You can still contact me at svaha@iki.fi

28 Oct 03: ...Further...

Still in the throes of the flu. And my computer still refuses to cooperate, so I'm writing this on the living-room computer, and its Putty doesn't like me either.

I decided to start a dream diary, but it's going to be in Finnish for a change, so it'll have to wait until I get these alphabet problems sorted out.

Not much else, in addition to lots of coughing and far too many cups of hot beverages. Rereading Pratchett. Cursing the fact that all the Faerun character files and plans were on the computer that's not working. Tired. Third serious flu this autumn, and we're not even in November yet.

Lots of stuff to take care of once get better.

Apropos Pratchett, I seem to be growing out of his particular brand of humour. The latest book has been sitting on the kitchen table since Sunday, and I don't seem to be able to muster enough enthusiasm for it. I've been rereading only to backtrack the development of Captain Vimes, who has grown on me with time (my guilty favourite is Jingo, where he arrests whole armies for the crime of war - Pratchett's solutions are always, in the end, comfortingly simple and commonsense). Not that I wouldn't still feel familiar enough with the characters to enjoy them as comfort reading, but I don't really expect anything interesting, particularly not from a book that is not about any of the regular favourites. I suppose I'll get around to it, sooner or later.

26 Oct 03: Hampered

Been tired, don't know why. Besides, my computer broke and Kalle cleaned the living-room computer away for today's Werewolf game. And of course, we did a massive amount of cleaning for the game. It went reasonably well, except that I'm - AGAIN - in a flu and could barely stay upright.

Game over now. Bird go zzzzz...

22 Oct 03: Further Tiredness

I'm not feeling too good. I should be, having spent a cosy evening chatting and having a glass or two of red wine, but for some reason, I'm not. Perhaps I should not drink even those two glasses. Or something.

Fell asleep before nine yesterday evening; now completely exhausted.

Made a preliminary reservation for FIV, for exactly the preferred weekend (28.2.). Good. Now for budget negotiations...

20 Oct 03: Tired, As Usual

Almost forgot: back on medication, as promised. Getting the bloody pills on Saturday turned into an abysmal bother, so much so that you should all now be very proud of me seeing it through. (Of course, I should be very proud of me, but let's not hope for the impossible.) It took six phonecalls, two separate visits at the medicine counter, driving back and forth between pharmacist and home, and three separate stops at the cashier. And was embarrassing as hell.

Still, I got them, and that's it.

I also got some money for a dress that I sold and promptly spent most of it on bare necessities.

19 Oct 03: Sky and Gold

Beautiful day, if a tad nippy (though I was gloriously warm in my vintage winter coat, another bequeathing of Satu's: it's got a foxfur collar; it's also green, a colour you won't see me in more often than once in a lifetime, but it's surprisingly nice as long as I stay blonde). There is a constant rustling outside, with the falling leaves of the last, stubborn maples: not a dry, papery rustle, but a sharp, plastic-y sound. And the leaves are very, very golden and the sky is very, very blue, and the fingers of hawthorn hedges have been bitten bloody by the night frost.

I think I managed to skip through yesterday's party at the edges without any spectacularly unpleasant happenings. I wasn't much for being actively social, and got sleepy rather early, but it was nice to see those people there. And to make arrangements for coffee etc. for next week.

Going to flea markets when broke is not a good idea. It's the really cheap small finds that are just a but more than those few coins one does have in one's pocket that really chafe most. Hmf. At least this gave a push to the sewing projects.

18 Oct 03: Roadside Freak Show

For the first time ever in the history of these notes, I'm fighting an overwhelming urge to erase an entry. It will probably not make much sense to others, or will make too much so ("That's supposed to be some great secret, some trauma strong enough to excuse you being like that??"). I feel as open as a medical texbook image of a man's innards. I feel like I am lying slashed open, my guts hanging out, and I'm sure people react to that sort of a thing as is natural: they glance away hurriedly and pass by, feeling a vague revulsion, and wondering absently why someone would like to show, or look at, something like that.

How can I meet anyone's eyes right now? How can I go to any gathering of people who might have read this, and will be awkward and embarrassed in my company, and I will read it as further rejection and distance, and panic, and behave even more rejection-ably. And how can I not meet people right now, and stay inside, alone?

17 Oct 03: Neither Here Nor There, and: Truth Spells

Less exhausted, but no less frustrated, irritated and lost.

Finally put a couple of pictures on my pages - only the main ones, still. You can judge the result for yourself. I'm still unsure whether the finalt result appears too vain.

Going to that geek party tonight, and even solved the costume problem in a moderately acceptable manner. It's nothing new or amazing, but it looks tolerable and doesn't take a hassle beforehand.

Tomorrow's triple birthday party, on the other hand, is getting increasingly frightening. Too many questions and expected explanations looming on the walls. And it's sad, because I would so like it to be easy and likeable with this particular circle of people.

(Later)
I know the magic word now. I know what is inside those boxes of baggage, and it was not what I expected. You will no doubt consider me quite blind now, but it truly was not.

"Abandon", verb. As in, "I Will Not Abandon You".

For they do, they did, they will. Always, always. I should have known, should have remembered already; should have remembered scattered words and arguments of these later years; should have known that was what the word was. Not Rejection. Not even (and God must exist if only to thank someone for this!) Oversensitivity. No. To abandon.

"Please don't go, please don't leave, don't leave us." "Silly child, don't cry, of course I won't leave you, can't leave you." "Nor Dad/Mum either?" "No, nor him/her either." "You do know that I love you very, very much, and that I would never abandon you?" "Yes, Mum, I do." But it had already happened. They came back, of course, regretful and hopeful and trying to sound humorously encouraging, as if it had not been true at all. But it had - the little girl was not stupid, not stupid at all - it had happened, and so could happen, was happening, again, always, all the time. And the little girl knew how to be good: to be meek and happy, to make adults content to believe everything was fine, so maybe it would not come to pass, or would come to pass later. To not react.

And they say I was such a sensitive and emotional child, always crying. Emotional my ass. How could I have been emotional when I had absolutely no contact with, no connection to, the inner core of emotion inside that wall of meekness, beyond the blankness of the memories?

No wonder I am such a black hole. Need - "Don't Abandon Me, Don't Go Away, Please" - is all I am, a black fire that consumes everything in its path and leaves behind even more emptiness. No wonder I stuck with Tommi: at least he would not go away. I remember we used to - both of us, at one stage or another of a fight - end up begging. "No, please don't go! Anything, just don't go." It was more tolerable to risk anything else, even being hit for both just and unjust reason. Even considering death, for oneself or for both, as being killed was preferrable to being abandoned.

And so it is even now.

Please don't go away. Don't go away, even though you just did. Don't leave me alone and abandoned here...

Went to therapy, talked around a lot and eventually, was told that we're getting somewhere, finally. I am not yet sure. How can I survive until then, with this panic? These fears? Then drove to get Lissu from her workplace, spent a while with dress, hair and makeup and went to the geek party. Met many friends and had even more nice chats, was surprised at own sociability, considering. Came home, am dropping on my seat now.

Money is in the hand, recipe will be in the pharmacist tomorrow, straight after awakening.

Making very little sense.

16 Oct 03: Effitall

And the schedule continues, and we're finally at the next stop, where there is simply nothing at all, no thing big or small, that is not a slap in the face. That would not have failed, or fallen through, or otherwise sucked. Communication is not working. None of the current interests and issues are working, even the things that are supposed to be fun and light are not working.

I hate my life. And right now, I hate all the people in it, or even nearby, too.

15 Oct 03: Messed Up

I'm not much in a mood to write today, since right now I very much doubt my ability to make any sense of my own head. And no, this is not about depression, this time, but mostly about emotional stuff. And baggage.

"Baggage? What do you mean, baggage?" is what you are supposed to say now. I mean, this is me. The Phoenix Does Not Have Baggage. Everything she carries is out and visible in the light of her wings, even when said light is nothing but a feebly flickering glow at the edges. Lots of old scars, yes, but all clear and visible, each and every one a recognized sorrow. I can tell you the detailed history of every single mark: the way they were exposed, struck, festered, and healed, and the means and manner of each stage... I can even show you the ones that have not yet healed, and tell you exactly why they still bleed, and what I use for bandage. I know my emotions... which does not make me good at being wise about them, but I am familiar with each and every form - all too familiar, dammit! There is nothing murky or hidden here. There is no Lost Luggage desk behind the ticket stall of Life in the theatre of the Phoenix.

Except I just found one.

And before I get a reckoning of those vague forms and lumps in a pile behind the bloody thing, I'm so far out of it that you couldn't call me back with a galaxy radar. (And reckoning there must be: I am not in the dark about anything this side of the Inner Sanctum gate; I know how I feel, especially about My People!) So if I seem more confused and less wordy for a while than I generally do, it's not because I've developed some strange form of withdrawal symptoms, or because I'm suppressing some psychotic reactions - it's because I hate to speak when I cannot trust the truth of what I speak, and if I cannot trust myself to know the truth (the actual, factual bases and motivations) in one thing, I cannot trust any of it.

I need to sort out this pile and get the bloody office away from spooking innocent passersby in the Inner Sanctum. I can't trust a single word I say until that.

Oh, for those who need to know: my phone is back in line, and will remain so, hopefully for good. So I am again fully available to those whose need be. And the medication should be back in business tomorrow or, at the very latest, Friday. If for some reason it isn't by then, I promise to take up one of the offers of help (and take the headbashing like the good bad girl I am).

Anni is also home for the fall holidays, so the house is pretty lively. And there are two parties in store for the weekend - will have to see how it goes. (No, not at the house, though that might be a thought, again. The geek clubs' unified party at Uni on Friday, and birthday celebrations on Saturday.) Feeling pretty tolerable about both. The Werewolf campaign is still giving headache (I got exactly the sort of character I wanted and envisioned in that very nice chat with Meira, and all of a sudden I developed a panic attack and decided that wasn't what I wanted after all; Meira was an example in tolerance and asked me to talk it over with Kalle). We had to sleep on it after I'd ranted about my fears for an hour (and then taken another two hours, tugging and pulling rather ineffectually at the Baggage and making poor Kalle follow the whole sad process). It'll probably sort itself out in a day or so. The Werewolf, that is.

I think I'm reaching at Merten-like levels of deliberate obscurity here. I feel like I'm close to succeeding this time. Do you think I'm close? Even in the ballpark, at least?

(And apropos - Merten, it was all fine and dandy until you compared me to cyberpunk, of all styles. :) I only wish.)

This is Radio Planet Phoenix, signing off.

(Oh, and if the ability towards obscure metaphors is a side effect of being crazy, ie. off the depression medication, there is definite inclination to reconsider status. No, it's not mania - I've never been diagnosed even possibly manic. So don't worry, psychosis and knives are not looming on the horizon. It's just the irregular blinking of the broken neonlight above the Baggage stand.)

14 Oct 03: In A Bad Way

I am not sleeping when I should be. In fact, at the moment it seems, again, that I am not sleeping at all. I am back to that floating, dizzy state of that horrible week last summer. This is not good. Not good. But until I get myself back in line and working for those costumes that have been waiting endlessly, I won't have the money to get my medication.

I think I didn't want to go to sleep because I finally have an appointment with my therapist today after her sick leave. It means I not only have to leave the house, but go to the city, and not only that, but manage to take enough time for the trip to her current practice: about 1,5 hours, and I know I won't be able to be in time anyway.

All the while I get angrier and sadder at the SuoLi politics and any discussions concerning them at larp.fi. I know there are a couple of points that I should answer calmly and concisely now, but I can't. I can't. I can't even think. I just hurt and hate everybody and hate myself for being such a bad person that I hate.

And last week was supposed to be meeting-people-week and ended up close to the exact opposite. All the friends that I was supposed to contact: I am sorry, I just haven't been able to take care of that telephone bill matter, and our server being down messed all the rest. All I could do was sleep at day and stay awake at night, eat nothing but sweet junk, and get more and more depressed. I... well, it has not been an issue, living here at Lummetie, but I think that if that had not been the case, it would have been clear that I can't manage life by myself. Not that I can't - if need arises - do things, even moderately big projects, but I don't seem to be able to care for myself enough to keep myself actively alive, either.

This is not good. None of this is good. I don't want to be broken like this. I don't want to fear going out of the door. I don't want to always bungle the simplest things. I want to be able to speak about matters I feel about with courage and thought. I want to be able to open scary official letters so that the matters they concern won't end up having grave results. I want to be able to be tolerable enough to be liked, at least by a couple of people, and to give them something back, too. I want to be able to do something else than curl up in a ball and cry.

Never mind. This will pass. I've learned enough self-control, you don't have to be afraid of my having any dramatic fits in sight of anyone anymore. Not now, not ever. I'll be dead first. This will pass, just as it all does.

But it doesn't change the horror that I am not getting better; I am getting worse. All the time.

13 Oct 03: Normal And Boring

It shouldn't bug me that I'm not fashionable enough to mentioned in other people's blogs, but it does. No, actually - it doesn't. It's not about being fashionable at all. It's about the fact that these people who are in the newest craze of commenting and classifying other people's blogs are people whom I thought were friends of mine, or at least old friendly acquantainces, and now I find that they don't even find me worth reading. I don't care a whit about whether strangers read me, but I do care about proof of losing people. A lot.

I guess I'm just too boring and too self-involved. But I thought they might at least care about what is happening, if not my whines about it. And I clearly need to sort out the medication thingy, since I nearly wrote something really catty about one of those friendly acquaintances that once might have been friends. I honestly, for a moment, considered leaving the sentence in here, despite it actually having no information value except to show my jealousy.

It's Self-pity Island here, again. Never mind that for once, I am up at the ordinary hour of ten am, and already was at eight. It just shows more of a contrast between what I should be and what I am not.

12 Oct 03: Just So

Pride and fall, indeed. Check. Please.

Incidental insults rule the day - perhaps completely imaginary, perhaps accidental, perhaps neither. Perhaps.

Paula dropped by for another round of feeding the poor incompetent family member and for movies. Lin also finally appeared, with Timo in tow, and Matrix Reloaded, which despite moderate expectations I could not manage to watch all the way through. It's incredibly dumb.

I stayed awake last night to get the rhythm back on track, so now I'm practically dropping dead on my seat. If I go to sleep right now, I may be able to get up in time to pick Kalle from the airport (around nine am, that would be).

Did anyone get the Duke Ellington jazz&tap musical on tape today? I tried to watch it for Hinton Battle, the God of Swing, but right at that hour I was fighting the pull of the sleep cycle and could only pay attention to things three seconds at a time.

11 Oct 03: Irregular Life

Note: killeri.net has been offline for a couple of days. It may still drop at any time, until Kalle comes home on the morning of the 14th and figures out what is wrong. This entry and the two preceding were written off-line. This may account for the high rant factor. Or then again, it may not.

I just re-watched The Negotiator on TV, and was reminded of how much I like it. Really, really, really like it. It's the sort of suspence/action film that works for me. I can't be bothered with constant SWAT action with explosions and everything on the side, but psychological suspense gets me every time. Besides, Kevin Spacey and Samuel L. Jackson in one film is almost an overload of charisma. (There's also Jack Spencer there, but he's pretty invisible in this one. And I've never liked David Morse. I still think his character in this film was in on it, but never got implicated, being "just an honest, if a little overeager, SWAT commander". Well, okay, maybe we're just supposed to believe that he's too hasty to judge and to act both, and we get a very clear message of how bad that is... but the other interpretation is not impossible.)

Anyway, I decided that I want to have a Kevin Spacey marathon one of these days, preferably now. The man is intolerably good. I haven't seen any of his latest films, so at least The Life of David Gale, K-PAX and Pay It Forward are on the list. I'm not sure about The Shipping News - it had the blandest reviews possible - but maybe. And then a re-viewing or two, maybe The Usual Suspects (which can be watched endlessly) or Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil (because it also has - ta-DAAA! - John Cusack!). Anyone else interested? "Brainy movie night"? (No American Beauty, though. It's an effective film, but I remember it far better than I'd care to. I find it loathsome. So I'll put my foot down on that one.)

I've got my blood pressure up several times in the past day or two, for how stupid things people have said either at larp.fi or at related forums. Not good. Should learn not to mind. It's just that I hate two-faced people, and I hate people who repeat malicious gossip without checking their facts. And I hate all those people who are so willing to believe both, no matter what the facts.

For example - once and for all - Faerun III and the way the Maahinkainen group decided not to come at the last minute. We had bloody well never promised them 8 hectares of woodland. The front page of the game clearly talked about a battlefield. A single battlefield. If they got some strange ides of their own about the game site, it's really not the fault of the gamemasters! And yes, I said something about the field being the size of a football field (it was about five or six times that actually), but I also said I am bad at making such approximations, and that it is big enough. And they simply could not trust us. Or realized only then that they thought they were going to some other game altogether than the one we had planned. We did not renege on our promises.

Dammit. I hope this finally settles that. And just to be sure, there are several Maahinkainen people whom I've found to be really, truly nice and whom I respect very much. One on one, actually, nearly every single one of them. But even before, I've noticed a general tendency in their group - I can't really point at any single persons who do it, but it is there, and it amazes me in such an otherwise grown-up group of people - not to trust anyone else as game organizers except their own. Yes, guys, your games are good, very good, but that really doesn't mean that you have a monopoly on good games.

(Yes, in the end, FIII was far from perfect. But it could just as well - without the combined effect of at least three strokes of bad luck - have gone exactly the way we planned, and been amazing. One of those strokes of bad luck was this group's lack of faith. Perhaps we did not deserve it, or perhaps it was a self-fulfilling prophecy. Perhaps, guys, your faith could have made the difference, so that the worst stroke of ill luck would not even have had occasion to happen?)

Whatever. Anyway, Faerun IV will be better. But it will also be more traditional, and in that way, have less potential for greatness. It will be good, even if I have to work myself to death because of it (and you should know that I am not saying this as a joke), but will it be great?

We'll see.

On the larp.fi things I'm not even going to start. Besides, I already ranted at a couple of friends, for which great thanks to them. Just this: don't always believe the one who sounds most suave and most political, the surest of their ideology. Some people know all the rhetoric, but either deal dishonestly, or stupidly, or simply don't deal at all. Or all of those. And the ones who most loudly push themselves and their groups and ideologies forward often don't do so for the desire to benefit the art/hobby or its participants, but for their own CV's or for their own sense of power. Look at what they say. Listen to the style of their proclamations. Do they sound just like professional politicians? Then ask where and for what purposes they learned the rhetoric. Look at what they do. Not at what they say they do, or will do, but what they actually do and have done. Then, and only then, make your decisions.

Back to the home front: Zenya seems pretty much adjusted by now. She spends most of her time in the living areas, in sight of me and/or Jero, even though she still doesn't tolerate him coming close. Poor Jero isn't all too happy with my tired state this week, and he's downright miffed at Zenya's continued hatred. But we're managing, I think.

I've finally pinned down the cause of the occasional wooziness, and have no choice except to admit it: withdrawal symptoms of the medication. Yes, yes, I'm out, again - but only for a couple of days, and I'll take care of it at the beginning of next week. Promise. And Liisa will remind me, if I won't.

One thing I've done during these interminable days without email and web diary: I've written several pieces of useful stuff, letters and the like.

(Later) ...Yes. YES! I'm on-line! I'm communication-able! I'm alive! Now let's just see how long it lasts...

10 Oct 03: Screaming in Frustration (Though Happily Not That Kind)

I just can't take this much longer. And I can't write a diary off-line. Witness the last entry, which is, sadly, only half of one. If I don't know that it's got to be up and out there immediately, I'll just begin dithering and dawdling (I am not actually quite sure I'm using those words correctly, but here's hoping). Three more days until Kalle comes home, and then he'll be all jetlagged and won't have the energy to work with the server...

Lin was supposed to come home for the weekend today, but I haven't seen hide nor hair of her. My daily rhythm is still screwed, and I haven't been able to gather up the energy for anything useful. I haven't been social, I haven't done any sewing. I've read and surfed and written a completely useless file full of self-evident advice on larp costuming (well, people keep wondering at my dresses, and they're really not that special, so maybe it helps others to have the same tips I've learned, or maybe not).

Oh, apropos frustration: for a change, there is less of that in the emotional department. A Certain Someone and I hung out on Wednesday and - completely out of the blue, I swear - ended up having sex in the shower after the sauna. I was mostly just surprised at any sort of move from him, but sure, it was nice. Veeerry nice. Made me revise my long-time opinion of said variation (I've never been much for sex in the water, running or not, but I suppose it's more about the suitable time, place and person, like everything else). Anyway, this was not the point. The point was that I think I really am seeing light at the end of the tunnel: I'm not worked up about the whole thing this way or that. Maybe... not even in love anymore?

About time I saw that light, I suppose you say (that's what Anni said, for one, when I called her). Make no mistake, I still love him very much, and I still find him attractive. I just feel absolutely no despair over not being his soul mate. I wouldn't be, anyway. Or he wouldn't be mine. And this fact, which of course I've always known, finally managed to get the infatuation by the neck and have a good shake to drive the point all the way home. And it's there. I'm pretty much cured.

So, where's the next object to pine for?

Oh, and I feel go-ood about another fact, too. Remember when I was miserable because he'd never ever want to shag me again anyway, because I'm so unattractive? Okay, I'll stop saying that. I promise. (Even if this awakens in me a horrible, superstitious fear that this, already, is enough pride for a fall, in the form of some terrible rejection - to follow...)

Movies: I didn't particularly want to see Kill Bill before I saw the pictures, but now... Lucy Liu fighting wuxia-style, in a white kimono, with a sword! Must. Will. Aagh. I'm drooling already.

And more movies: I am constantly amazed at Peter Jackson and his team for their deep understanding and depictiong of Tolkien's themes. In several cases, those much-maligned deviations from the books have been ways of showing themes that could not have been emphasized within the action presented, or that would have been left out with the (necessary) cutting of some sequence. For example, the elves at Helm's Deep: it was a way of bringing into the story the long common history of battles that elves and men have shared; that a reader of LOTR gets a feel of; that a reader of The Silmarillion gets thoroughly immersed in and will never again be able to separate from their LOTR experience. That history belongs in there. Elves were still a part of Middle-Earth by then, if a diminishing part, and in a film, it is much more effective to show it than to mention it. Not so in a book.

I had the same feeling of "Ah-HA, I know what you're doing!" while watching the ROTK trailer. We know that the Scouring of the Shire has been left out for purposes of dramatic timing, and this is completely understandable. However, that sequence in the book serves to illustrate and bring home two aspects of the same thing - that events change you, and great events change you greatly. Not only does it show how much the hobbits have grown by their experiences "in the greater world", through earthshattering sorrow and loss and courage and pain and joy and renewal: even though the situation at home horrifies them, they are able to deal with it in an almost offhand manner. It also shows (especially in the aftermath of the Scouring) that not all that change has been for good, or even repairable: that there is a price that cannot be avoided; that is irrevocable; that is neither fair not just, but must be paid. That the greatest suffering and the greatest sacrifice, even for the best and most necessary aims, may not get its proper reward, but may leave scars that simply cannot be healed. And I think that, in the absence of that sequence, the trailer is designed to present the concepts to us and get us accustomed to them for the ending of the film and the trilogy. You must admit that it is strangely slow in pace for such a war-filled blockbuster, surely?

08 Oct 03: Cut Off

(Written off-line, will be uploaded when things start working.)

This is utterly, totally, absolutely unbearable. Our server is not responding; hasn't been responding for a day and a night by now. Our on-line connection is fine, but the server won't communicate, which means I can't read my mail, update my diary or do anything with the Faerun pages (nor is Paula able to access the pictures she promised to tidy up). I sent Kalle a panicky email from the sunpoint address, but he hasn't answered yet. I can't function like this. I'm absolutely desperate for communication, connection, contact...

So: it's not about the Web being addictive (it's been quite accessible all the while, but one can only surf on costuming pages or the IMDB for so long). It's the constant expectation, the feeling of communicating with someone, anyone, even in patches. The feeling of not being alone. The feeling of having a secure, non-disturbing line of communication open to the world. Or anywhere. Being available. Not everyone knows that I can be reached by a proxy phone this week, but they are used to email reaching me in less than an hour. Now all of my plans have to be postponed or revamped, and I'm not feeling quite sharp enough right now to be able to do that.

I've stayed awake all night, and am bravely trying to continue staying awake, to get my internal clock even a little closer to normal time, even though bed beckons most alarmingly. As usual when no diary updating is possible, I feel as I've had several subjects, opinions, and chains of imagery swirling around in my head, just waiting to be set down...and now when I actually try to do it, they won't cooperate.

I've sat at the living-room computer for most of the night, periodically jumping in involuntary scares, as the wind's moved the vine boughs to and fro in front of the hall window, just far enough and peripherally enough that they don't register as the comfy (and mind-numblingly red and beautiful) curls of the Cthulhu-gened One, but as if someone leaned towards the window to peek in.

05 Oct 03: Family Day

As mentioned, went to sleep very far into the morning, so slept about the same hours as yesterday - from eight to three. After I managed to reappear in reality, Mom and Olli dropped by to bring the rest of those kitchen chairs that are such a lovely Greek blue, and stayed for coffee and sewing plans. Mom decided that she wanted an autumn/winter cloak out of the better-quality grey wool and a winter skirt out of that lovely blue and black wool twill piece. I'll make those once I've got these current projects out of the way, which will take a week or two.

Petri and Paula both managed to squeeze time out their hectic (and I mean hectic) schedules to join the fun. Paula once again arrived equipped with a grocery bag out of which they magicked another one of those miraculous dinners they seem to be determined to provide for me. We also made plans for new covers for their trusty, comfy old sofa and tried (with meager success) to plan for another, more leisurely day to meet for movies and sauna. Once everybody had gone, I was left with money for Mom's fabrics and the leftovers of that lovely roast beef dinner for tomorrow in the fridge - and Paula's promise to do the Faerun pictures for me (for livening up the pages a bit)!

After nine, I took Jero for a walk and drunk deep from the gold of the leafu halls under the pathlights. I even had energy for switching the kitchen curtains (the ones with heraldic motifs) to the living-room windows and coming up with an acceptable temporary solution for the kitchen curtains (blue, to match the chairs, though not quite well enough - it's more indigo than bright blue, at least next to the chairs, but it'll do). I feel all accomplished now, as I'd grown rather uncomfortable with having those huge living-room windows all open to the pitch-darkness outside (not to mention the neighbours' windows). The long-time plan is to make winter curtains for the whole long window wall out of some nice wool or velvet, to keep out draft and to reduce heat loss, but that will take at least eight meters of fabric, so it's probably not going to happen in the immediate future.

Now going to finish The Scar. I wonder why I've put it off for a whole day? Maybe I'm hesitant in fear of disappointment, as the book has built up for the climax in such a manner that it's hard to imagine how it's going to fulfill the expectations.

Been worrying about the accounting for the dance CD sales and doing other half-official stuff on the side. Decided to be useful and be the person responsible for SuoLi's participation in the ROTK geek viewing.

04 Oct 03: Determined

Stayed awake until morning to take Kalle to the airport. Got home and felt the emptiness of the house like a stab wound. Also, surprised oneself by realizing how comfortable I have grown living in the same house with Kalle: felt really dismal about the idea of not being able to do so indefinitely to the future. I have rarely felt as close to anyone without even knowing if we really are close or if he's really mostly just being nice and taking care of me because I need to be taken care of in this condition. And now I can't decide if I'm doing terrible injustice to the dearest, most loyal friend I've ever had, or if I'm again making everything too complicated.

Anyway, felt amused at the realization: it's not really as if it's very common to want to live one's life (well, in theory) in the same house with someone with whom one is not romantically involved. There's no set category for it, so can it even be healthy...? Or is it weird and inappropriate and immature? Or something. I don't know.

But what is wrong in admitting that we are creatures of family and pack?

Anyway. Went to bed with the Mieville book; slept until three pm. Had an awful dream where, despite my forbidding it most emphatically (and repeatedly), a group of people barged into our house in order to have a meeting about SuoLi's future in our basement, and even though I hated it (not because of the subject, but because they had no permission in the first place from anyone in the house, nor did they listen to my order to leave), I could not make them go away. The situation deteriorated into a screaming match, until finally, threatening with the police got my wish heard (and even then, after a couple of subplots, they sneaked back in anyway). Three guesses as to who had organized the meeting. The first two don't count.

After waking up, was in a foul mood because of the dream, but got it out of my system by writing a couple of emails. Back and legs were very bad, so almost decided not to go to the Gangrel party of the Vampire chronicle, but after negotiations with Margit, decided to drop by for a short time anyway. Took Jero for a walk and - naturally - lost more time than expected for getting oneself to look presentable. The blonde hair problem was solved by a fur hat and copper hairspray for the few visible curls on forehead. Drove to the end-of-nowhere where the game was held; felt disoriented and dangerous to other traffic (no idea why). At game, had a highly rewarding hour.

Will definitely get the report stuff sorted out now; feel really pretty up about playing Kaarina again. Now I have two campaigns to look for!

Left a bit early to meet Lissu at her place; drive from Kattila still took 45 minutes. Managed to get hair looking presentable even with the copper front by combing most of it off; went with Lissu to see Hollywood Homicide, mostly because of the ROTK trailer. The trailer was a religious experience, of course, and the movie turned out somewhat funnier than we had expected. Had tea and and talked at Lissu's place until five am; would probably still be talking if innocent creatures had not been waiting for my mercy at home.

Will go to sleep now.

How lovely it is to be able to gush about something with someone else who feels the same! As Lissu said: there is not much that goes as deep in us as Lord of the Rings. Not much at all.

Want to participate in a faerie game for a change. Sidhe. Changeling, anything. Want style and romance and faerie rules and pride and grace and glory and gorgeous costumes and big hair and flowers. And lust. Definitely lust. And flirtation. And grown-up players! Well, one can always dream...

03 Oct 03: Disinclined

Disinclined to what? Just... disinclined to anything. Unwilling and cantankerous. Don't want to write about these nothing-days.

Reading The Scar by China Mieville. It's very good, even over and through the fact that it happens at, on, and in the sea (some of the imagery's made me physically ill, but I've persevered). I wonder if Perdido Street Station will be as good now that I've read this one first.

It's been nice enthusing about my character to Meira's campaign, but now I'm getting panicky and paranoid about how she'll never fit in anyway...

Been fiddling a lot with the Faerun pages. Added some material to the Cormyr section, but I feel it's not nearly enough yet. And how does one give a good summary of such a huge world anyway? Need more info. Lots more.

Been plagued by pain in lower back and legs for a couple of days now. Might be that damn nerve that I damaged during my ballet times reacting to weather changes; might be something else. Maybe I've just slept too much and my back muscles are irritated, and therefore my spine sets differently and presses on that nerve. Or something.

My therapist will not die, after all. Hurrah!! She left me a message that we can continue the week after next.

Colours, colours, colours: everything outside is bright flame, gold and blood. This is one of the few good moments in the fall. Hopefully it'll last more than this day.

I miss my people. Everyone.

I'll probably be phone-able again next week. We'll see.