow and cold and lovely. Still very much in love. And I don't think anyone who was around when I found yet another bright soul are in doubt as to who. It's all right so far. It's spilled over to others too, though, so now I'm back in love with a girl I really thought I'd given up on and accepted to just be friends with but hey... it's love, and it's great.
Also, been reading a wonderful article on Xeromag about polyamory, and randomly strayed into blogs and other stuff and I'll be damned but if I don't like the word "pansexual" better than "bisexual". Bi sort of does imply that there're just two genders, doesn't it? And what about me when I have my Vincent days? If I can be and feel like that, well, as usual, I'm just ONE small piece on a really broad spectrum... So, sort of pansexual I guess. Whatever, whoever, however. It's love, damnit. Love and lust. "I am in lust" is something with similarities to "I am in love" but it really is far from the same thing.

Lastly, been drawing like mad. Portraits, sketches, crayon, pencil, watercolour pencils, fantasy, characters, designs, charcoal... It's crazy and absolutely lovely. Elves and humans and Exalted Solars and randoms and just about anything that catches my fancy or pops into my head!

The roleplaying has been good. Ups and downs and good things and bad. I like Jez, she's a nice character, but sometimes I lose track of her goals and personality and then it sort of goes sour, but I just need to remind myself. Also, my damn moodswings had me snap at fox. Not very nice. But, other than that, we're a cool gang!

To bed now. Sleep and dreams.

Árë

2011-01-01T15:32:00.004+01:00

...means "sunlight" in Quenya. It's snowstorm outside but I'm not really concerned.

I am in love, and I burn with love, and it feels as if it's for the whole of the world! I woke up with a big smile on my lips, and I've not really lost it since. I'm all out of money, and I know I've said it before but this is one of those times that's happened maybe once before - ALL the money is out, and I don't even have anything left of my getaway stash. That last part makes me furrow my brow, but I'm trying to tell myself I've got money, and I do have a lot anyway, even if it LOOKS like I'm all out. IF positive thinking works, and the universe responds to it, hey, I'm not about to turn my back on magic just because it might NOT work.

Where was I?

Happy, yes! I woke up being in love, and I'm in feeling love with just about everyone in the apartment. Unfortunately, not everyone I'm in love with is in the apartment, but there you go. I was somewhat petulantly miffed that a certain someone wasn't in this very apartment to give me one of those dazzling smiles, but I wrote a text message to said person complaining and telling said person that I'd have to console myself with tea and toast. I received the reply that regardless of where s/he was, I'd made them smile anyway (and a damn pity, I thought, that I wasn't there to see it)!

And then I opened one mailbox and what was there? Oh yes! Yesterday, I sent in four of my best works in watercolour, pencil and so on, as requested by the course that I applied for a few weeks back. Late, I know, but there was a certain amount of work involved in transferring them from paper into computer and, well, that's never really been something that worked very well for me. Scanners and I are... let's not go there. I think I've mentioned that before.
Anyway! I got up, feeling in love and then I see that mere minutes before, I received reply - "Your application has been accepted. Please pay the tuition fee within three days." - and the day got EVEN BETTER! So this spring, I will study art! At an open university, with non-physical classroom. This means that I can pop over to Scotland to do some of the assignments! Theoretically anyway. I will be studying an arts course, that will mostly be focused on acrylics and oil, something which I see as a proper and fun challenge. I'm really a watercolour kind of artist, but this will be lots of fun and I hope that I will really grow as an artist. Also, one reason why I chose this particular course, well, despite the information and stuff around it not looking entirely clear and rather messy, I still hope it will turn out well, and, most importantly: Part of it is dedicated to teaching how to make online galleries and promoting your art to be able to sell it, and such things. And THIS was one of the reasons why I decided to apply for it. I might go on and live the way I do, which is in general in a fairly unplanned manner, taking life as it comes - I can't really do it any other way. It stresses me out to no end having to plan things more than about a month in advance. I can't know what happens before then! If something comes up that would be such an awesome thing to do and experience, I've got to be able to do it! Don't I?

Yes. Head and mind just about all over the place.

What I was going to say was, that though I might live the way I do the insidious thinking about how to make a living has become such a worry for me, that it comes almost naturally to be calculating about what I do with my time. And this is a good way to motivate studying art in front of the ever-present pesky "others", that the course is partly about how to learn some ways to make a living out of it. And it feels good. Because I want to be able to do with my time fun things, things I like, and not waste eight hours a day on a job that doesn't... well, that I don't want to do, or do it in order to be able to do something fun. So, there we go.

So I'm going to, finally, after all these years (heh, again with that expression, eh?) study art. All like... properly! I'm very, very happy.

And it will provide me with some sort of money, which was the original ulterior motive for it, but oh well. I'm still looking for other jobs, but with this maybe I have taken a step towards becoming an artist? I am sad about not being an archaeologist, but hey, there is a time for everything! And everything happens for a reason and leads to something good, so, I feel pretty fine anyway. If I didn't believe in that, I'd have killed myself years ago. There's always going to be SOMETHING good, no matter how small, along the way.

Well. It's a good day. And outside, there was a snowstorm raging and strong, and I just wanted to kiss people until their heads swam and they smiled silly smiles. I still want to do that, come to thing of it, even if I can only see the outline of the trees swaying in the wind.

Here's today's theme, I think. "Calling You" by Blue October. For various reasons I can't stomach listening to them too much, definitely not with the vast majority of their songs. But this one is just... how much in love I am at the moment. If I could I would, above all else, wish to show this to everyone primary and beyond. And to my friends who I love in other ways, and to all those I just plain like, too.

Here're the lyrics:
There's something that I can't quite explain
I'm so in love with you
You'll never take that away
And if I've said it a hundred times before
Expect a thousand more
You'll never take that away

Well expect me to be
Calling you to see
If you're OK when I'm not around
Asking "if you love me"
I love the way you make it sound
Calling you to see
Do I try too hard to make you smile?
To make us smile

I will keep calling you to see
If you're sleeping, are you dreaming
If you're dreaming, are you dreaming of me
I can't believe you actually picked me

I thought that the world had lost it's sway
It's so hard sometimes
Then I fell in love with you
Then came you
And you took that away
It's not so difficult
The world is not so difficult
You take away the old
Show me the new
And I feel like I can fly when I stand next to you
So while I'm on this phone
A hundred miles from home
I'll take the words you gave me and send them back to you

I only want to see
If you're OK when I'm not around
Asking "if you love me"
I love the way you make it sound
Calling you to see
Do I try too hard to make you smile?
To make us smile

I will keep calling you to see
If you're sleeping, are you dreaming
If you're dreaming, are you dreaming of me
I can't believe you actually picked me...

...I feel kind of silly. Of course. Love is a bit silly. In a good way.

Anto

2010-12-31T01:49:00.002+01:00

...means "mouth" in Quenya.

It's not always so easy to be enchanted by a smile, I'll admit, but what a smile it is! (What smiles they are, I suppose it'll have to be, if you look at it from a broader point of view.)

Asto

2010-12-29T14:09:00.002+01:00

...means "dust" in Quenya.

I read a small note on someone else's blog, about them once inviting an old lady and a friend of their grandmother's to Yule celebrations, and giving her a small chocolate box as a gift, and how happy she was.

I want to do that too. I want to have time to visit people, old ones preferably, and just hang out with them and give them a bit of company and someone that will listen to them. I want to give them the company they deserve and someone to listen to all their wisdom.

Pé

2010-12-28T20:08:00.004+01:00

...means "lip" in Quenya according to a later source, an older one states "mouth". I'd say it's about context.

Midwinter came and went, and that time I insist on calling Yule since I don't exactly celebrate any mass for Christ. Found a darling song, "Cinnamon" by Killed by Candy. It's quite catchy.

We just have to believe
that we just have to believe
that all we need is faith
and love and peace and cinnamon.

...smells like cinnamon
cookies, coffee and
a warm fireplace
after the snow.

Tastes like cinnamon
like a happy end
and some candlelight
which guides you home

to cinnamon.

There's an excerpt of the lyrics.

At the moment all alone in the apartment. The yearly invasion started on the 25th, with a delay because of the snowpocalypse and unsympathetic bus companies, that made the Malk arrive on the 27th instead. It's terribly nice, and the idea to put everyone ELSE in the bedroom, and sleep in my small bed in the living room was a good one. The new addition, Anselm, who'll sadly leave us on the 31st, I was of course apprehensive about at first. After all, it's me, and new people. I'm... tricky that way. Especially having the surprise that someone I don't know and have never met is going to live in my apartment. My little haven, my private space. Some have been following this blog and now how much I love returning here. But one glance, one handshake and hey, this is going to be okay! He's a happy sort of guy, with an infectious smile, a sense of humour that fits right in and he's a good roleplayer. Plus... he too chose Space Wolves for his "Deathwatch" character. That's an immediate plus point.

It's a relief, really. I've not been as stable as I should like, around Midwinter. Many nights of bad and worrisome dreams, and then trouble sleeping altogether. And my mind has been... I'm sure there's a diagnosis for it. I can't focus. Can't focus on one thing. I listen to audio books when I paint, which is a good thing as they keep one part of my mind busy while the other part is free to, undistracted, work the painting. But when I'm not similarily occupied... it's sometimes frustrating. I can't be in one place at the same time. I can be in as many as five realities at the same time - most often however only two or three. I could sit by the yule tree, opening gifts, while I was explaining just how much of an idiot that lady really was to say such a thing to me, while I was figuring out how to cut the fabric to make the best and most flowy arms for Dream's next outfit.
Or, I can be out in the snow, skiing, and in my head plays one song, and I write a mail to a friend, and I race through the forest on the way to a safe hiding place.
Or I'm inside, roleplaying, drawing, and having an imaginary chat conversation with someone. And so on.
This is all tempered with moments of feeling just about nothing at all. Urgh.
Those are just three examples. It's like this almost all the time. Sometimes it's better, yesterday and today have been all right, and there's one person in whose presence my mind seems less high-strung and far more ordered, or, at least, I perceive things more clearly. Wish I could spend more time with you, my friend...

But, yes, it works out having a lot of people over. The others are away gaming with the Catthulians, I opted out because of abovementioned nightmares. It's GREAT gaming with them, theirs are always really good adventures that you enjoy, but... I can't. Not now. Some space and time for myself is good.

The skiing was a great thing to do. Me and fox and Egladil went for 7.5 kilometres. It was hard going, since the snow got stuck under the skis, but oh well. More of a challenge!

My Yule evening was very nice! Family almost all gathered, except the Hunk Surfer Dude Brother. He's working. I had some nice things, and people were happy for the things I gave them, I think. The friend-exchange of gifts was also nice. I received money earmarked for travels. Which is a very good gift, and shows that sometimes I ought to give more credit to people than I often do. Scotland is a definitive candidate for burning that money, aye! And Naraiwe had found a lovely silver-work pendant for a necklace, in a rather elvish style, which I'm now wearing. Iwhy hit the spot as usual, with amongst other things a LOVELY dark-green-glittery eyeshadow. Fox got me Book of Lost Houses, and Book of Houses: Noblesse Obligé, for Changeling: the Dreaming! Very happy am I! Youngest brother Bob showed his wireworking skills with Cthulhoid figures that are REALLY good. I hope he gets the recognition he deserves as an artist! But most of all, I love how people showed happiness and appreciation for what I got them.

Our own little tree here in the apartment is all glittery and cheery. I always like having it out.

Quárë

2010-12-21T00:32:00.004+01:00

...means "fist" in Quenya.

There's something about the expression "weak as a kitten". For one, it describes how I feel after a bout of stomach flu or whatever it happens to be this time. I do remember that one time after Medieval Week, but not very well - I think I had fever most of the time - but I CERTAINLY remember the food poisoning those last days of living in Scotland. Walking was out of the question. I most literally crawled along the floor. My words of "no, no worries, I'm fine, I'm just a bit weak, been to the bathroom" probably weren't that much of a comfort or made that much sense, to the poor Norwegians that found me in the middle of the night.
Ah yes, bad memories. Now, this time, I somehow made it without throwing up. Mind over matter, I tell you. Close call, but hah. Still couldn't eat and could do nothing but sleep all day yesterday and today was only a wee bit better. I had to turn back on the way to practice, didn't even make it to the bus, but I managed to get myself some blueberry... uh... cream? Mashed blueberries, rather fluid. In any case, I've been able to even have some food that's not mainly made up by water or sloshing about in a cup. This whole idiocy does prevent me from hugs and tea however, for which I will never forgive it. Not that I had much choice. I'm suspecting the food I ate on Saturday, but then, something has been going around at work, and the other lady went down BAD yesterday and today, so maybe it's that instead...
I hope I can get to work tomorrow. It's laughable, again, how little money there seems to be.

Only... I'm not supposed to be thinking that way. That only reinforces it. So I'm trying to think that actually, I DO have money. It'd just be good if I worked a bit more.

Bleh. BLEH, I say.

But Saturday turned out good. Well, work was much, MUCH too quiet, but the lrp was good. Nice seeing people as usual, and there weren't too many dead minutes. There were a couple of pre-directed scenes that went down really well and added to the evening in a very neat and creepy manner. Frida wasn't surprised at all to hear that there are ghosts and they can interact with their surroundings and affect people. She was, however, a bit too smart for her own good and got slammed to the ground by a pissed-off Gangrel, snarled at, then left alone again.
She only just managed to get Butch to withdraw in time for him NOT to go one-on-three in a fight, got to share some nice and dreamy moments with Conrad, talked a little with poor Jesper and didn't have to meet the animal-thing or Archibald at all! No, that was left to poor Oswald, who did the going-into-another-Malk's-head for the final time. Of course, Frida wasn't inside to witness, but I was there staring in rapt fascination and listening to the scene, when he smote the devious Archibald with his Bible and then (after Butch and the beast had been diablierized) not just shot him once, twice and then did a double-tap with a shotgun, but also managed to get Jesper to survive whole, and... well... I think a bit of Conrad survived. But the IMPORTANT thing is, he was cool as hell! Le fangirl. The Reverend! Everyone thinks he's all meek and very annoying to talk to. Oh, if but they knew.
And besides, he'd connected real well with that wraith, and so, when the rest of the populace decided to punish him for going to Uppsala, the wraith took offence and made them pay for their mistake. Squeee, I say.

So, Frida survived, and was still, when last I left her, also breathing. We'll see now, however. With Butch, the beast and Archibald gone and dead, Jesper sort of suddenly came into control of his own body for the first time. So he's out traipsing around seeing and feeling everything and going everywhere.
Of course, the rest of the populace want to punish HIM, too, by taking Frida away from him, something which the dear Reverend sidled over to the acting Prince and murmured, something to the extent of "Uh, you know she's the only thing keeping him together, right?" to which said lady got a suddenly very worried look on her face and said "Oh. Oh dear."
Yeah. Well. You know what?
COME GET ME. Believe me, and catch me if you can.
Besides, Jesper was a Dementation-wielding little wonder even before he swallowed Archibald down. And... and the thing they all seem to forget, EVERY SINGLE TIME. It's very easy. It's spelled m, a, l, k, a, v, i, a and n. Tremere are annoying in their fight-one-you-fight-all-way of going about things. Malkavians are... worse. Because you never know where you have them. Never know where they stand or what they do or WHY they do it and what the HECK, why is the city FLOODED by Malkavians all of a sudden? Of all allegiances? And none claims to be here on a more specific purpose than "passing by"? Yeah. They're Malks. Either you live in ignorant bliss and never make mistakes, or you make one, and you find out a very hard way, just how fething creepy they are, and why you never, ever, ever mess with the Malkavians more than strictly necessary.
Also, don't underestimate them.

Yeah. I'm still a Tremere at heart.
But as opposed to COUNTLESS others... I've learned. And I knew even looong before I got to play the probably mostly harmless ghoul of a Malkavian. "Probably" and "mostly" being very... uncertain. But then, WHAT could a GHOUL ever possibly do? Except walk in sunlight. Oh, right, there's that... to begin with.

Yeah. Come get us, if you're stupid enough to go through with that idea.

Aye, I had fun.

And I got home, too, keeping the tummy in its proper place, after staying out until closing time with all the nice people, at Bishop's Arms. After coming home, however... oh dear. But hopefully I'll be all right tomorrow then. Right. Right?

And my left shoulder aches like it does when I need someone to go all crackety-crack on my back. Bummer.

Lasselanta

2010-12-17T13:38:00.003+01:00

...means "leaf-falling" and is really another word for autumn, but still.

Just a short one. I'm painting. Almost every day. I'm making mistakes, covering them up, painting something new and oops, suddenly it's 2 am again. I'm listening to the Harry Potter books narrated by Jim Dale, which works a lot better than music, oddly enough, when I'm painting. I can sort of read and paint at the same time - two of my favourite things. And I thank the gods for white gouache which covers mistakes.

I'm going to mix medias when I get back to the island, because there I've got my acrylics and father's mother's old oils. I've never painted with oils. They seem slow and cumbersome compared to the lightness I find in watercolours. All in all, creativity has returned. It feels good, and I look back at coming out of three years of stifling Natural Science courses and how I feared I would never get it back.
I think Scotland helped with that, a lot.
In London, when I went back there, I bought a book without even thinking twice. "Collins 30 minute: Landscapes in watercolour" by Paul Talbot-Greaves. Never mind his cool name, it was the interior of the book that captivated me. It has some lovely paintings of winter landscapes, and I need to get better at painting landscapes. After all, it's in them I see the magic things, and want to add them.

Snowpocalypse every other day here. Work now and then. Iaido as often as I can, probably will be five days this week, as I found out that FSKA has practice on Fridays.

Looking forward to roleplaying my way through the holidays. Listening a lot to We Are The Fallen and Undecimber still, but actually mostly to various Georgian polyphonic music, or thereabouts. This one, Shen Khar Venakhi by Kitka, especially. Sometimes, one finds THAT song. This is one of them. It's in a list with "Gallery Theme" by Tim Larkin and "Final Fantasy VII Advent Children: The Promised Land" from the soundtrack.

More about Scotland later. Now, off to prepare for tomorrow evening. Poor Frida. We'll see what happens, and if Malkavian stuff blows up in her face.

Till ar ais Alba

2010-12-06T13:03:00.005+01:00

I've already been back to London, and I haven't written much about the trip to Scotland at all. London THIS time was snow, cold and using the tube system only one day out of a week. I walked everywhere, looking real good as a dandy. I like looking like that. I really do. I've no desire to be a man, but I love dressing like a woman dressing like a man. It looks really good on me.
But I digress.

Scotland...
I was grinning like an idiot as I stepped off the plane. I'd been able to see Arthur's Seat and the castle during our descent, and I was so eager that I took the £3 Express bus into town, instead of the £1.25 or something good old number 35.

Stepping off was like...
...for a second, I was just stepping off the bus from Prestwick and over there! Faun and Naraiwë, waiting for us...
...but then that reality faded and I was back and...
...I hadn't ever left.

It was as if I'd stepped out the door back home and it led, like I imagined it did for a few odd days after returning in 2008, into Edinburgh and not Visby. I was back and I was home. Edinburgh castle winked at me and on impulse I set off into Old Town, though I was supposed to meet IaiMatt along Prince's Street. I was home. And the feeling didn't really leave me. I had an IrnBru and a Cornish pasty, before we squeezed into The Royal Oak. This tiny pub really is an institution, and has stuff like a sign saying "This was this person's spot until his demise in that year. We miss you, Albert." or somesuch, a huge guy playing a poor guitar and singing, good drink and a lot of regulars. And when the huge guy shouted about the foreigners needing to shut up, he didn't mean me - he meant the animatedly chatting Englishman, Welshman and Irishman in a corner... It was a great evening, though one Strongbow and a whisky felt a bit too much. I don't like it when I feel any effects at all of alcohol, and I can spot the slightest effects at once. I like whisky, sure, but I don't drink it. I taste it. Alcohol mostly just makes me suspiciously sleepy. But oh well. We walked home and I slept like a log for about six hours, before waking up all perky.

It felt odd getting out and about. I never really left, did I?

On my way to the Museum, and to Tesco, and to 31 Viewcraig Gardens, I took the road I always walked from iai practice, and popped in to Electric Cabaret, where Danny was putting things up on the "Sale" rack, and I found the exact same trousers that I bought two and a half years ago, and for £10 so I got them without hesitation, and a real neat mesh shirt. Then I passed by Forrest Café for second breakfast, the Museum which is being rebuilt (and I spied the prettiest of the librarians that I used to see, too!), and so on. Going down the back road to Viewcraig Gardens, at a leasurely pace and pretending, or feeling, as if I was just returning after a tour for groceries, I was struck with amazement at what they'd done to the place. It looks real neat nowadays!
GW Edinburgh got a visit, the staff there is real cool, and I finally got to see the fabled stock room. Poor Baz the manager looked about to bolt when I gleefully told him I brought greetings from a certain Lord Inquisitor manager of ours, but relaxed when I said, "He told me to say 'hi'."

I was invited to join in on a game of Deathwatch with IaiMatt and his friends, but having passed by the store where LOVELY Beastile (she's that gorgeous girl I saw now and then when we lived there!) works and saying "see you tonight then!" I couldn't not show up at the Banshee Labyrinth for some clubbing. It was great meeting Lacryma again, and almost even better getting to know the others! Now I know even more UK lrpers, yay!

Sunday, once again, I woke up after too few hours of sleep and feeling very perky. Me and IaiMatt went up Salisbury Crags. We were planning on also going up Arthur's Seat but... we already had a long walk to the Crags from his apartment, so, we decided enough was enough. I did buy me some fudge on the way back, though.
That night... well, I can't remember what we did that night. Cooked, I know, and I think we watched a bit of StarTrek. Next morning I got up and took a slow walk into town, before getting on the train to Prestwick, where I met up with Egladil, and collected a car. I ended up being the driver, and it went well until we took the wrong turn and ended up in middle of central fething Glasgow. NOT happy. Eventually, we got out, found a Tesco, had something to eat and set off up into the Highlands.
Aberfoyle, being randomly in our way, was a good a place as any to stop and so we did, taking a walk to the Faeire Knowe (or Hill), which is a place you should do google about. We stopped by the old church and played with cameras and read up on the place, before moving along.
On our way up the hill, we saw white sheep peacefully grazing. Only there was no fence around there, so I'm not sure they were supposed to be there. Of course, this was a Fair Folk hill, so...
As darkness fell, we came up to the top. I saw something wave and flutter in the wind, and started hearing a twinkling sound... The entire glade was filled with small offerings - candles, strips of fabric, trinkets and everywhere, little windchimes. In the middle was the fir tree of legend, and I walked widdershins around it (I don't know why that direction, but it felt right) nine times, stopped to bow to it, then was lead to a tree just nearby where a bracelet hung. I had a bracelet on me and I knew I could have offered that as a gift but somehow, it felt better to offer something that would whisper forever in the wind but not clutter the place. I offered a song, "The Third Day" from Romeo and Juliet at the Roma Theatre on Gotland, as made by Thomas Almqvist. It was appreciated, and something flew over the fir tree, circled thrice and then away, as I sang. The near-full moon was up, Eärendil shoe beside it and we didn't say much at all, as we silently took the scene in, looked out across the countryside and then made our way down.
Along the same path. Except it wasn't. There is only one path up on that side of the Knowe. But that sure as me wasn't the same one twice.

We took a drive to find somewhere to sleep, and ended up in a BnB on the outskirts of Aberfoyle, falling asleep to the sound of a river outside our window.

I'll fill you in on the rest later. Meanwhile, have a look at the pictures. At least, some of them.

Other things that have been happening is a month of not working, and like I said, London. Also, five consecutive weekends of lrps. Last week was Nattkyla, or "Cold of Night" in Kalmar, where quotes were said about me such as, offgame, "You're a TALKATIVE Tremere! You scare me!" and ingame, "If you want to talk to her, get her away from the other one. He's the brains." the other one being Ni... sorry, Mattias Wrede, formerly called Thorgeir (but we changed that to something simpler). Regina Gabriella Lindkvist, loudmouth with attitude and a lot of guts, was received about as I'd expected - she was talkative, all over the place, unafraid to state her opinion or to talk to anyone, waved a cheery hello to the Nosferatu Primogen who had the entire place bugged and CCTV-ed to avoid being there in person, and so on. Yes, my friends, look at me and be deceived. "It's great that you're willing to play such a character, that's, like, an atypical Tremere, and not gloomy, mysterious and oh so smart." The first three there are a bit of the point, and also it's an excellent way to get the game going and give the lrp a bit of a boost. And of course Reg's not smart. She's just your average Tremere, really. Not smart at all. Nosirreee.
I love Reg. She's so much herself all the time, that it's no wonder people including herself at times, believe she's really ended up in the wrong clan. But the goal for the evening was realised - become friends with the Brujah and get to have some fun with them. Which she awesomely well succeeded in, becoming fast friends with the Primogen. They are out partying, raising some hell and generally doing cool things, in between the ordinary "sitting in the chantry reading things" that every good Tremere has to do.
Not that Reg minds. After all, Wrede is there and he's a fun chap!
Insert injoke here. I know you appreciate it, my dear. Oh, don't be shy... let's see that grin. Yeah, there we go. Reg and Wrede. What a team.

Speaking of VtM lrps, last night was maybe not the most intense or fast-paced game of StbN I've been to, but it was certainly interesting. Frida figured a few things out, apart from being her ordinary Malkavian Caretaker self, and even, thankfully, managed to get Archibald away and first Butch, then, oh joy! Jesper to come out! And she even got to meet Konrad. She was VERY happy.
Yes. I think I mentioned that there's five personalities there now. Archibald's not the real Archibald, though. He's not supposed to be there.
The clock is ticking, time is running out and the Malkavians are going to Uppsala.

I think next time, in two weeks, is going to be a very final time for a lot of things.
I can't wait...

Lots of snow outside. A certain and very dear friend of mine came to visit for almost two weeks, all in all, and even elected to do so after I had said that I was going away for two days in the middle of it. Gotland is a healing place, for some, and I'm happy to be the friend that could help out, for once. Happy said friend got to see my island in the wintertime.

A bit lost as to what to do with things. I guess I'm still looking for more part-time jobs, but I really just want to focus on the creativity inside me. Got myself four new paints and a neat tip-book about watercolours in London. And two odd crayons that I look forward to using! They're really cool. White and black. Felt like the best choice.

Thinking of popping an IrnBru open, close my eyes and just enjoy the memories. I feel better now. I know Scotland's there, and it's easy to get there. Not hard at all.

Tó

2010-11-23T14:30:00.000+01:00

...means "wool" in Quenya.

It's not REALLY got anything to do with much at the moment, but I like the song!

It's called "Without you" and is sung by the band We are the fallen. I'm in a goth/gothrock period now, I think. Not surprising, seeing what month it is! And dark it is, too. Which means, I'd LOVE to play some old World of Darkness roleplaying games.

Of course, a nightly walk around Visby is a pretty good substitute. It is utterly and completely impossible to keep them under the mat. They wake up, all of them. Katarina first and strongest, always. This is my city. My island. These days also Reg, the hellion, grinning. Hah! And others wake, not as strong, not as defined, or simply not really there. I wake up, and all of me. Some things that see the world as a brighter and more colourful place do. Some things that walk not really the streets of Visby. Some things that are me, but another me. Some things that walk not the now but the past or the parallell.
All in all, it can be disconcerting but mostly I like it. If the darkness has to smother everything and make people depressed... no, I don't go for that. I use it, I cloak myself in it and I become part of it. It's one way of dealing, and unsurprisingly, it's one of the reasons that the subculture of "goth" once started.

Besides, it's too much darkness to fight. It's Unseelie time. And when my rage has subsided, and I still stand staring at a November without one day of work (let's not get in to that, other than my fairly well-grounded suspicion that I am being punished for something, and I've no idea what), what can I do but break down and not get help or anything that makes me go on, or, use the darkness and make it part of me.

"Neo Vapori" still resonates with me sometimes. I loved being Vincent. And awesome enough, the player of my/her date (long, lovely story), had, for the Stockholm by Night Masquerade Ball, named his character "Vincent". I squeeed.
And then I went on to scare the blood out of most of the lrp. "So... you're Gangrel, then." "No... I am... Tzimisce." And I smiled and their eyes widened and they backed away and, oh, delightful. It was great fun being Josephine Babineaux, Seneschal of the Malkavian Prince Alardin of Brussels.

Anyways.

I'm going to have some tea, do some... you know, important stuff, I think, and burn some incense.
And welcome the darkness and rain some more. Mmm, I feel creative! Maybe time to bring out some viking gear and make it better? Or make myself a pair of hose? Or paint... or write, perhaps? All in conjunction with a bit of hugging a very dear friend who just so happens to sit in the sofa a few metres away at the moment. Yay for that, I say!

Oh, and I finished reading "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" in six to nine hours - I'm not sure. I re-read parts, and slowed myself down as much as I could. I like that series. I like the warmth in the books, and the world it presents.
And Hogwarts is the best school ever.

Rana

2010-11-15T01:59:00.004+01:00

I am Rana, and every word I say is manipulation. I am Rana, and my every move, my every thought, is deceit, guile, subterfuge. But of course... not for you. I am Rana, rider of Nauglug! I am one of the Lord Gholans closest generals and advisors, and I am first among elves. I was advisor to Silcandril the White, and the elves say I betrayed them all.

Such foolishness.

It is not betrayal, never was. It was and is a complete refusal to live half-way, to deny myself, to close my eyes to our nature and to smother myself. To pretend to be less than we are... why do they still do it? Even now, after I have returned to life, after seven hundred years. But my legend lives on still.

Those few elves that have woken up... they are few, indeed, yes, but out of them, I like to believe most have understood the only way to go, and they have come to me. We are forming a slowly growing group. In Margholien, where we do not have to deny ourselves, and where magic is stronger.

I am proud to say that during the course of a mere day, I have helped yet another one see all this, and we are now one more that will not smother herself, will not strive to be less than she is, all because of outdated and fearful notions of... well, fear of actually accomplishing something.

--------

So, yes, playing Rana, the original sinner and first one to ever turn to Gholan, went well. It was appreciated and I was admired. I'm very happy, it felt like a big mantle to take on and big shoes to fill. But, apparently, I did it!
It wouldn't have been anywhere near even half as fun without Morigail around, though, portrayed by LittleSir. Damn, but we make a fine pair of elves, no matter what sort we portray!
People said afterwards how we were perfect, and just how they had envisioned us. How I hit the nail spot on with my acting (though I prefer the term "being"). I had a lot of fun, and even when bored, could find things to amuse me. I'm used to that by now, being proactive. And it worked fairly well, though it was tempered by a bit of occasional frustration. Oh, and... magicians. Urghk. Always trying to be the most important, having the most important ritual and generally not caring how many they are and how much they upset and disturb, for example, dinner. Bother on ye all.

It was all in all a lot of fun. I enjoyed looking and being so different from the elves I usually portray. I like to think we added something to the general mythology and "science" related to elves in the campaign world of Thule.

There were a lot of people who really made me Rana. I mean, I can playact and be all I like, but unless people react to that in the right way, and do things that reaffirm it, it's useless. They did, though; reaffirm me/Rana with their actions and words. So despite the somewhat less than ultimate venue, it was actually a good lrp. FAR better than I expected beforehand. With lots of good lrpers and good mini-events throughout. And I enjoyed creeping people out by simple virtue of being her.

Thanks to those who made it a good event. "Den Svarta Nyckeln" ("The Black Key") really twisted my perceptions on the Thule campaign, in a good and interesting way. We're not evil. We're not "the other side". We are.
And I am Rana.

Mai lómë.

2010-11-11T00:29:00.003+01:00

...literally means "Good night" in Quenya, so I'm not sure whether it's correct, grammatically speaking.

So much to write, really. Sitting back home, after sipping a bit of Tobermory to calm my coughy throat. But what felt important was this:

I'm working on restoring my trust. Not to get blue-eyed, but to be able to trust at all. I do, with one person and almost, with another. But just... simple trust, that which most people are able to do. I'm working on it. I think.

Good night.

Hópa

2010-10-05T01:50:00.003+02:00

...means "haven" in Quenya, in the direction of "harbour" I imagine.

Once again, reminiscing. Like last year, like the one before. Three years, and some weeks: Anjie, Karstius, Sam and then all those others. I don't mourn that much, that we do not game as often. They... their story has been told. We haven't a definite ending, but we've seen the most important and formative part of it.

Three years and some days ago, was when I set foot in Scotland. By this time, we'd explored a lot of Edinburgh, gone to this place and that, even up Arthur's Seat I think. I'm meeting faun in a few days; that feels good. He's offski to Africa after that.

...I don't feel the travel itch as badly right now. Presumably because I'm going to Scotland fairly soon. In ten days time, to be precise. It felt so good booking that ticket. Like something was falling into place.
It looks like it will be a bit of everything, once there. I will miss Ascenscion, which bothers me, but I'll have Edinburgh to myself, then a roadtrip in the Highlands before I use the night for a ridiculously cheap ride by bus to London. I'm not so keen to go to London, after all, whatever would I want to go there for, when I can visit Edinburgh? But, Iwhy's moved there, and I'm having some nice company on the way over again, so I guess it's okay.

My self-esteem is somewhere around rock bottom, flailing and trying desperately to keep forgetting how to hit the ground. So many small things - that aren't very small, really - affect it. Work. How I feel that I make mistakes, and no one else does, or at least, no one else's mistakes are noted. Iaido, how it's not my lack of skill, but my body, oh, this treacherous husk, that fails me. And how I am encouraged to do Seitei, when really koryu is what ought to be focused upon. But who am I to say, a lowly sandan? Then, of course, we also have the neverending shoulder, which is bothering me. And the other regulars, you know, polyamory and all that other bother.
I'm not at ALL keen on going around being sensitive and reacting like... well, like I used to, and very much more than I should. I want to feel good or at least okay, and not do the "frantically swimming to keep my nose above the waterline" thing.

Then again, some things and people... You know. I like them. For example, painting with watercolours is still going well, even if I don't do it very often. It's such a relief when I do. And we have the recurring lrps with the Malkavian ghoul, Frida. That has hit a breaking point now - will she break, or will she grow a spine? It's leaning in both directions, and I'm really curious to see where it ends up. As usual, I don't rule my characters - they live perfectly well on their own.
And this weekend, I played a nice game of Eldar vs Orks, that would have been a lot more fun had I actually rolled better. Nice to be able to save, you know, a few things, but, having had luck at least somewhere within horizon distance of supposedly statistical likelihood, I would have liked. But... fun, aye, despite the crushing defeat.
But then I had a visit from a friend, and on Saturday, after a shit day at work and packing up stuff to go home, I swung by his parent's place (seeing as how he lives at the other end of the country usually, but was now visiting) and was treated to a proper evening. I tell you, that was not just a proper evening, it was a proper wooing! Table set for two, candles, dinner being cooked as I watched, and what a dinner! My mouth waters when I reminisce... Did I mention it was a three-course dinner too? Yes, that, my dears, is a textbook example of wooing. As in those NICE textbooks, with lots of good pictures that made you feel like you really wanted to do whatever was in them, and really inspired you, and made you feel a little like you'd actually tried what was written in them.
After that, we watched a few episodes of Monty Python's Flying Circus. Genius.
And I can't even be miffed that a certain kitty woke not just me, but both of us, up, earlay in the morning and DEMANDED to be let out of the house.
The next day continued in the same awesome vein, with a large boat sailing in winds of up to 10 m/s. It was absolutely marvellous. I've not had that opportunity for three years! No, four, even. So, understandably, I was anything but unhappy.
Sun. Winds. Water. Of course I also held the steering wheel for a while, and, waved to the Gotland ferry when it departed.

It would be beyond wicked awesome if my idea for having a real elven swan ship during a lrp. Even if it were in a smaller scale. You start out with a ship of Vikign design, and then tweak...
Also, combining the practicalities demanded by wet weather, hard winds and elven aestethics are... tricky, to say the least, when it comes to designing clothes.

Topping this weekend off was going home. And here, bad self-esteem doesn't matter. Here, it's just... well. Peace, and autumn winds.

Vahala

2010-09-28T13:30:00.002+02:00

...means "far" in Quenya.

After three years since the initial move, after countless tears, an aching heart and an ocean of longing... Caledonia, you're calling me and now I'm coming home.

I go there on the 15th of October. I might go back on the 22nd, but from London instead. I don't know, because I've only got a one-way ticket yet.
Dear gods, but it feels good.

Lauca

2010-09-01T00:44:00.003+02:00

...means "warm" in Quenya.

Sunday night, with less than two hours to spare, I booked a sudden ticket for a night-train that was... well, outward bound. Then I packed, and once on the train, a sense of excitement made me smile again. Six nice ladies sharing a small room and six bunk beds. Most got off somewhere past halfway, I was last out in the glorious sunrise on a station I'd never been to before. In the distance, the sea, but that wasn't the destination for me, this time. Once there, however, I was met by smiles and soon it was all I could do not to constantly cry. The relief... the tension somehow just draining away. Realities colliding, the fluid walls between them almost visible, my fatigue and the presence of possibly the only person for which I completely let my walls down... I went to bed for an extra hour of sleeping while the others were away, and cried myself to sleep, and cried when I woke up, and cried again and again over the course of a few hours. For sorrow, joy and other, things I could not name. I had to get so much out. No one really saw, but that wasn't the point either. What had been bottled up inside got loose and exited as tears. It came and went a few times, but hugs and the presence of a little sunshine helped.

I was breaking, you see, so close to that point where even I, Elenaria, might actually go down on my knees and merely crawl. But I saw this sudden opening and I dove for it despite the dark misgivings (that were only there because of how things are at the moment with me) and of course it was the right thing to do.

The night train was exciting! The movement lulled me to sleep, I was sleepy even before I booked the train, but I couldn't quite sleep as well as I thought I would. Noises wouldn't have been too much of a problem but I used earplugs anyway, and so it was a mostly pleasant hum and racket. Still, I woke up often, turning in the bed. But I think now, even if I wondered at that time, that it was because it was so much a journey of the spirit. Most often, at least. That one time when the train stopped for a very long while, though, it was pure idiocy of my mind to go on a circular track of "why are we standing still, we're just outside that town, is something wrong, will I be late, I won't be late for anything, there are no connections to be late for, maybe it's because we are not in a hurry and might be too early, but why are we standing still, just outside..." and so on. Urgh, I detest that. Why does the mind have to? And if I'm not awake enough, I can't reset and go back to sleep, but I can seldom wake up enough, because I'm too sleepy. Stupid, really.
Oh well, what sleep I did have, was pleasant, and I did certainly like the whole adventure!

I have found now an extra pair of shoes, an extra pair of trousers (extra only, I might add, if I find the original pair that are mysteriously disappeared), a nice set of suspenders (the old kind!) and something that might possibly be termed loafers. All of it second hand and none more expensive than... hohum, must have been the shoes to the monumental cost of 75 SEK. Extra meaning, I already have one set of clothes for sir Vincent Ravenscroft. I'm also pondering the level of nobility for her family. Duke, Margrave, Marquis or Count? Tricky.

Am listening to Cecile Corbel and enjoying it. Sometimes it's a bit quirky, but most often I like it.

Watched the "Silent Hill" movie again on Monday evening. As good as I remembered, and in the present company, even better. There are visions of hell to be considered, though I am very certain that a certain Tremere by the nickname of Reg would rather they stayed merely visions, and that their cause was banishable.

Went back today and found, despite everything, that a small measure of peace remained. Work went by fast, and practice was all right though I was alone.

So, yes, it was a very good random thing to do. I picked up another book, intending to walk further on along the road where "The Celestine Prophecy" got me started. I read it on the train and almost filled a page with scribblings, and saw the beauty of outside too, so it was all good.

Now to sleep and beyond, though I will miss the hugs and the general solace I find in the company I kept yesterday. Seven and seven and seven again, and seven times that, thanks to those who so willingly accepted me and just let me come by on no notice at all. You know I am grateful, but it never hurts to say so again. I needed it, and the words "When's she coming? I could pick her up." had me in tears even before I had booked the ticket. Accepting, without hesitation.

I should get one of those blankets, that I borrowed to sleep under, though. They really are coziness incarnate.

Randa

2010-08-26T00:34:00.002+02:00

...means "cycle, age" in Quenya.

Yesternight, I smelled autumn in the air. Part of me rebels, no, let not the summer be over yet! I have not enjoyed summer as I should have!

But I know... it happens, this time of the year. Still everything is green and abundant, but, it will change. I loved the good things of this summer - the lrps, Medieval Week, coming home, resting... swimming, walks in the forest and the general existance of the sun.

I'm not so well at the moment. Despite the summer having been filled with awesomeness, much of which is waiting in various unfinished posts, today, I couldn't bring myself to run all the way from the train to practice, which I usually do, unless my knees say no. I do it to maximise time, and I do it to get the exercise. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not because my body was complaining or didn't want to, but because in my head, a weariness had settled.
I know what the problem is, I daren't write it here for I know not who might chance upon it, but I know I must change it, and very very soon. But I'm weary. And I refuse to waste life, that precious little I have (after all, I'm bound in a human body and they have a limit), on... on... well. No.

But I've spent a lot of time at home, and with fox, too. That has been good. Also, last week, I brought out my watercolours, and my big, never before used, book with white papers. And I sat down, and I painted, and with a brief pause to go skinny-dipping in a limestone quarry under the stars, I finished it in one sitting. It was... magical. I enjoyed it immensely, though it was like learning to walk all over again. And it was a good one! I'll try and post pictures, if I get any good. My camera is acting up, singing on the last verse and all that.

Out of the blue I got a sort of apology, from one who hurt me once. I was MUCH surprised, and very happy. I hope that person will never make the same mistake. And I got some explanations, too, which enables me to see more clearly certain things. That was a very good thing, and I'm happy it happened.

It is autumn, yes, though I don't want it to be. Autumn, a time for endings, finishing, and in a way starting anew, though mostly for wrapping up.

Been reading one heck of a lot of Charles de Lint. Phew. My wallet is screaming in pain. "Dreams Underfoot", "Yarrow", "The Riddle of the Wren" and currently "Moonheart". "The Little Country" is waiting next, and I'm taking tours into anthologies "The Faery Reel: Tales from the Twilight Realm" and "Firebirds rising" now and then. It is a marvellous journey. I'm reading fantasy again! And such a brilliant author too. Now, I will go to rest again.

Shoulder is still being a bitch, I should have done my exercises more during summer, but resting, wasn't that supposed to do something for it, too? Apparently not, so four days a week of iaido, it's back to that, I guess! Oh, and they want me to, not only be senpai and help out... but to go "sensei". I'm not entirely comfortable with that...

Oh well.

...I miss being out in the forest with pointy ears. Steampunk in a few weeks, as sir Vincent, in all glory, sure... but... well, Naraiwë knows what I mean, I think.

Cermië

2010-07-25T02:40:00.000+02:00

...means "July" in Quenya.

There's a tall beast of a post coming, or I might split it into two, about Ödesväv/Weave of Fate and other things. Here, let it suffice to say that things are in motion now.

And they are indeed.

After the lrp (which was all kinds of great and good), I hade a wonderful experience when talking to Highelf, and a couple of days ago I asked him what book he thought I should start out with. He got "The Unfettered Mind" from me, and he suggested I try "The Celestine Prophecy" by James Redfield. Yes, I do believe some of you have heard of it, or read about it. So the next day I went off and to a bookstore to find it. The bookstore was filled with paraphernalia, and my mind went a bit muddy, until I got the book in my hand after some searching, and then I started reading almost immediately. And it's been insight after insight, reviewing my own life and the world around me. For a long while, there was not much new, just definitions and something putting some things into words, defining things I had already noticed. Then I went back and to the beginning, and read part of it again, just to confirm things.
I do recommend it. But read with an open mind, please. And don't shy away for the shivers along your spine or the "...this sounds right, but LOGICALLY..." Feck off logic and thoughts.

We're all thinking too much, and being too little.

Sometimes, I will stop reading in the middle of a sentence. I know then that it is time I take a timeout, and I do not force it.

Things are moving. I will seek out some people from what came before and confront them. And I see now the future not as something to have angst about, but something that will, eventually, turn out all right.

Today I met Curly, which was beyond nice, and I have missed his company a lot. We talked, and talked, and talked the hours away in the rain, and oddly enough, this was part of the road. He needed, I hope, me to listen to him, and perhaps suggest this or that. And I needed to meet him. I knew it was more than just a random thought to send him a text and suggest we meet for tea and coffee. He said, not entirely out of the blue, that, why didn't I take commissions for entire outfits for lrp and such? Not just the stuff, but the outfits in their entirety. First as a side thing, and then as my main income.
He said other things beside, but they all stuck. He might be on to something.

And tonight, which is why I am not sleeping though I should be, through a chat window, came something I had NEVER thought would come. On it followed a long discussion, and in the end, both parties were a bit surprised, but had put something to rest that had been itching and burning for a long time. I'm happy about that. Thanks, you know who you are.

I'm once again waking up, becoming more aware. I've done that in steps, now and then, but this time it's all very conscious. Wherever this leads I know it'll be somewhere good. The most important person in my life is with me, and now, and please understand the significance of this, another one is, too, someone I chose to trust and for whom I let down all defences. That means I actually trust two people. Completely. I still have to remind myself about the other person, as it is very new to me, but... I do trust.

Yeah. I'm scared shitless. But it's all for good.

Things are moving. My life is not stuck anymore. No idea how and why and what or anything at all, but hell, I'm not going to stop just because of that. I'm done with one certain thing, but other options are out there and I'm grasping at them.

Tuilindo

2010-07-03T09:40:00.004+02:00

...means "swallow" (the bird) in Quenya.

Long time no write. Spent eight hours at the Emergency department of the hospital on the calendar-Midsummer because of an icky, ICKY eye-infection. Yeah, I know I wasn't a priority but... Please, politicians, stop "saving" money on healthcare? One INTERN working, alone, for the whole day? (Well, there were nurses, but no more doctors...)
On the plus side, I managed to sew a lot of pearls onto a tunic. 18 hours of pearl-sewing. Urgh.

The crown to the same outfit is also taking craploads of time. But it becometh awesome.

I will play Lorëala/Dream next week... it's going to be exciting and fun!

Have a backlog of a post or two, will see when/if they go live.

In the meantime, I went to Ashika, and played my dear Owara Hayana, of the house of Kanzume. It's all very Japan-inspired, that lrp, but oh. So. Goooood. Woonderful to return after three years! Loved meeting Kiyoshi again, the rascal, and making new acquaintances such as Kisho and the others. Mm, yes, and not as much rain, either! On the other hand, an insane amount of midges. INSANE. You couldn't breathe at times.
But who cares, when it is over, and it was sooo gooooood.

Also, 8th Edition next Saturday, YAAAAH!

Wonderful summer weather. Wonderful time back home and out in Austargarn. Full moon over the endless sea... I could live there. "I could live here," I thought, and didn't miss anything in the world bar one person.

Now, more packing and argh argh stressing.

Naur

2010-06-10T00:59:00.001+02:00

...means "fire" in Quenya.

This is... so, so good.
"Burn [Alleged remix]", Alkaline Trio:

There's a lightning storm each and every night
Crashing inside you like motorbikes
We toss and turn, sleep so loud
Grind the teeth in our
Our empty mouths (are empty...)

There's a forest fire burning bright
Spreading quickly towards our last rites
Nowhere to run, pointless to hide
Just lay there and scream, pretending to try
Pretending...

Intending to burn, pretending to fight it
Everyone learns faster on fire
Things took a turn, lost all desire
You live and you burn
You live and you burn

This impending doom is left deep inside
And it's haunting you each and every night
Like starving wolves counting sheep
We close our eyes, pretending to sleep
Descending...

Intending to burn, pretending to fight it
Everyone learns faster on fire
Things took a turn, lost all desire
You live and you burn
You live and...

Like hell we are anxiously waiting
Like hell burning silently strong
Somehow we fell down by the wayside
And somehow this hell is home

As we burn, pretending to fight it
Everyone learns faster on fire
Things took a turn, lost all desire
You live and you burn
You live and...
Like hell we are anxiously waiting
Like hell burning silently strong
Somehow we fell down by the wayside
And somehow this hell is home
Right now, this hell is my home.

Nárië

2010-06-04T22:53:00.003+02:00

...means "June" in Quenya. How the heck did it arrive this quickly?

Sometimes, I am prompted to write. But often, I write it all in my head, and then, it's already been written, and I never even had to sit down here, and it goes away. I had a few things to write about, I think.

How I found two new crushes, and then one faded and I kind of lost that kind of interest other than that the person is nice to look at, and the other one faded too but I still like the person.

How I have realised that much of what I read, and think about, and try to implement, just isn't... applicable anymore. To be unreadable is desirable, to me, and it was, in Tokugawa Japan, but these days, it is not. I cannot live the way I need to, and certainly not in order to be like that. Though I want it all to work even today, there are some things that, out of their original context, are simply void.

How I went home and loved it.

How I made such a faux-pas at work, without realising it at the time, that I oh so very much deserve all that is coming to me. It was a very, very good reminder that I need to be more of a sales-clerk and less of myself at work. Someone noted that I, after we close, revert to something entirely different. Yes. And I need to draw that line even sharper.
But rather than that, I'd like a job where I do not have to meet people on such a regular basis, and deal with them like I do now. I don't feel good about it. I'm not a people-person. I don't like having to go up to people and talk to them.
I must remember, foremost also, that I am... different. I need to think things through, twice, before I say them. In character, all the cheek in the world is mine, and all manner of different personality traits and things are available to me, because, I tap into resources that I don't have, in the persona I have to suffer in the so-called real world. I much, much, MUCH prefer alternate realities. Really, seriously. Always.
I can sort of... calculate people. Calculate how they work, and how I should respond. But mostly, I am winging it, and oh so often, it goes remarkably, horribly wrong. I can't... read people. Not the way most people do, unconsciously, to work out in social situations. I can read people remarkably well in a cold manner, calculating, but not... it just doesn't work like it should. It works if I may be a bit detached, if I may think, if I don't have fifty-eleven people around me, so that I have to shut off awareness, in order not to go crazy from all the signals and all the warnings and all the odd fething energies people exude.

And here, in this damned city, I shut off. I shut off to preserve myself. And that means I am stumped, and one sense short, and I shut off part of myself, and THAT is never a good thing. Not really.

I don't get people. They're so strange. They TOUCH me. They talk to me. They stand too close, and they look at me. Why are you? What's the big deal? Leave me alone, I'm not here.

And I suppose I should write about how iaido must be first and foremost and before everything else, or I will go insane.
Am I tying myself down with having found this very good dojo? Maybe. But for now it is my lifeline.

Yeah yeah. Spent five hours on the Banshee's mirror swords. They look really good. Am working more on my wood elves, too, because of the new rules edition. Reading "Helsreach" and damn me, it's good.

More often reading "The Life-giving Sword" by Yagyu Munenori, however. It is a bit less easy to simply accept than Miyamoto or Takuan, however, it does have complementary views, and a few new angles on martial arts that I apprecieate.

Dreaming. Dreaming realities. Dreaming strange things. And dreaming things that will be.

Also, I found a new dark small blob on my lower left leg. It's itching, and it hurt, this morning.
I am going to go for a check on this one.

...dear gods. Only two times a week of iaido during summer... how the hell am I going to manage? I simply must force myself into other realities more often. Writing a book might be a good idea to take my mind of things, since I can't seem to get responses from varying PBEM or PBF often enough, and the creativity is burning inside me.

Swedish Budo Championships 2010

2010-05-24T12:05:00.004+02:00

Which will be the topic of today, on account that not only were there iaido championships, but also kendo, jodo, naginatado and kyudo. All going on at the same place, Fyrishovshallen in Uppsala.

I figured I'd feel lonely this year, with no Malk present, but though I missed my buyu sometimes, there were so many other people, and new acquaintances, that it was all right. I got up on Saturday at godsdamnedly early, after a night with not enough sleep, and cursed my utter inability to manage good nights' sleep before things like this. Me and one other from Kensei, Anders, took the car there, and I got changed immediately. I registered, and got my celebratory tenugui, and then got changed. The kendokas were already going at it, and in another hall, the naginata people were having practice, and the kyudoka were talking about something. I watched the jodokas for a while, found a few faces I knew, talked a bit with a few people, and then time drew nearer the beginning. Met Stille-sensei who wasn't as early as I'd expected, and then we all lined up to start. This year, our hall had a wooden floor, and two sets of shiai jo. The godan class went first (incidentally, there were no yondan this year), since they were also to help out with the judging, and oddly enough Stille-sensei lost both his matches. However, he was not even halfway inclined to win, and said afterwards that hm, I must have been really lackluster. He didn't feel like competing at all this year, and it's the first year that he didn't have even one medal. Nope, not even team-wise, which I will get to in a while.

Then, the mudansha started with their pool-matches, where three people go up against eachother, resulting in two games each, and the best one, or two best, from those games, move on to knockout. I was so tired I hardly knew what to do, so I got a cup of tea, then went and fell asleep for an hour on a bench in a changing room. After all, I had, what, four hours? until I was scheduled on the floor.
Then, I went and found the hall we'd been given for warmup, and worked on my kata. I was very, very happy to note that we didn't have to do number ten, juuhonme, "Shiho-giri"... For pool games, the sandan class, third dan, were required to do sanbonme, number three, "Ukenagashi", nanahonme, number seven, "Sanpougiri" and juuipponme, number eleven, "Sou-giri".
We were up to go far quicker than I'd expected, but I noticed to my great pleasure that I was far less nervous than last year. See, nervous is something I do not do. It's the body on its own accord. So, out of three games: Two flags, win. Three flags, win. I met two of the nicer iaidoka I know. And suddenly it hit me... hey... wait. I quailified.
So then I went up for one more match, that was, incidentally, filmed, but I will not divulge it here, if you want it you'll have to ask me to see it privately, and I'll send it to you. I can see the mistakes I made, and I'm not particularily pleased, but it does give me more to work on, which is great!
I met a guy who is very, very good, and who've won many a medal (which is, by the way, mostly my way of emphasizing, that he's a good iaidoka for those who do not understand our budo), and who would later end up winning the entire sandan class (in a match that had the spectators go "oooh!" when the flags went up). I got one flag to his two, and Henry-sensei later told me that it was by no means a clear win on his side. This makes me grin. It means he has taught me well, as have the others. And that despite only one year with the stamp of "sandan" on my forehead, I am certainly not unworthy.

Some time during the day, I realised that I was a bronze medalist in the sandan class. We were, all in all, seven, making it not sound that much of a feat, but seeing as how I got one flag against the winner, and three (or two?) against the other bronze medalist... Yeah. I'm pretty proud.

I watched most of the rest of the matches, and had good company by my side. Finally, quite late, I got changed, and walked with a gang of others to the Budohouse, where we were to sleep. What a place... one big hall with lots of space (where we slept) and Ueshiba-sensei on the wall, one smaller with a bare wooden floor where there were jujutsukas on the walls, one small room with mitzes and various implements for getting stronger, another with yet more such stuff, one last hall with tatami, and one common room. The kitchen area was out in the corridor. Awesome place, I tell you, pure awesome. I want it. We talked and gabbed and babbled, and I almost slept a little, before the dinner. It was a good dinner, though they had the bad taste to put poisong (pineapple) in one salad. Luckily I was warned by a sign, and so stayed the hell away from that part of my plate. There was some bellydancing for entertainment, and I got into one very nice and interesting discussion with the kendoka at the table I randomly selected, and one discussion I was, at the end, more or less ready to chew my leg off to get away from. Discussion, by the way, more of a monologue...
I tried to get to bed early, and I did get to my bed early, only, everyone decided to hang out around it, and talk and have fun instead. Which was fine. I went to bed reasonably early, but I woke up quite a few times during the night, and when the alarm rang at fifteen past seven or somesuch... I was not happy.
Team competitions started at half past eight, and we got one game only. See, us iaidoka, decided that to save time, we'd skip the pool matches and go straight for knockout. Only, they put four of the best teams up against eachother, and we were, with our nervous mudansha, not a very strong team. I am miffed I lost to my guy, but it wasn't a straight win for him at least. I am more miffed that we got only that one game, and then it was all about waiting... and waiting... and being bored. The kendoka, you see, did NOT skip the pool matches. And so, they managed to make EVERYTHING late by at least one hour, for everyone. Ugh.
Also, few of them apparently cared enough about us other silly budo arts to stay and even watch. Pfah. Yeah... so you've got a good kiai, nice for you. You sound like a kitten, or a broken car. And you've got a bamboo sword, which you use to, let's be honest, POKE others? Oh, I HAVE seen you hit them. But oftentimes, you're standing there almost hugging, those bamboo sticks the only thing in the way.
...and you mock MY budo? And the naginata? The jodo? The kyudo, which will fething shoot you down before you get a fething chance to close in? Dear gods, you are silly, aren't you. We're all just about equally silly, but if you had any mind, you'd realise we're all part of the same whole. Oh well, once upon a time kendo was not so sportified.

There. Enough bashing of those impolite pricks (that were very "well" represented by a gang sitting behind me during the little display-show-thingies the other arts did). I did ask them, "But, guys, why do you mock them? I mean, take the bloody chance to study them, and find their weaknesses instead..." to which they actually fell silent and looked thoughtful.

Anyway. Watching the others was very nice. Kyudo and naginata especially. And I am in love with Stille-sensei's iaido. Power and control in perfect harmony. Unfortunately, I did not get to see Henry-sensei's iaido, as he was a bit ill, and was the one "overseeing" things.

Then commenced the finals, with even more kendo, but it was interesting to have Henry-sensei sit near, as he knows his kendo. Then for naginata, kyudo and jodo respectively, ending with iaido finals. Naginata was good to see, they're actually bashing eachother up pretty good.

After this, finally, we had the medals being given out. There were two for Kensei, one for a shodansha and one for me. Not the best year for us, but then, two of our very best weren't there...
And at long last, it ended.

I got to meet Iwhy a little, as she was helping out, and I got to enjoy good company, and meet also new people, and, speak Japanese with a few people! This was very good.

I was so high on this all, that I, okay, are you sitting down? Good. I re-booked my ticket home, to be able to come to practice tonight! Of course... Stille-sensei tempted me well by saying "Come to practice tomorrow!" and, worse yet, "Come for koryu practice tomorrow."
Okay. Sold.

Weather played holy hell with my fingers on Saturday and sure enough the weather changed. Then it played holy hell a bit yestereve, and sure enough, sunny again today. It was bad enough on Saturday that painkillers didn't help, not that I dared grab any of the stronger kind.

So... this gave me that little boost that I need to get going with my iaido again, as I had slowed off somewhat in my energy about it all. Uhm, I still have to rest my shoulder, but, anyways!

On the worse side, Henry-sensei said some Words of Doom that near made me weep when I later thought back on them.
"We need to get you a new sword. That one is a bit too heavy for you."
I know. And oh, how I know! But it's... it's... I can't! I don't want to! It's... the tsuba... the colours... the parts... I've... they're all mine. All picked, for a reason. For a very important reason. They have a meaning to me. And... if I do... I need a good, heavy suburito. 'cause I refuse my muscles dwindling because I start using a lighter sword! That is heresy.
...shinken can also, apparently, be quite light. Redbeard let me borrow his for a few cuts. Noooo, I was noooot nervous, doing nukitsuke and noto... noo.....

Sunny outside. Time to clean up the mess that is this room, back my bag for going home, pack another bag for going to practice, and enjoy the sun, perhaps. I ought to work on my wood elf army, but I don't feel like it. I want to practice iaido!
It was Loriel who said, "Hey, let iaido be your primary reality, and everything else, secondary." That's keeping me sane on many occasions, and helps me keep my focus... and now, I've got another boost that helps it be so.

Yeah, you can really tell. The iaido camps and competitions lift me up. It also helps, I think, that by now there are quite a few people whom I know a bit better. I know them by name, and even though we may meet only once a year, there's still that sense of having many buyu (budo friends, 武友). Often, these days, I meet them at least twice, though, it seems. National team, the quarterly seminars, and so on. I suppose that's one thing I'll miss with not attending the Gothenburg seminar this year.

Henry-sensei and Stille-sensei have taught me well. Lennart-san and the others as well. And my thoughts fly, and in my mind, I see a nod of approval from Ohara-sensei too.

Anga

2010-05-12T01:04:00.003+02:00

...means "iron" in Quenya.

Saturday. No lrping. Tech Noir instead. Wore long skirt and the "Necessary Evil" jacket, put in the clips with UV-reflectant ribbons, put up hair, did an awesome job of a makeup with mainly the green StarGazer eyeshadow. Went there, handed jacket in, went up and started the main dancefloor (dear gods, people, where'd the GOOD music go? I can, but I won't, dance to such hits as... urhg, yeah, eighties, nineties, they had lots of good alternative music, but please, radio hits, leave them be).

And there he was.

Again.

The creep from last time. Touching. So I made it clear in no uncertain terms that no, lay it off. Touchey touchey again. I got physical. Him and his mate still didn't leave me be entirely, but kept me always between the both of them, albeit at a distance of a few metres. So I went downstairs.
...and they came after me. Which was when I sort of didn't really have that little neat stoplight on anymore, but grabbed his curly disgusting hair and told him to let me the feth be.
Cue a female guard, me growling precisely why and what, and then being asked to follow her outside the room so she could hear what I was saying. I remember only rage, and telling her how he had decided to touch me last time I was there as well, and what he had done upstairs, which she hadnae seen. She said sure, that's what I'm here for, why did you nae come to me? We were keeping our eyes on them anyways. Are you all right?
No, I'm not, I said, and went to the ladies' room, dabbing my eyes and checking my makeup, and preparing to go the feth home. Waste of money, waste of time, waste of a good makeup.
But then the darndest thing happened.
A guy I know only very briefly, through old, old Sweden by Night and now have met again through Stockholm by Night, turned up. So I said, oh, hey, you here! We got to talking, and he lifted his left hand, showing a ring. A light dawned on me, and I quickly switched one of my rings to the same finger on my own hand. He asked what music I dance to, I pointed outside, and then it turned out the way that he saved the entire bloody evening. We exchanged names, as we didnae know them before, and then danced the night away. Even found a third girl (who had, it turned out when we talked afterwards, seen the Creep and that he did basically the same thing if not worse to other girls) sitting forlornly on a couch and dragged her up as well to dance with us. I met some random strangers that he knew and I didn't, and even though the music in the end was too loud to hear even the beat, well, the evening was a success. I got into bed at the decadent hour of half past five. Marvellous.

Slept in until about three in the afternoon and found a new character, a song I can't remember and good choices for what colours to use on my wood elves between sleep and waking up.
And then I remembered I'd promised to join in on the staff hobby night, sort of, and dragged my very hung-over arse there. See, I don't need alcohol to get the full experience, not a drop. But a lot of water, some restorative Dakara-type drink and a Resorb later, plus two ibuprofen and one of my regular migraine pills later...
...I was fit to paint sparkly-ass Howling Banshee swords for five hours.

Had another visit to Bosön today, good thing that. Treatment only this time, no excercises. Damn but it felt good afterwards! I had a moment of painlessness!

I like how, suddenly, there's green everywhere.

And because it came into my head when my thoughts were running in the same circles again, I wanted to post the lyrics here. I am breaking, and I don't want to go either way that seems to present itself. It would be so much easier to be, you know, just straight, and monogamous, or at the very least just monogamous. But I am so incredibly much NOT. Thankfully, at least... there is that one person existing that does understand the chaos in my head. Who will listen, and just that. No need for replies. Thanks. You know who you are.

You understand the chaos in my head.
Only you understand every word I say.
You restore my soul and erase all hurt,
the hurt that only you can take away;
You keep me from breaking apart.

(Apoptygma Berzerk, "You keep me from breaking apart")

Tuilë

2010-05-07T01:10:00.000+02:00

...means "budding", as in late spring, and is one of the words for different seasons in Quenya.

I've been stuck in a rut regarding sewing. Didn't WANT to, at all. Felt not the slightest excitement or drive for it. Just wanted to see things done, and wearable, now. No work, no having to measure, toile, cut, pin, yada yada.

But I got a bit of energy back, when I started to make two tekkou, Japanese armwarmers, for myself. It was easy making a toile/mock-up and it was easy modifying it, and easy to translate onto real fabric and easy to cut and to sew... And they're almost done, with no work at all! I could have done them in a day, had I owned a bike these days and actually focused on it.

Last time I went back home, I made up my mind - no slacking off, not for a day! And so I didn't, and instead started sewing as soon as I got up. I tell you, it's good I'm a Tremere. It required intelligence, perseverance and a small amount of utter insanity.

French seams in bias cut, shot chiffon.

And I made it, hah! And it looks good! I feel confidence I can make this outfit great. I have been using toiles for everything, and it works great so far. Also, my idea for a role was given the go, and so, on this year's Weave of Fate, I will play something a bit out of the ordinary. Spouse to Hunt and that one thing one can never quite capture, but always lurks in the corners of the mind, the thing that comes when you are not chasing it and gives visions most perturbing, exciting, wistful and joyous.
For I will be the, and bear with the insider joke here (thank you mr Gaiman for what you created), a rather decent anthropomorfic personification of the Seelie aspects of something special.
And my name will be "Dream".

Things go up and down. Met someone that's a real nice person and whom I'm quite fond of spending time with, but of course the time to spend is in short supply. Am seriously not happy that I won't be able to go to the lrp this time, or next, but this time, hey, I get Tech Noir instead, so, okay then. Enjoyed immensely being back home. Made a giant muffin together with Sludge, that was fun! Am worried about tummy, it's acting up. Something I should check up?

Had one more Talk with fox yesterday. Status quo was even more cemented, and it is killing me. I can't imagine life without him, but I am strangling and choking myself. I've no idea what to do. So many things are coming together to blow up in my face and force my hand, but I've no idea even when I imagine things, what could and would happen, and what I'd do.

Am forced to practice less. Was told to do so by Henry-sensei. This is good (even though I don't want to do it less), I need to rest my shoulder. Also, I am fed up with Seitei and I want to never do it again.
Still... championships coming up. I suppose I have to at least appear to take it seriously.

Have a new michiyuki, of greyish blue! It is gorgeous.
Am painting the stupid Banshee Exarch, and it is going well, mostly. Jewels... damn those jewels.

Am once again the owner of "The Unfettered Mind", and bought "The Life-Giving Sword" at the same time. W S Wilson, you make my life better by translating them.

Vanessë

2010-04-20T17:57:00.002+02:00

Vanessë means "beauty" in Quenya.

I had something else lined up to write, but... never mind. I got derailed. Completely.

I've got a pretty high opinion of my looks. Especially when I am NOT in the dead carcass of a city not having the guts to just die, and when I can wear whatever I like. Which I seldom can't, but, that's mostly because time and money are not two of my most common commodities. Here, I get a hard edge to my being. You should see me out in the forest, or at sea.
Quite frankly, I find myself beautiful. My body these days are more that of a warrior than that of a queen, perhaps, but still. Without being too narcissistic... which I have every right to be... I am, indeed, beautiful.

But... and we all saw that "but" coming... I cannot compete against...

this

Why haven't I met her? Interests match. "Not from this world" match. She's beaten me in one thing - she's watched "Avatar" five times (and have similar reasons to mine as to why like it). Her love for glitter is something that makes me laugh with glee. She climbs trees in the middle of the night, just because.

And she's one of the singularily most beautiful women I have ever, ever seen. Possibly the one most beautiful.

I'm a bit of at a loss for what to do.

"Go to Norway", someone said. Hey, been a while since I was there, why not?

Cua

2010-04-17T00:50:00.003+02:00

...means "dove" in Quenya.

This is pretty much how I feel at the moment, in the middle of way too late in the night, after working first a six-day week, sick all the time, and then having two days off, before working, seriously understaffed, for three more days. Tomorrow is a Saturday, and it runs the risk of being absolutely mental, and completely draining.
I wish I could have some definite answer. Swedish laws don't stand a chance against certain whims here.

Oddly, with the monthly bleeding this time, there was no moodswings. Not noticeable, anyway. Is it spring and light returning?

So... yeah. That song. Life. Love. Dreams.

Víressë

2010-04-11T23:58:00.004+02:00

...means "April" in Quenya.

Coming down from the high I've been riding on, from yesterdays unexpected and pleasant adventure. An acquaintance showed up in the store to get some supplies for his Space Wolves, and I took the chance to chat, while it was calm, to him, asking what his plans were for the evening. It was a question intended mostly to be nice, but it had some rather surprising consequences. At but a few minutes past eight that same Saturday evening, a very apprehensive and nervous girl named Frida Johannesson entered a place where she was more or less considered food by all present.
Lucky me/her, she/I was met quite quickly by the one we'd come there to meet - Konrad, a Caitiff of unknown clan but who definitely seemed Toreador. Met by a hug, she immediately lit up and was happy. Unlucky, however, as usual, sure enough he soon almost seamlessly turned someonehimselse. And the poor girl became quiet and apologetic, and tried to stay out of the way, afraid of anyone and everyone around her.

What I'm getting at, is that I got to play in Stockholm by Night (at long last, and they're still doing Vampire: the Masquerade), as the ghoul of an in truth Malkavian, with two noticeable personalities - one Konrad, quite a nice guy and a musician, and the one that bloodbonded the human girl Frida to become his ghoul, whom she was quite fond of, and the other Butch, a rather more Brujah-esque guy, to whom she constantly apologised for everything, especially the things he "couldn't remember doing", that is, those that Konrad had done...

It was, all in all, a very fun experience. A lot more lively than many VtM-lrps I've been to. Might be because of the amount of people there. Since I wasn't known to any outsiders, they tried to turn me away at the door... heh. No no, my dears, I knew where I was going.
Lucky them that it wasn't Katarina. I had to suppress all that I've learned and know of such happenings during my twelve years in the business. Not to listen too closely, not to ask this or that question that would make them spill their guts... I succeeded, mostly.

And now, of course, post-lrp, I'm on a creative rush but no time to do something. Or no means. BAH!

Been a somewhat harrowing week at work. I hurt all over. Working two people on a Saturday is positively killing. We had some help, thank the gods, even if they weren't fully staff members.

Visit down south was nice, though one person managed to puzzle me a bit. Communication is key, and just a "no" would've sufficed, or "I'll answer later".
I did get to practice a little, which was good, and I got to meet the little one, which was kind of awesome, and I also managed to pop by Zombielicious which was sweet. They live so that they can see right across to the land of the Danes! I felt the urge to grab my sword, don my helmet, do a few heroic poses and set off.
Watched "Sherlock Holmes" and it was sooo nice! I love the understated eroticism and romance between the two male leads. They ought to marry eachother instead.
Got the chance to have a few really long and interesting budo discussions. I'm still a bit giddy with happy glee that such a close friend is getting himself a sword.
Also, getting a slap on the butt by such a charming lady is always, always welcome...

Then I went home over Easter, which was lovely. Me and wolf had a great time. I storytold some Exalted for him, it is a promising chronicle, I think!

Am still feeling the uncertainty about the future. So many things I should like to do. Why am I tying myself up like this?

Played a great game of kill team in 40K, against Ultramarines scouts and a Dreadnought. My Banshees and Rangers were utterly incompetent at hitting, or if they did then wounding, anything. Dice, I tell you, dice! But it was still a rather even game, and we even saw a story unfolding before our very eyes. That Banshee and that Scout with the gleaming muscles, four rounds and not even a hit? Guys, what were you doing up there on the roof? And WHEN she finally kills him, I promptly fail my next roll - which is for leadership, and so eeeehk run away goes my team. Yeah, there was that prophecy about a Banshee and a Scout that someone needed to stop from happening, wasn't there?

Heard that a certain old Bastard living down south seems to, slowly, be getting what is coming at him. I know, I know, it's only a few friends that are finally suddenly starting to put two and two together and seeing him for what and how he is ("I have changed," he's said, which echoes oddly, because if he's changed, then, he must be referring to the "change" that didn't happen way back then either...?). It's a pity it took the breaking of a relationship, and his a bit too much of an involvement in that, and that there's another girl walking straight into his manipulative grasp, but he's oh so good at what he does. She might still wake up and leave him. Just like we all did. I was just the first. Or he leave her, when she wakes up and becomes a strong and independent woman, and harder to manipulate. And then he'll find another seventeen-year old girl again.
I can't wish him bad. That would mean that someone is wishing me bad, and I wouldn't want that. But I can sure as hell grin a very wide grin when I hear about it. It's a small thing, but it warms my Unseelie heart.

Escaping reality... yes please. Watching "Avatar" in 3D a third time was, of course, awesome. Because I COULD. And I enjoyed it immensely. I could take the time to notice all the little details, and how my being fills up with emotion at the words, "Oel ngati kameie" - I see you.
Besides, in this reality, my voice is touch-and-go, only held in place because of insanely strong throat pastilles, that make the entire throat and mouth go numb. I'm so afraid that I'll lose the ability to sing with these constant throat infections, but, knowing me, I probably already have.

Now to sleep, and perchance to dream, and be not here. I find the vampires as I know them from Masquerade (fuck sparklyass glitter-in-the-sun fairy wannabees), very fascinating. Attractive, even, with all the reservations expected. They're unfeeling, uncaring monsters, after all.

Most of them.

I'm high on creativity, on escaping reality, on lrping and I'm not quite in this reality.

Már

2010-03-19T21:50:00.003+01:00

...means "home" in Quenya.

I spent five whole days, and almost six if you count the hours, back home. That was... a relief, to say the least. It's amazing, the change in me. I felt it as I came back to the mainland today. How the people press against me, suffocating me physically but more than that, mentally. They're so... ugly! A walking blob of fat here (and I do not kid, it was like Yabba the Hutt in female form, wobblwobblwobbling), a grey face there, men with accents looking at you as if you're an affront to humanity by daring to be a woman, blonde and not fawning over them, men without accents and backslick talking on their phones as if their money mattered, women in high heels that are all surface and no substance, because if they would stop to feel they would crack.
Imperfect beings.
I'm nae perfect. Far from it. But I do prefer the places where it's not stuck into my face. I dream far less here. I feel far less here. And I feel far less here. I realised that as I looked out at the stars and heard them sing, last Sunday, when I visited my family's house. But I can't be open that way, here, precisely because of the people. And the city, and all the residue here, that's like a thick soup one has to wade through. So I close myself off, and it's really not good for me to do that.
Someone has remarked how one has to give me some space before I've completely woken up, when I'm back on my island, and he's very right in that. I need to wake up, to rest some, and to be able to shake off all the grey dust from the forced beating of the dead god that should have been allowed to rest so long ago. I came back here, and the dust is there again, real and invisible. The air here is awful.

But I was at home, and oh how I enjoyed it. And on St Patrick's I didn't remember it was, but dressed in a lot of green anyway. I'm breaking off my studies, which feels odd, but, I AM an archaeologist, as they pointed out - I just don't work as one at the moment. I slept very well, and I spent time with Sludge. That was very nice.

I was going to sew something, but I've lost all urge for it, so I didn't.

It's amazing how much the sea opened me up, when I took a walk by it. But the best thing? I felt the scent of spring. I didn't smell winter in the air anymore.

And then I just missed the bus, and had to jog with heavy luggage on my back, down to the ferry. I'm not doing THAT again, if I can avoid it.

I had... things to write. But I can't remember them.

Lu Bu rocks in DW 6, so far, though he's a hotheaded idiot story-wise.
I'm re-reading "The Saint", the second Gaunt's Ghost omnibus, mainly because... well, because. I've got "The Lost", though.
Kill team coming along nicely. I like painting it.
Tomorrow I go see "Avatar" in 3D for the third time, BECAUSE I CAN. And because I wanted to sit on a forward row, in the middle. Still going to go batshit on your arses if you start arguing about it. Go to a forum for that. Reality escapism is my very favourite pastime.

So... yeah. I was at home. And now I'm not, and it's all for iaido. I wonder... is it worth it? But then I stop thinking, and start daydreaming, and don't care much for this reality anymore.

I smelled spring in the air. I saw the sun, and the sea, and the stars. I slept in a soft bed. And I was home.

Súlimë

2010-03-10T13:19:00.001+01:00

...means "March", whereas Nénimë means February, in Quenya.

Bosön stuff still going well. Pain in shoulder lessened somewhat as of late, have begun working on other things as well. Foot, here we go.

Lost, and found, my necklace. Was ready to accept it was gone, when I found the bag where I had put it. Joy not possible to put into words.

Am going mental - need to change things about my life and how I live it, but can't for the life of me see how it should be done, or what I can do to make it so, and so on. Not happy with how and what, yet finding no solutions or ways. Am I just blind, or too comfortable... or what?
Spring means new beginnings, cleaning out old stuff. I don't know in which direction to go, not at all.

Had a great time with that Highelf dude last Thursday. Damn, but it was nice. It was nothing special - we hung out, looked at old lrp-photos, discussed upcoming lrps, designed some outfits, cooked, talked, watched a movie, talked... You know. Like people do. Only, I haven't, for the past year and a half, not really, not just like that. I've taken the odd hour here, had those intensive days of living and breathing rpg's, been off to this and that thing, but... just hanging out, here... nope. Going away and doing so has been "special conditions" every time, sort of. This time, I worked the day before and the day after, and still we hung out. It was... great.

I also watched Avatar, in 3D, and I wasn't expecting ANYTHING at all, but that it would be something kind of special and new, visually.
But I quite liked it.
Now, remember - I watch movies not for their MAH-VELLOUS new and awesome actors, or story, or whaaaateeeeveeeer. I watch movies because I live for iaido and for the pursuit of escaping reality. And Avatar quite did the trick. I mean, I am whisked away to a far-off planet, with a native, humanoid, intelligent species that are really cool (FUCK OFF with the "Smurf" comments, I never liked the fucking Smurfs to begin with, and couldn't be bothered neither reading nor watching, I found them far from interesting so go shit yourself with comments to that extent, okay?), that have BLUE skin that is patterned, and bioluminescent! They're tall, warriors, they've all got a long cool braid that contans some sort of long nervous system thingy and they understand.

"They see a network of energy that flows through all living things. They know that all energy is only borrowed... And one day you have to give it back."

LOOK. Look at that. I thought, "Ooh, Lifestream, Final Fantasy VII..." Which is a very high praise indeed.
For the quote. For the idea. I am not necessarily praising the movie and if you fucking DARE start a fucking DISCUSSION about it in the comments, well, then you will deserve what will come to you. I will NOT have that here. Go to a forum or a message board for that shite.
Anyway.
Read the quote. And know it.

And then there was the, "I see you." By which the na'vi mean, not just I see you physically before me, but... I see inside you. I see your soul. And it touched me deeper than anything else, I think, bar perhaps what the shithead humans did to the Tree. Oh, how I hate humans.

"How does it feel to betray your own species?"

And he just hisses. Yep, something like that. A bit like in the Last Samurai, "Why do you hate your own people so much?"
Yeaaah. Why, I wonder, sarcasm dripping off my voice.

Besides, it's a very, very pretty movie. In 3D on a good screen it is even prettier. I've already seen it twice, in fact, and plan on a third, maybe on Friday.
Yes, I know... remember that thing about escaping reality? That is what I am doing. Pandora, the planet, has got FLYING MOUNTAINS for feth's sake. Of COURSE I want to go back there and visit again. I really quite like the na'vi, so yeah, I want to see them again. I like the bioluminescence everywhere. And if nothing else, the military has walkers. I am such a sucker for two-legged, gun-toting, man-piloted walkers. And for those fliers.
Speaking of which, FLYING. I can has now plz?!

I go into the movie, and I visit the reality presented before me. The story might or might not appeal to me, in this case, it is simple and I don't mind it, and some parts I even quite like, but as always, I visit, rather than analyse and go is this good, is this not good, ooh what a nice camera angle, oh that is revolutionary, yadayada.

I like the na'vi and their connection to the world around them. Which might account for why I felt so good when I woke up as one, last morning, waited for the alarm to go off, realised it wouldn't because it wasn't time yet, turned over and hugged my pillow close, put my braid over the other pillows, the tail under the cover and went back to sleep.
Which I may or may not have already been halfway in. It was a very, very warm and nice feeling - everything was good, I had a connection to the world around me and there were no silly humans, or civilisation. There was just nature, and us.

The good feeling returned when I got out into the sunlight later.

Saturday, I danced the night away at the club Tech Noir. Finally, I should say, as I've never been able to go there before. But now, Priest-san from the club asked if I was going, and so, I met him and his airsoft buddies. The night began nice, I also met another guy I know briefly (from having had a nice afternoon during the crossdressing day of last year's Medieval Week), and I was wearing my flat-but-plateau boots, my favourite jeans and a lacey top with fluttery Edinburgh-made arms, plus hair in two pony-tails with fluorescent stuff in them (and my makeup was, too, go UV!).
Me and Priest-san started the main dancefloor (starring a lot of songs I've got in my playlist, reinforcing the notion that very little new goth or synth/electronica stuff has been made in the past years), then moved to the second... where they played some sort of, uh, I don't know, White Noise stuff? Worthless for dancing, though we almost got people going there, too. The third floor, was already pumping and I liked it the best, despite that it was the most crowded and I could touch the ceiling. EBM... mmm. Pure love. When I dance, I don't just move a little bit, or step carefully here and there. I DANCE. I move about, and I'm still shaking off the last bit of sore muscles. It's probably far more of a complete, all-body workout than anything else I could ever do. Or at least, would bother to.

One of Priest-san's friends was apparently quite smitten, as he decided that putting an arm around me when he wanted to speak to me was a good idea. "Well, I don't go out to meet people, I go out to dance," I said when he jokingly said I'd been abandoned by my friends (Priest-san and another guy went upstairs to get some fresh air). After that, no more touchey. Not that I minded too bad, I mean, we had been introduced and he wasn't sleazy, and I'd been forewarned he became very affectionate with everyone that he regarded as a friend, when drunk.

Which is more than I can say for some other people. One regular from the store probably didn't recognise me. He's a nice one, though. Another one, to my discomfort, did, and decided that I was nice to talk to and to dance to and argh. Oh well. I've "accidentally" lost people in dancing crowds for years now.
Sadly, when I'm with the friends I actually have some kind of care about to dance with, and suddenly something icky comes up and starts dancing beside us...

At around half past one, am, there was a marked increase in the quota of normal people there. Those that go out to have a look at the monkeys and think they're so cool because they dare go to an alternative place, and seem to think that us that, well, go there because we want the music, the dancing and the same-ish kind of people, we're there for them to ogle, and look at, and that we really like it when they try to make contact and talk to us... whatever the fuck "we" would want that for...
Anyway. We got a group of four or five drunk, middle-aged men with in some cases balding hair and ugly jackets (I guess they were supposedly well-dressed or something) dancing behind us, or, me and another guy. And during one of Depeche Mode's songs, cannae remember the title, but "...the grabbing hands grab all they can..." (I really don't like it anyway), whaaat happens?
What, you wonder?
HE FUCKING TOUCHES ME.
One of the fuckers (ooh, language, Ellie!) takes his dirty hand and puts it on my back, on my neck, trailing downwards.
So I reacted without thinking and slammed my fist with its considerable strength coming from the fact that it's my right arm, and I'm me, immediately in a backhand sort of hit, sinking it into his short, pudgy form, and drew up within inches of his face, pinning him with my anger probably blazing out of my eyes, growling in a loud enough voice that he would hear me over the music, "Do. Not. Touch. Me."
"Eeeeek, are you INSANE?!" "Yes." I stared him down a few more seconds, willing myself NOT to act upon righteous anger and disgust, and returned to dancing. Which would have worked if he'd left the fucking dancefloor but he DIDN'T, instead starting to whisper among his friends, you know, like drunk people do when they think the world needs to know, and KEPT dancing close behind me, and then another guy came around and tried to dance with me and I realised that whatever was building inside me would get humans hurt and me thrown out and that I'd rather leave on my own accord. The leering faces that met me as I turned around to go were met with elbows and fists, until I broke free and with my best "I'm attractive enough that you'd die from just watching me"-walk, I grabbed some water, and sank down into an ostentatious chair with gold-coloured swirly wood stuff. Some moments later, Priest-san and Dancer came, too, and we noticed that the time was 2 am, so we decided to head home anyway. "Last hour's always the worst," said Priest-san, referring to normal people and crowds and that the DJ's seem to think that if we turn up the volume throughout the night, no one will notice if the music sucks, and who wants to talk anyway?

All in all, though, a good night. But I still fill up with anger when I think about the fucking AUDACITY. What the HELL possessed a man old enough to be my father to TOUCH ME uninvited? Turned on by "alternative" looks, eh? Thinking you were cool out with your friends, eh? You know, if I were but a little less... I don't know, careful, you'd have the curse of a lifetime hanging over your fat (and he was fat) head. However, as I believe that what I do is returned to me threefold... and I wouldn't want that on me...

There's too many normal people going to such clubs just to ogle. And people were dressed pretty sanely anyway! No breasts showing, no overtly bondage gear, no silly women making fools of themselves dancing without panties... (woah, is THIS blog entry going to turn up on some odd searchies...) But it's alternative. And it's suuuch a good story to tell the next week, about when you went to the alternative club! Eek, how exciting!
...insert gunshot sound here.

Last, then, I finished reading "A Thousand Sons" by Graham McNeill. Once again I'm very pleased with how McNeill seems to be THE Black Library author to write things that AREN'T your standard 40K fiction fare. Just look at "Mechanicum" and "The Last Church", too.
I really liked this book. I did not feel the ending to be rushed, and I do not feel "oh but what happens THEN why didn't he write that!" because we've got "Prospero Burns" out next year, and anyway, the HH series tends in some cases to pick up on things where it's previously left them hanging.
I found that my sympathy for the Thousand Sons was motivated, and I really liked poor Magnus. I don't make excuses for what they've done since then, but the way they were during the timespan of the book, I like. And Prospero was a real cool place.
I really got a new view on Space Wolves, and one I was happy to have. They really are a bit too intent on destruction...

My kill team is coming along nicely. I'm painting five Rangers, so far the twp mainstay colours, from which I'll be basing everything, is Shadow Grey and Space Wolves Grey. The Rangers' cloaks are in Catachan Green, so far.
And, because I'm sick of waiting for lazyass people to read it...
On page 69, in the book, there's a line. The description that follows reveals something interesting. Sure, I'm dead since countless years, battling daemons or somesuch, but I'm also an Eldar Howling Banshee Exarch, with mirrorswords.

Get that? An fething Exarch. How cool is that! I squee-d for days. With mirrorswords. I'm going to need to learn how to dual-wield.
And then make me a costume.
And then go to Games Day and do some neat acrobatics over the crowd and say, "Hi. I'm Elenaria." to mr McNeill.

Enough with the geekout for today. That kill team needs to be finished, and I need to get going to practice and other things. Swedish Championships coming up, and besides, I've got a body that needs to be fit for a warrior.

And hopefully... in a few days... I can go home again. I need it so bad.

Haran

2010-02-17T23:52:00.001+01:00

...may mean "hundred" in Quenya, though it is a bit uncertain.

The four hundredth and second post. Huh. Who would have thought it.

Something odd happened. Something unique. See... I went off to this place Bosön, centre of Swedish sports yada yada and research, to see a specialist... again. Another one. Yaay. Physiologist something something. But, the oddest thing happened: she listened. She listened.

Not just to this or that or a part... but to all of it. I went there because of my sore shoulder, but when the hour was over, she had asked me questions like "Did you say that you had trouble with your knees, too?" and taken the time to listen. I was... amazed, to say the least. And we might take a look at those other bits and pieces of hurtyness at a later date. Wow.
Monday I went back, and got a nice program for rehabilitation. Seems my right shoulder has gone a bit wonky, something with how the biceps and the arm-bone connects to the shoulder. It does seem possible to correct, I am apparently already ahead of where most people are, because I have an upright way of standing and walking, and so on, and this has helped it to not get any worse than what it is.
Today, I went back again, and got to show some of what we do in iaido, so she had a better understanding of why my shoulder is like it is, and how it came to be, and how to counter it, and so on. Then I also got one more excercise to add to the programme. Muscles... burning...

She listened. I'm still amazed.

Snow continues to fall, and I enjoy it. More so when I'm at home, but that's mainly because I can go skiing. Five kilometres is a bit short, but ten, oh, that's more like it. I love skiing. The cross-country kind especially.

Considering giving up this archaeology-shite. Feth, what with all the crud related to writing a Masters and so on, I'm not sure this hasn't been two years of the world telling me to stop trying. I want to, but, I'm sure there are many others out there that are going to be great archaeologists, and after all, I do more or less manage to live on my irregular salary, so, maybe it's kind of fair I let them have the jobs I'd have done awesome instead.

Geeking out has been a theme recently.
I'm all excited about building a kill team of 200 pts, for 40K. The new Battle Missions look positively delectable. And why not make one entirely consisting of Harlequins? I do so love my Stormtroopers, and my Inquisitor, and... and...
And I should get a Mordheim elf magician to convert a bit. I always liked it, and we're running a small event soon, where we get to stand and throw spells at people (that is, figures, minis, in Warhammer) running the gauntlet.
I might also have got some sort of energy to finish the first 500 pts of that Rivendell army that I was working on and then sort of stopped working on. I love them so much, I want to see it finished!
The work with foxlings army goes well, I need to balance the time-aspect with the fact that this paintjob is supposed to be worth one, two months of my part of the rent. A lot of it is salvage, though, and being nervous that I'll accidentally slip onto the red clothing. That red has been painted with, among other things, bloody Chestnut Ink, which went out of production two years ago. It looks good, oh, certainly, but... it makes matching that five-person command squad to the rest a bit... tricky. Then again, the characters in it (I say characters, because these guys are likely to earn their own names) are probably dodgy enough to ninj themselves some non-standard gear.

But the most geekout thing of them all came today, when a certain manager-someone who knew Graham McNeill from way back when in Scotland, asked me, "Ellie, how far have you read in 'A Thousand Sons'?" I hadn't, very far at all, being occupied with the wisdom of "Book of Five Rings". He had read a bit farther, though, and opened a book, and there, staring back at me from the page, was:
"A word came to her, a name, perhaps: Elenaria."

I'll let you read it yourself, but I have my own personal guesses as to what that mention means. In fact, I'm delighted. "Someone" has clearly... read up a bit on me, I think, or just hit the spot perfectly.

Well, I did win that fun little competition way back... and I was delighted by the signed books and all. But THIS I had no idea about. I don't know if it will matter in the slightest in the rest of the book, or series, or at all, but this doesn't hinder the fact that, until told otherwise, I'm grabbing that bit of geekgasm as well, and squeeing over it.
Damn. I'm cool.

This big grin of mine is going to take days to rub off (that was NOT a challenge, world!).

And lastly; damn me but if I'm not getting less bad at koryu! (Ooh, many negations...) I'm not good, not by far, but I am, which I suppose I have mentioned, less utter crap than I used to. I think I could even fake being decent in one or two. It's all in the timing, really, but I am starting to force my body to understand what in the gods' names that means. I feel also that I am beginning to use my sword better. It's the eternal spiral, you always return to learn new things about that which you already knew a lot about.
Mm. My sword. Reminded by my little cameo just how much I love him, and my other one. She's rarely used these days, but that doesn't diminish my feelings for her.

...I'm in a book. A Black Library book. A Horus Heresy book. One written by Graham McNeill. If you'll excuse me, I'll go and squee with delight a bit more.

Banality/Glamour

2010-02-09T14:37:00.002+01:00

"You gain one point of permanent Banality, and you lose one point of permanent Glamour."

Despite putting it into game terms, I don't actually feel any better.

Estel

2010-02-04T12:47:00.003+01:00

...means "trust", or "hope", in Quenya.

I don't trust people. As a general rule, I don't. It's nothing personal, mostly, except when it really, really is. I've a far easier time loving, far more so than trusting. Loving, after all, is about me and me alone - I am the feeling and the acting part of my love and loving. (It's nice when it's reciprocal and mutual, but then these are two people doing two things, though both go under the same name and go together nicely).
So if I stop, it's my own taking that step, and if I hurt, it is because I love and can't do much about it. Feelings, we cannot rule over; actions, we can.

But trust... oh, trust is another matter. Trust is based on another's actions. I don't trust unconditionally. The person trusted has its own will, actions, thoughts. Trust... Damn, I'm really struggling for words.

Love does ultimately come from me myself. Trust is caused by something that has to do with both people.

What I'm getting at, I think, is that trust can be controlled, love can't. I can choose who to trust, but seldom who to love. Perhaps this is why, when a trusted one does something stupid, it hurts like hell and burns me bad. I chose to trust and the other person fucked up, so I feel like an idiot myself, and I feel that they are idiots. But if I love, I only feel I am the idiot. Trust doesn't just happen. Trust doesn't just not go away.

I used to be trusting and open and talkative, and not afraid to share about myself, but I learned quite quickly that it was suicidal to do so (school just helped with that notion, oh, school and people in general). Then I became quiet and trusted only unconsciously, and perhaps myself, until I found I couldn't say I trusted anyone. After a while, I found myself in the company of people that were nice to me, friends, and I relaxed, trusted and talked... too much, eventually, I suppose. I learned a few very hard lessons, and learned not to trust everyone that seemed like a friend, and now, because of where I am and work and those I meet I no longer talk as much again. It's been a few years when I've had to learn slowly, to never give anyone anything for free, and to give as good as I get, and to not say right out what I think (I am a dunce indeed). I have become careful, for I trust selectively, and a lot of people I trust not at all. It feels kind of good. I trust most people a little here, a little there, a little like this and some with that, but no one completely and entirely. Not anymore.
Well. To be honest. There is ONE person, one and only one, that I do trust completely and utterly, so much that I will even tell that person when I'm down, when I'm mad, I will... no matter. We talk about everything. And it is such a relief. There is no one else I trust as much, as completely. I have people that I do trust quite a bit, but this one... and you know who you are... I would without a doubt give my sword to.
If that means anything to anyone of you. That is how absolutely I trust.
And it's not fox, I'm afraid. Though I trust him quite a lot, as these things go.

But yes, trust is complicated for me. It's a very delicate thing, and it has been so thoroughly shattered, so many times, and by people who knew how hard it was. Or maybe they didn't? Maybe they didn't understand?
Love, love is easy. I fall in and out of new love once a week. Love can cause hurt, but eh, ultimately, it doesn't hurt me too bad, love in itself. It can cause me to do stupid things, but then I have myself to blame. Trust, however, then, I have myself to blame for trusting someone, that should be blamed for breaking the trust. But I can't blame them, because I did the trusting in the first place. Love. Love is easy. Trust, though, can cause quite a lot of a mess.

I don't mind not being blue-eyed and trusting. Or, I do miss being able to, and I miss the kindness and trust I felt, because it was nice. I didn't realise people are the way people are. But trust was easy and why would anyone want to do anything to me that would break it?

I hope I never become that again.

Eye of the storm

2010-01-31T12:17:00.002+01:00

The trials you now are facing
They are not greater than your will
For there is nothing under heaven
You cannot overcome

See the door that lies before you
And know this too shall pass
The confrontation of your tears
In strength drawn from the past
When the silent voices whisper
Find the course that is your own
And however great the obstacle
You will never be alone

For I have watched the path of angels
And I have heard the heavens roar
There is strife within the tempest
But there is calm in the eye of the storm

In fragments of an instant
The chaos has returned
And all that was left to sentiment
Beneath the banner burned

And as that voice was slow receded
Into echoes, memory
My doubts were re-ignited
And fear awakened from its sleep

I believe in what I fight for
And I have paid for it with pain
I am here because my contributions
May help turn this fate away

And all who stood by and did nothing
Who are they to criticize?
The sacrifices of others
Our blod has bought their lives
This is the moment of truth
At the point of no return
Place faith in your convictions
As the boundaries start to blur

There is no love untouched by hate
No unity without discord
There is no courage without fear
There is no peace without a war
There is no wisdom without regret
No admiration without scorn
There is strife within the tempest
But there is calm in the eye of the storm

The pages of our history
Are written by the hand
With eyes and ears and prejudice
Too far removed to understand

And so the heroes of the ages
Are stripped of honesty and love
To make them seem less noble
And hide what we can become

If you find the courage within you
To face the path ahead
It matters not the outcome
IF what you will gain instead
Is a heart deepened in the knowing
That experience carves the soul
And the very thing that empties you
Shall surely make you whole

Where the silent voices whisper
Find the course that is your own
And however great the obstacle
You will never be alone
For I have watched the path of angels
And I have hears the heavens roar
There is strife within the tempest
But calm in the eye of the storm...

~ The Crüxshadows

Lumba

2010-01-20T16:00:00.001+01:00

...means "weary" in Quenya.

Well, well, well. That was a nice way to spend the weekend. Though it encompassed far from even half of the weekends hours. Regular readers will know the name Katarina Wallén by now, Tremere primogen of the Visby Council. When I have the chance to play her, I grab it, and I did, last weekend. There is a wee bit of a worry, as there's some new Vampire: the Masquerade lrp in Visby these days, but I did my research and they don't seem to have any contact with anyone else. A few of the people in that game, and one of the main gamesmasters, creep me out to no end, and I am not sad to not be part of it. Besides, what we created all those years ago, still lives.

In a certain city in more or less middle Sweden, then, once again I was reminded of the saying that alt ir baugum bundit. It's been ten years since the Symposium in Jönköping. Ten... years...
The excitement and nervousness, yes, some of it at least, had me be not very focused for the last hour of work, and eventually I bolted and ran to the train. On the way, I listened to many old songs that have been around for... longer. The Crüxshadows, Apoptygma Berzerk, Alice Cooper, Covenant, Deine Lakaien... Many. And wrote, to pin down Katarina a bit better. It worked.
The neat place where we stayed were very close to the train station, but despite this of course it took some time to dress. We're TREMERE, after all. We need our little trinkets, tattoos, hidden Walther PPK's (yes, I wore one, in my right stay-up - it might not be much agains VtM vampires, but it does itch a bit... and who knows what a Tremere might have done to the bullets?), safety waistcoat, blue ribbons and so on. I was delighted to see how Katarina appeared, and how my companion for the night, Torgeir Wrede, did too. Few recognise him. That's good, because that's the point. But him and Katarina have... a history. Not the romantic kind.

We were a bit fewer than expected for the lrp, but it worked out quite well anyways. I was simultaneously reminded why I don't like vampire-lrps, and why I do.
So what does one do, when one is an old, cranky vampire mage that "recently" (two years ago or so) took the life of her True Love and childe because he betrayed the House and Clan? Well, present oneself and one's companion for the new Prince of the town, and hand over the big suitcase (that the Nosferatu guessed contained the hacked-up pieces of a seventeen-year old and possibly a bomb) (he was wrong, there were no pieces, only the blood of one) that is our gift, "from the Council of Visby".

Then, act. Talk. Listen. Ask. And listen some more. I find that Katarina has benefited from me playing Vicky (listen, listen, listen). She appears far from as airheaded, but behind that facade, she is more experienced, she is intelligent and she is above all a Tremere. She does the listening-thing quite well these days, and she has benefited from me having experienced more of life during these ten, eleven years of playing her.
Inside, she is dry and unfeeling, most of the time. I had a lovely moment of going statue, remembering Thomas, being awakened only by Wrede coming up and talking to me. Both on a public and private level, it was a good lrp. Seeing as how Wrede and Katarina positively loathed eachother in the little pre-lrp Play By EMail we ran, I was surprised to see that as the night progressed, she came to appreciate his company. If those two start cooperating... oh. Wait. They already have.

Though at the end of one particular conversation with a Toreador Katarina was ready to bite off her own leg in order to escape, only by listening and asking did she find out: where the Toreador lived, if she had childer, ghouls, where she hunted, how she hunted, her assets, background, blah blah. And the new new Prince of the city has enlisted the help of the Tremere clan to set up an alarm system. Of course, asking "what would you need for this?" was a very appreciated gesture. Thank you very much, miss Ventrue. Upon the pillars of our Clans the Camarilla rests. And it is of course for the best interests of the Camarilla I do this.

I'm a Tremere. Enough said. But even more than that, I am Katarina Wallén.

Some highlights:
The listening part. Oh, how people talked.
The private conversations with Wrede. Both the less cordial ones, the ones with dry humour and wit, and the purely speculating ones. All of them, in fact. I wonder if, in fact, the little private moments weren't the definitive highlights of the evening.
Getting ready to pull of my gloves if magic should be needed, and simultaneously hearing a big "cra-crack" from Wrede when he bit down on several pieces of candy (that had been spiked with blood), when an Archon suddenly revealed himself and executed the old new Prince of the city, because of various crimes.
Discovering five minutes after we arrive that the guy over there in the ponytail is a Lasombra. Then, finding out he's been here for a long time. And then, finding out approximately where he lives.
Discovering that said Lasombra's friend is not a Ravnos, but what we dubbed "something worse" - yes, a Tzimisce. Learning that he lives in a camping van parked right outside the Lasombra's haven...
Being privately amused at Wrede's utter frustration with the wishy-washyness of people.
Feeling the truth of "Knowledge is not power, it is the prelude to the power that comes when knowledge is in the Tremeres' hands."
Being, once again, Katarina.

I got to go to a lrp! And last year I only had one, so, I'm really happy now. And I got to do it with, I think, my closest friend. I dislike defining such things, sometimes, but quite possibly, that is one good expression for it.
We might be back, even if we have to drag the two of them in by the feet.
Lrping is, by the way, something that has me focus on one reality, and be there and not halfway in two or three of them. Which, I suppose, is one reason why I appreciate and like it so much.

Sunday I won a game of W40K by a hair's breadth. It was a lot of fun! Hey, I feel like I'm getting the hang of some of the more uncommonly used rules!
Had a bit of an unpleasant issue rearing its ugly head. I was caught unprepared, but I'm going to try and do something about it. It's a bitch, that bad things ten years old can affect me so.

Am not feeling very well. Am ill, to begin with, had severe cases of nosebleed twice yesterday and worries about... stuff, makes me not so happy.
I can not count on this job providing me with what I need. People reading this know that for the better part of a year every new month has been a blow to the guts. I don't want to quit it, because it's fairly okay and I never thought I could work with something I'm even remotely interested in, I don't want a second job because I don't want the stress to have to put in effort and shite there and also split my focus to one more thing. I don't really want to take more student loans because I need it as a last resort, but this is a last-resort-kind of situation. I don't know if I can get money for studying, and anyway my Master essay is going nowhere.
And I'm where I am and I've nothing to fall back on. My BA is worth nothing because there's some kind of inflation in that kind of thing, and I can't do the networking thing because I don't want to suck up to people and be friendly with those that I frankly don't like or want to be friends with. I don't want to use them, dammit, that's not what people are for (unless you're an undead bloodsucking monster of the Tremere clan but I digress). Oh and also, I'm not very good at networking anyways. Not in the get-contacts-to-use-in-the-future way.

What have I accomplished? Nothing that can in any way get me money, and thus, because society is what it is, I have accomplished nothing. I'm not living an expensive lifestyle. Far, very far, from it. But what little I earn still is not enough. If I fail, there's nothing to catch me. See, if I loose my job or anything, I don't trust in The System to catch me, and help me stay alive. At all. Because we've learned for the past few years that people who are Without Jobs are slackers and only wants to Cheat. The same, if not more so, goes for those so ill they can't work! Especially if you can't see the illness. Were I in a rolling chair with a life-support system, then, I would be pitied, shuffled away to somewhere I wouldn't have to be seen, but I would probably have my upkeep paid. Now, because none of my illnesses are, well, neither seen nor in most cases defined...

I don't have that much trouble with The System, because I try not to have to deal with it. I should, I know. I look at my hands, they look gnarled, and I feel my nose - I dare not touch it, but I can feel how hard it is to breathe through it. I dare not sleep on my left side for fear of waking up bloody, I dare not sleep on my right because my shoulder hurts. My knees are largely quiet right now, because I am not standing or walking and the weather is stable.

It's four in the afternoon and I'm still in my pyjamas. Not a good sign. I'm so sick and tired of having the same worries over and over again. And now, apparently, I'm sick and tired FROM having them.

I have things To Do. And I'd like to be a good girl and do them. But I think I'm going to see what happens to Ravenor instead. That third book is, I think, my favourite so far. It is quite different, and quite captivating, and I can't wait to see what happens next!
And should that fail, I've my realities, and my daydreams.

Narvinyë

2010-01-13T18:43:00.002+01:00

...means "January" in Quenya.

I had an excellent idea for a post on loneliness and solitude here, but... I didn't write it. I felt rather alone, the first few hours after everyone went away. Saturday after New Year's, in the morning, the entire gaggle of people but me and fox took the ferry, and fox left in the afternoon. I really really liked living with him. We have the opportunity for that far too seldom. And I really liked having people here, too, and all the roleplaying. And then I was utterly alone, again, and I couldn't stand the thought of having another half year of that, but Sludge took the next bus in and then we had a nice time together too. I don't mind solitude - I really like solitude, and I need it. But loneliness is something different altogether, and when I can't hang out with anyone, even should I wish to, I feel a bit lonely.

There was a lot of Exalted roleplaying. Sometimes it worked well, sometimes less so. I find I want fox to give a bit more space for the characters, and their characteristics - I mean, how come no one of the roughly two hundred human soldiers that we are dragging along everywhere, have fallen head over heels and stuttered something inaudible while giving a flower to the insanely beautiful fae-blooded Exalt we've got with us?
It's hard playing Jez sometimes, though... she's supposed to be inquisitive, cheerful and rather intense, and when I'm not super-duper-full of energy, that can be... hard, and even far from motivating. I don't know what else I'd play... I have an idea for a Dynasty Warriors Sima Yin-alike, sort of, but I'm not sure about the personality. Possibly, that would be Sima Yin-ish too.

I barely got annoyed at all at people. Despite the interesting comment of, why don't we start playing earlier, or, why shouldn't we play today, which have a very very good explanation: people got up at, oh, around two or three pm. I promise you, mi amigos, it's far easier if you DO take that little piece of energy needed, and get up after nine or ten hours of sleep, instead of twelve, thirteen. Odd how it works out, but I suppose one doesn't know before one has experienced it. And, also, it would be easier if we had one more room. It's not as easy resting well if you're many in the same room.

Practicing in -5 Celsius and below was excruciating at times, but all right when socks and haori and other things were on. It's not much use to be a beginner, because you simply don't know enough to keep going and keep your body temperature up, but me and Malk managed to get something out of it, at least.
Why so cold? Because instead of paying 200 SEK an hour to the local government for one of their spaces, I borrowed an old Medieval house with a nice floor, but one that has no heating and single windows. Worth it, though.

The 40K roleplaying was really, really good. I was worried, since we've nae done it for six months, that it'd be meh, but it was great. Anjie comes easily to me. And it's so good to see the characters being themselves - Sam just won't stop going on about how she should find it more significant, visiting her old and Tyranid-eaten homeworld and house, while Req just shrugs and says your family, it's who you surround yourself with, and Anjie, well, she said farewell to her family when she went onboard the Black Ships, and has never even had hopes of seeing them again. Though she was a bit touched, finding the idol of the saint, with the inscription of "In memoriam: Anjie", the Saint Idora, a minor saint guiding those lost so that they may come home again.

Oh, and having a memory of how she got her silver aquila, THAT was awesome. Maybe I'll tell you about it some day.

What then... well, eventually I, too, took the ferry to the mainland, to go work. As ever, future is uncertain. I need to get a move on about my studies, so I have. And then I went home again at first available opportunity. And though I've missed practice three evenings out of four this week, I don't really feel guilty... I've been skiing instead, enjoying it with my heart and soul.

I've caved in and am going to paint at least a tiny wee bit of an Eldar army... because they are SO COOL. I need that special edition bonesinger model though...

Have found new, wonderful music - Asonance, and their "Vzdálené Ostrovy (Na Hu O Ho)" which is... oh, it's so beautiful! And the band "Elven", too.

On Saturday, it's time once again for Katarina Wallén to come forth. I look forward to it, a bit too much perhaps. I'm going to have a friend there, from "the old days", and that's likely to make it even better. Katarina is... it's been twelve years, I think. She never left me. They never do.

Sooner or later, I'm going to try and write about my realities. At any given time, I'm usually present in at least two. It's hard to explain but suffice to say, the one that people call the REAL reality, well, I don't care for it much, so I'm usually somwhere pretty close, but somewhere I can stand. And sometimes, I'm so far I don't register the so-called "real" reality at all.

And I had something really neat to say about, I don't know, people, relationships, but it boils down to this: I don't do jealous. Envious, oh yes, but not jealous. So, if someone else gets to kiss someone I like, or love, or have a crush on, I will perhaps feel "Aw, no fair, I want TOO!" but I'll never feel "...GRARH, MINE, hands off, you bastard/bitch, and you, unfaithful dog, I hate you, how can they, rage rage".
Envy, but not of the dark kind. Not jealousy. And jealousy is a plague, and because people seem to be so fond of it, and so fond of the notions we are fed about rosy-eyed eternal monogamous love, it will continue to flourish. Dear gods, stop it, love isn't like water in a can, that you have to divide between glasses, or that run out. It's a sea - love it, like it, but don't trust it; it flows as it wills, and remember, there is water everywhere, even if but the dew of the morning.

Midwinter

2009-12-26T01:33:00.002+01:00

And it has been. The darkening of the soul has lessened somewhat already, or so I imagine.

The Nobel ball was beyond awesome cool. My lady for the evening was... oh, so beautiful. Hope she didn't mind me kissing her goodbye.
Got through the next day on three hours of sleep and an overdose of tea, sugar and IrnBru. Ten work-hours later... Teh keel-over.

Sonata Arctica concert was pure love. Oh, pure love. They played "Paid in full", they played... aww, love! And Winterborn, Delain... it was like three awesome concerts in one! I was awed and had a great time. Thank you for that one, Egladil!

Being at home with fox is like being at home, for real. The little yule tree is glittery! I loved all the snow, too.

Midwinter was a calm event.

Yule worked out all right. No direct fight with parents. Almost forgot the adage of "keep silent, nod and smile, and listen, never speak". But I survived.

Had old, old friends over for a visit. Was great.

Received a few gifts. The ones that touched me the most were: the book on archaeology that I really wanted, and the book number 974 out of 3000 printed called "Shakespeare i Roma", with music by Thomas Almqvist (I loved this theatre, and especially much so their version of A Midsummer Night's Dream, as you know). Also, the fine box that fox has made, by hand, that is a copy of one from 1237 from England, for which I will choose the colour. And the old pocket-watch, with a small lock of hair in, that was my mother's father's mother's. It still works.
But the thing that touched me the most and almost brought me to tears was father's little letter with the card, with 300 SEK in notes, saying "For your harp".

I don't really think he, or anyone else, really understands why it touches me so deeply.

Or maybe someone does?

My harp. Waiting for me. My Queen Mary. So, nollaig chridheil agus bliadhna mhath ùr, and alassëa hristomerendë (or some similar probable butchering of Quenya, and Scots Gaelic for that matter).

Ringárë

2009-12-02T18:42:00.000+01:00

...means "December" in Quenya.

Tenth year anniversary in store was awesome. Got to eat dinner with Sandy Mitchell and Jes Goodwin twice, and Anja Wettergren once. Also got to go to pub with Jes Goodwin and awesome wife, who totally understood the "meerkat thing" (private joke). They were all AWESOME PEOPLE and I can't convey how utterly and totaly awesome it was to meet them.
Overusage of word awesome there... but that's how it was. The geek in me keeled over from pure happiness.

Practice has been going decent. I have held a few myself now, which felt good.

Had a lovely weekend hanging out with Egladil in the beginning of November. It really is important to me to get out in the forests, but more so, to the sea, of varying degrees. Coast, firths, open water... whichever.

Am obsessing over Sonata Arctica and to a lesser degree Amorphis and Stratovarius.

Accidentally developed a crush on (at least) two new people. I love doing that. One of those times were helped by a full moon, but I think I'd have gone for it anyway. 's just sooooo charming!
Or maybe both were "helped". I'm not sure.
..."love doing that." A truth with some modifications to it, but oh well. Right now I do anyway. Or one could say the very act of it, I do. The complications following, not so much.

Had a week on my island... how lovely that was!

Went to London from last Thursday at airport o'clock until Tuesday (yesterday) evening, together with Iwhy. I was strangely un-excited about it, which I resented even as it happened, but then I stepped out and on to the plane and felt the stirring of being on the road again. On Saturday I eventually completely landed, and after that it went even better.
It was good having someone who's lived there as a guide. The trains in the tube was a lot, lot smaller than I expected - sometimes I almost bumped my head! It's a well-connected city, though. And large. Sprawling.
We stayed in a LOVELY hostel by Hyde Park - cheap, clean, free breakfast and very nice location and rooms. Good staff, too. I don't think I've ever lived as posh in a big city, and probably never will again. The area was... nice.
The city did not hold THAT kind of magic, though. It was nice, and as a shopping city it is marvellous, but it didn't hold that magic that makes me yearn to go back. Which might be nice for a change, now that I think of it.
I was even bored for a while, but that might have been because I, as per bloody usual, didn't have a lot of money.
Saturday, I started giving shit about it and got some really, really lovely fabrics. I wish I'd had money enough to buy silk satin for a whole cloak for Isilmëarë. And for a few others. I found THE perfect, you see. I did buy enough for a sort of short cape, though. I think that character for Ödesväv/Weave of Fate is going to look a bit different than I imagined at first, but wholly and completely fey.
Also, Saturday evening is when we met HighFive for the first time. He's brother to ScarletApricot, and I had met him before, but it didn't dawn on me it was THAT HighFive we were talking about, until I arrived in London. He's been a friend of Iwhy's for a while. Anyways, it turned out to become a pretty nice evening, despite abysmal weather, no luck at all with clubs or a restaurant and late trains. Then we meet him again on Sunday and on Monday.
I went to two GW stores, one in Covent Garden (what a lovely location and nice use of the archways inside the store!) and one on Oxford Street (where I completely and utterly by accident ran an intro game for two Swedish girls... an apology to the guys of the store for that one).
We visited the Victoria and Albert museum, and Iwhy had a strict schedule for what to see - we both knew we had a limited amount of time, but she's already spent four days there, in total, so knew fairly well what to go see. The British Museum, on Monday, was a predictable affair. Predictable because of this: Me, in a museum like that means I will not, never, ever be on time if there is a time decided for something, like a meetup. It means I will spend hours on things that most people walk by in minutes. It means I must choose very, very wisely and concentrate on something, else I wake up five hours later hungry and in need of a toilet, no ide where I am and a guard telling me they're closing. I spent a few hours on two of three not that large rooms with Japanese exhibits. I spent waaay too few hours on the "prehistory" part, with Viking stuff.
Which, by the way? Wasn't really that good. CONTEXT YOU MORONS. I was pleasantly surprised by the National Museum of Scotland, as they put everything into context, with maps and timelines and gods know what. The BM? Bah. And some things were labelled wrong. Lucky I wasn't exactly dependent on most of them. But they had some AWESOME things there. And I got to see parts of several silver hoards I've been reading about, and I saw the Rosetta Stone, and I missed the Elgin Marbles and Parthenon Frieses but I'd probably just have been annoyed so it's just as well and I didn't have enought time by a long shot and I was really distracted by having other people accompanying me, gah, that's one reason why they let me go off alone the first part of the visit. You absolutely cannot be social with me in a museum. I don't work like that, at all. If you talk to me I will be distracted by the things, and if I talk to you it probably will bore you to death, unless you're a geek like me.
They had a few things there though that clarified a few things I'd been thinking about regarding contemporarities. But mostly... it was THE museum, and they're not a particularily good example of it.
I wrote a few things while there. Reflections.

"Why are you here?" (In the room with a lot of Egyptian statues and things.)
"And all is now lost." (Regarding... so much. Context. Histories. Knowledge. Cultures. The past.)

During the course of the journey I also got a lot of nice comments about my circlet, and a few odd ones (such as "You'd look good without it too, you know.") but overall, I felt very comfortable wearing it.

Tesco was visited. Of course.

The Camden Markets were pretty cool, and the Cyberdog store was... awesome. It's an attraction more than a store. Good EBM music, two dancers up on elevated floors, and so many details and neat cyber stuff I almost missed half of it.

Saturday night was delectably decadent, eventually. Sunday had pancakes, and during the day, Brick Lane with area around it. Found a ball gown for £5, but it would have been even better with white tie and tails - me and HighFive have the same measurements, and we came up with a lovely compromise. But alas, no such thing was found.

The trip home was predictably eventful, with me getting stuck in security due to a lot of metal - I was wearing a bra, as it happens, and, le gasp, a jacket with metal clasps. And the bus there was late already. And I've lost my card for the local buses and trains. Dunno where. That's one cost I really didn't need.

Lor

2009-11-14T13:45:00.006+01:00

Shadows of a dream
fragments of imagination
echoes of a silent scream
memories of a life that never happened.

I saw the truth within your eyes
feelings that were left unspoken
you said the words, but they were lies
had I a heart, it would be broken.

All I ever was means nothing
all I ever wanted slips away
all I ever had descends to ruin
and you are my destroyer.

Shadows of a dream
fragments of imagination
echoes of a silent scream
memories of a life that never happened.

(What took a thousand years to build
you undid in thirteen hours.
You proved that you are strong-willed
is this how you would use that power?)

You took it all away from me
an errant wish, an act of kindness.
Oh foolish girl, why don't you see?
Because of you I walk in blindness.

Shadows of a dream
fragments of imagination
echoes of a silent scream
memories of a life that never happened.

A life without love
love without meaning...

These are the lyrics of a song. I am dead certain I've heard it, I have sung it - at least, the refrain is so very, very familiar to me.

The odd twist of it is, it doesn't really exist. Or it does, now, since Jake T Forbes wrote the third volume of the graphic novel "Return to Labyrinth". Which I hadn't read until... yesterday?

But it is so familiar. So eerily, uncannily familiar.

Shadows of a dream
fragments of imagination
echoes of a silent scream
memories of a life that never happened.

It sums a lot of me up pretty well, if summing up can be done of a person.

Oh, and lor means "dream" in Quenya.

Litsë

2009-11-10T17:11:00.004+01:00

...means "sand" in Quenya.

I'm not sure I see much point in this blog anymore. I try to keep in touch with the people whom I think might be interested in what happens in my life, and those that I myself for some reason do not regularly contact, and don't contact me, well, some are probably like me, and don't want to disturb too much. Others may just not find the energy, seeing as how we're not that close or something, and yet others probably just don't give a shite. There're a few names I'm a bit disappointed in, but I know I'm guilty, too, of always being the one called up or approached, and because I know that I don't find it that important to keep in regular touch with that person for various reasons, I similarily assume that this is how these people feel too. And as far as I've been able to see, these people have either stopped reading here, or don't at all, or don't very often. It's not that big a loss, really. What's this blog about, anyway? Me and my life? Parts of it, at least. But most of what I write must seem so odd and just plain impossible to understand without the proper context, and the context exists only in my head, in my little box.
I've tried get the whine out of it, and managed pretty well. I've tried having a sort of theme, and that worked for a while. Recently I've tried to focus on iaido, Warhammer and... I think my other interests, too, to a lesser degree. And on some philosophy.
Regardless, the blog started as some sort of way for people that were still back in Sweden, to see what I was doing in Japan. And these days, I don't know if I want people to know what I do. I've become increasingly paranoid I suppose.

Also, because today something not so good happened to my almost-finished elven army for WotR, and I threw almost all of the figures in a plastic bag, I don't feel like doing anything at all that has to do with miniatures and GW-related stuff, not now, and not for a while. I don't know how I'm supposed to get through the "Christmas" idiocy that seems to whip every person in the world into a frenzy around now and until that stupid date. I have to actually work with this, I have to keep updated and I can't escape it no matter what. I'm much more into sewing stuff right now and there's no way I can focus on that.

My fucktarded Masters is going nowhere because I can't focus on that either.

And even iaido doesn't seem to be able to clear my mind these days. Curse mirror-walls and me not being able to focus properly.

I had this big post about our tenth anniversary that I was going to post, but days went by and I couldn't write, couldn't focus on that either. It was awesome, yes, and I'm still completely baffled that I, Elenaria, have eaten dinner with Anja Wettergren, Sandy Mitchell and Jes Goodwin! TWICE! And even gone out to a pub with Jes! All three were awesome, but Sandy and Jes especially so.
But I can't seem to make the words work for me, no matter how much I want to tell people. Well, wanted. Too much time has passed, and I'm, as I said, unable to focus right now. It's like I'm here, and now, in body, but my mind is almost always elsewhere. I can't even focus when I'm around people. I'm always somewhere else. In a memory, in a fantasy, in the future, in possibilities. It sometimes goes to the point that I can keep a perfect conversation and remember neither face nor what we spoke of afterwards. I'm just not there.
It's always been like this, it's just that recently I could put words to it.

And while I sometimes love my job, these days I mostly feel like being free of it, and having the time to focus on something else, or just being able to wake up one day, and think instead of having to scrabble to manage to work so that I can afford whatever it is I do that is called "living". I don't want to meet people every day. It's too nice to be able to hang out with those I know, and call friends or somesuch, and I simply don't. Because I work. I have to meet people every day, all the time, and be forcedly social. When I come home, then, I don't want to meet people, no matter how nice they are. I don't even want to see fox. I just want to idle time away at the computer. That's as much social life as I can stomach - chatting.

And then sometimes I do force myself to take the time to hang out and it's just so nice, as long as I can forget I need to get back to work.

And here I go whining again. Disgusting.

I guess my point was, I'm not sure I have a point. If someone's interested in reading more regular updates, they can send me a message, and I'll try to keep it up a bit better. Otherwise it'll return to being occasional, which, I suppose, is not that bad after all. Sometimes I feel like I have something to write, sometimes not. It was never for my own benefit, anyway. I don't think I'll stop writing entirely, but I'm not sure I'll make that extra little effort to keep it weekly or bi-weekly or whatever. We'll see, I guess.

I was so broken by that little thing that I wrote about Anjie again, and her having nightmares. At least it was nice to be able to have a spark of creativity and write, just write. I miss that.

Quellë

2009-10-26T21:45:00.000+01:00

...means "fading", as in late autumn, in Quenya.

I could tell you about one of the hands-down, no arguments, shittiest days of my life so far. It started out not too bad, but deteriorated to the point where I just lay with my eyes closed, earplugs not helping against the thudding of snotling kids upstairs who'd found the joy of moving about the beds and jumping between them and from them down on to the floor, thinking about nice things instead, and hoping that I'd fall asleep from sheer exhaustion after not too many hours.
It was supposed to be a good day. The Swedish National Iaido Team gathered at Bosön to get some "proffessional help".
That was Friday the 23rd. But I won't. I'll spit everything out elsewhere. Suffice to say it was helped along by me being so emotionally unstable that I should be allowed to stay at home with no contact with the outside world and be paid for it. Thanks to it being the day before my period, of course - I don't get mad, or cranky. I just get unstable, and my self-control was further eroded by pain everywhere, that sometimes spiked. Sometimes means often here. The tests we were to do at the national sports facilities at Bosön (I'm in the National Iaido Team, yay me) didn't do things better.
Coupled with the social grace and skill of a gnat, and some real fancy mistakes only I ever seem to make... it was a shitty day. S H I T T Y. Worst of it all, I couldn't help it when it affected others. And I hate crying in public.

But I had a hug from someone who's really nice and handsome. I did like that.

I made up for flunking some of the tests we had to do, and not participating at all in the running (of course), by doing five or six murderously hard crunches in the "Brutal Bench". Of course. I don't have much of a problem with my stomach, or the muscles there.

The iaido practice, however, started to put me in a better position, and because I woke up enough to take a headache pill, I woke reasonably well rested. I was able to keep my self-control much better, and I kept my mouth shut, and I tried my very, very best to not make any larger social faux-pases. The lecture on mental training was good, but the one on nutriotion had me doodle a fair bit without listening.

And the recurring quote, in every lecture, EVERY: "Well, I don't know too much about your sports... Well, I don't know anything about the sport you do..."
One would think that at least the mental training lecturing lady would have figured that a bad thing to say. It doesn't exactly inspire confidence in them.

And it's not a sport. It is budo. I am looking forward to the mental hickup they're going to get by trying to wrap their minds around our "sport". As it was... well, I just think they could have benefited from having at least the Wikipedia idea about what we're doing, both us and the jodokas.

But enough of that. We got three opportunities for iaido and jodo practice - Friday night, Saturday afternoon and Sunday between nine and a quarter to one. These were what mattered the most. Well, apart from meeting all the nice iaido people. Some I recognise from before, in fact, almost everyone, if not always by name. We were all pretty stiff and exhausted when after a lunch in our keikogi (during which we caused much speculation, hushed conversation and stupid and also not so stupid questions) changed into "normal" clothes for the last time. It was a good weekend, iaido-wise. People started splitting up, going their way homewards, and when at last I was left alone and Henry-sensei and Joel-san got off the underground train, I really started waking up. With it came the realisation, again, as so often before - iaido is worth everything, and it precedes everything else. And would, oh! would that I could do iaido, and only iaido, in my life. Nothing else, but eat, sleep, practice and do the things related to iaido - take care of sensei, teach others, and not too much else. Love, especially, is a distraction, but all my varied interests, too. "Do not involve yourself with the impractical". It is time I started heeding that.

I was so inspired by part-gloomy, part-crisp thoughts of how many distractions there are in my life, that I wrote a short piece. If the connection stays stable I might publish it on FictionPress, I suppose. It is rather abstract, just a jotting down that turned into a story. But inspiration is good, wherever it comes from, and I went with it. Am actually rather proud of that.

Did I tell you I finished reading "Cadian Blood" by Aaron Dembski-Bowden? It's really good, really, really good. I mean, REALLY good. Come on, go on, read it. The ending is a minor part of the story - it's the way there that I like. I've now started on "Innocence proves nothing" as Sandy Mitchell is coming here on Saturday!

Today was a "can't move in too much pain" kind of day. Not because of all the practice this weekend, but because of the weather - or so I suppose, I mean, why else would my fingers, knees, elbows, shoulders, feet, hips, wrists, oh, every single joint in my body, be the very definition of "pain"? It was bad enough that I couldn't even cook. I shuffled over to my medicine shelf, downed a painkiller, and after about half an hour I could get a glass of orange juice, then tea and toast. After another hour, I eventually got overdressed and went out to get me some food. But I hobbled to the store and back, and then I commited cooking! And now I'm probably going to bed fairly early today again. I didn't practice today, incidentally. Tomorrow starts a five-day week which will end in the tenth birthday for our store... I'm certainly hoping I shall be able to survive.

I've got some inspiration, but it's wasting away because all I can do is look at pretty dresses and inspiring costumes. I can't do anything, because everything is at home. Ohwell.

Ara

2009-10-21T23:52:00.003+02:00

...means "outside, beside" in Quenya.

Some news I got today, eh! My very first reaction was: "Oh, yes, finally!" and a big smile.
I did realise it was pretty... shall we say, disrespectful. But really. It was about time.

See, I managed to get to the ferry this morning, borrowing Sludge's bicycle. The harp, once I figured out how to carry it, was not a problem.
And as a side-note, I wasn't too distraught leaving, either, maybe because I did nice things while home, and know that I'll get back soon again, and such. And had foxling there for a while, too.
Anyway. On the ferry, I'd just sat down, when a woman I know from way back, through my archery, comes walking. "Heya," she says, "What're you doing here? No, no, you shouldn't sit here, come with me to my cabin." So I did. She and her, I admit, adorable little dog had a nice cabin to themselves, and me, hey, if I can get away from sleeping in the bistro lounge with kids running around and people everywhere, keeping me on my guard all the time...

We ate some breakfast, and while brushing her little dog, she gave me some news. She lives in the same area as I do, you see, and is a heck of a lot more talkative, so she had some gossip to share.
Partly about what dear neighbour downstairs, which long-time readers of this blog will know my rather less flattering opinions about, had in his cupboard, and what his friends did. There was a murder, you see, around New Year's, close to where I live, and the perpetrator was a friend of said neighbour. Mister perpetrator is now behing special bars in a high-security facility, which isn't surprising, considering his life-long diet of anabola steroids, and his cocktail most days, which included Tramadol and amphetamine. (Dear me, is that going to earn me some strange visitors coming from interesting search-words).
And then came the news that had me exclaim such a positive "About time!"

Ahem.

Half-legged, half-fingered, screamy, noisy, alcoholic, annoying, drugdealing neighbour downstairs...

is dead.

I am, for his sake and this is true, relieved. Finally, he won't have to suffer, won't have to eat those painkillers and try to live half-dazed from medications, drugs and alcohol.
But I am even more relieved for my own, all other neighbours and damn, everyone in the entire neighbourhood, sake. Three weeks ago, apparently, and certain people were quick to point out that Gotland and Sweden do have an agreement to hand over murderers, but really, I wouldn't have had to be even close. What with all the stuff he had to eat, and all the extra bits on the side, it was probably really just a matter of time. They think it was the heart, or so the talkative, nice lady said.

But oh gods. No more waking up in the MIDDLE of the night at, say, three am, to bad piano! Or screaming. No more listening to his snoring. No more calling the fething police or night-time security personnel. No more wanting to SCREAM in frustration because he just wouldn't stop playing his music at way too loud.
And no more random people knocking on his door at any time of the day and then having to close the balcony door because of fumes.

What else today? Not much. Worked. That was nice. Four hours is just the right time, isn't it? Might have inspired Curly to get himself an Eldar BFG fleet... or an ork one!
Practice. Also nice. Not a long one, seeing as how I worked late, but still.
Managed to get a pictured of me as sir Vincent Ravenscroft (fifteen minutes, my wardrobe and a few old boxes - tadaa, the beginnings of a steampunk outfit) edited enough that it was all right, and sent it around for evaluation. Opinions ranged from "Abomination!" a la Victor from "Underworld", to "I really like the way women look much better, but that's still handsome." to "Fantastic!" and "Moar pixxx!"
Me, well, I just have this wide, wide grin on my face. I'm going to cause utter mayhem and confusion.

Lastly, I was reminded of an old dream that I made into a story. Once again I feel like I should try to write more often. Stories come from everywhere - dreams, amongst others.
I'm careful with what I read before I fall asleep. I've found that most often, 40K-books just won't work. I get too riled up, or to anxious to know what happens, or start wishing too fervently that it'll all turn out for the best and the heretics die. Fantasy is the way to go, therefore I shall perhaps visit the best science fiction and fantasy bookstore in this drab city tomorrow.

Does anyone have a nice fantasy anthology, or book, or series, that they think I should try out? It's always nice to see people's opinion on the matter.
Or maybe I should try and find "Ogura no Hyakunin Isshu" with a nice translation. Waka is always good to read.
Of course... I could always go for the report on some Gotlandic farms and how the geographical layout has changed from the Iron Age to Viking Age to medieval times. Yes, I am a true geek.

Falassë

2009-10-19T00:40:00.003+02:00

...means "beach" in Quenya.

I decided to, somewhat belatedly, try and join a Play By Forum Changeling: the Dreaming-game. It took me a while to come up with a character but once I started, and, oh, of course, it's autumn now so the oWoD-part of me is waking up with a vengeance, as usual, it was easy. I thought I'd post her here for anyone to comment on, or just enjoy reading about. Because I enjoyed creating her. If you so happen to be a part of the Broken Dreams PBF, well, you know all about IC and OOC knowledge, but as far as I have seen, there are no one that is a probable candidate for being a frequenter of the SnE forums, that read this.

I do know she carries some traits that seem familiar. Of course. I, Ellie, happen to be passionate about a LOT of things, so no wonder if my characters share them with me. I've long since given up on creating a character that is my opposite. Here, it was rather because it went with the idea I came up with - though through a narrower lens our tastes still run differently. She is different from me, even if you can't tell from this. Personality, passions, thoughts, opinions, quirks. It's going to show during play, I suppose.

Born Vigdis Bergland, known to the fae as Anitra. Born and raised in Norway, but at age fourteen (or somewhere around that) family moved to the US because of her father getting a job offer. Had gone through her Chrysalis just months before. Is perhaps 23 years old?

The Troll is now working at the Grimmhaven Museum in Riverbend as a tour guide, since but a few months, while also, on a somewhat erratic basis, writing her thesis at the University. Her true passion lies in reenacting, in SCA and history, and she is working on a hobby project of writing a popular-historical account of the fae history tied together with real world history. She's recently (a few years ago) begun looking into the Nunnehi part of that, albeit carefully. She can get easily distracted by any new train of thought regarding her "work".

Anitra loves her martial practice, and is generally good-natured, even when getting beaten up by others in period or not so period armour. She keeps contact with her family, of which her older brother has moved back to Norway, and her relatives, some half-distant of which already lived in the US before she moved there.

She definitely has a romantic streak, though no one's said it out loud. Costumes, fantastical and historical, litter her wardrobe, and she goes home to Norway now and then to participate in reenactment events.

As of yet, she has to get a bit more settled in in Big Grimey. She's managed to meet only a few of the fae population, but there's one name that really stuck with her - Ruarc ap Eiluned. She only glimpsed him, but was quite smitten by his looks. Of course, she has no idea what he's like in person, and he remains a hazy figure she'd like to meet one day, perhaps.

Anitra lives in the Silverburg district. Her parents helped her move here, and to save on the rent, she shares an apartment that has three rooms and a kitchen, with a working goth of about 30 years of age, and a student about her age. They seldom see eachother and the kitchen is always kept tidy, though at times Anitra wishes she had more than one room (divided by a simple shelf), for all her various sewing-, armour- and other creative projects.

Vigdis has brown hair usually halfway down her back, often keeping it up by hairpins or braids. Her eyes are a startling blue, something she explains as being part of her Norwegian heritage - but of course, they really shine through from her Changeling side. She tends to wear practical, simple but elegant clothes, and can often be seen wearing parts of her period clothing. She's fond of autumnal colours, especially wine red, and likes old-fashioned jewelry. As Anitra, the hair is a bit thicker, often wore loose for effect, and the clothing is period even more often. Small braids run through her hair, ending in silver pearls or such. She has made herself a circlet that frames her horns and keeps her hair out of her eyes, and does on occasion create simple jewelry or clothes in exchange for help in her research. She will wear whatever she feels like for the day, though often she goes armed and armoured, if there's an excuse for it. As a parting gift from Norway, she received a nicely crafted Viking sword (this is her Treasure), that she's nicknamed Volund, after an old legend.

I imagine she might change a bit, but this is the first draft, and will probably be correct in most things. She's got the Flaws Surreal Quality and Changeling Eyes, her highest Ability is a Melee of 3 which is specialised on Swords (European, historical, possibly even one-hand). Other than that she's pretty martial-minded, with a Strength of 4, Dexterity of 4 and Stamina of 3. Kind of a warrior-scholar, really.
We'll see, we'll see...

I missed the Stockholm Iaido Open this Saturday, but I'm too high of a grade to participate, I didn't see the message asking me to come judge (and I'm happy I missed out on that, I'd have made a mess of it, I am sure) and I was working.
Went home, oh relief! Foxling did, too, on Friday morning, so he picked me up, and then we had almost a day, before he took the ferry away, to go to work. We took a walk in a place I almost lament not having discovered earlier - dear me, it is beautiful! It ranges from post-apocalyptic starkness, to very, very quintessentially Gotlandic, to lush and jungle-like, and very elvish. There's also a place which could host the Mother of All Action-Pulke-events (Action-Sleigh-Event), but I'm not about to divulge the location - it would have to be a Fimbulwinter so that the sea froze over, and lots of snow to dampen the final descent, because the hillside is AWESOME, but I sincerely doubt the respectably long flat part of ground would be sufficiently long to allow one to slow down enough even to want to jump off the sleigh.

Then, I walked home after leaving the car, through forests of a beauty only seen here.

Looked through my old plastic case for roleplaying characters. Nostalgia, is the word! I remember them all - at least, those played. I remember them, and some I miss. Many, in fact. Many, because I know they will never be anything but dormant ever again, never play out their adventures, the rest of them, all the possible and potential ones. They lived, once, and they are merely dormant, not dead. It's a pity, with some of them. They could've given me and others a lot of fun.

In a way, it is good I am not able to practice Monday and Tuesday this week. Friday, Saturday and Sunday, you see, me and the rest of the national team are going to be getting expert advice and other fun stuff at a facility for such, measuring our physical fitness and so on.

I should get to bed now... but the Changeling books beckon, and so does my Rogue Trader BFG ship and its Escorts. By the way, "Cadian Blood" by Aaron Dembski-Bowden, is a bloody good book. Do try it out, it really is worth it.

Ruscor

2009-10-17T23:07:00.004+02:00

Ruscor means "foxes" in Quenya.

It's haiku time! (One of my absolute favourites).

巫女に
狐戀する
夜さむ哉

かんなぎに
Kannagi ni
きつねこいする
kitsune koi suru
よさむかな
yosamukana

Shrine-maidens are
Much loved by foxes
In the cold of night.

A tribute

2009-10-13T13:00:00.000+02:00

This is a post about the greatest adventure I've had...

...tribute.

It's a tribute of sorts, to a few people that I love greatly, and some to whom I am grateful. It's a girl who, two years and a few weeks ago, I didn't know at all. I first saw her on a paper, sketchy and vague; she didn't look much to the world, she didn't look particularily happy, she looked like she had so much more on her shoulders than one would guess at first sight. She was quite the contrast to the other woman there, who had self-esteem in spades and knew she was the best at what she did. I still have that paper. I don't recall much of the scribbling after that, I don't know why. What do I remember next is her coming to life, waking up, walking around, and I remember how it took me no longer than ten minutes before I knew her like a close friend, and after that, we got very close very quick.
I know it was a Saturday evening, though I scribbled earlier - during the day? The day before? In any case... I met her on a Saturday evening, and foxling was out working. It was just three of us in the apartment. In her fatigues, with tousled hair and sunken cheeks, she wasn't necessarily the traditional definition of pretty. Not at all, really. But there was something about her that was endearing.
I think I took a liking to her immediately. She was so easy to connect with. It was a wonderful challenge that I took to like fish to water.

Two years later I have come to realise just how much I love her. This girl, this woman, this person. She's more than just a friend, she's like a part of my soul, a part of me. Of course, they all are in a way, characters. But this one stands out, really. She's different from me, but still part of me. That makes me very proud! I wish her all good in the world.

I love you, Anjie, though you'll never know I exist.

My wonderful Anjie, whom most everyone seems to take a liking to (bar, of course, certain commissars and other people who run into her but does not get to know her, and oh well, those who belong to the Enemy). The insecure, frightened, meek and abused psyker, who only really felt like she had any worth in battle. She didn't feel bad because of it - she just knew that her place was there, and was really really happy that she did good. She didn't feel she was useless, she just felt she had no worth and no use aside from being a weapon, to be wielded by those the Emperor had seen fit, and was pretty happy about it. She was fully and truly convinced all was as it should be, and quite content.
Ah, love, how you've changed!
And it's so odd to see! And to be right there, by her side, inside her head, even. She was certainly decisive enough in battle, and when it came to following orders, and protecting those that she fought with - those who became friends. Now, she's a strong but quiet woman, still hellbent on serving the Imperium to her very best ability.

Yes, this is a bit of a tribute to Anjie, whom I love so dearly, but it is also a tribute to Sam and to Karstius. Sam, the reckless, headstrong Sentinel driver. Reading through the Ciaphas Cain novel reminded me about how he used to be, and I laughed out loud at how the Sentinel driver's got sudden vox interference at times of some new orders being given, and the commissar sighing about paperwork.

We were an awesome team, guys, just so you know, and I remember it very fondly.

Watching over us was the storyteller, of course. So a first thank you to Malk, for what he created. I know I've said it before. But it was awesome, and it still is. You made something lasting, and something that will never fade.

But I'd like to once more bring your attention around to Anjie. She wouldn't have been if it hadn't been for LittleSir.
I said, I didn't quite know what to play. I asked LittleSir what hadn't I played for kind of a character, while she knew me? (And I think we were standing in the kitchen). She thought a bit about it, and told me, I hadn't played a character which didn't have high self-esteem and self-confidence. I thought for a while, then sketched two pictures, one of a flying ace, and one of a quiet woman with a daemon almost invisible, hanging over her as if it wanted to eat her. I could have gone with either, but something about the Anjie picture... the idea of playing a character so withdrawn and meek, appealed to me. So I did.
Thank you, LittleSir, the one and only Feilin, the Sammykins. Thank you for saying those words to me, because from them were eventually born Anjie.

Anjie, Anjie, Anjie. I love her not as if she were a lover, that I wanted to hold and to kiss passionately, but as if she were a separate person yet a part of me, a closest friend and life-mate, someone I hold so very very dear and want to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead and then give a smile that tells he just how much she means to me. I always find it comforting to fade away and become her, every time, no matter how bad the situation we are in happens to be.

The team as it is now, well, it has seen changes, people lost, people returned, people dead and new additions. Anjie, Sam, Karstius - we've gone through so many changes it's a marvel to behold. After all, for them, I think that somewhere close to eight years have passed since Sam blasted a column of tanks with his lascannon, and found a quivering, frightened psyker without her guards around; eight years since they heard the fateful radio call of "This is commissar Karstius to all loyalist forces, respond..." Sam, with his Sentinel, that's now become so very different, less reckless, and part of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Sometimes I hardly recognise him anymore. "Close-call" Karstius, who's died thrice yet didn't die, and never became the one we once knew again, but someone else entirely. He was softer, more kind, before, but losing all those years and never regaining that memory, he had to become himself with the surroundings then presented to him, and, as they weren't the same, so he became a little bit different.
And now there's Req, the sulky teenage, whining little kid of an untouchable. Who, who'd have thought it, grew up, and became quite the handsome and responsible young man. Shivers, poor Shivers, who was such a sterling Guardsman from Cadia, and then, like all of us, found himself quite out of his depth. He's a warrior through and through, and it's interesting to see how his way of acting has changed from rigid Guardsman to employee with leeway, of the Inquisition. The last addition was Liam, unlike the rest of us never in the Guard, going from the ashes into the fire, and becoming inextricably linked to the people with the =I=. He, too, has changed, becoming infinitely more comfortable working for the Inquisition and in a team, rather than solo, and there's been overtures to getting to know eachother better throughout the years, so now he's as much a part of the team as any of us.

We've all had things happen to us, that changed us. I, Anjie, used to have Merrick and Fowl, my psyker guards, around me, all the time. Fowl's death affected me a lot. I remember tears in both our eyes when there really was no saving him. They were always around. There was no such thing as solitude, if she weren't separated from them. And now, even now, she's unused to being alone, and will sometimes sleep in the same room as Merrick, if she can. But she's gotten used to it, and she's able to say both yes and no, and she knows full well she's not an Imperial Guard sanctioned psyker anymore.

"Hello. I’m Anjie. I don’t really have a last name anymore and it’s just as well because maybe if I did, someone would know who my family was (I don’t have a family anymore, but the people who were my family are still alive I think) and maybe wouldn’t like them.
I’m a psyker.
I didn’t know I was. But then one day I realized I hadn’t actually reached for the dataslate, and others had seen that too. So the Black Ships came and took me away forever."
This was Anjie's first own words, through me.

And this is how much she has changed - these are the some of the latest I've written, she through me; too bad, because so much more have happened that I'd have liked to have written, since this.

"I think I have found a skill of being in charge. I had to. I find I can be really decisive, and give orders, and people will listen and do as I say. It has been uneventful here, but there have still been times. /.../
I have also made clear advancements with my psychic skills. I am ever eager to become even better. Especially control, I feel, which is such an important subject."

So... this is a tribute. To the possibly best adventure I have ever had. To one of my dearest friends and parts of me. To the ones that helped her come into being, and to those she has met, and all that has happened. It's a little bit to the universe of Warhammer 40000, and to the Imperial Guard, even. It's to her, and it's to the fenomenom of roleplaying at large.

To Anjie. Love you, sweetness.

Narquelië

2009-10-09T11:57:00.001+02:00

...means "October" in Quenya. They're all very telling, the names of the months, with meanings and everything.

It is possible that there is some kind of empirical evidence for how one can get between Sundsvall and Stockholm by car in four hours, instead of six or seven, with two minor stops for leg-stretching and a sandwich. Sort of. And if there were no, say, Polish lorries (that is, trucks), on the single-lane parts of the E4 around Iggesund, maybe it would be even less time.

Me and the not youngest brother do get along rather well these days. Not only do we fancy the same music when driving, we also have some fun anecdotes that amuse the other, and are able to discuss and also agree on things. Our humour is also quite often fairly well synched.

There was a good, oldfashioned invasion of China by (nominally) Mongolian forces yesterday. See, there's this place called Dragon Gate along the E4, which is pure bloody odd. Apparently the Feng Shui of the place makes it perfect for a conference gathering place sort of thingie, with a ten-storey Chinese pagoda, a stone wall, Chinese gates, art, a big square that's as if made for martial arts practice, a great statue of she who is called Kannon in Japanese, or Kwannon, and it is pretty large indeed, a big Mongolian ger (or yurt, as is the Russian word for it) being impressive, a museum, a restaurant... and Chinese staff.
It's truly odd. But pretty nice.

I had a nice time with my grandparents. It's sobering, though, when grandfather says that nah, no more projects (such as building a new stove, or another garden table, or whatnot), it's time to cut down on the things and projects in this world.
They know precisely how old they are. I notice it mostly in that grandfather doesn't take that long walks anymore (though we did an excursion out into the woods beside the old house further down the coast, where the family has lived for a few generations; I love visiting there; and we found what I suspect are the foundations of two, possibly three or four, boathouses or cabins from the Bronze Age - it would fit the then coastline perfectly, they were bloody well lined up, of the same size, and their "openings" in the same end, and the stones if such was the case used to build them were all of pretty much the same size, and so on...), and grandmother doesn't have quite the same amount of energy.
I love visiting the old family house, and mother's more newly... well, not build, because the walls are century-old... but inside it's been made into a new house... sort of... oh, sod it, I like being there, and in autumn it's particularily beautiful. Me and grandmother took a walk down to the shore. There was no wind whatsoever, the sun was shining almost painfully bright, the sky was blue and the sea, well, the sea was the sea, and I could've stayed there for much, much longer.

I was extremely tired and sleepy while there. I have no idea why. Now, back in my outpost, I had no more sleep than any night up there, but still I am more rested. Perhaps the iaido...? But then, I did some iaido outdoors by the old house one afternoon, and still...

Am eating my way through the Grey Knights omnibus. Currently at "Hammer of Daemons", and it's so odd - I still have my opinions about the sometimes very dry way that Ben Counter writes, but damn, I can't put the book down. Been twice now that I've almost missed my stop on the subway! Do try it out if you haven't already.

I've managed to get registered on the MA-course at the university. Finally. But, whatever to write about? I have a few loose ideas, but nothing really worth working with. Perhaps something about the Gotlandic landscape in the Viking Age. Or the differences between the different parts of Gotland during the VA. Something about the ports and what people used which ports. Maybe I should go to RAÄ and their library to see if I can find some inspiration? It would be interesting to compare some part of the mainland and the way people lived, the way they built and so on, with Gotland. Just the fact that we never really had any villages proper... a fact which messes things up even today when Sweden tries to do uniform things for a uniform Sweden. Interesting.
Argh. I had an entire bloody text message filled with ideas, but they all went poof during a little accident with my dear cellphone.
Thoughts, anyone? Ideas? It can be pretty much anything. Finding out why men wore trousers and women seems to have been using skirts, or whether they preferred the taste of mead to that of ale, why they didn't stop using Viking Age finery in their clothing until so much later than the rest of Scandinavia, or perhaps how come runic inscriptions were being used well into Medieval times, except in Visby.

Sigh.

Love the weather, though. Even if it's windy and a wee bit cold.

Yárë

2009-10-05T22:22:00.003+02:00

...means "former days" in Quenya.

Two years ago and some weeks, Anjie, Karstius and Sam came into being.

Two years ago and but a few days, I moved to Scotland, to Edinburgh.

And there are no words for how my soul yearns to go back. To relive? Perhaps. Some aspects. To live there again? Yes. It is autumn and it is madly beautiful everywhere I look. Yet I know, Scotland is even more beautiful, comparable only to Gotland or perhaps Japan.

Two years ago. Hurts just thinking about it.

Two years.

Edinburgh, Scotland, I miss you. Miss you so much.

Nixë

2009-10-04T21:28:00.001+02:00

...means "frost" in Quenya, and it has been for the past week. The weekend before was warm and nice, a perfect autumn's weekend, but then the cold came.

Bleary eyes. A wee bit sleepy, I admit, but I've myself to blame, as I was late to fall asleep yesterday. It was a nice evening, though, and I'm about in the middle of the Grey Knights Omnibus, by Ben Counter. I admit I'm surprised. It's actually really good! Also it rekindles my love for all things Inquisitorial.

It's been a week now with voice, and I doubt it's good that I work, but so far, it's been going all right. I've drank almost all the LemSip I got from Loriel, and my throat seems to appreciate me nibbling Dinamint C-throatache pills. There's some echinachea in them, which helps a lot.

We managed to do a lot of introgames yesterday, and I even managed some today! On a Sunday, academy day! Also, the War of the Ring-course has some really nice people, so Sundays might be quite nice to work for the next month.

Mmm, what more? I didn't work at all last week, I went almost straight from Chalcatraz to our Potion Shoppe house on Friday. It was me, foxling, Malk, LittleSir, Naraiwë and Egladil, and it was very, very nice. It was supposed to have been a lrp that weekend, but since it was cancelled, we went there anyway, to take care of the house and get out in the forest for a wee bit. Me and Nara had fun carrying around stuff that was way too heavy for us while cleaning up the house, carrying stones for the wall around it (I hesitate to call it a wall, though, it's more like a string of stones in most parts - but hey, it looks really nice!) and a big bloody ladder. Fox, Malk and LittleSir went grocery shopping in town meanwhile, while Egladil was the driver.
When darkness fell, we lit candles and a fire in the inn-building, and sat there around the longtable, roleplaying Exalted. After a bit of fumbling around in the dark, I found Jezriyalaidah again, and a good evening was had!
Next day, we got up and cooked porridge with apple pieces in it, on our lovely stove. We fixed this and that with the house, went exploring the rest of the village (it's quite large, sixteen houses if you don't count some outhouses, several that are semi-detached and a bit of other oddities. It was a bit odd that it was completely empty apart from us, since one is used to it being very lively during lrps, but it was very relaxing. Some of us also dressed up in the clothes we were supposed to wear during the lrp, and I must say I was wrong. My outfit came together real nice! Egladil was very handsome in his, too, foxling's is still very, very nice and I know the other's are too. We went to have a look at the "old" village, where we'd have camped during the lrp, and it was rather waterlogged and soggy, but, the walk was nice. I love running around in forests, especially without pesky round ears, and wearing decent clothing!
The evening concluded with some more work, food, another pie (we can make pies in our iron stove!) and then roleplaying. I'm happy, because it seems as if Egladil's character, the Night Caste Ixtar, is becoming a Person. There's some way to go yet for Nara's character Kestrel, but she's been playing him for a shorter amount of time, too.
Sunday looked much similar - sleep incredibly well on soft mattresses in warm bedding, get up and have breakfast, do some iai, work a bit more, and then get ready to go back again. Oh, but if we could have stayed one more day! But two of us had work and school, so...

I managed to practice all four days of the week. That was awesome! Koryu practice both on Tuesday and Thursday! It's nice how koryu helps strengthen my knee muscles. It feels as if Seitei just makes my knees hurt if I do it "too much". I actually feel as if I have started to get a decent grip on the koryu kata, enough to know that I will be able to progress, instead of just fumbling about.
Wednesday was nice, too, seeing all the beginners. I felt it was important for me to show up because I am female - and to me it has no real distinction whatsoever, other than that the dressing room where I have to be it's always empty except for me. But to beginners, it might be different. There were two ladies there, one younger who shows real promise and who has managed to pick up lots of little details without the sensei telling her about them, and an older that had not been there all five times since it started. I did not get to practice much myself, but it was all right.

Working went fine, as I said, though my voice is still raw. I finished reading the Ciaphas Cain omnibus, damn me but it's good! And I like the somewhat more lighthearted read it presents. I can read it before I go to sleep, without having nightmares or tossing and turning from wanting to know if bad situations will go better or what will happen or if the Enemy will win or something. Cain, if nothing else, I know will survive. Maybe not those around him, but he will - since he's telling the story in past tense. I heartily recommend to read "Ciaphas Cain, Hero of the Imperium" to anyone into GW fiction. It's refreshing and fun, the only drawback being that it was written as three separate books and sometimes the author, by necessity I suppose, has to explain some characteristics of the characters "again", because of it once being published as three separate books. And one never knows where people might jump in to start reading.

And then it's today, and tomorrow I'm going to visit my grandparents on my mother's side! I had a dream about grandfather passing away, and that felt like a strong enough incentive to get my lazy butt up north.

In other news, while being back home I found, and hold on girly stuff coming up, a bra that fit me. I bought it at once. That doesn't happen very often at all, you see. I got myself pretty pretty Rogue Trader ship with three escorts, while Sludge was getting an Imperial BattleFleet Gothic fleet anyway, and my dear landlord had brought home two medium bottles of IrnBru for me from Scotland! So there's some good stuff.

Yávië

2009-09-21T23:14:00.001+02:00

...means "harvest", as in early autumn, in Quenya.

Well, well. At last. Over one week after I lost my voice, I have today been able to sound like a teenage boy with a cold, and even whisper on and off. This, of course, is a sign I should shut up for a few more days yet. Sometimes feels like there's a lump inside the throat that prevents me from talking properly.

Also, been going through some pictures and music I do not need to keep. Vincent is very happy to have a bit less stuff cluttering up his harddrive. Speaking of WHICH, I need to make a safety copy again. Been half a year now. ...and get my own external disk, as this one is borrowed.

I gave the finger to eventual risks, and made my way to iaido on Thursday. A good choice. We continued with some paired kata and excercises. Some, however, do seem to have a bit too much fun with that. I suppose it is all about not letting my guard down or getting the adrenaline up. Control is paramount or I could crack someone's skull open.

Friday, I actually got in to work. And lo and behold, there was stuff I could do. I could unpack the order, and clean up! That cleaning-up bit had not been done for a while, because surprise surprise, Staff Hell Week, continued. Redhead fell ill, Krk too, I was out of the game and on Thursday, guess what, Curly had to work all by himself. All day. Except for a few hours when Limey got in to give him a hand, despite being off (I don't know exactly when he got better, but I'm glad he did). Curly, I must say, is almost as stupid as me. "Of COURSE I can do it!" Yeah... but that doesn't mean it's healthy, or you should. Friday, then, Curly and Esteban was working, later on we had some reinforcement, and I could work undisturbed on the order. Gods. It was a very lengthy task.
I continued doing it on Saturday, leaving the shop floor work to everyone else (by then, Redhead had returned). Between that and even more cleaning up, I was finished around four pm... and I came in to work at nine am. Well, it got done! And the others could concentrate on the important stuff instead. Seeing as how I had no chance in hell to be of any use on Sunday, I ran off to the apartment, packed my bag and went home instead.

It was a good day, though. One regular youngster (still being a jailbait, but these days of legal age, actually) was back in town for a visit; he's moved further south to purge Scania of xenos and heretics, and I made him a warrant as my Interrogator (seeing as how everyone is referring to me as "the Inquisitor" or "Ellie IS an Inquisitor!"). He says it's going much better for him during the games when he brings it. I am very happy, I really liked the guy, he's a good gamer and person in general. Ran into him after work, too, which was nice, always nice to see people when I'm not working. I am quite a different person then, not that they would know, most often.

Oh well. The day held a good thing and a bad thing yet. Good thing, I came home and found a postcard from Lacryma! Now I MUST go to Edinburgh soon. Bad thing...
Mine: Possessive pronoun, used to refer to a thing or things belonging to or associated with the speaker.
Yours: Possessive pronoun, used to refer to a thing or things belonging to or associated with the person or people that the speaker is addressing.
Thief: Ratbastard chickenshit who neither knows grammar nor apparently the difference between them, in reality or otherwise.

I got off the ferry. I walked out the doors. I turned left, and where my bike was supposed to be, there was instead a conspicuous lack of red velocipede with slashed saddle fixed up with black tape.

I suppose the thief doesn't know just what a disaster that really is, he's caused. BASTARD! I'm pretty much handicapped without it, even more so now when my foot is starting to act up. I've reported the theft to the police, and I am going to go looking tomorrow, again, as I'm borrowing one of my brothers' bike.

What more... The (not such a very pretty green) wool jacket for the lrp that might not be is done and finished. It is rather pretty, but feels more like an expensive toile, being such a learning experience, with the mandarin collar and all. I am sorely tempted to go for silver embroideries though... regardless of how impractical that is for a hunter. I find it is more LotR-style than "Drakar och Demoner" anyway, so I might have to do something different in the future for the outfit - the outfit that in any case feels like "...meh." and "could've done better". It will do, but that's the point - it will do, it won't be perfect awesome. I suppose I miss Isilmëarë a bit...
Also, the yellow sash is near-done, only a few centimetres of handsewing left. The tunic, alas, should have been done in a softer wool, but I knew that from the start, didn't I... It's on the stage of "useable", but needs more work.
I do suppose a new undershirt would be good... I'm going to see what I can do about that.

With regards to "the Hobby" (and there are some people who understand the terrible joke which that is... shame on us all, and if you don't know it, then go find out, and help us put a stop to that other hobby, which isn't really worthy of being used for a pun), I recently completed this for the store: Archaon, Lord of the End Times. In a different light, here. I've got more pictures, they're going to be in the same album later on. Now that I'm supposedly finished with him, I'm still not entirely satisfied. There are some finishing touches I just didn't have the time for, seeing as how I tend to not sit all day and paint, and letting others deal with customers (yes, that is a jibe).
I'm fairly proud with his horse, and the shield, at least; as well as the cloak, and the sword. But his armour, and like I said, some of the details... meh.
It was a good learning experience, telling me I'm awesome at layering, among other things, ahem, I mean, after I was "finished", I realised there's a few models at home I don't really want to bring and use... they're just nae painted as well as I can do nowadays.

But aside from photographing this charming fellow, I've nae done too much in that department. It's mostly been sewing, which is a pleasant activity, I find, and watching movies while doing so. And, reading. Ohyum, my lovely guilty pleasure. The Ciaphas Cain books are certainly proving to be to my liking.
Me and Sludgecrawler broke into the Space Hulk box tonight. There is much love for that game. It's fun, fast and furious. And I really am sorry, but believe me, it is sold out. Try looking at independent stockist stores out in the middle of nowhere, they MIGHT have some left. It's a pity, but a learning experience - it was a limited offer, and with limited, it was LIMITED that GW meant. Sorry if you missed out, but please, oh, please, do not come and be angry with us grunts. We cannae do anything about it now, it is too late. ...but if you get the chance, go for it. It's awesome fun, and if you've dreamt of introducing a girlfriend or friend or family to 40K at all, it is THE way to go, I think.
Then, we ordered Battlefleet Gothic stuff. He's ordering an Imperial fleet; me, I couldn't resist temptation and went for the Rogue Trader ship with Escorts. Next up will be the Mechanicum ships because they look delicious, and then someday I might get around to that Eldar fleet I want to play, rather than paint and squeal excitedly at.

I think the scaphoideum bone of my right hand is... weirding out. I am pretty sure it's not supposed to hurt like that when I bend my hand THAT way, and it's sticking out at an odd angle, compared to my left hand. Must get it checked - that, too. Add another to the list.
The finger which was so interestingly pierced the week before last, seems to be all right, even if the nail is split.

Now for some tea, perhaps, and then sleep in a bed which makes me smile with delight. It's sooo comfortable!

Yavannië

2009-09-15T11:00:00.000+02:00

...means "September" in Quenya.

Yesterday, it finally felt like it is autumn, and that summer does not linger anymore. Early autumn, to be sure, but still.
I was out for a short while, mainly to go to work to be able to tell them I couldn't work. This needs some background...
First, Curly falls ill, but has to work anyway last Wednesday because, well, no one else could (alone between eleven and four... what are these lunch- and toilet-things you speak of?). Illnesses and such. Limey we haven't seen in a week or so, and it's impossible to catch him - he doesn't answer on his phone, so we just keep supposing that he's ill. Thursday, when I came in, Redhead worked until eight, just so I wouldn't have to close the store alone, and Curly practically fell over from exhaustion before he could go home, which was when I arrived. Yep, still ill, still had to work. I had a bit of a cold when home on Chalcatraz, nothing much came of it, but I still wasn't entirely well on Friday, when I held a small birthday intro course thingie for four young boys who, ironically, had sign language translators there, because they either had no voice or hard of hearing. I don't know why, but this kicked the shite out of my throat and vocal chords. I wasn't a very romantic girlfriend that evening, but me and visiting foxling simply went home, had some real nice and expensive pizza, then opened some gifts and went to bed early. Saturday I could wheeze and whisper, so I took care of putting the order away. Still no Limey, so we were already one person short, and between me and Curly, we had one person with energy and voice. Sunday I know nothing about, as I was enjoying myself with iaido from ten to five. Lucky, I don't mind not being able to do kiai... which we did, in a few excercises.
And then came yesterday. Still no voice, ergo, I couldn't very well call in sick. So I had to go there, and grab a computer, and explain to Redhead what it was all about. He, on his side, had planned on being home, sick, but figured we didn't know where Limey was, and he better get in to work anyway. As I was in absolutely no state to work - I am well in all other aspects, I just can't talk, at all - and Limey were nowhere to be seen, well, what to do? Redhead called the other keytimers one by one, but all of them were occupied. At last, we resorted to calling in Curly, who'd show up later, and I'm going to take his hours on Friday, as Monday was his, surprise surprise, day off.
I still had to work for an hour, though. There were paperwork and stuff that NEEDED to be done, and I thank the gods and the four directions that there came no customers during this time. Only four kids were sitting in the store, poking away at plastics, painting and stuff like that, pretty content with doing what they were doing without me interfering.
I didn't want to leave Redhead to work alone, but ohwell, Curly was supposed to come in later, so...
I went home and was promptly put out of action by a migraine from hell. Sleep and two Diklofenac kicked it, and then I spent the evening resting, and reading "The Jennifer Morgue" by Charles Stross. Foxling gave it to me Friday ^-^

And today I have woken upp, and there has been no change with my voice. Still nonexistant. Can't even whisper.

The lrp was cancelled, much to my chagrin, or, they've moved it. But we're still going out to our house, to fix it, pre-larp a bit with the characters, chase around with boffer arrows and generally enjoy being out in the forest. None of us felt much like switching gears, changing lanes and all that, and jump on another lrp on the same weekend. I am SURE it is going to be one of the lrps of the decade, and my response is STILL "...whatever." I do not feel like reading up on all the info, get clothes, yada yada. That's not the kind of lrp I want right now, I want one with deep forests, pointy ears and ninjy running around.
Besides, every - single - shitty - piece of info is in pdf format. WHERE'S the trouble in just giving me one, one tiny wee little piece of text info what the lrp is about, just something small, to whet my appetite, somewhere on the webpage? No, let's make a giant animated slide and a shitload of pdf files. No interest woken by a neat little text means no downloading any pdfs for me.
Oh, and I HAVE got it explained to me, but, too little too late.

Other than that... well, it's autumn, like I said...

My feet can feel the streets of Edinburgh under my soles. My nose can catch that smell, those smells, depending on the wind. My eyes, when I close them, are as good as open, looking at High Street, looking at the Crags, at Holyrood Park.

But also, my feet can feel the uneven asphalt of Akita. My nose catch that smell that is Japan's. My eyes, when I close them, are as good as open, looking at sensei showing something, looking at the streets in nighttime, at the beautiful forests.

Iaido keeps me reasonably sane, but being ill and being more or less thumped over the head with sense by Loriel in the form of an doctor-grade essay on infections and how they are affected by hard training made me not go yesterday, and today, well, we'll see. It is koryu, after all, but I suppose if I EVER want my voice to come back...

Sunny outside. Wish I could just go out and take a nice stroll. But I better not.

Tál

2009-09-02T17:29:00.005+02:00

...means "foot" in Quenya.

Yet another update, who'd have thought it. There's a very simple reason. I'm not at iaido practice. And I am grumpy, restless and thoroughly unhappy about it. But with this being day number... errr, is it seven? of my ten-day week, I suppose I should heed the pain in my left heel tendon.
Not happy. Not happy at all. I could've gone there and helped out, or just watched, or something. Maybe Stille-sensei would think this is good though. If so, then, all right.
But still. Not happy.

Morning's work was extremely relaxed, which was good. I hope they did well afterwards too. Visit to the naprapath went well, there's less and less issues with my back for every time. Might go for one more, in a month or so. But I did take the chance while I was there to buy me a pair of 680 SEK soles. I didn't even ask for the price. I just asked for the very best option possible, trusting (ooh, scary word) these professionals to get it right. I was ordered to take out the insoles I've worn for... too long, really, since all they do is prevent me from getting the right musculature in the foot valve (mmmyes, that could perhaps be argued, but let's try this way, seeing as how the other one hasn't done much). He did however make a convincing argument with the valve bridge - if you push from underneath it, it will collapse. But, I must counter here, if you only have something that will help it, strengthen it...? Oh well. It felt better, when I was walking, afterwards, which is a good sign. There's still constant pain though, no matter how I sit, stand or lie.

Found a very nice caraffe on a whim. It's going to be nice to have for the lrp.

Reeeestless. Going to do something about the blue Isilmëarë-shirt I think. And maybe do a few cuts from seiza, or standing on my knees.

Edit:
Oh, I forgot to mention! The sweetest old lady came up to me on the subway today, and said to me, oh, you have a very nice braid in your hair! I'd just made an ordinary one from a ponytail, and then tucked the end in under, but she really liked it, and we sat down and had a wee bit of a talk. Over eighty, she was, but seeing no point in just sitting down and being old, she decided that to travel was her thing. But, she said, she didn't go very far when she was abroad. The farthest during her later years were London. Now, I really wish I'd have taken her number. I would have LOVED meeting and talking over a cup of tea. Stupid me.

And at the moment I am sitting with my feet in a gradually cooling bath of hot water near-saturated with ginger. Some old aikido-sensei had told this tip to one in Kensei, and he passed it on to me. It is a most peculiar sensation. (Peculiar. What a great word!) It does indeed seem to work.

Painting a Deathwatch Terminator for the store. We're going to be led by an Inquisitor in Termie armour, and all of us working have one each. It is going to be a fun launch... or maybe not so, seeing as how many irate customers have ALREADY called to spew their ire at us for allowing the Space Hulk boxes to run out. Sorry. But, you know, you certainly had good warning. On the webpage, in White Dwarf and definitely in the store.
I'm happy I preordered one as soon as I could.
It IS a pity they're only making a limited amount. It's an awesome game.
But then again, why shouldn't they? It seems more like an indulgence than a way to get money, or promote 40K. Oh well.

Tó

2009-09-02T00:44:00.005+02:00

...means "wool" in Quenya.

Oh, have these been a few interesting days. Today comes at the very top of the pyramid.

Waking up at, oh, around nine. Very comfy. Decided to stay in bed for a while longer, despite incessant noise from outside.
Of course, this was the first sign.
Get up, sigh at fox's complete inability to follow the "wash up your dishes at once"-rule. Felt odd, kind of stressed, as if I had a lot to do, despite not having a lot to do. Because I started at four pm. Right?
Nope. Not right.
I got the question, "Don't you start at eleven?"
...no. I start at four. I'm pretty sure I start at four. "I know I wrote you in there, because Redhead's on Union courses."
Okay, shite, have I missed something? It's ten-fourty all ready... No, I am dead certain I start at... so I go to get the schedule... and aye, I start at four... according to the OLD SCHEDULE.
New schedule says eleven, and whoops, I'm the one opening the store. There was a heartfelt "Oh SHIT!" and then I once again proved my ability to shower, make breakfast to eat on the bus and pack my bag in around ten minutes. Took me about two to get to the bus, great for my knees by the way, and then I started to dry my tears. I met Rob on the bus, thank the gods for that, talking to him instead of fretting that it wouldn't go faster.
Of course, I didn't have a proper ticket either, so I had to go by fething cellphone ticket.

Then I run to the store, find that Esteban didn't arrive that much before me and return to the floor to open the door at a little less than one hour after I discover my idiocy.

Yes. That is how the day began...
Seeing that, I am impressed at my ability to push on and work hard anyway. I worked an hour overtime to compensate, cleaning up the back corridor, storage area and the store itself (there was an extra reason for some of that, however), and I also cleaned the kitchen, defrosted the freezer and washed the windows and the cabinets.
As a last little twinkle in today's eye, or two, rather, firstly, I'm going to go in and open the store tomorrow at eleven, because of Blueye being sick, which'll tie two weeks together into one glorious ten-day workweek, and secondly (who cares about grammar at this hour?), I still need to wash some clothes because I'm all out of socks and fox needs some washed too, and get into the shower. And the laundry house is occupied, all four laundering machines, of course - the only time when I really have time to wash, is during the night, and then I have to share it with those too lazy to book a time during the day. Can't stay up as late as I would have to, either...

Foxling's been sleeping over for about a week now, and while it's kind of nice, it's mostly annoying, to be honest. I don't feel like hanging out after a day in the store, he gets up much earlier and disturbs my sleep AND he uses Vincent, without my consent. I don't like other people poking around at my computer, regardless of whether they only use internet or no. Still, I suppose it's good for the relationship that we see eachother a weeee bit more often now.

When I should be exhausted, and actually say, "stop, this isn't working, I need to take a break and I need a rest", but when I can't, I go into overdrive. I'm on overdrive now. I wonder if I can keep it up for four more days?
I was so distracted during iaido tonight that I barely got any solace from that.
But then, on Saturday evening, I will be going home again... oh, how I long to.

Do I drive myself harder than others do? I'm not sure... I mean, if I let go, and stopped pushing myself a bit, I'd get lazy and content and give myself all manner of stupid excuses not to do this, not to do that. Also, it's a way of proving I can do whatever anyone else can do, despite all that's shitty. I really wish I would stop coming close to tears whenever I accidentally start thinking about the dear state of my rather unwell body. Naprapath again tomorrow. It's not going to do much, really, but whatever. I know what the deal is now, and that it won't just go away. I can't be bothered to book off the appointment. Maybe they have good insoles too, for my shoes. Might be, might be.

Oddly enough, a quote has been in my head a lot of the day. Immie reigns at the moment, "Half Life" running through my head over and over, but this quote stuck.

It is Frodo, at the very end of the "The Return of the King" movie.

"How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand... there is no going back. There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep, that have taken hold."

I can honestly not say quite why I like it so much. I think it's the beginning, it really came to me when returning from Scotland. Whether it'll mean something special to me remains to be seen, for now it's still a nice quote. A bit depressing, to be perfectly honest. But nice. I like to think in more positive ways, though.

And dear me did people go off when I said I don't give shite about being celebrated during level-up or no. Part of getting to know people, knowing them, being their "friend", is accepting and respecting their bad sides, as well. You certainly mustn't like them, and you are allowed to point them out... but feth. If I say I do not want, don't you think I've thought over it? Instead of going off on how antisocial and stupid I am to shut people out so, and that I will end up very lonely, just tell me I'm a bit of a moron and let me be. And then respect my wishes.
For the record, I don't care about ending up lonely. I LIKE being alone, first of all, and second, if I need company, hell, I've only to look into a mirror and talk to myself, or for that matter, settle down and read a book. I do say that with a wink, but I am very honest in the statement that I really, really don't care. I might wish I had people around me, but it's no big deal. If it was something I feared, I'd try and nurture the friendships and acquaintances I have, and I don't, much. It's nice while it lasts, if it does, but I remember people, they don't need to remember me. And a lot of the time, they're better off without having to remember to keep in touch with me. I'm pretty amazing, but I don't need anyone to tell me that, and also, I'm hardly the only person in their lives.
So, the boyo should respect my wish, which he doesn't, and I therefore duly and kindly told him to go away until he's learned to respect my bad sides as well. It's been nice knowing him but I can definitely survive without YET ANOTHER person telling me I'm too cynical and whine about it - be constructive in your criticism or SHOO! I like constructive criticism. I can deal with constructive criticism. Pure WHINING I will not deal with and will react accordingly.

Lírë

2009-08-26T10:39:00.005+02:00

...means "song" in Quenya.

Going to sleep in pain, waking up in pain. Lovely. Feet not better.

Iaido is back to four opportunities a week, which this week, I am grabbing. I was planning on going home three days next week, but then the Russian called, and I got two more days of work. Now to decide if I'm going to join the lrp with the others, or not... because my schedule is back to absolute minimum again. Lucky I got a pretty good amount of money this month, in the sense that I can live on minimum, and then have enough over for the next few months to be all right.

I WAS planning on nipping over to Edinburgh quickly, all by myself... I might do that anyway, I realise now... and buy new shoes, and good soles, and pester a few doctors and specialists again. And know what? I just might do that, anyway. We'll see. I'm a bit miffed right now.

Me and fox have a lot more opportunities to see eachother now! They work a bit of here and there, so sometimes, he can even stay over. And it doesn't cost too much to go and visit their little house, him and his brother, they're renting one.

My Noldorian, High Elf army for War of the Ring is coming along nicely. I found this pretty little painting guide by a guy calling himself Keyzer Soze, which I am using for the armour. He does wetbrush every layer three times, which I do not quite have the time for, so it's two layers of Chainmail, one Mithril Silver, then Brazen Brass/Dwarf Bronze, then I might try Shining Gold before one of Burnished (I didn't, for the ordinary, but might, for Rivendell Guard), Burnished, Burnished plus Mithril. I don't think I did an extremely thin brush of Mithril last, but I'm not sure. For good measure, with somewhat watered-down Chaos Black, I also blackline all the armour... After that, seeing as how the excellent Chestnut Ink is not being produced anymore, I go for very watered-down Ogryn Flesh with a dash of Devlan Mud, when that's dried, it's (and here's another deviation from the guide) watered-down Thraka Green plus a dash of Ogryn. Why Thraka Green? Because I'm a nerd of epic proportions and I've been looking a wee bit too closely at pictures of the armour used in the movie. And I like that shimmer of green. I don't know why. Then, a very careful wetbrush (everything so far has been wetbrushed) of Mithril Silver/Burnished Gold.
And that's only the armour...
I'm going for a lot of greyish blue when it comes to the cloaks.

Then, I made a practical decision. I need to get a legal army done before deadline of the Army Painting Competition. So, instead of Elladan, Elrohir and one more company of Rivendell Guard... I go for one Elrond. 200-something points for one guy. Sure, it's an idiocy trying to play that army, but I need it done. Better and more playable; that's going to be a future project.

You know. When I'm done, I'm actually going to post pictures. Since I've been very bad at posting pictures of my miniatures.

Tonight, a bit of performance of iaido, for beginners and those interested. Then maybe see foxling again, and tomorrow work.
I've got a few feelers out for more work. A second one. Yay.
But also, recently, those little things that are not so good with my job, they've been getting to me. I hate it when there's, say, three on the floor. Two sit and paint, and I know the stuff's got to get done... but doesn't the customer always come first? Isn't that what you yourself say? So... why aren't you living it? Yes. I am more than a little bit annoyed. It's just one thing among so many.

Lastly, Imogen Heap's new album "Eclipse" is out. Already I have found a fondness for a few songs. Today it's this one. There's something real soft and nice about the melody, though the lyrics doesn't fit one occasion, but rather several disparate, at the moment. One memory here, one thought there, new one for every piece of song. "2-1" is also pretty sweet.

"Half Life"
I knew that I'd get like this again
That's why I try to keep at bay
Be a hundred percent when I'm with you and then
A perfect heart's length away

The stickler is you've played not one beat wrong
You never promised me anything
Even sat me down, warned me just how they fall
And I knew the odds were I'd never win

And here I am
It's a half life
with you as my quarterback
A daft life

My self-worth measured in text back tempo
It's been 2 days and 8 minutes too slow
There may well be others but I still like to pretend
that I'm the one you really want to grow old with

You've got a schedule to stick to
Got a world to keep sweet
It's so much to everyone all the time
Will you ever slow down? Will I ever come first?
The universe contracts decide

It's a half life
With you as my quarterback
A daft life
It's a half life
With you as my quarterback
A daft life

You know you'll never be lonely
You know you'll always be loved
And maybe you'll never need more than that
Of the sad place that love is, what's to become of us?
Does it even register on your conscience?

Along for one last showdown
From a box in the crowd, air compressed tight to explode
I'm clenching my ticket to the only way out
As you disappear in a puff of smoke

It's a half life
With you as my quarterback
A daft life...

Úrimë

2009-08-16T21:00:00.003+02:00

...means "August" in Quenya.

I do not feel any whisper of the autumn yet, in the air, but I feel the summer's lateness. It is always like this, one week ago was full summer, now, it is late. I breathe easily here, and earlier, up on my hill, with a wind that was a bit stronger than usual for summer, but still soft and caressing against my skin, and not cold.
The only thing a bit defective is that fox is not here - he's moved to a nice house on the mainland because of work. We're not giving the apartment up (thank the gods) but we are, once again, not going to be living together in the way of "Hello, precious, I'm home!"
Which we haven't done very much anyways, despite the five years. Or four. Five. I think it's five. But I did take quite a fancy to it during Medieval Week, despite there being others in the house as well. And yesterday, when I'd come home with the ferry and we stayed awake, just to be able to spend time together before he left this very morning, it felt... so very right. I don't condone the fething leaving of stuff EVERYWHERE but where it's supposed to be, the mess here and there, and so on... but that is so mcuh beside the point. Living together, even for those short hours, was a very good and refreshing reminder of how come we stay together still. It was cosy, it was peaceful and it was enjoyable.
Pity we didn't have more time. Then we could have painted stuff together, discussed lrps, sewn stuff, and so on. But no, I had to help him get to the ferry. Le sigh.

Instead, I devoted today to not walking. The foot is not getting better. The old thing that showed up one winter's night gets steadily worse now, as does the heel. It's been there, on and off, during summer, and then on Monday, Medieval Week, it hit me hard and bad and caused me to jump on crutches for several days.

I had to get out to get breakfast stuff for tomorrow... and some cheese doodles... and some dinner foodstuffs... but otherwise nothing that involved social interaction. I took the way by the forest, that forest which seems to connect to every other forest in the world, and then up on my hill, greeting the four directions, the winds, the earth, the fire, the water and greeting my island and life itself. It was very pleasant lying down and enjoying the sun, the wind, the earth and the smell of the ocean.

Medieval Week, then, in short? Wonderful, as always. This year, however, I actually felt a bit weary the last day or two days. It wasn't as emotionally draining, perhaps, as some years have been, nor was there as much drama. Some drama, of course, but nothing bad. I danced my foot and one row of beads to pieces on Monday night, Koenix (who used to be Koenigs Halunken) have grown and become quite an energetic and nice band. Always good to see such things. I retrieved some of my beads, but waking up on Tuesday was excruciating. Me and Iwhy had to walk home, you see, after dancing... and that wasnae good at all.
A lot of time was spent at Bistra Haren some nights, none at all on Effes this year (I don't lament that much, the volume is always too loud and it's too crowded AND costs too much to get in). I didn't buy much at all, I had no inspiration either! Very odd. But two very, very pretty hairpins, made of ox bone and shaped into gripping beast's heads. Some beads, a piece of red wool for hoses. A ring, for Isilmëarë, since the other one was a borrowed one.
The market felt... smaller, this year. But I did try to get out early every day, and meet lots of people! We had nice people living here, Iwhy, Egladil and Highelf. The trolls lived in foxling's mother's apartment instead. Just as well, we could NEVER have fitted everyone in without tension, and besides it meant excellent space for a Drakar och Demoner-campaign which I did not partake in, but that was played almost every night, I believe.
I crossdressed for the first time ever, more seriously at least, during Wednesday. It's the inofficial crossdressing day. There were several manly men and womanly women that I noticed. Odd thing, or maybe not so much, I looked damn good. Fireshow was nice, despite not seeing too much of it. Bah, amateurs choosing where to sit... I had good company though.
On Thursday I donned Au∂vi∂r's clothes and carried her harp. I like the clothes, I admit, that she wears. They're comfortable. Lrping picknick was quite small as far as I could see, but lots of nice people were there. At four pm, I held a performance telling the Guta Saga, thanks to Ihalempi/the Captain. It was my first official performance like that, ever. Oh, I've done some reciting Faust, I used to play the saxophone in an orchestra and stuff like that, but there was something special there. Afterwards, I plucked the harp while the Captain told his tale. That afternoon-evening, me and Egladil improvised a bit longer than what we could during "Tuonelas port", and ended up in the high tower where there's now a gangway and three storeys, giving an idea of how the tower in the city wall was used. We ended up there, and our characters ended up in Tingsvide - of course Au∂vi∂r couldn't resist suggesting Volund follow her (or the other way round) around the world, going whence he liked as an errant blacksmith. Ah, spontaneous lrping. Awesomeness.
Friday once again saw me in non-historical clothing! I wore Kerael's outfit, to great effect. Not only do I find myself beautiful, there was very obvious evidence that others, too, did - mundies and us Others alike.This is a photo taken by Iwhy that evening, down by the shore, just outside the city wall. I danced a bit that evening, dulling the pain with painkillers.
I got to have Highelf as a handsome man accompanying me at times, at others I had Egladil, and dashing they both were. I did miss having Zaramis there, though I know Iwhy was happy he wasnae there. There were also others not there, Rob and family most noticeably, but then, the silversmith Tavathlon was there, and others, so it added up fairly well anyway.
On Sunday, one visited Clematis for the probably last time ever. It's closing. We were there for... hours, and hours. Ate, drank, ate some more and just took in the atmosphere. Who cared about rules, when it was closing? The place was jampacked with people, there was spontaneous music and performances, until at last I could not stay any longer - I was so tired, so sleepy. I hated to have to go, but I really had to. On the way to get picked up, leaving that fold in time, that other world, that other reality that is Medieval Week, I ran into my lady for the week, Isobelll, whom on Monday took me up on my offer of "Want to make out?" and whom I then met on and off during the week. She's pretty sweet, we keep in touch still, and with no expectations from any of us.
And yes, I was as annoyed with Iwhy this week, as last, and the one before. Just not as often, and more the last nights, than the first few. I could say a lot about it, but I will not. There is no creative dialogue to be had.

One more highlight: Middle of the night, on Thursday, me, Iwhy and Egladil drove out to a limestone quarry. Full moon, stars, not a cloud but a few wisps here or there. And I had the best swim of this year. The water was high and completely calm, and it felt kind of like sacrilege to wear a swimming suit... so I swam some distance from the others, and pulled it off me. Swimming naked in that water, in the light of the full moon... Yes, there is magic, especially during that week, and that very night, perhaps most of all.

"Sju dar per år" by Loke ("Seven days a year"). Yay for YouTube quality. (Better one here, shot at an official consert). Still. This is THE anthem for the Medieval Week. As can be understood by the thousands of people singing along... yeah, we appreciate it. I'm someone in the front of that camera. I might translate this some day. For now, it sums up everything about Medieval Week. "For eight days a year, eight days a year, eight days a year I can have peace of mind. In the Baltic Sea, on the Island of Roses, eight days a year in Visby's medieval times!" Such a poor translation... but the Swedes should have no troubles.

För vi lever i besynnerliga tider
allt handlar mer om prestation än om person,
du krävs på läkarintyg ifall du lider
och det krävs kompetens för kommunikation.
Med magmedicin och livsstilsmagasin
snickrar vi på våra luftpalats.
Och fast var människa har bil
så är ens Facebookprofil
ens mest frekvent besökta mötesplats.

Men i sju dar per år, sju dar per år,
sju dar per år kan jag få ro och frid
I Österns sjö, på rosornas ö
sju dar per år i Visbys medeltid!

Här kan nästan alla skratta åt sig själva,
det är ett jättebarnkalas, en maskerad
någon är en riddare, någon annan är en älva,
till och med den pestsmittade tiggaren är glad.

Här är det natt och nakenbad,
här kan man sjunga serenad, utan att någon kommer kalla dig pretentiös,
romantiken får en chans, här är eldshow, här är dans,
här är självaste djävulen lös!

När du fått på dig dina medeltida kläder
då finns inget varifrån och varför eller vem
vi kanske kommer ifrån Sveriges alla städer
men vi har ändå allihopa hittat hem.

Och all framgångshyckleri byts mot glatt gyckleri
här vävs natten ihop med nästa dag
här är hjärta och passion, är inkarnerad illusion
och det bästa med det hela - här är jag.

I sju dar per år, sju dar per år!
Sju dar per år kan jag få ro och frid.
I Österns sjö, på Rosornas Ö,
sju dar per år i Visbys medeltid!

Och här bland murgrönornas grönska
är det festival och frid på samma gång
det enda mera man kan önska är att veckan vore tre gånger så lång...

Så vi vill tacka alla generösa gutar,
ni låter oss invadera eran ö totalt
och vi vet ju alla hur det slutar
så ni gör rätt i att ta jävligt bra betalt!

Till denna veckan vill jag alltid återvända,
jag struntar i de andra femtien!
Och skulle fastlandet gå under - låt det hända
då kan ju Medeltidsveckan börja om igen!

I sju dar per år, sju dar per år!
Sju dar per år kan jag få ro och frid.
I Österns sjö, på Rosornas Ö,
sju dar per år i Visbys medeltid!

Lairë

2009-07-29T23:59:00.002+02:00

...means "summer" in Quenya.

I have been working, and I have been practicing, and I have been curled up in fetal position because the shite that hit me on Yule two and a half years ago in the left ribcage, hit back with a vengeance, and I have visited a naprapath who told me he probably figured out what the problem is (something to do with a slightly wonky backbone and ribs and stuff, was in too much pain to listen much) but refused to treat me because I was in, yes, too much pain.

So I went back to work and then I went to iaido practice. (I did today, too, practice that is).

Of COURSE I did. What, I should forsake that which keeps me sane and on my feet just because of a relapse of this? No, no, I've lived with it for two and a half years, I know perfectly well what I can and cannot do during practice. I just have to be a wee bit more careful when it's like this.

Other than that, I think it's time for some musings.

One is that, it is much easier, and pleasant, when one is able to just ride along and see things from the good side, regardless of what they are. I mean able in the intuitive way, that "it's just a good day". There has been some sadness regarding some things lately, some wistfulness and perhaps a bit of sorrow, but today I found myself smiling anyway, at those things that are fairly nice anyway. Both in the situations regarding and relating to the sorrow, and in others.
And if one manages to see and feel such, one should, if one can, write things down! It is always good to have such things in written form, physical if you will, to stumble upon, or read, during later days, good or bad.

I once had a mission from my coach, to gather nice things people said about me, and put them in a box, to pull a random piece of paper out when I was feeling down, or just every now and then. I put those away when moving to Scotland, however, and I'm not sure where they are now. I should take that habit up again.

One has to be reminded of the good days, even during bad ones. And there are many good days, during a life. They sort of tend to collect. That's one reason I like pictures, and do not give shite if they are grainy or bad or otherwise "unfit to be shown" as some ANNOYING photographers claim. They jog my memory and that is why I need them and want them. So give them to me. Them, and the little notes.

Now, sleep.

And one year ago...
Well I'll be damned
Here comes your ghost again
But that's not unusual
It's just that the moon is full
And you happened to call.

I think I'll sleep well tonight. I hope so. Good night, for now.

Tuonela's Gate

2009-07-12T02:01:00.002+02:00

Yes, lrping again. I meant to write when it was fresh in my mind but the week went on and then it was iaido seminar instead. Wall of text coming your way.

Nosebleed right before we left Stockholm, and nosebleed as soon as reality reappeared around me and we came into Karlskoga. Yes, I do sense a pattern here.
The trip went well, mostly. People packed a lot of stuff into a big wagon, which the car didn't really like, so we had to keep the air conditioning system thingie on hottest possible, only two windows were working, and we didn't figure the rooftop window thingie out until the way back home again. It was, needless to say, extremely hot, which the weather only made worse.

But other than that it was a very nice trip. Nice people and all. Foxling drove all the way, Panzerfürst (so named because of his insane amount of armour, and the fact that every single time I saw him during the lrp he was wearing armour, and usually something new and different) sat in the front, me and Snowcat attempted to make the back seat comfortable. It was difficult. Sometimes, a leg or two or three made their way into the front half of the car. We picked up the male Catthulian in Karlskoga, bought some stuff such as food (since I was in no group at all, I lived, ate and slept by myself) and went out to the place where I knew ghosts would haunt me, ghosts of lrps past, of Gamael/Benzarad, and of Kerael.
They did, just not too bad, and after I took a precautionary walk into the church where I danced and laughed... SHE danced and laughed, with her love, the witchmaster, and brought her forth, and then kicked her butt and said "No. Not you, not here, not now. I am in THULE, in the village Naari, and nowhere else - you are not here, you are not now, and you are not." she retreated, and kept quiet after that. But it felt very odd not to have her dress. Her book managed to sneak its way into the car, but not up to the village - I tore the pages that I would need out and put them in Au∂vi∂r's book instead.

Our lovely Potion Shoppe house was intact, though I noticed now that someone has used the oven compartment of the stove to make a fire in. Smart... very smart... NOT. In any case, the garden had survived another year, a few plants were even thriving! Some were not, but oh well. I took a look around, then left it alone, and to the care of the family living there this lrp.

My tent, I put up out in the forest, down where people only visiting usually make their camp. It was a highly pleasant place to stay. Looking out from the opening, I had a nice thick forest of younger trees to the left, and as I would notice the morning after, to my south and farther down the gently sloping hillside, amidst the tall trees, were two camps. There was some milling about, a meeting, I had a brief moment to say hi to the guy that was to play Ihalempi, a rich merchant and cousin to the chief in the village, whom I, Audvidr, had met before on a few occasions. I also said goodbye to foxling, as I always do before a lrp. I did try to find out whether I could stay in the smith's house, he had three beds empty, but it was said people might come to live there, and anyway, I did find it quite cosy and nice in my tent.

Then wake I did, to wonders and stories, to the sounds of skysong, to adventures sleeping, soon awake. Audvidr was I, Tuuline called, long had I come, little did I know, of the place where I stayed. Spoke did I, such as I write, in this way I talked, it was my habit.

And even now, it is hard to just break out of it. I followed loosely the rules of fornyrdislag and some other of the poetic metres in the Edda.

I broke my fast, getting to know myself, and the most beautiful lady walked past. Then, the good grace had she, to in her own camp, pull up her skirts and tie her hose leg better. Sat there did I, stunned to silence, seeing this beauty, saying nothing, far she was, fair even in distance. Said to me, did people, she was a guardian of the grave.
Well, after this pleasant breakfast, I walked up to the houses of the chieftain, the jarl as he was, and his cousin Ihalempi, I found. Halvari chieftain, was breaking his fast, introduced then I was, and taken into service. This I will say, that much I appreciated, Ihalempi's wit.

Well, I was in service of the chieftain. Now to find things to stick my nose in, true to my trait of being curious. I scarce had time to get out the harp to play, before I met the missionary priest in the village, a kind-hearted and benevolent woman of the name Tyra. Being also of this belief in the Light, I was happy to see her.

(Incidentally, THIS religion I had no problem, despite it being mostly monotheistic... as opposed to the crap supposed to make up the Kastaria lrping campaign main religion).

Things happened. There was some time to just enjoy lrping, before the soldiers and, unfortunately, a lot of other icky personas, of the Dark Lord came stomping in neat lines. First came the Legionnaires, then came the local auxilia - the country of Talvala, wild as it was, didn't particularily see the Dark Lord and his little game of conquest as something bad, they didn't much suffer, other than a bit higher taxes. After that walked the Ordo Alemandi (for short), with white cloaks and the big T's of the faith of the Light and the One.
Already there, one should have figured as much out, as a lady said: "Next time they hold a lrp for the Dark Lord-side, why so many extras?"

Because that's what we were, the vast majority of people on the lrp. Oh, I had some good times. I MADE my good times. I stuck my nose into where it didn't belong, I nosed around and I listened, I poked at things and I tried to involve myself. But I had nothing with the proceeding of the storyline to do, and I couldn't have changed it even if I had actively tried. And guess what? Once more I had the "No, don't go here. You are NOT allowed! It is dangerous and you are to remove yourself from these premises at once." and then, joy and happiness, the "Everybody inside the house, eeek, they are attacking!"
Yeah. Thanks for that. Sure, I could've snuck around it all, into the forest. But the mere words, because I have heard them SO many times before, and indeed, on that same area, though as Kerael... I was fuming with anger. And the second time... it wasn't exactly EASY sneaking out, when people barricaded the doors, and shouted at anyone sticking so much as a finger outside to "NO, STAY INSIDE!" even when it was a sharp situation and a kid really really REALLY had to get out of there.

So I didn't see the cool undead kaumo, who got so much praise afterwards. There were apparently seventeen of them the first night. Which scared the heck out of Wölker of the Ordo Alemandi, who, seasoned veteran as he was, walked out into the night with nightshorts, nightcap and sword by his side, noticed, bah, two or three white somethings, who cares, let the auxilia handle this... turned around, saw a horde of white somethings through the trees and got a bit of a shock. His eyes widened and he beat a very HASTY retreat into his tent, shouting "Raus! Raus! SCHNELL!" as the Ordo spoke the worst semi-German anyone has ever heard, and got into considerably much more armour.

No, what I did, was being stuck inside the chieftain's hall. The first night. And the second night. But hey, Audvidr didn't really know much fear. She'd lost most of it. And I certainly wasn't scared. So I refused to pretend, and calmed the others around me, by singing, and playing my harp.

Now, as I said, I stuck my nose into everything curious. There was a smith, whose house I "accidentally" walked into. It was adjoined to the chieftain's living quarters, and you could hear what people were saying, so, hey...
He didn't remember much of his past. He called himself Seppe, the local word for smith. But clear it was, fairly soon, that hardly was he an ordinary smith... And sometime during the Friday, I started running about looking for things to make him regain his memory. "The path to the dead" was water, "A piece of the sky" was a piece of sky-metal which I didn't find, but which wound up taking a merry dance around the lrp, but the last part, "venom of the snake", I soon figured out: It was words, words from a shaman, the shamans being the "priests" of the local religion.
In short, I had dealings with the smith. I found him curious, cute and charming. Remember him.

I lrped a lot together with Ihalempi. He was a charming man, much so, and our characters really hit it off well! I beat him in wrestling, through some ugly tricks - his hair was his main weakness. He was admirable, not always the brightest but on matters of commerce and his five (!) ships, few were more clever. It really made my lrp to have him there.
I did penance for the sin of being unable to let go of my anger over Thorfinn, my master, having left me behind, by dying, which was pretty nice. I wrote him a short keen, which I recited, and also prayed to the Light and the One for him, and thus was able to free myself from stains on my soul, which was important before Midsummer (in the world of the lrp). As I said, I had quite a lot to do with Mother Tyra.
My other neighbours invited me for pancakes, and so, I stuck my nose into their business as well. Didn't figure it out very well, though, other than that they were part of the resistance against the Dark Lord. Well, I was by no means bound to assist his side, or theirs, so I kept my mouth shut, but I accidentally helped them anyway. Accidentally, of course. It just happened to go that way. I'm neutral, of course, not wanting to alienate myself from any potential future sponsors. Of course.

And through the sharing of information here and there, the exchange of services back and forth and a lot of speculation, things moved on. The main plotline was moving too, I suppose, not that I cared. Wouldn't have made a difference.

Second night started out great. Festivities were prepared, people played music and sang and the Gate (much like a Midsummer's Pole) was raised, and we dance and laughed and danced some more. I smiled at the good doctor (one of the organizers of the lrp, playing a character called doctor Igel, we had planned on meeting during the lrp much more, and to cause a scene where I hit him hard in the face, knocking him down, but there was no such opportunity), I smiled at some handsome soldiers, but most of all, I smiled at Ihalempi, who was also in the long chain of dancers.
I played my harp as the village shaman, Ilmo, recited the Talvalan myth of creation, and things were very pleasant. Then, of course, came the undead, kaumo, again. Yay.

This night, I thought "fuckitall" and asked, would people like me to recite the lay of Volund the smith, or Seppisik, as they knew him there? Most said, yes, to keep our minds of what is outside. So I did. I was of course interrupted, and people were running about trying to do something important, but I kept going just because I felt like it anyway.
And in the corner, someone was watching me intently, tears in his eyes...
I was interrupted once, so bad that I stopped, and sighed. But the smith came up to me then, and asked me, could I please continue? There was something in his voice, and so, I kept going. I didn't end it the way it ends. The night had seen enough violence. But the smith was looking at me, all the time, drinking my words.

Things calmed down. I looked between the planks of the house, and saw things outside. Someone called for a pen, and paper. I took the chance to sneak outside and ran, curious as a cat, towards the caller, bringing it all out.
And found myself about half a metre from a kaumo. With a shaman holding her staff quite too close for comfort.
Oh well. The kaumo said what she wanted to say, then withdrew. Bring us our lord, she said, after him, we will have peace. Not before. I then grabbed ahold of the smith, asking him to ask a shaman for "venom of the snake". The snake, you see, was the totem of the shamans.
He got it, and I was so happy I hugged him. He seemed rather surprised.

The next day I was not down with migraine, a migraine that had taken, oh, a nice cocktail of painkillers to get rid of. Once more I played at the little mass in church, and once more, me and Ihalempi had a good time. There was running about. There was some washing of feet in a stream. There was some composing an epic about the brothers Halvari, the cieftain, and Vasti, of the hird. There was a lot of enjoying the sunshine, some annoyance at idiots and a lot of looking for that piece of the sky.
Evening came. Long story short, the Dark Lord's people wanted the smith, whom they had figured out was something quite out of the ordinary, to make them a talisman (I won't even START on the amount of talismans...) to beat the inhabitant of the grave I mentioned that the beautiful woman and friends were guarding. Atle, he was called, and the smith had a grudge against him. They also wanted to beat Kouta, a necromancer and general local badguy of old, who was to return, since Atle was his old, sworn enemy. Insert good but convoluted story here. Anyway. I stepped in, and helped the smith, who was under guard from the soldiers, with the bellows in the smithy. It felt very epic.
Remember this anecdote.

The smith was taken away, things happened above my head, the kaumo came again and I played my harp. I did, a lot, during the day, too, for the chieftain, since I was in his service. But I played it, then stood in the doorway and looked out, as the fighting stopped, and people started clapping. Oh, what the heck, boring boring boring, things happened as they were probably scripted, Atle was freed, Kouta died, so did the undead. No one wanted to party despite it being Midsummer, because everyone knew, first, that in half an hour the undead will come and after that, it was too bloody late anyway. Things happened, and I noticed Ihalempi looked very, very grumpy. I tried talking to him, but he shook me off, eventually telling me that he was irl-angry. We walked to somewhere more discreet, and talked. And talked. And talked. It was such a relief.
We'd had a bad lrp, where people had "played down", instead of "played up" our characters - especially his. I'd heard those hated words ONCE AGAIN, and just felt like packing my stuff and getting out of there - AGAIN! It happens almost every lrp! We'd felt ignored, and we'd been spat at. We talked, about that, and other things, and better things, and I thanked him for being a good guy, and for saying "stop" when he felt that his girlfriend (incidentally, the jawdroppingly beautiful grave-guardian) might misunderstand our lrping (I have no problems with walking arm in arm with someone, but I also respect if that someone doesn't feel comfortable with it, even if our characters did), and for making the lrp so good. And then he said a lot of good things to me, like, I was a good storyteller, and had a nice voice, and was a really nice person, both me and my character. And somewhere around there is when I cried the second time (the first being of pure frustration and anger, shared such), and had a hug such as only a good friend can give. Then, he grabbed his girl, we said hi, we met another friend, and snapped back into character again. And then we danced, out of beat, out of tune, but we danced, just having a good time. We found more people willing to dance, and did, and it was very nice, and then I went to bed.

Morning broke, I got up, and played for the chieftain and his household. ...who dropped acid comments about the happy fellows in the pavilion just beside the house, who were having a good time. First they were snarky, then they were downright evil, and then, they got sexist and homophobic, and that's when, in character and out of character, I got pissed in the not-Scottish way and walked up and away angrily. I sat down on a stone, and played my harp.
Vasti, the hird-chieftain and brother of the chieftain (he did want that position himself, aye), came up to me. We'd met a few times previously, most noticeably when I was composing the epic about him and his brother, and helped him get his armour on - something which surprised him, but hey, I, Audvidr, was no stranger to fighting men and armour. We got along very well! He came up to me, and asked if the epic was done. I said aye, and he made it so that Halvari called for me, to recite it. So up I stood on the scene, and said, now I will this epic recite. Never before has such been written, made it did I, Audvidr, much praise I found for the Naari! (That is, Halvari and Vasti).
And then I recited the nine-or-something stanzas long epic out there, in the sun, and people fell silent, started listening, walked out of their houses, and heard me, as well I sang the praises of the Naari. Also the smith did I see, and Ihalempi, and others. Enjoy it, that did they all! Vasti, brave and quick, smile did he, broadly.

There was a round of applause. I wasn't nervous at all - after all, THIS was what I had come here for, from the beginning!

And then the lrp was ended. And there was hugging, and smiling, and some disgruntled sighing from me and Ihalempi.
But then...
Then came the smith. I was going to talk to him, just after the recital. I swear I was! But there was no time, the lrp ended.
He told me who he was. He was Seppisik, the smith, called Volund, and I had recited his own epic to him, his own saga, I had helped him in his smithy, and all that time, he was Volund. Volund, Weland, the smith.
I near died from sheer overjoyedness and excitement.
Get it? I! Audvidr, Tuuline, the skald! The skald, the bard, I helped him in his smithy! I talked to him, I met him, I... eeeeek! Squeee! I fangirled out, and still haven't quite stopped. I think Egladil (the guy who plays Liam in the 40K campaign) is a bit embarrassed, but happy, that I appreciated it all.
Yeah. I'm still all fuzzy in the head about it. I recited his own epic to him, and he liked it. And then I helped him in his smithy. I, the skald, didn't just know the epic, I lived for a time in it! Sort of.

Journey home was wearisome, warm, and not a lot of space, but oh, we had so much fun in our car!
I said goodbye to foxling in Nynäshamn the day after, then took the commuter train back to the apartment. And then it was work, work, practice, practice and on Friday a night-train to Gothenburg. I like Stille-sensei. He is a good person, even if he can be a bit brusque. He got a mattress at Malk's and LittleSir's place, since he didn't have anywhere else to stay, and we got up at seven to go and do iaido under amongst other Ishido-sensei, Amersfoort-sensei, Mansfield-sensei, Yoshimura-sensei and so on. I was sleepy but it was a great day! Next day, too. I lost my cellphone but got it back on Monday, but my zori, which also mystically decided to ninj out of my bag, are probably lost. After two days of often hard iaido practice in insane heat, it was so very good to be picked up and drive out to take a swim in a lake...
I had a good time meeting up that evening with Ihalempi/the Captain, as he is otherwise called, and his beautiful girl, and then going to sleep. Next day was calm, me, Nara, Liam, Malk and LittleSir just hung out and chilled, then I went into town and met up with Iwhy, then, I went back to Stockholm. Notice: I didn't go to practice on Monday! Le gasp! I let my body rest.

Then it's been work, work, work. I've nae been motivated, but it hasn't shown. Really, there are some kids... arrrrrrrgh.
Redhead's back from vacation and it's always nice working with him. I'm painting up an Archaon for the store WHFB campaign, and it's going well! Today I bought some more metal noldor, for my WotR-army. I'm going to enter it into the staff cathegory of the army painting competition.

And now it is WAY too late again. Lucky I'm off tomorrow.

I'm not really happy with foxling at the moment. It is AWESOME that he is going to the Viking market at Wolin, really great! But I'm home three times this summer, one is past, the other one is next weekend, the last is Medieval Week... and when is Wolin? Yes, last weekend of that week. GREAT. I'm not happy. Of course, that leaves me more time to hang out with others, but... Foxling is the primary one, and I looked forward to it...
What I AM happy about, though, is that the Captain asked me to perform with him during Medieval Week. He has a few written into the official program, and wanted me to help out "maybe once or so". It would make him happy, he said. I blushed and was very, very happy. It felt very good to hear! So, I will recite the Gutasaga for the audience. He said he liked the way I recited it, which I did, twice during the lrp.
Yes, I do like affirmations.

Also, I got a mail from Graham McNeill of Black Library fame.
Yep.
Once again I fangeeked out. It was about a contest on his blog, to win a "Mechanicum" he accidentally had signed "Bob", and I'd won. The reason why is there, somewhere towards the end of his most recent post.

And now... some harp-playing, before sleeping.
It's going to be great. Everything will be great, in the end, and even if not, there will be moments so good and awesome that one won't remember the bad things during them.

More iaido. More lrp, because this was NOT enough. And more love. And more iaido. Mmm, that most of all. Iaido. My sword's not heavy anymore. Still, I need a suburito, to become even stronger.

Cermië

2009-07-12T00:08:00.000+02:00

...means "July" in Quenya.

What can I say? It happens, from time to time, I find a new fascination or love music-wise. Here we go: It is Mono Inc this time, brought to me by Loriel and ye gods, it is good.
Here, for your enjoyment, is In my heart, by Mono Inc.

I still count every minute
Every look in your eyes
Every time that you're with me
Every kiss, every night
Give me hope for my mission
And support on my way
We'll be living in clover
Once we get over
The dark and cloudy days

You're in my heart
You're in my spine
You're in my head
You're in my lungs
And when I die
I'll be waiting for you
To be with me

You're in my skies
You're in my sun
You're in my tears
You're in my doom
And when I'm gone
I'll be hoping that you
Will be with me

You're a reason to live on
Even after this life
One's to short for what we share
So we're living it twice
You'll be queen of my empire
You'll be glory and shine
We'll be in this together
Married forever
Until the end of time

So I'm in love
Where are you?

You're in my heart
You're in my spine
You're in my head
You're in my lungs
And when I die
I'll be waiting for you
To be with me

You're in my skies
You're in my sun
You're in my tears
You're in my doom
And when I'm gone
I'll be hoping that you
Will be with me

So give me everything you want to give to me
And tell me everything you want to say to me
Just love me anyway you like 'cause anyway you're right here in my heart...

I was going to blog something about what I've been up to these past weeks, but I got distracted.

Árë

2009-06-22T23:34:00.006+02:00

...means "sunshine" in Quenya. And how the weather has been lovely! Rain, sun, it has been lovely.

I should be home on Chalcatraz during summer, and that is an indesputable fact. For once I was home for more than one day. It was not at all clean back home, but it was cozy. There were four other animals living there too, so it was crowded. Lots of lrp-preparations which all went well, I am FINISHED with every thing that needed sewing. The tunic especially is very goooandnowthat I think of it, there's a decimetre or so that needs sewing on that. Urgh. Oh well, no worries. Anyway. It is very pretty, I decorated it with small semi-precious stones.

So, apart from being able to hang out with nice people and getting a good dose of foxling, I also got to roleplay. And there's this big grin spreading on my lips now. I thought it'd be kind of tricky to get into character with Anjie again, it having been nearly half a year since last time... but it wasn't. I made a few jarring mistakes, in my opinion, but nothing too bad and soon, I was her again.

I got home on Thursday, mid-day, and am now in Stockholm again. On Midsummer's Day we started playing our favourite 40K campaign, though I seem to recall us playing the day before, too, starting up. And we sort of just continued. There was some drama, because of which Nara had to leave with the ferry next morning, and that insidious Chaos-player NightLord who infiltrated us in Edinburgh had a ferry booked anyway, but long story short, we started at around one or two pm, and finished at, oh, six am.

We did take a break in the evening, around ten or somesuch, because foxling was supposed to work, but he called in sick. It felt right, he said. And so, we gathered again and kept playing. At two am, we figured, well, we COULD stop here, but it would be a suboptimal place to pause and anyway... you guys can sleep on the ferry. So we kept going. Damn, but it was good.
It was SO good.
We were still trying to figure out what to do about that pesky signal, and where it would be sent next, and what to do about it, when our old, dear friend Inquisitor Maurice von Garrax showed up and put the entire planet into a Penal Legion. Of course, he knew we were there, too.
Yes, did I mention we LOVE him?
The Battle Royal-style collars were no fun at all, and they drugged me and Sam so there was no cheating via psychic powers... and I was already wounded, so during a typical Penal Legion-suicidal charge, when a mortar struck way too close I was pretty close to handing in the towel. Not as close as that time way back when with the psychic conductors and the vicious local fauna, but still.
Oh, dear me, so much happened. I love being Anjie. Her way of thinking is so nice to fall into.
Malk was planning on having us stay in that Penal Legion for longer, but we were working really (and I mean REALLY) hard to get out, get the collars off, and escape. We are experience Guardsmen (most of us) and inquisitorial henchmen all (maybe bar Liam). So with glorious irony we managed to sneak aboard Garrax's ship and thanks to a certain lieutenant-commissar's internal vox, we caugh wind of our Inquisitor coming to board the bastard (who had, I realise I've forgotten to tell you, declared Inquisitor Kerebius a heretic... again, and therefore by associaton us) and take him alive. We assisted.

Lots of things happened. Most fun: Req being randomly handed a sergeant's badge. Despite the misery, we all laughed. Req, the soulless. That made one lieutenant-commissar, three sergeants, one sanctioned psyker and a random thug in our group. Poor Liam, no Guard experience! Well, not that we flaunted it, or told anyone... but to us, internally, it was hilarious.

Roleplaying until the sun rose, on the longest day of the year? Yes, thank you very much. I loved it.

Today I was unhappy again, having to leave. Still have a bit of a cold. The room is chilly and the neighbours are noisy. I don't much feel like working. But then I think a bit about every day life, and how nice it can be, and I feel like I can stand being here, as long as I can dream about being someplace else.
And as long as I have my iaido. That's the one thing keeping me from quitting and moving back home full-time, to concentrate on archaeology. Which I'd dearly love to.