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30 Jan 05: Always, Always Down Again I don't know what happened yesterday. Everything was going so well, and suddenly I just... folded. Hid in bed, chocolate and seventeen hours of sleep. Didn't go to see Virpi and Johannes get married. Didn't go to the Camarilla end party, which I'd never thought of skipping until the very last day. Just... stopped existing and lost oneself in dreams (some of which were worth of it, too). I can guess at some of the factors: first, combining two events at the same day, at least one of which requires dressing up and possibly hair-colouring and stuff, still seems like an overwhelming ordeal, even though I keep wanting and hoping differently. Then, I had not slept quite well for a couple of nights (though the problem was only slight, so it should not have mattered...). And then, checking at the timetables of the Camarilla party, I noticed that I had missed Tiuku's party by the simple expedient of not being up on my calendar, and it made me really mad and sad. I've missed so many parties I've been kindly invited to, I'm sure people will soon forget about me altogether - not to mention the fact that I'll never meet anyone if I keep hiding at home! And I so well could have gone to this one, and was all planning to - and then just was too scatterbrained and too glad to lounge around where I was fed and entertained safely like a child! Also, to the very last night I was fully intending to write my proper report of the final Camarilla game... and then suddenly was out of time. So didn't want to go to the party. It was not a requirement, but I should have. And again, didn't. How am I ever going to be accepted to anything if I don't do anything? I can't just read books forever (oh, I wish I could! but I'm not clever enough to be a critic or a literature researcher). (Later) I may have figured out something that might have had an effect on the total collapse yesterday. A case of familial violence was in the tabloids last week concerning the vicar of Vihti parish, whom I knew slightly when I was living there and active in the parish youth group. It seems he has terrorised his family for years - he, of course, denies and downplays everything, typically stating that he "might have pushed his wife a bit once or twice when in a temper". It was that last part that drove me into shaking anger when I read about it - but as I was at Kerava then, I could not really start reacting or talking about it (or I suppose I could, but my subconscious doesn't even take it as an option when around Mom). I almost forgot about it, but I suppose not all of me did. And then today, while sewing downstairs, I was listening to Rajaportti by Trio Niskalaukaus, and there is that one song about the subject. And I had to stop and come upstairs for a while, sick and shaking, and start bothering Kalle with my half-scattered words again. How - how - do they do it?? How do perfectly intelligent men manage to lie about something like that to themselves and to everybody; make their loved ones - those beaten - believe it too; make everybody believe it? That it was not anything serious - and anyway, it was a mutual row - and anyway, there was an apology-and-acceptance moment afterwards, so it never even happened. And no-one else seems to be able to grasp what it is like to the beaten spouse. How it twists one's self-image, and behind that broken mirror (where everyone only sees the fault, not knowing the reason, like it was with me), pulverises one's self-confidence. How the beater smiles and is everyone's friend, admired for their brilliance or even - as in our case - loved for their adorable vulnerability. So if there was a problem, it had to be in the other, right? And no-one the wiser on how that vulnerability, that need to have perfect communication and sharing, was turned into hatred in the closest relationship, where the illusion of perfection could not be maintained (because no-one is perfect). And even later, when people already knew the true state of the affairs as they were then, it would not change the image of the beaten one, the one who exhibited the symptoms of being broken, no matter how much abstract pity there might be. I am not begging for pity. It's not about pity. Just understanding. That being beaten by a loved one is... worse than you can imagine unless you have been there. Yes, worse even than that. You think you can but you can't. It's a thing that even for the person concerned, and perhaps especially for them, is almost unimaginably hard to grasp in its entirety - to see it in any comprehensive form - and in that way deal with it. It's a monster only half-seen in the shards of that mirror, and... no. See? My words fail. For now. At least. And again, even talking about this feels shameful. Sickening. Feels like whining. 28 Jan 05: Busy, For A Change Blessed meds are working, or at least something is: my daily rhythm is that of a normal human being again. I went to therapy yesterday, then met Mom in town, and we went to movies. Turned out that Mom liked Before Sunset as well (we were going to see Phantom of the Opera, but Paula could not go with us at that time; then we were going to see Ocean's Twelve, but it was sold out due to Finnkino's cheap day). Then tagged along with Mom to Kerava to borrow their clothes iron, as mine was lost on some long-ago event, and the house has swallowed Kalle's iron. Was fed, persuaded to stay overnight, fed again and then, despite best plans to the contrary, got stuck to the picture puzzle. At some time, was fed again. Finally got home through some essential shopping, watched figure skating, went to sauna, avoided work. Feeling pretty okay, though. We finally have winter proper. Even though today's been a bit cold to my taste, the diamonds sprinkled liberally in the snow and the secrets hidden under white-laden trees in orange lamplight (substituting for real fire it seems) all more than make up for it. I could live without the northeasterly wind, though... I may even get to roleplay, after a long while with nothing. I'm all eager to try, but more of that when it materializes. I also applied for a fantasy game that sounds really good - it's a long way away, so I sort of thought I might not be able to commit to something, not knowing my bigger plans for the future, but then I decided that those plans probably won't include anything so radical it would stop me from going to a game that isn't even far away. So I applied. I hope I get in; they have at least twice as many women as they need - as usual nowadays. And some more games worth going to would be nice, too... I think I figured out the problem with the sewing thing, and naturally it was totally obvious once I got it into words. When sewing was just something I did for a hobby, there was no pressure - it was just fun to make pretty things and even more fun to get paid for it a bit. But now, that the possibility of it being some form of livelihood is looming on the horizon, it has suddenly turned from a hobby into A Profession... and so I should be really good at it. Not just acceptable, not even just a pro, but top class. Because any job on mine could not be just a job, but something better than the norm. Because otherwise I would be nothing. (I better emphasise that it's not competitive spirit - wanting to be better than some specific others - it's just that I have to be good at what I do. Because I have to. Because nothing else is acceptable. And how could I know if I am good without some sort of measurement, such as "better than everybody else"?) And quite naturally I cannot be that good, or even consistently professional level, because I have no training in the textile arts, and only middling practice. So - it turns into another monster in the closet. But I hope that now that I figured it out, it'll slink away and take the closet door with it a la Pratchett. It's also possible - just possible - that I have finally managed to break the neck of the Food Thing Monster, or at least got quite a nice wrestling grip. Before, whatever I tried always ran bang-on into the image of food-as-security sooner or later... but now, after realising the true impact of food and weight on health and projected lifetime, I may have finally managed to replace that image with food-as-death. And not just any death, but ignoble, painful, pitiful death. Sounds garish, but seems to work. This is just a preliminary theory, and the findings may turn out false, but... we'll see. We'll see. I have no idea what to wear to the Camarilla campaign afterparty tomorrow. "Something festive that is you and not your character" - but most of my festive clothes could just as well be Kaarina's, and at some time or another most have indeed been just that. Gah. Will the appearance angst ever cease? Sleep time. Tomorrow's going to be even more busy. 24 Jan 05: Paralysis ...And here we see another perfect example of my problem (well, one of them): in fear of not being able to complete my thoughts on religion perfectly enough, I don't manage to complete them at all. And since I should, because it's what I was supposed to do (and because any arguments are half-finished anyway), I don't write anything at all. I got the meds on Friday, but withdrawal symptoms persisted over the weekend in the form of nausea and sleepiness (as well as flashes of the killing despair, but I knew to sit and wait those out). Hope they'll be gone today or tomorrow. It just bugs me that I didn't get to do all those things I'd planned - again. I seem to be sort of losing weight a bit, which would be very good. Mentioning it here, however, already awakened a superstitious fear that now I'll spoil it again. The kittens decided that my room makes a great obstacle run. 21 Jan 05: News Break Pretty, pretty snow! Suddenly the world is again a place of white light and magic... The kittens' explorations get more daring day by day: last night Scoundrel (the firstborn; since the names have not yet been forthcoming, I keep teasing Kalle I'm going to teach them to asnwer to "Rontti" and "Rääpäle" - "Scoundrel" and "Scrappy" approximately - for real) even dared to come down while Jero was in the same room! She's also learned to love perching on my shoulder. Scrappy's still a bit more of a Mama's girl, but she's getting there... I tried Kalle's new car tonight for the first time and probably got quite a good introduction to how it handles even in demanding weather... Very nice and smooth it was, just like old Sif except bigger in every dimension (it's a Ford Focus). Drove to Kerava to have evening tea with Mom and to continue the picture puzzle I started last weekend (Olli loves big picture puzzles and has quite a few of them). It has the most irregularly shaped pieces I've ever tried or even seen, so it has taken some time to get into it properly, and it's 2000 pieces, so probably will be sitting on their living room table for several visits, unless Mom gets bored of waiting for me to get it done and cleans it away... Earlier this week, I got the idea of going to Winter Eve, a small SCA event near Tampere, mainly to see Moira and Dugi, and got around to arranging it. However, reality intruded, and yesterday I had to decide to stay home, after all (Moira, the dear she is, had allowed me to hem and haw about it until that late). Oh well, at least it got me working on the sewing stuff properly again! I also dug through more of my closets and corners and found even more stuff to sell for larps or throw away - hopefully the former. Must pick up new batch of meds as soon as the pharmacist opens today - so many days slipped by without that that awful withdrawal symptom of this brand, a two-day dizzy spell, got started. Also present are upside-down sleeping patterns and surreal nightmares. Can't get this sorted out soon enough! Returning to the religion thoughts later. I already got some more interesting comments from Janka that I want to address. Not that I really want to try and come up with any comprehensive analysis of everything I believe or don't... I don't think I could make it good and concise and comprehensive enough anyway. However, I do want to clarify a couple more things. Hot damn! I also remembered that despite my horror of written debriefs, I do need to write the one of the last Vampire game! And preferably a week ago. 19 Jan 05: Two Common Fallacies Of Atheists About Religion, Or: What I Believe, Part I Gah. I've been up all night writing this and a couple of other things, and it's still only halfway done while having too many words already. (But the kittens have had their first foray to the wider world of the ground floor! And they both purred for me for the first time ever! For me! Purred! Both!) So. This one, I suppose, is the closest to public statements I can get - not that it's new material to many friends, as these things have been on the top of my mind lately, and I've tried through several conversations to find ways to formulate them in some reasonably lucid ways. Since I'm not sure my words are getting any more lucid with trying, let's just get it over with. It's something that belongs here for the sake of completeness anyway, public opinion or not. (Oh, and I'm not using bolding later on to shout, just to try and separate the main points from the rest.) It happens rather often these days that someone I either care about or appreciate from afar (or some combination of the two) happens to write about religion and/or us who subscribe to one, or at least some form of one, in a way that gets me down. I guess I can't do anything about those admirable people whom I know for a fact are heaps more intelligent than I am and whom I consider at least friendly acquaintances but who think I am a superstitious second-class person simply for the fact that I have faith, no matter how I choose to implement it... It makes me sad, but well, there's not much one can say in addition to that. But there are some odd, rather specific misconceptions that I do want to say something about. The particular ideas here came to my attention from Janka's notes, but my arguments are not primarily directed at Janka or any one person (though I'd like to extend my sincere thanks to Janka for putting the questions out there). Fallacy the first: people who believe in God(s) and afterlife are
good only in hope of a reward and/or in fear of punishment after this
life; are, in fact living only for the afterlife. What's most horrible
about this is, some religious people really do subscribe to
this paradigm - one of them even told Janka that "there is no point
to being good if all we are is an insignificant phenomenon of nature".
Okay. I'll begin by repeating what I said in Janka's comments: Yes, it is true that some parts of the New Testament wax heavily poetic about the promised rewards of the afterlife. However, most often when Jesus himself talks about such rewards, it is to prove a point about how people should treat each other here, now, without expectation of praise, reward, raise in social position, whathaveyou. That is what it all is about, and that is what he himself exemplified. It's really very practical, isn't it? Good and evil are really not so esoteric: we know what harms us, and what makes us feel good - and we can, and should, apply this knowledge in treating others so that we do not cause harm, but cause positive things. I also believe this principle of ethics to be universally applicable and independent of religion or lack of it. (When religion or morality come in conflict with this principle, I believe they are wrong. And if/when said religion is any sect of Christianity, they are interpreting the religion wrong. I don't even want to use as relative a word as "believe" in this case: I truly consider such interpretations a mockery of true Christianity. This includes, among other things, the most hotly contested topic lately: discriminating against people based on their sexual orientation. But more on ethics and morality separately, and back to the issue of faith for now.) Fallacy the second: faith and science - proper, rigorous science - are in conflict. This harks back to Janka's question some time ago: My first reaction was, and remains: "Um, what was the problem again?? Why on earth (bad pun, sorry) should the belief that the scientific method is the best way to go about learning more - and even as much as possible, again and again - of the world around us be in any conflict with the belief that there is a God that is, at least for now, beyond our apprehension with any method, scientific or not?" To me, this is the mind-twister. I mean, where do these two - the cumulative, tentative knowledge of the world we have at this time, and the by definition non-corporeal, non-measurable, all-powerful and therefore possessing of skills we cannot even begin to guess, Primal Intelligence - overlap, if we believe in the latter (or even if we don't)? Longer answer follows, though I'm not claiming I have an explanation
of any comprehensive or even non-vein-bursting kind. Also, I cannot claim
to be a scientist, but I seem to subscribe to the scientific method
in much the same definition and basic principles as Janka. That is, we
both seem to agree that (to quote her, shortening just a bit, I hope it's okay): On this basis, I don't see anything that is in contradiction with the possibility of there being a God (or many), or a soul, or an afterlife. No, we cannot find proof for them, and I understand there is a philosophy of science held by some, that nothing else is real or can even be considered real than what we have already empirically measured and got proof for (is that the positivist view? I've shamefully forgotten my Philosophy 101). But I do not think this is the only, or even the most commonly accepted philosophy of science, and I don't find the above terms to equal this either. (In fact, going by them the positivist view is not very good science at all, because it seems to make it harder to formulate new hypotheses that might not yet have any concrete proof, and to accept that one's current proof might be wrong, but that's beside the point now.) A scientific worldview is willing to accept that our understanding of the world is not perfect, right? That there is yet much we do not know, though we try our best to advance and correct our knowledge? That the part about wishing things were in a certain way applies to everyone, scientists included (some of whom honestly seem to want to believe that our understanding of Everything is almost, and any day now will be, complete, at least going by some of the answers on that very interesting World Question Center site)? There is nothing, nothing in this that contradicts an intelligently religious worldview. I think the misunderstanding lies in what Janka says here:
"Religious faith says: "We should try to believe this, even if it seems illogical or too good to be true, and even when the evidence is against it, and we should try and explain everything so that this faith is not violated, because in our heart of hearts we know it is true."" Well, no. Or, I don't know, someone's faith might say so, but mine certainly doesn't, and I don't think any scientist's should. * Belief without evidence one way or the other does not equal belief
against clear evidence. Thus - to take the most readily available example - I believe that there is a God. Yet I do not believe He/She/It created the universe in seven days, but that the book of Genesis is a metaphorical description for people unaccustomed to scientific thinking (and moreover, by people inclined to be poetic, as myth tellers tend to be :)). Another example: I believe that there was a person called Jesus, and that his life and his teachings were roughly those described in the Gospels (based on the proof in them - taking into account the imperfection of hearsay, worldview of writers etc. - and small snippets in histories elsewhere, though I accept it is in no way conclusive, and would joyfully welcome corrections based on new textual or material evidence). I also believe that he was God-become-human, and that when he died, his spirit (consciousness, self) survived, came back, and then rejoined the Consciousness of the Universe that we call God (based on no proof, so this is the faith part). Yet I do not believe that the Sacrament of the Eucharist literally transforms the bread and wine into Jesus's flesh and blood, as the Luthern Church teaches, simply because I have eaten the bread and drunk the wine, and they tasted and felt of bread and wine. I do not believe simply stating it is a "mystery" is enough to deny the evidence of my own senses (though I prefer not to go arguing this with those for whom it is enough). One more example, this one not on proof but the illogical that Janka mentioned. I believe what I stated above about Jesus, and I also believe that whether he was divine or not, his original ethics are the best approximation we have for living a good life. However, I not believe in the deepest tenet of the reformist curches, which is that we are all evil from birth (Original Sin) and that the reason of God becoming human in Jesus and experiencing suffering and death was to free us from this Original Sin. I would like to believe this, as it feels emotionally safe and consoling (probably because it has been taught me), but I refuse to believe it, because my common sense says that the concept of Original Sin is unsound and illogical based on my (admittedly layman) understanding of psychology and sociology. And because the same common sense finds the story of one person's suffering as a "payment" for all evildoing illogical and out of proportion in several ways. (Another sidenote: this probably makes me so much of an heretic that, added to the beliefs about freedom of personal privacy and other, smaller things, I suppose I should in all conscience find another church, or found one.) I realise that the illogical is simply my feeling, but it was not I who brought the word into the argument. :) I also realise that between what I accept to be true based on generally accepted evidence and what I believe to be true about God, spirit and supernatural, lies a huge amount of unknown. In fact, it seems to me that the actual disagreement between this view and that of many "hard" scientists may be our idea or how big this area of unknown is and what it contains (see the comment above on some of the scientists featured on the World Question Center site). And that's where we get to what Janka says next: I do not agree with this completely, and I do not believe it is required for a scientist to do so either. I believe emotions and impressions are an inseparable, dynamic part of our consciousness and its processes, and are valid bases for certain suppositions and actions that deal with the glimpsed-but-unmapped area beyond knowledge, whether we believe there to be something supernatural even beyond that unmapped area or not. I believe that artistic and aesthetic impulses are part of this unknown area, and that the results of artistic and aesthetic impulses - art - can never be comprehensively represented through the scientific method and must therefore be understood also through emotions and impressions; indeed, would be something else, and much less, without this understanding. As far as I know, I'm not alone in this belief. I believe our perception of that unmapped area, and its size, is a continuum, and corresponds largely (though by no means completely) with how "hard" the branch of science which we deal with, but even though this sounds like a self-evident cliche, I don't have any way of proving it. :) In the end, it seems to me that I'm pretty much at the hugely-unmapped-theory end, and whether the twain ever shall meet, I don't know. Getting back to the ethics and tenets of the newly-awoken Heretic later... (Later: Interlude Of Introspection) After writing (and fixing the formatting of) the above I ended up ranting at Kalle (while he was just quietly trying to have his breakfast) and ended up with two quite upsetting observations. First, to actually put in writing the disagreements one has come to feel with the church and then look at them was, and is, frightening. Not only is the number and scale of differences greater than I had vaguely approximated (I thought they were just small issues that "everyone" has)... just the act of so severely disagreeing with something one always considered a secure (if not that active) corner of one's identity feels pretty terrifying on a personal level, like looking down and seeing one is uncomfortably close to a hole in the floor (even if it's a perfectly reasonable and useful hole, like a trapdoor). And on a less personal level, it feels disloyal to be this contrary towards something I always considered a good thing for most people in principle, both for the sens of community and for (mostly) good common causes. I did mean the things I said, absolutely... I'm just a bit shaken right now for it. Second, I am more than a bit irritated at the all-too-predictable seesaw of my psychological barriers. In general, I tend to be afraid of trying to argue for my views in writing, at least in detail, for fear of not doing it well enough. But when I'm feeling altogether too vulnerable about relations to other people (especially about actual rejections, which one does not want to acknowledge at all for fear of it showing one actually is an unpleasant loser, instead of just possibly one because of the suspected-only rejections), I seem to start coming up with opinions as easily as bullshit. Now, in general, I tend to end up feeling satisfied at having been brave and tenacious enough to actually think something through in writing... but why does it have to happen at the cost of self-analysis? Why does it have to be one or the other, whichever happens to be less scary and painful at any given time? Are my shields really that bad; my openness that selective? Ugh. I suck. 18 Jan 05: Opinions In The Fire, Plus A Cry Of Helplessness So, I'm writing this long entry about religion and the oddest fallacies that people seem to have of us poor superstitious theists these days, but it's so long and so essay-ish that I'm writing it on WordPad and pasting it on later, when it's finished. I think I also have several other opinions that have been simmered, boiled, baked and buttered for so long they really, really want out. I even managed an action based on them, and I'm going to confess to it here, even though the whole thing is kind of... shameful. And really, only to do with my own reading habits. See, I've been addicted to fandom_wank for far too long for my own good (I know I've mentioned it once or twice, but I don't think I've ever confessed to it as part of my daily reading). (For those who want an explanation: it's a LiveJournal community for mocking the glaringly stupid things people do or say in on-line fandom communities, mostly in the context of pointless arguments.) I didn't read it because I like mean people, but because for a long while it was honestly pleasant for my nonexistent self-confidence to see proof that other people aren't perfect all he time, either - that they make mistakes, almost all of them, and some of those mistakes so idiotic I would really have to work to come up with anything as stupid. And also because I like language-based humour, and sometimes there was some there that was rather funny. And, I have to admit, I suspect I also felt some deep-whispered sense of superiority over the regular posters - you know, I could never be that mean, so I'm not a completely awful person? But, of course, in my own corner of the world, I was. By reading, I privately endorsed their puerile fun (often harmless, even justified from most viewpoints, but not always), so how was I any better? Even if I might try not to be mean-spirited personally, would not the mean-spiritedness that I was regularly exposed to rub on me, too, as such things tend to do? So, then someone I respect and admire was referenced there for a post that was written in the heat of anger, but that was about something I thought good and right - she was championing a good cause. It was not a cause popular among the people who love to laugh at other people, so she was taken to task about her word choices and her disinterest at arguing further on the subject. And I finally shook myself hard enough and chose to be on the side of people who champion the causes of being nice to others, no matter how unfashionable it might be, no matter how others might take them apart for not polishing their words into impregnable castles. I'm just ashamed it took me so long. (Yes, of course I'd love to keep reading through the responses to the aforesaid argument, particularly my one-and-only-ever comment, curious monkey that I am. And I'd even love to go on arguing better on what I didn't present very well. But I decided to stop, and stop I will.) (And writing about this feels really small and shameful and silly right now. But I'm sure we all have silly little amusements we don't actually advertise much even in this age of apparent transparency... And to me it matters, teaching myself not to associate with malicious things and people.) (Later) In other news, I suppose I should give up the whole LARPing thing altogether, since it's becoming short stories traded back and forth, and I'm just not good enough an author. I was told in no uncertain terms that I would not be accepted to a game because I had not written a debrief for a game of some of the same organisers that had no other connection to the new game. I'm sorry, I love games and gaming, and I can give feedback - I can have hours of talks of feedback if only the GM has time for that - but I may not be able to write a short-story-shaped debrief, particularly not if the implied demand is for it to be art. Oh, how I would love to be able to do exactly that! But I know quite well my own limitations as a writer, and I know I can't produce art, and if I try, I'll get bogged down. So please, when did the player's part stop being an experience and turn into a job? Please, please, I'd pay so much for a great game and a great character where my responsibilities would end with an informal, preferably oral, debrief... I'd prepare for it with greater enthusiasm than anything, knowing no-one would present an exam afterwards - an arts exam, even! I'd do my very best in something I thought was what being a player was about... just don't make me face the bogeyman of Not Being An Author. It's there in the back booth anyway. Also, Kalle bought a new, bigger car. He promised I could still borrow it, which only proves he is either nuts or too good to be true for a housemate. The kittens are capable of managing the stairs by now, but Zenya is being an overprotective mother, wailing at them and periodically carrying them away from the stairs and the possibility of facing the Horrible Kitten-eating Black Monster downstairs, so it might take them a while to claim this level of the house. The seem to be quicker to learn and obey than any kittens I've seen before (which of course bodes well for their future homes). Also, hoping to get to those ballet lessons next week (provided everything goes well). 16 Jan 05: Sphere of Silence Went to the theatre, enjoyed the play, was not unduly aggravated. Play was sweet and touching and very right; though probably not a great revelation to most, perhaps - hopefully - to some, a quiet one. Went to Kerava for the night, had supper and quite a bit of wine, talked like someone who knows something about something for hours (though should know better), but everyone seemed to be having a nice evening, so whatever. Was restless today, once finally through shiraz-induced sleep. Got lift home from brother, who dropped by with his new old car; showed him the kittens and the tape from last summer's Ropecon dance performance. Feeling isolated, dropped out, and therefore unable - unwilling - to form words on anything. Trying very hard to find new ways of stating old truths of the one-step-forward-two-back kind, but having no success, so thoroughly bored with oneself. Decidedly not, not, NOT feeling the hurt that is knocking on the doors of one's mind somewhere at the back alley. 14 Jan 05: Upwards Trend Ha! It seems the cough might have been conquered, this time. Also, my very, very old friend Miliza visited today, after writing to me around New Year (so sometimes it does pay, being available on the Net). We used to go to the same ballet lessons in high school, and even shared an apartment in Töölö for a little while (couldn't afford it in the end), but somehow lost touch during my most fervent LARP days (she supposed I thought her boring, having found new people in my new hobby; I supposed she thought me boring with my new all-encompassing hobby...). Now it was wonderfully good to catch up - and to realise we were coming from the same place in so many ways that were not apparent in our younger days... I've been thinking a lot these days, as I hinted in the last entry. Still not inclined to put thoughts into writing, though. Want to form them better first. Going to theatre with Mom tomorrow; they had an extra ticket (at least they said it was extra...). A rare treat, that. On the other hand, it's Elling, so based on the reviews I fear it may hit a bit too close, and Mom is not the person I want next to me with such stuff. I simply can't let her see me that raw. I wouldn't be able to deal. I'll just have to concentrate very hard on Watching Skillful Theatre. Found a couple of possible jobs. And touched sewing! We'll see. Not everything feels good, but, well, good enough for now. (Night) Been updating my pages a bit, and putting all those leftover LARP clothes for sale, even the really grungy and unfinished ones. I just want to get rid of them (and I'm sure that's not even nearly all of them)! 11 Jan 05: Rise of the Cough So now the flu's got to the coughing part, and if earlier patterns are any indication, I'll be coughing for the next three or four weeks. Blech. Also, I'm still so ill that I just can't get myself up in time to call for the phychiatrist's appointment to apply for more therapy money. I've tried for days, but I still need twelve hours of sleep, and the secretary would not take a message when I phoned in the late afternoon. I hate this. Otherwise, I'm not feeling terribly down - found many interesting things to think about on the Net lately. Will write about them sooner or later. Surprisingly awful nightmares last night, though. 10 Jan 05: The Usual Post-low Went to the event. Was ill. Was of some help on Saturday, running errands and serving at the feast. As predicted, mostly felt like looking into a club of which one was not a member, while the actual members had fun and bonded muchly. Back home, after a couple of long sleep periods because of the flu, was typically regretful of not having gone to Teatteriravintola Niili instead, after all. From an objective point of view, it was quite a successful event. And I did sell some of the dance CD's. Flu somewhat bad. Been sleeping a lot. Will go to doctor's for a checkup when a bit better (or if this doesn't go away in reasonable time. Had a record-long dream adventure, a boating trip in preparation for a Dark Ages fantasy movie in which I was a screenwriter (and also actor) and, after getting Hollywood backing and a mixed cast of stars, unknown character actors and LARPers, even had to fire Nathan Fillion(!!), because I got Brad Pitt(??!) and the role was more suited to him. At some stage in the proceeds it was about to become an animated puppet movie, but luckily it was agreed it could stay live-action after all. Once the boating trip was underway, it continued through many, many permutations, the cast turning into a highschool class of mine, then into a family-and-relatives trip. Islands and fantastic restored castles and horses grazing on lovely green islands and attempts to find a doctor for my cousin's inflamed leg scar (including my Dad having to take the night ferry back to Helsinki - we were somewhere on the coast of Estonia, which in the dream had as many islands as our big lakes) and my brother and I getting caught in the huge mechanics of a winch-tunnel system designed for those big ferries between Tallinn and Helsinki and Stockholm... and a harbor with an underground city that was a faerie shopping centre and fun-fair and that was almost impossible to get out of, but luckily at that stage I was flying and therefore did not get stuck in there (don't ask me!) and that way could get the others off as well... and an island which seemed an ideal night camp but turned out to be a huge turtle... and everyone turned into jewels because of it and I had to raise the Faerie King of the Sea to help, which he did, but then we were in that damned faerie mall again... a later stop was a Greek Orthodox monastery with spectacular paintings in underground crypts... and more as we turned south down the coast... I think I could still remember most of it and write down a complete narrative (though not coherent, unless one starts with the premise that things can turn into other things and still be part of the same continuum), but as you can surmise, it would be so long that no-one could be bothered to read it. It just went on and on and on, always returning to water, and in this dream, it was again a good thing. Also, I don't think I had my real-life fear of underwater stuff at all. Watched Pay It Forward on TV tonight. Though less engaging personally than the aforementioned dream journey, it was nonetheless better than I expected from the impressions I'd had from others - more skillful as a movie, I mean. The last ten minutes were rather pointless though. Back to bed. 06 Jan 05: Typical Another week has passed with me being too tired or too ill to get anything at all done. And tomorrow morning I have to head to the SCA event, flu or no flu. My garb is quite lacking, my jewellery even more so; I haven't made that Italian Renaissance dress I was going to make from that heavenly Chinese silk; I haven't made even the stuff for others that I wanted to (well, to be honest, I could have finished Moira's surcot if not for her being unable to attend after all, so I decided to put that time for combatting this blasted flu). And yet, somehow, I can't be bothered to care. I just want to go to the event - just to have something else than this lying about at home. I want to help, and to be useful, and have the excuse and the necessity to sit down and sew. That's all. ...Though it would be nice to have something nifty to wear for the celebrations. Yes, I know I have an enormous wardrobe for LARPs, but unfortunately, very little of it is fit for historical re-enactment. I don't have a single court gown, having grown out of the very old ones (and consequently sold some) and not having had a reason to replace them until now. We decided that it might be good to try and offer the kittens more constant human company, as they are still confined to the upstairs bedroom. Not to mention poor Zenya, who has become very vocal about the undesirable distance (no, seriously - she comes down and yells at me until I go up with her and watch the kittens while she settles down to eat). As Kalle sleeps downstairs for Jero's sake for the present, I slept with the feline population last night and will do so for a while (excepting, of course, the event). Slept quite well, thank you, after some initial bedtime wildness. Though it's probably time to get the kittens introduced to nail-trimming... (I'll probably end up feeling lonely and left out at the event, as usual if I feel positive anticipation about something. Just mind my words. Especially now that Moira and Dougie won't be there...) 05 Jan 05: WTF W/ These Flus? I'm ill again. I think it really is time for a visit to the doctor. (I would've gone long time ago, but I'm afraid because of those unpaid appointment bills, small as they are, but I wouldn't even know where to start in dealing with them - how could I remember what and where anymore? Another mark on the wall for the bloody depression.) I'm thinking this tiredness might not be about blood sugar, after all, but maybe some sort of a long-time infection or something? I am more and more firmly of the opinion that teenagers should not be let out into the Internet, or at least should be kept in their own pink-and-sparkly / black-and-angsty parts of it. The worldwide contacts make for an unhealthy feedback circle for the idol phase, which is crazy enough on one's own. And they always think they've invented everything from the wheel up and never bother to open their eyes to see that others have already proceeded to cars and possibly even planes (and then they grow up into irritating twentysomethings who think that since they invented the wheel in their own little circles they are now The experts for the new generation of teenagers). No, this is not about any one person, so don't go all paranoid. This is mostly about the LiveJournal fangirl phenomenon (that I really think I should take a step back from - I mean, a further step). And my being constantly ill and achy and ready for a rocking-chair in this distant corner of mine out here, thankyouverymuch. I want to write about the tsunami catastrophe, but don't really know how. I didn't know anyone who was there - survivor or not - nor even anyone whose family was there, so even though I am sad and sorry for all my countrymen who have suffered such sudden and terrible loss, I mostly keep thinking about the people who live there, the survivors, whose life will be such a desperate, overwhelming struggle for survival for the foreseeable future. At least those who died in the tsunami died quickly... I did give some money through Red Cross, and only wish I could do something more. I would even go there, if unskilled labour with no resources would be needed, but it isn't. Somebody asked the question in larp.fi on what sort of a larp people would like, and I sort of feel the need to answer, but feel that my opinions would be unpopular and so of course am waffling. P.S. It was one of those nights again, with a dream that went on and on and on - about a trip to see "Phantom of the Opera" on stage, with many, many obstacles on the way and in the theatre itself (also in the production, which ended up being something else... what, I have no idea). In the end, Dad and Satu-Tuutu were driving me home after the show - and the lead's luggage with me, with the intent of him coming to meet me later (this young lead featured prominently in the plot all the while). And then came one of those moments when you are not quite sure if you are dreaming, änd what it is that you are going through, just that something is not quite right and real: I was wondering what it was that I had been to see to, and how, and with whom; after all, there was the luggage, and it had to come from somewhere and someone... Then again, having the first row of the first balcony turn into swings hanging from the ceiling of the theatre felt somewhat suspicious even in that confused half-state (and so did the lead's extremely revealing costume... and many smaller details besides). Yeah, another one of those... (Not a P.S.) I read a lot during the holidays. P&P got me VanderMeer's Veniss Underground, and I managed not to start it until Christmas. It's quite short, densely written and altogether garish - but the most beautiful garish I've read. It's a very respectable bow to Dante and the story of Orpheus, and I admire the writer's style, surely. I still think I may like the Ambergris stuff more. We'll see, once I manage to wheedle P&P to part with City of Saints & Madmen... Also read my first Patricia Cornwell, which was acceptable, and another female author's (lost the name) detective story set in the US South, which I disliked intensely (I hate the portraits of middle-aged men that have turned into total barbarians through some small power - though maybe I shouldn't; maybe the South really is like that and I should not try and look away). Also, two historical romances, one on Madame de Pompadour by Ursula Pohjolan-Pirhonen (rather lifeless, unfortunately), and one on a Western-born woman who became the mother of the Sultan of Turkey around 1800 (supposedly a true story; the facts of life in the harem and around it were extremely interesting, but in parts the book was appallingly racist and prone to unnecessary purple prose - though it was no older than 198something). And last, Le Crime d'Olga Arbelina by Makine (in Finnish - haven't caught up on my French that well). It was... very French, I think is the best way to describe it. It reminded me exactly of how I feel about a lot of so-called "real literature": language that I honestly admire and that makes me want to improve my own descriptive skills, but stories that leave me completely indifferent. Now is it so bad to want both lovely, skilled, revelatory language and great, engaging stories?? Is it?? Actually, I guess "engaging story" is not one skill either, but at least two: something new and interesting to tell, and the knack of telling it so the reader is pulled along irresistibly every step of the way. (The latter, to my mind, being the only merit in that appalling hack of a book, The Da Vinci Code, the language of which is infantile and the claims overused by the eighties already.) But, well, can't we have the whole package? Please? 02 Jan 05: A Quiet New Year Home again - such bliss! On one hand, it was good to spend time at Grandma's place: there probably won't be very many new years with her anymore. On the other, my endurance for family visits was used up some time yesterday morning, when I woke up before anyone else, and sleeplessness and general anxiety proceeded to panic with the image of being in a Mom-shaped iron maiden. Remember that odd near-hallucination of mine, of taking on another's face and expressions? Well, that and worse, and it would - not - stop. I felt I was turning into a duplicate of my mother, and it was horrible. I didn't want to get up for fear of waking Mom first and having to deal with her early-morning sleepless worries for real, so I had to wait until Grandma woke and everybody started making breakfast and stuff. Well, that's enough psychological horror for now, and I'm home, anyway. The kittens have grown enormously and are no longer babies; I've made a promise to go out with the dog more; and I have humongous amounts of sewing to do before next weekend's SCA coronation event. Note to self in public: remember to call about the continuation of the therapy grant as soon as possible. And see about that doctor's appointment to check blood sugar as well! More about the holidays (spending Christmas at Tohmajärvi in yet another flu, hearing about the tsunami horror, etc.) later. I was a bit unhappy about not being able to see people over New Year's, but grandparents are important, especially when there's only one of them left and she just had arhythmia. |