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29 Apr 05: The Waiting Drags on...

So, no ballet this week either. I didn't want to risk the foot. It doesn't hurt with normal walking, but there's clearly something that gives out constant failure notices. It's situated more or less right above the root of the second-smallest toe, in the right instep. As far as I know, even if something is broken or fractured, there's not much to do except rest, and I am resting pretty much all of the time.

I had plans to go swimming, but this week - after Conklaavi - I was too tired to get up early and use the morning discount. Perhaps next week. And perhaps next week I could try the ballet already, as well! It's not enough that I've been shedding some padding with this new, reasonably eating self; I need to get into shape for some new summer projects, again. (Now that I opened my mind to a new idea that was somewhat different from what I expected I might do, I'm pretty inspired, again. We'll see how it works out.

I fell asleep yesterday evening before I could update, and had quite a long afternoon nap today as well, but I know it's the medication kicking back in, so I'm not beating myself in the head with it. And I haven't been altogether exhausted, probably because the spring energy helps to combat the physical effects. I am a bit sorry that I could not gather up enough energy for some spring cleaning, so I could have invited people over for coffee and punch early tomorrow afternoon to start Vappu in a civilized manner (as no-one seems to be giving parties this Vappu), but, well, can't have everything; must not be hard on oneself (not on something like this>).

Lin came to town and asked me to join her for coffee and chatting; it was good to fill in the loop about both 'con and Aarnia issues and not communicate only through Anni on both (as Lin very much belongs in the loop on both; besides, Anni and I still tend to butt heads more than may be strictly necessary) (though I thought it went pretty easily in the end, our talks this week - it seems Anni did not share my opinion, which is a pity, and I guess I should work on this, too). And to compare notes on head issues as well, and to gossip some, was all to the good.

'M going to have lunch with Mom&co tomorrow - Grandma is still there, and my uncle and aunt are coming from Kouvola. And since I have no better plans for Vappu anyway... (well, there might have been an option in an unexpected direction - maybe, I don't know - but it would not have been something I'd want to do for Vappu, because it would have brought on really old, really unpleasant, mostly - mercifully - buried memories of a long- bygone Vappu that are better left right in the slag heap). Vappu should be social, and light, and fun. It's kind of a bummer to stay home tomorrow night, but I'll live.

For some reason I haven't been reading that much lately - except for some really good fanfic, but no novel-length stuff even there. I was distracted by all these sewing and weekend-socializing and merchandise issues while in the middle of Varley's Wizard (an old classic, 2nd of a trilogy beginning with Titan and ending with Demon, of a huge, conscious, alien asteroid-habitat that supports fantasy-like life inside it). Now that I lost the momentum, I don't seem inclined to pick it up again, and I keep dithering on Powers' Anubis Gates as well, no matter that it's another classic. Have to try something else from the pile - there's still The Demolished Man or Stand on Zanzibar or some Cherryh, so I'm not going to be out of classics any time soon. Or finally finish that Ian McEwan... or some of the other books I have on loan... I just - well, don't feel like books right now. Which is odd in itself.

I do feel awfully geeky, though. My days have been greatly brightened by the Serenity trailer (even though I'm worried about its emphasis on the character that I find least interesting in the whole crew... but I was kind of prepared for that...), and the fact that Kingdom of Heaven is looking quite nice (can't help it), and that because of cool geek friends I have quite good prospects of seeing some "Battlestar Galactica" and "Carnivale" and "Lost" in the near future. I hear "Deadwood" is another must, but I don't know where to get it. Yet. And it's also pretty cool that there's a "Virtual (fanfic) season 6" of "Angel" out there that is good enough that I was actually feeling the worry and excitement over the plot developments in its newest "episode" (ask me for a link if you want; not all episodes are first-rate, but it's quite cool if you're a fan).

(Oh, and despite my general lukewarm reactions to slash, I think I am now pretty convinced of my OTP, if a declaration of such were forced out of me. If you know whereof I speak and are brave enough, you can ask that, too. It's not common, but it's pretty self-evident for me - and I have seen and can link to examples!)

28 Apr 05: Grumble

(Morning) On my way out of the door to therapy, but the blasted foot is still not okay.

27 Apr 05: Unexpected Graces

Woke up to another phonecall about the same time as yesterday (after lingering too late among the bitstreams, as usual). This time it was Mirka, who wanted to ask me to accompany her to the country, but as I had promised to go see Mom and Grandma, she offered to take me there on her way. What better way to get up and about than wait for a friend to visit and have tea? Also, after I mentioned the meds and the much-needed trip to the pharmacist's, she took me there before driving me to Kerava. (I tried to fool her somewhere in between and say I didn't want to delay her, but to no avail. It's good that other people can be sensible for you when you stumble at your own blind spots...)

At Kerava, I fulfilled familial duties by stuffing myself with Mom's pulla, both during the process of baking and after. Also had long and worried phone talks with Anni about some show plans and about my old character for their game: the former came to more conclusions than the latter, but at least we're still talking. I think...? Then had the unexpected news that the motorcycle ride was soon to happen and headed home.

It was fantastic. I've never been inherently crazy about big, fast machines (and I very firmly do not understand people who choose to spend their money on ridiculously overprices sports or vintage cars), but that was... was... the closest thing to the sensation of flight that I've ever experienced. (Okay, it didn't have that view over treetops that stayed with me from the one time I've ever got a ride in a four-seater airplane, but on the motorcycle one can feel the wind!) No wonder those things are such chick magnets... I can honestly say that after that ride I would have been really easy to get into practically anything.

No, no, instead, we just had tea and coffee and did some catching up (so there was no suggestion of anything, of course... which, now that I think of it, was kind of not the point of the exercise, Birdie, remember?). (Not that I have any greater designs on this person, who is nice enough as a friend-ish sort and whom I genuinely like, but our lives don't really cross. Our bodies might, if it depended on me and was fun and easy. But I didn't say that. And anyway, I never do anything that might depend on me. Because I'm not supposed to have physical desires, remember? I'm so much supposed not to have them that unless some hypothetical other person knows how to either seduce or just take, I simply turn off automatically.)

(My crush? What about it? What does that have to do with anything, especially as there's nothing out of it, at least right now?)

Back to more moral ground: on the train home I ran into an old classmate of mine, whom I treated abominably during our last years in school. We were quite good friends for a while when we met, but at some stage the stupid, immature girl with tunnel vision that I was decided that this friend threatened my personal space and my relationships to other people (like my beloved literature teacher, who must have found me an incredible nuisance, now that I think of it), and pushed her out... and went on treating her coldly and jealously all the way through senior high and graduation. In these later years, it has been one of my greatest regrets of all time. So, after she passed me with a short, uncomfortable hello, I debated with myself only for a minute and then went after her to the seats and asked if I could have a word, and apologised. Not very well, I grant you, but a crowded train compartment was not the best situation to go into high drama. She was gracious enough, and we talked a bit about our respective lives. That's all, but I am so glad, and so grateful, that I was given the opportunity to say how sorry I am, and how I hope I am a different and wiser person now. It doesn't take away how stupid I was, but at least I can try and leave it in the past.

And in the evening, Susi called and asked if I wanted to come and carry away some old costumes and fabrics from their spring cleaning. Naturally, I did.

Mirka suggested during our talks that it might be nice if I had that comment option, and when I explained my reasons for not having one, came up with the idea of having a closed guestbook - one that is separate from the actual diary and accessible by password, but I could then share the password with all the friends I might want to see the comments made to me by other friends. I have to ask Kalle if something like that is feasible.

Lissu and I spent the first hour of our trip to Turku on Saturday by trying to come up with a name for Kalle's car. No, seriously, we did, and I just love being so deeply geeky that it made perfect sense to us! However, I'm still stumped. First of all, cars (if they're not lorries or something) are female by default (particularly if owned by a male). Second, I find this particular car very... butch. Strong, quietly self-assured, dependable (but not too boring). Even the register letters are TUG, which don't exactly give a feminine impression. Third, a car name must be easy enough to pronounce - preferably easier than the Finnish "auto", and that is pretty darn easy - or then something snappy enough to compare. So my first ideas were those of female superheroes, preferably physical powerhouses, but there are few of the latter, and none seemed to match (my first flash of a thought, "Rogue", is just too difficult to pronounce, and so is "Faith", which would be perfect otherwise). We moved on to TV, mythologies and other geeky references, but didn't find anything that struck at once, and therefore the issue is still open. (The car herself seemed to pine for "Inara" or "Kali", but wen convinced her that the former is not at all characteristic, and the latter is Just a Bit too fatalistic.) Anni suggested "Tru", for Eliza Dushku's late TV series, but even though it sounded really good then and there, it clearly was not to the car's taste (it was completely wrong when I sat down to drive the next time).

It occurs to me that I should probably ask for the owner's opinion as well... (The reason why I've taken this on myself to decide is that Kalle doesn't seem to hold a strong opinion on the whole issue of naming, and I do...)

And going on in the vein of make-believe: to top a good day, I went to the sauna, and while sitting in the heat, noticed that the single window looks into winter. See, it's made of this "crushed" glass where light fractures like it does on snow or through ice ferns in the glass in winter, and there is a cold, white streetlight that shines through it all night, its light catching milkily in the prisms of the glass. Or maybe it really is a portal. Or both.

And I love being able to see that.

26 Apr 05: Passive

Woke up to therapist calling and asking where I was. In dreams, apparently (and they weren't even nice dreams!). Still, had been in great need of a long sleep, and she told me not to beat myself on the head over it. But after that, the day just... slid past somehow.

We did get a plot point of Meira's Werewolf campaign hammered out, all thanks to Killer (and him and Meira and Suvi listening to me arguing with myself over something pretty self-evident, for the better part of two hours). That was good.

Eating everything in the kitchen, and then some more, was not.

(Yes, Sis, I got the quid from those clothes, and I will go get the stuff tomorrow morning.)

Tired. Should reconsider all this sitting and staring at the screen, but couldn't, not today.

25 Apr 05: Two To The Power Of Three Hundred And Falling

Approaching normality, or at least approximating it; aided by Anni, who turned up in the morning, energetic and no-nonsense, on the road home from vacationing with her parents. We talked (and half-argued) each other to exhaustion on games, crushes and projects, then fed on junk food and parted most amicably. At home, I indulged myself with chocolate-banana ice cream and "The L Word" (both hot and heartbreaking in its season finale). All in all, I've been trying to take it easy and calm myself down.

Watching "The L Word" reminded me again how there is that one area in which I still can't delve at all - not in this public diary, not in real life - my sexuality. And I'm not talking about what kind of bits I prefer, but the whole package... or the terror of admitting I have any sexuality at all, far less how strong it is. Why terror? Because I'm not supposed to have such desires, remember? It's all right and fine and healthy for other people, for people in general, but not for me. Because I'm ugly and fat and uninteresting and un-desirable and therefore to admit to sexual desire - general or specific - is already a public admission of defeat. Of wanting something one is not worthy to have. And so this is the area that I - obviously - should delve into, to further real understanding of pathological lack of self-confidence. I even promised to, sometime in the autumn. It just was too difficult and too raw and it was easier to bail.

Even now, having dropped some shackles and chains, it feels too shameful. Even now. But I may be learning. May be. We'll see.

Not that I want to turn into another Jenny Schecter (even though she's pretty in exactly that little-fairy-witch way that makes me scream with envy). Never. I just want to... not form a picture that is not complete.

24 Apr 05: Death & The Saleswoman

(Morning) Went to Turku, still sleep-deprived and having spent a good chunk of the predecing night gathering up and packing the stuff wanted to sell, so arrived later than planned - not that that made much of a difference (or at least I hope so. Conklaavi is, after all, small and pleasantly informal. Our journey was delayed further at that incredible second-hand and antiques store Kasvihuoneilmio on the way, but I consider that time well spent: now I have refreshed my memory of all those useful props that are just waiting there to be fetched any time (=game) they may be needed, as the board has indicated that money can be invested in games exactly for those purposes.

Once at out destination, many hours were spent in setting my stuff up; at least the dance CD got to be on display from the start of that. Lissu was a lifesaver, again and again: getting me clotheshangers and pins and vichy and food and setting the clothes up on the hangers while I was getting money and rushing through the biggest fleamarket in Turku centre (it was on its final clearance sale, too). Oh, and when we left, she even had an energy drink for me to get on the road! This woman thinks of everything to make others comfortable, and I'm so thankful that she is my friend and that I haven't yet completely exhausted her patience and sympathy with all my needs for a shoulder to cry on.

Unfortunately, that shoulder was much needed last night. Selling things is hard, particularly for people who can't really buy that much. No matter how firmly you tell yourself it's not because your stuff is not worth buying, it's almost impossible not to feel so anyway. And then, in the evening, I had to be extra chirpy in trying to sell the dance CD for people at the renaissance dance. And one of the dances where I convinced the instructor to use the CD I realised the version was a bit too difficult (first beat non-emphasised) and another one was a bit too slow. Even this, I consider my fault: I should have remembered better which pieces are the bravura ones.

I was asked why it is that I take this marketing-and-sales part of the CD project on me, since it was always a deal that I don't have to do it. Well, because no-one else will (or, at least, no-one else has, despite promises every year). And I can't just let it lie gathering dust; it's too good, and it's my dear family playing on it - if it doesn't sell, they won't see money out of it either. And besides, I did let the release drag much further than I should have, so I do kind of consider it my responsibility. (I just wish that if that is why the current - and the former, too - board considers it my headache because of that reason, that they would say so clearly. I don't want to do this, but, well, no-one else seems to give a bother.)

Anyway, that was not the only difficult part of yesterday, so once at the place where we got to sleep (Anna and Matti had gracefully opened their home for us despite being elsewhere themselves), quite a bit of talking (and a sleeping pill, which Lissu had stocked, the miraculous woman) was needed to get calmer and to be able to sleep. Actually, was rather in a bad way in the end. Now, after having slept, am not quite as deeply into a sudden relapse, but mostly functional again. Quite functional, really, only a bit low in mood, but even that may change. We'll see.

Also, bafflement: I arranged for and got myself a coffee-and-motorcycling date with a cute 'n sexy man - well, it's not quite as clear-cut a "date": old friendly acquaintance/ friend's ex, just for catching up. But it sounds really cool when put like that. I'll try to concentrate on the positive, see?

Time to start dressing, getting moving, being a salesperson again. Hard. Will maybe be necessary to pass on the small larp they're going to run today; maybe not enough strength to waste.

Also, I reassessed the clarity of my communication and came to the conclusion that I may not have been as specific and therefore more obscure in my messages directed towards the distant personage I hoped to get them... so it is quite possible Sir Crush has not got the faintest inkling of my interest, and I should not be paranoid about it. So why not make it clear - like, call him? Like ordinary people do; they call other people and meet for dates (though the Finnish version is of course far more informal and never called a date). Well, in this particular case I made a decision not to be the one to make any possible first move, and there are long-thought out reasons for that. Which is not to say I would not love for such a first move to happen.

So then there's nothing else but to wait. And bear it, if/when nothing happens.

I wonder if Lissu could be woken by now.

(Night, very late) Survived the day; not much else to say about that. Was altogether too slow at getting up and moving. Was still down and scared, a lot. Passed the larp simply because had to stay at the table and try to sell stuff, which didn't manage. Drove home fast, had long, deep talks with Lissu both during and after ride.

Unthinkably tired.

22 Apr 05: More (Other People's) Business

Hey, anybody going to Conklaavi by car from hereabouts?

...Okay, I'm going myself. If anyone still sees this and wants to jump along, Lissu and I will be leaving tomorrow morning at eight, and can fit at least two more people in the car if need be.

Well, that solved any timetables for this weekend.

21 Apr 05: All Of A Sudden, Santa Drops By

Wooo-hoo!! Christmas! Party! Madness!! I found my Estonian silver brooches. They were in an outside side pocket of the huge old tennis bag from Dad that I've used for dragging around too much LARP stuff since the beginning - the pocket is hard to notice and easy to forget, under a long flap that could just as well be only a decorative design feature!! I needed to stuff the bag in a more organised manner than usual, as I am loaning lots of stuff for friends that I asked to go to a TV ad gig in medieval clothes. Four and a half years they've been hiding in that side pocket, while I've hauled it here and there and everywhere... and now the mystery is solved, and I need no longer feel sour about my ancient-dress jewellery (or about the honesty of gamers)!

Myself, I was happy to be able to stay home and work on projects properly. I'll allow myself stuff like that again, when I've lost more weight (another lovely - though tiny in comparison of course - surprise yesterday, when trying out stuff for the gig, was that the red mock-wool dress I made for Kristuskeisari 5 the fall before last was substantially more loose than it was then).

(Which also means I may be bothered to modify it for actual, active SCA use. Nice.)

Oh, and now that I'm not quite as self-pitying as I was last night: as far as music goes, the Taiga party was great, and it was lovely to see P&P, as always (and I never seem to stop feeling mightily proud when listening to my Bro perform). And Seanna, too, who was a dear and taught me to do the two-step waltz (the Taiga party is always filled with really, really good folk dancers, so of course I felt more or less inferior about not knowing that stuff properly...).

(Night: What Goes Up, Must Come Down...) Well, no matter how promising the start, the day turned out to be something of a big bummer. We had timetable problems and misunderstandings on how to attack them, as a result of which Maria is in Germany and her 20's day dress (both layers as well as a fur bolero) is here. Might still have sent it there by plane, but they are too far away from airports where the courier service could reach (and reach in time). Bugger. And if I had worked harder earlier, and so been able to take the stuff to her two days ago, there would have been no timetable problems, at least not for my part of this thing. What a bother.

Also, i got involved in an online argument today, about an issue on which I have an extremely pointed opinion. It's not the sort of an issue that keeps me awake at night, ever, but as the subject happened to come up, I felt the need to express precisely why I find it offensive. And, unfortunately, the people involved, too, or at least some of them. I am quite disturbed by this new development of saying the negative things I wanted to say (the same happened at the Pelageya afterparty, in a way). I mean, honesty is important, but currently I don't seem to be able to soften the negative honesty in ways that belong in proper manners. I don't like it, and am not sure what to do with it right now. I don't want to hurt people in general; it's just not right. Need to learn to manipulate my words better. Need to learn more. (I guess the biggest scare is that I don't feel for the people I might have hurt, and must therefore try and set rules for oneself not out of the altruism of empathy but simply because... well, because. Because wrong is wrong and right is right.)

Well, whatever else happened, all the props I loaned for the TV ad were in good use, and the friends I got into it did very well and had fun, and if I had been there in the latest sleet, I'd be coughing my lungs out right now. But I wasn't, so am not. So I can't really say this has been a total disaster at all. Still, it irks me to be at odds with people.

Too tired to stay up; too tired even to make out the sentences one wrote last. I hope this means I get to fall asleep instantly, instead of turning and turning and remembering unpleasant things.

20 Apr 05: Frozen, Over and Under

Cold. So cold, fittingly enough. Cold in body, cold in mind, cold in fear. And it's kind of good, since what would I do with all these feelings if they were thawed altogether? I could not stop them from dripping all over, and as we've seen, that is neither useful nor wanted.

Active sewing day, but not as active as the plan was to be. Still all too slow in getting up (particularly as the night was so spent on worry and pain), getting ready and getting out of the door. But whatever, as long as the job gets done (no matter how, when and where).

Was keen to enjoy the Taiga dance party - and as usual when keen, was disappointed. Too old, too fat, overdressed, overeager, overconfident (about some of the dances, that is). No wonder no-one asked me to dance all night.

And I drank half a pint too much of Old Rosie's Scrumpy, and just felt weepy and stupid and lonely on the way home. Didn't try to send pitiful text messages or anything, though, so mostly okay.

Now all I am is cold.

19 Apr 05: Curiosity Killed, Remember?

Rule Number 42: Don't go and read the blogs of people you don't like. (It'll just make you mad. Either at them, which is redundant, or at yourself, because even though you're doing really great, they're suddenly doing even better, so clearly you're not doing so great after all. Moreover, you'll just feel ashamed and miserable because you won't be able to help the mortal sin of envy, no matter how much you'd like to be a Good Person.)

I guess this is the post-low after an ecstatic revelation: no matter how great it felt to come out from under some mountains, it's still cold and lonely outside, and the sun is too bright, and you don't know what to do with all the light and air. So you grumble and flinch and all in all don't behave much differently from the Gollum you were before. And if you'd be otherwise, you must learn. So much. So soon. So many things you need to correct, to catch up with, to make up for.

...Have mercy on yourself, Ash-wing. Count your blessings (which are not at all nonexistent, particularly in the friends department), give yourself time... and try to have mercy.

The sudden freezing spell seemed to reflect my gradual freezing back up, as well. Let's just hope both can still thaw before any substantial damage is done.

Was too slow in getting up and moving, even now, and was late to therapy (but didn't give in! and if timetables matched better, would not have been late at all!). Was scared going in, as always when there's no pressing problem on one's mind from the start: then there's no knowing where the self-examination might lead; what odd baggage closets it might reveal (even though it's pretty much proven that there are no seriously haunted ones left). Session was okay, though, not too scary even. Had coffee with Kaisa (lovely to catch up after such a long while) and with Lissu (much squeeing over my little crush and her fabulous happenings at the Great Wrestling Quest). So thankful for friends that no words are enough. Now sewing, and angsting over some luscious silks one waa-aants, and trying to think of something to wear for the Taiga dance tomorrow, and a gig on Thursday.

An offhand comment caused one to feel pretty stupid about crush, after all.

(After much soul-searching) ...All right, all right. I'll come clean. I'm out of the meds again, and despite knowing how much of a bad idea it is to leave oneself so vulnerable in case of a sudden crisis, big or small, I haven't made it my first priority to re-stock. So I've been without them for a week and a half, and so now we're in the withdrawal phase of sharp mood swings to the pessimistic. 'Guess it shows.

Yeah, you can yell at me now (she says, wincing). And yeah, I will, I will. Soon.

(Night) You know... this time, I think I learned the lesson all by myself. An eating binge attacked, and by the time it had run its appointed course, I realised it was not the first, either. And this... is - not - to - be - borne. So, meds, first thing tomorrow.

As to why this one, right now... I am mostly baffled, and suddenly, inexplicably sad, unable to judge whether the reason is the impending TV-extra gig (where, of course, one wants to look nice and not fat, and the latter is impossible to fake yet, no matter all the good beginnings in that direction), or that comment on my crush that made it feel worthless and therefore, by extension, myself as well. Right now, I pity both of us, and try to hold back tears.

18 Apr 05: Danse Mon Esmeralda

The spring is dazzlingly beautiful and surprisingly cold, like love. My foot is still aching, but it got better by the end of the week, so I was able to walk the dog while Kalle was away on a weekend trip. On Friday I was energetic enough to shop a bit at fleamarkets for those fantasy props, and to cook a proper meal for myself (beef-and-veggie wok). Typically, while spending a few late hours at Sala, I forgot it on the stove, and Jero did what he does best. Cleaned up properly, too - not a single drop of sauce or grain of rice anywhere on the way from the kitchen to the living-room nook where I found the pan...

At Sala, I watched a few episodes towards the end of Season 5 of "Angel". I'm not quite sure I like where they are going in mood (I do know where it ends, as far as general facts go), but I'll reserve judgement until I've seen it all. The famous puppet episode was very much deserving of its praise, and so is Amy Acker's opportunity to show the range of her talent in her new incarnation. I love the odd, hunched posture that makes Illyria look subtly and totally inhuman and un-feminine. (Oh, and I also re-watched the Connor episode. I don't think being nice is very becoming for him, unfortunately... Even so, still a fan. Would love to see the play Kartheiser's currently doing in New York, but, well, it's in New York.)

Apropos femininity, Moira had some really interesting stuff to say, and I'd love to comment at some better time when my brain is working again. I guess I still have some lingering lack of sleep from Saturday night and the Pelageya afterparty.

I spent early afternoon on Saturday fabric-shopping with Tiina and am now totally, completely besotted with all my Renaissance dress costumes. Since I am making a similar sort of outfit for Salla and Tiina as well as myself, I thought I might try and have a "costuming diary" for all of those - to chronicle and compare, as we all have different sizes, shapes, needs, tastes and budgets. I wrote the introduction and detailed the differences in the plans already, but won't put a page up until I have some pictures, maybe of the fabrics if nothing else for now. Also, I need to focus on Maria's flapper dress right now.

Which I did, a good chunk of today (focus on the dress, that is). I was so tired after the weekend that I had to sleep from midnight to ten am, and then I had to find 20's patterns to modify, and to take care of quite a bit of correspondence and to figure out what I need for sewing at Kerava, and to find every item of clothing that I borrowed from Mom for Pelageya, to take them back. Finally I made it there around two, and then had to have coffee and gush about Clarissie and the whole Pelageya experience and about all these lovely costume plans... But I did get a lot of pattern drafting and cutting and fitting done until I had to rush home to see about a lovely fabric at huuto.net.

...Naagh, I'm simply too tired. Must backtrack the weekend tomorrow. Or something.

Been playing Notre-Dame de Paris endlessly, which means emotions aren't playing nice and meek in their corner, but getting pretty in-your-face... But that's how it goes, and there's nothing else to do but dance on. (Concretely, too: the annual Taiga celebration at SibA has their folk dance party on Wednesday, again. Must be there. So must have finished Maria's costume stuff by then.)

14 Apr 05: Sometimes Taking One's Own Advice Works

After a good night's sleep, feeling much better - almost normal, in fact. Energetic. Awake. Even despite some very unpleasant nightmares - see, they were not the sort of nightmares that reinforce one's feelings of worthlessness, just outside scares. It's a beautiful morning, and there's ample time that I thought I might use in the garden. And the foot feels a bit less damaged, too.

And I'm feeling optimistic and expectant towards friends and keeping up with them, instead of pessimistic and afraid for not being able to keep up good enough. I'm not even down about not having got an answer for my questions from the person who wrote that debrief that made me feel so low about my mistakes! That I'm not brooding on some slight acquaintances impressions of me while in character even, surely, must be a sign of true progress. Because I tend to do just that.

Also... I was reading through the poems concerning A Certain Someone of past (now firmly so!) desire, and I came to an astonishing comparison and revelation. I think this is worth saying, even if it doesn't come to the eyes of the intended recipient, but if it does: I just wanted to elaborate on the... well, compliment. I realised that thinking of you, Sir Crush, does not make me feel low about myself. Unlike every single romantic thought that I have directed anywhere in the past years, it makes me feel good. About myself, too. It probably mostly has to do with my getting healthier in the head and in the heart... but even so. Even so.

Gosh, I feel alive.

(Night) ...So, if my therapist makes any notes, today she may very well have used the word "BREAKTHROUGH" - in capitals, even. I think - we think - I am finally beginning to leave behind the chains and the mountains created by the unthinking abuse from Tommi. I had sort of known that, but today I also made the connection between that and the desperate need to make oneself miserable for another unthinking - well, not abuser but rejecter. That by pining pitifully over A Certain Someone I was subconsciously going through my illness, the one caused by the earlier abuse. Exhibiting another round of the symptoms. And now I am free of that one, too!

Got another order for clothes, this one with a super-tight schedule. It's another "modern" style (the 20s), so I have to study the cuts of the day and try and find some patterns as well. I like the colour (and fabric style) combination that was the end result of our deliberation at my closets, and I'm enthusiastic and determined to get it done in record time. But I'll only get to serious business with it on Sunday. I am not going to miss the Pelageya afterparty on Saturday for anything in the world (and said so to Maria)!

Also had a nice catching-up chat with Maria afterwards.

...Oh, almost forgot! Yet another very old but never-healed scar was softened today: while on the way to therapy I ran into a dance acquaintance from years past (she lives near Liisa, so we've met on the bus a few times). She's a very nice person, a professional dance and body placement teacher these days, and as I wanted her to give my greetings to our old ballet teacher, we reminisced some on that difficult year when I tried to fit into the special trainee program at... well let's not name the school. You who remember, remember. And it was so, so liberating to hear that I was not treated in a decidedly un-pedagogic manner because I was the worst ever - but that the teachers responsible for the trainee program did the same to many others as well (and those were seriously talented people, so maybe I could not draw any conclusions on my talent either). And also, she said that both our old teacher, and her and her friends (who were a few years younger than I), all thought I had something really special in my dancing, and that I was treated really, really unfairly. So I don't have to carry that ancient, imaginary failure any longer, either!

(I just wish I had managed to break myself out of the lead tube of ballet vision then! I might have quite well made a secondary career as a serious show dancer (the better sort! not Tallinn ship cabarets, but musicals and the like). Maybe even a real choreographer.)

(But then, in that case I might not have ever become involved with LARPs. And hell, what's stopping me developing these small choreographies further now, for these purposes, just like I've begun to do?)

13 Apr 05: ...Aaaand Drop

As per schedule, again, I just realised I made a few huge mistakes in how I played my character, and also was not nearly as attractive as I had already hoped I maybe managed to pretend to be (the character was supposed to be very attractive).

Having grown wiser in some things, I will not go on more about this, but will instead call a friend or two and talk about other things. Maybe the cut will have stopped hurting by then and turn out to be just a scratch.

(Night) I never got as far as the phone: too many things to take care of, too many emails to write. Now going to further the cause of proper sleep.

Today's original plan was to go to Kerava and do a full workday of sewing while Mom puttered around going her own stuff and offered me coffee and a sympathetic ear after every completed stage. We're going to do that every Monday and Wednesday for the rest of the spring, or until I get my procrastinated projects finished, whichever happens first. Routine is just the thing I need now! However, the foot I hurt while stumbling on the dark stairs during the game is still too sore to walk on. Besides, this gave me the opportunity to properly catch up with the usual stuff on line.

Yes, the badly sore foot means even more waiting for those ballet lessons. If nothing is broken, it will hopefully be okay next week, maybe. No more hindrances, though! No more!

12 Apr 05: Fire Doesn't Sleep

As per schedule, the aforementioned crush overboosted my system. No sleep, and very naughty (though tired) conversations with Dare on the subject (he, naturally, found my giddiness highly amusing - as everyone still seems to do when I get to be like this). And, well, talking it over has only made it quite more stubborn. I tried to tell myself it's just one notice of one of those several people that I might not turn away from my door if for some reason they showed up and suggested that we give it a try... but this one happens to be at least theoretically non-impossible. Or at least, that's what the fire tries to claim.

Need to get moving.

(Night, home) Body created committees and they all went on strike over my mind: no accomplishments, no timetables, no ability to make decisions (even on buying things that cost 50c), not even sensible thoughts before enough sleep.

Got to Helsinki. Was freezing. Tried to call people to mull things over, with little results. Met Heli, came here to drink gallons of tea and eat chocolate rice cakes and Lappland cheese, watch meaningless TV and rehash things both recent and older. Gave her a ride home, nearly drove off the road several times while eyes and mind blanked. So, no reports here, on email lists or even the game forum until committees agree on acceptable level of awareness after sleep. Besides, need to analyse the separation of game high and crush high (oh, they are very separate indeed: I just want to give the game its own due attention, as well).

Life is short, so: if you still read my stuff, you can hardly have doubt on who you are. You can take it as a compliment. Or call me.

(I can't believe I just wrote that. There's got to be a law against saying that before having come up with at least one angsty poem. Or saying that instead of coming up with an angsty poem. Because, after all, what are these things for if not angsty poems? For real life? Come on, this is me we're talking about.)

(And now I've completely undermined and ridiculed the apparent courage above, and it became just another example of the theatre of the Dust and Shadow. For fuck's sake, can't I ever stop being afraid and just live?) (Anyway, I'll deny everything in the morning as written in non-accountable state.)

11 April 05: ...More Than Amply Compensated!

Fantastic, fantastic game experience - personally and, it seems, generally. In the end I got a ride, so could take enough sleeping equipment; discovered that the preparation exercises were actually rewarding (they only need to be introduced better); was not alone in needing more concrete supporting facts; got my complex coiffure done just in time... and then the game itself just started to happen and blew my brain out. And seems to have done so (more moderately for some, more heavily for some) to every player I talked to or read from.

Now I'm still in Turku on business (sewing plans, SuoLi's props collection). Going home tomorrow, straight to therapy appointment and then to normal. More about everything then.

Oh, and I also discovered my teenage-despair-crush-hormones again. Yeah, this one's surely another really embarrassing impossibility, but at least I know I'm not dead and dried up yet, even now. And no, this time the game did not cause it, mostly just sort of... pushed it in my face. I'm just trying to concentrate on the positive knowledge of still having some sparks of life in me and not on the negative of longing-without- fulfillment. It'll pass. I'll deal, and then it'll pass. As usual.

06 April 05: Pre-low

I'm too old to be travelling to games by train. And sleeping in a sleeping bag. And I'm definitely too old to be given character exercises for homework like a thirteen-year-old preparing for the novelty of LARPs at school. And I think I'm getting too old for the whole of this business. All I think about is how many other participants make me afraid of them, in greater or smaller amounts. I have learned ways to control this, but now the game itself is unusually involved with appearances (one of the stated themes is "first impressions"). Also, I have a character who is extremely involved in her work - terraforming, and we're going to a water planet, so also oceanology, subjects of which my actual knowledge is nonexistent and my personal interest somewhere below zero (personality-wise, I don't mind the character). And as this is, again, a small, elite game, I never thought there was a change of any switching.

This doesn't seem to be about the stuff I'm into. The preceding one seems to have been that, but not this one.

And there's simply too much stuff to learn. I've tried. And panicked several times over.

It would be worth it for a campaign. Not for one game. All of this - speeling bags, written exercises, dozens of pages of material (and it doesn't help that the GM's state one only needs a general impression of it all; a general impression is not enough for an ambitious scientist who has little interest on anything but her science).

Why do I do this thing, again?

No, I'm not about to give in at this stage. I'm going to do my best. But - again - it doesn't seem to make it fun to me.

(I'd like to note most strongly that I really don't want to put Pelageya: Clarissie down as a game. It will probably be quite good all in all, and I'm particularly blown away by their inventiveness - and sheer chutzpah - of showing the site to the general public as a "museum of the future" after the game. That must mean the props are good. And at least there's not too little information. But there's a limit to what the player can digest.)

(And I just happen to have a severe case of loathing when it comes to all sorts of directed, obligatory exercises in my hobby.)

03 April 05: Buoyed by the Spring, After All

This is an embarrassing confession, but... last night (ummm... read "morning and day") I slept on the living-room couch, because while on the phone with Anni I saw a spider on the wall at the head of my bed and didn't have time to see where it went and kill it. I wanted to wait until daylight and do a more thorough cleaning-and-vacuuming then. I know it's ridiculous to be afraid of small, harmless creatures just because they have two more legs than other small, harmless creatures, but I hate spiders, and the idea of one possibly climbing on my face is just not acceptable.

Not that I got around to that vacuuming today, so it's another night on the sofa (unless I decide to try and right my daily cycle again).

Went to visit Vera. She made me sushi and mocha, and we had another good chat. Vanity talk reminded me how desperately I want curls again... But, well, have to wait until hair's more even (and income, too).

02 April 05: The Hooks in the Heart, the Weights in Them

Can't say today's been much better than yesterday - in fact, somewhat the opposite. Things move slowly, if at all. Of course, having worried and guilt-tripped myself sick through most of last night, I slept through most of today. I could just as well have gone to Meira's place to watch quality TV, since I was not going to go to the rendance anyway, but I couldn't get up even at that time (besides - I had given in, so I had to punish myself and not have any other fun either, right?). Later today I remembered that I really should have gone because of that damn dance CD - since I am always expected to remember stuff like that and take care of the selling, even though through all the long time of its making I kept stating most emphatically that I was not going to be the one to market it, and people kept answering that I wouldn't have to. Yeah, right. I'm the only one who even remembers the poor thing, and yet it's fun and professional and sounds gorgeous.

Pearls before... indeed. And I can blame myself once again for not picking up for the neglect of others.

Dad called around noon, called again, and I picked up and told him in a falsely chipper voice to call again in a few hours, as if I actually had something better to do than go back to heavy sleep. Then at some later hour Mom called, and I went into my short-but-sweet mode, which always results in her going into her exceedingly calm-and-consoling mode, no matter what information I actually have divulged (or haven't). She probably got it into her head that something's wrong again - which it kind of is, of course, but not in ways I want to discuss with her.

I tend to give a lot of bad rap about my mother in this diary (which I noted yesterday, browsing through some of last year). To be fair, I must say that there is not another soul in the world that might have anything bad to say about her - she is really nice, terribly well-meaning, always tries to think positively, and gets along with everyone she has dealings with: Olli's family, Dad's family (even now), Paula's family, everyone. The knots between us are not a result of her neglect or bad behaviour in any way. We're just... so very different, and though I tend to accuse her of not seeing it, she never had the chance to see it, either. And then we're similar in all the wrong ways: most of the things about her that frustrate me are things I don't like in myself. No parents are perfect, and mine just happened to be saddled with an oversensitive child, and to have a hard time right when said child was at her most sensitive.

I watched (though a bit intermittedly) this movie that was on TV tonight, Hanging Up, mostly because I wanted to see Lisa Kudrow in it, and thought it was a light family comedy. However, it turned out less than light: most of it dealt with Meg Ryan's character having to come to grips with the approaching death of her alcoholic father, as well as all the baggage of the past associated with him and their mother's leaving them all (which to me bordered on criminal neglect). While watching, I could only thank providence that at least my family's been spared that (the curse of the booze, I mean) and wonder how those who haven't can bear it. In any manner at all. How do you stay open and loving; how do you go on taking care, when the other person does everything in their power to ruin your life as well as their own, and insults you while doing it?

Oh... oops. Well, even so, it wasn't quite the same with Tommi. There was no substance abuse involved, so it wasn't quite about mindless insults and stuff. But I guess to an outsider it's just a difference of degree. In a way, that's what made it so... insidious? There was no real reason to leave, and nothing concrete to say to other people to explain why I was changing (after all, he was dealing with the aggression, wasn't he?). And anyway, this was not a way to start talking about that and trying to wring pity. It didn't even enter my mind while watching the movie, only at the writing of this. (In general, the movie was tolerable, though it had an extremely irritating Diane Keaton as an extremely irritating and self-centered older sister - it was also directed by Keaton; had it been someone else, maybe the problems might have been avoided, maybe no. Dunno.

But back to real fathers. Mine called in the afternoon, then, from the road on their way back home from Easter vacation skiing (and, as this is my middle-aged, very proper and sporty father and his much-beloved and sensible wife, it means cross-country skiing and living out of a caravan, not downhill and wild afterski parties, just to let you have the correct picture). As the family feared, my eldest uncle did not have time to see the snows go: he passed away on Thursday, exactly a month after going to see a doctor about the pain in his liver. And so here we are, suddenly on the way of the looming landslide of time, more shaken than we should be about the inevitable shadow, and quiet.

My uncle was not the easiest person in life, but he did not have the easiest life either. He was thirteen and the oldest son of six children (in addition to two that had died as toddlers and one to come and to die in infancy) when his father died in the war. He had to grow up and become the man of the family through the years of war and going back to the old farm in Carelia and leaving it again for good in a short time, and to provide for his mother and siblings when they moved to a tiny village on the north side of Lake Oulujärvi and built a house there, and kept cows and fished and tried to survive, with the short summer of the North and only a few familiar farms within walking distance. It was he and Granma who had it hardest, and it did leave marks on him. He was still, in essence, a man of the pre-war generation - uneducated, rural - and always stayed so. But when we visited, he was never mean to us nieces and nephews, and he was able to love his family with the same stubbornness that runs through all of us: the love of neverending loyalty, no matter what happens. And Dad said that in his later years, probably with age and the accumulation of grandchildren (thinks I), he softened quite a bit.

During his last days at home he kept saying that he had a very strong feeling of someone else being there in their small house besides him and my aunt. Of course, he was on heavy medication, but even so, his daughter, my oldest cousin, said, "Jospa Mamma tuli hakemaan poikaansa kotiin." ("Perhaps Granma did come to take her son home.")

Perhaps she did. She would. And that simple sentence goes so deep into the essence of our family that - no matter how little I saw of Uncle Veli these past years - I don't think I have many other words left right now. It's not so much him that I can grieve for, but us and another piece that went away now, and left our heritage less complete.

Except the words of the Greek Orthodox prayer, "See, oh Lord, your servant to his rest." He served as best he could.

And so I hope for the Pope, as well. He was wrong in many things, and it was not good, but he served as best he believed. (And I know it's terrible hubris for me to forgive or not forgive the Pope; as if it's any of my business. But these are the things in my heart right now, this short moment. And if I can practice forgiveness in any form, it's all to the good. It's not one of my biggest virtues nowadays.)

01 April 05: You Know, This Dump Sucks

Nooot a good day, again. For three days now I've been eating panic - gobbling it, gorging on it - and as we all know, panic is made of sugar, fat, cream and chocolate. And inability to move. Because moving would mean demands, with their raptor eyes, would spot me and swoop in. And I'd need to go out there and do stuff in all my glorious imperfection. Like participate in that SCA Hucca dance day I always swore I would go to.

Can't. Was supposed to be in shape already. Can't show one isn't. This diary is for that. Not parties with lovely young girls dressed up, all narrow waists and long hair and flowing skirts. No. It's just tolerable to admit these things here, but to actually go where people can make the comparison, and then stand under that comparison and pretend one is enjoying oneself... no.

And I realise I am in this state - feeling like this right now, and also persistently being something that makes me feel worse (fat and out of shape) - is because I am ill. And I can forgive myself that... barely. Not quite. But still. However, now I want it to stop. I don't want to be in this situation the night before, and acknowledge that it's better to stay home than to punish oneself, but still feel miserable that such punishment inevitably comes up. Not one more time, dammit!

I talked to Ari on the phone the other day about how I don't know what to do with this diary, as I don't seem to be able to come up with the necessary happy ending to the story of my illness, and I'm sure everyone is thoroughly sick and bored of the continuous low. However, if my aim is to give a truthful portrayal of severe depression, then I certainly should not stop now simply because the course of my life and my depression doesn't follow expectations. I should tell is as it is. No matter how humiliating it feels.

You know, April really is the cruellest month. Not for the normal people, possibly - but for us incomplete ones certainly. Other people are beginning to feel energetic and interesting and interested, and all we want to do is to hunch up in our big coats and hide our apathy and unattractiveness and pain, so that no-one would ever think we were setting ourselves in the way of those searching looks on purpose (as if we actually had the hubris to offer ourselves up as potentials in the game of mating)... And energy? Projects? No better than at other times. Light doesn't help - it actually makes it more difficult. It uncovers too much; demands too much.

And if all of this doesn't soon change, I've had it with this deal. I. Am. Not. Going. To. Live. Out. My. Life. As. A. Chronic. Depressive. Invalid.

Well, at least Easter leave for therapy is over next week. I suppose this means I have to device a system that will get me up and out of the door every time, no matter how tired or afraid of the day. No more missed appointments. Time is now really, seriously running out.

And a nine-to-five job where one doesn't have to think, for the next five months or so, might be just the thing, now. If only I could find some.

I got a note with a funny link from Nina at Hong Kong. Felt nice. And also, noticed that Nanne now has an iki.fi address, meaning I know how to get in touch with her in Paris, too. Might have strength to keep up with family now, which would be good. After all, we were good friends as children, and by now I am old enough not to a) think myself too weird b) be too ashamed of my depression not to communicate. I always seem to look at life as stationary, and I have to learn it isn't. Family isn't here forever (which was amply driven home these past weeks by the fact that my eldest uncle is mortally ill). (It's not that I have seen him that much these past years - or ever, really - but the family on Dad's side has always been close, partly because of the highly cohesive and defining Carelian heritage - and I mean true Carelian, with the language and the Greek Orthodox Church and all the longing back to the "songlands". When aunt Kirsti died, it was still somehow easy to see it as a healthy middle-aged woman struck down by a tragical illness, but now, a bit later, and with the eldest uncle being already seventy-five, it is no longer so much an accidental tragedy, but a reminder of their own mortality to my father and the other remaining siblings. And - somehow - it's driven it home to me, too, that time really is limited. As in, seriously is. And no matter what it's like beyond death, what matters in this life is this life. So I'd better start doing those things that I always think there's still time for.)

(I think.)

(...What do you mean, pink? I'm depressive, not a teen goth, so 'm allowed to like pink, ain't I?)