Fuck all.

22 Oct 04: Measurable Quantities of Social Activity

The essay on sex and related issues will have to wait a bit more, as Spider's birthday party took priority. It made me feel a bit better and less discouraged about social stuff. There were some people there that I have not seen for far too long. With some, this is rectifiable, and steps are going to be taken in that direction; with others, I fear it isn't, not any more (no matter how I wish otherwise). All in all a pleasant night, though.

Earlier today, finally managed to make it to Auri's place for that long-planned coffee and to meet Venla. She was adorable. I'm still not good with children - I'm afraid I won't know how to be with them, and get embarrassed - but I was honestly glad to have met her.

I was teased mercilessly about my fangirliness at the party. It seems every self-respecting guy at least must loathe Connor... Oh well, for once I am not Ms. Median Opinion, then...

21 Oct 04: Dreams

My dreams have become more colourful again, and for the past couple of nights, have had some surprisingly desirable elements in them. Not that they've lasted, of course, even in the dreams.

I've been wondering, on somewhat obvious impulse, if it might not be good for me to finally take up some sort of martial arts. I've thought of it for years - you know, just to try out some other form of dance than the thing itself - but now I'm thinking it might make me feel less powerless in general.

(Of course, it would require me to have a regular income first. Not that that is not the desired end state anyway...)

(Night) Went to town to visit Lin on her autumn break and see her new kitten, who is the most adorable little sleek neat black thing there ever was, and completely fearless to boot. Then went to listen to some folk music at the Academy's Phoenix Club with Anni and Paula, and to fulfill basic needs with junk food while chatting further with Anni. Some con references had touched the festering sores again, but managed to avoid most unpleasantness by ignoring them hard enough. Talked some about writing, or one's lack of same.

While walking home, came to think about parents and upbringing and whether one can really ever be free of it; whether it is even right to try and be free of it. An individualist would say one has the right to do whatever makes one happy, no matter what other people feel about it - but I don't think I agree with that ideology. I believe we are creatures that require connection, a whole network of connections: a group and a society. So we have to work in the framework of those connections. And after all, parents have invested a lot in their child - is it right or fair not to return that; not to try and make them happy by fulfilling their expectations? I mean, what else have they got, in the end, than their children's lives?

Oh. I think I see. Something, anyway. I wonder if I should be respectful enough to take that part out... or if I should admit that I really don't think my parents have anything worth of remembering in their lives. That is a horrible thought, isn't it? And is it really true, or am I being really unfair to them? And in any case, it is true that they have put in a lot of money, support, worry and care into my upbringing. So what are my duties in return of that? What, exactly? Are they just material and social - at some stage in their old age, to take care of them and to not let them feel alone - or are they also emotional and intellectual? What is the right level of duty?

I honestly don't know.

On another tangent completely: Paula and I were talking about ways to be social or to be friends in the social circles around us, and she coined this great phrase that unfortunately does not translate: emotionaalista kokoomuslaisuutta. Meaning the sort of attitude to social relationships in which the weak fall and the strong say it was their own fault anyway, and that they (the strong) should not be burdened by other people's problems. This is the logical conclusion of the sort of attitude that nasty little thing "Five Geel Social Fallacies" displays; the polar opposite of people trying desperately to have everyone be friends... and as opposites often are, just as bad. If not more so.

And I do realise this may be a very, very unpopular opinion for many people that I would love to have as friends, or at least get along with, but I'm sick and tired of the proclamations of how no-one needs to care about anyone's feelings because of individualism being sacred. Individualism is all fine and dandy, and so is intellect, but we are creatures of emotion as well - inevitably - and trying to leave that out of the equation is just ridiculous. It's just sociopathic.

Oh well. This was not at all what I was going to write. I actually had planned on this essay about sex and the single woman in the internet age (since I have had some small things happen lately that bother me quite a lot, but are not really things I can write about even if I want to - not mine to write in the first place, or too hurtful even if the hurt is coincidental - I decided that I could just as well write about something I really find difficult). But I'm cold and achy and tired and it will have to wait until tomorrow. And it's probably going to be a lot less controversial than what I wrote today. Fancy that.

I'm still hopelessly fangirlish about Connor. Also went and looked up some information of the actor, Vincent Kartheiser, and got a big dose of healthy respect for his work and attitude to acting. I prefer actors who know their art and have the courage to challenge themselves to those who are stuck on being just pretty, popular faces (and bodies). If I had ever really had the opportunity to try out for acting, I would very probably have crashed, sooner or later, into the granite wall of my phobia of being ridiculous, anywhere, ever. A real actor cannot afford that, and I have enormous respect for them for that.

20 Oct 04: Not Giving In

Have made attempts at things, even when sleep would have been an easy excuse. Didn't get to bed until four last night (as per norm when in the throes of new excitement), but was up before nine, to welcome Anni for tea and catching up. Was good. Then, cancelled therapy to finally finish that vampire game report - would not have done that for any other hobby-related thing, but this one was so crucial to such a long history, and would have been too huge a failure if it had not been finished, that I felt justified. Liisa understood and agreed to move the session to next week, so there'll be an extra one, and this time I will make it. After all, against all reasonable expectations, I did manage the report as well. And even more so: sent it, even though it was most imperfect.

No, imperfection is not good; of course not. But being able to forgive oneself for it to make a deadline is.

I want season five. Immediately. And I want better fanfiction! I want it so bad I almost managed to write some, against all my better judgement. Not quite, though, at least not yet. It may yet come to be, considering the difficulty of finding anything even remotely good in this round of search...

Tired. Honestly so, now. Small accomplishment; big in my world. Now should be able to make it to meet Paula for some fabric dyeing.

Oh, also, had to break into house on Monday, when keys were left home. By luck could do it without any substantial damage (not that that option is open any more: made sure of that... and it's not like anyone would dare to come into our house uninvited anyway, with the black monster defending it so valiantly). It was rather exciting, anyway.

Two-thirds into Iron Council, completely disinterested in picking it up again. If it doesn't get better, will be seriously disappointed by the end (I don't leave books unfinished as a rule).

...Boy. Now that I've had a moment to reflect on it, I am feeling the relief. Such a small thing, but what a weight it was - completely disproportionate to the true relevancy of the thing: just a couple of paragraphs of conversation in the course of a hobby. Such a small thing, and such a weight off. Hnh.

(Night) Made it to the fabric dyeing session with Paula: both pieces ended up beautifully (soft, thick, sleek silk coloured beautifully green for Tiina, and something I'm making as a gift for Mom coloured a fantastic, rich blueberry). Had not remembered to eat anything besides some small berry pastries Anni brought in the morning, and the lack of sleep on top of that... we were pretty exhausted in the end, and since I had been foolish enough to wear the extrahigh-heeled boots and since I was carrying a couple of kilos of wet fabrics, I had to use the Housemate Pity Option... But now I've had food, done the final washing of the silk, and can get to sleep with the knowledge of proper work done today. Besides, it was great to get to gossip and enthuse with my fab sis-in-law again.

Besides I seem to have found a smattering of decent Connor fanfiction (that isn't slash! or, well, at least not all of it) at last. Somewhere in the search I blundered on to facts that everyone in the fandom seems to be in the know of except me; among them, that fans universally hated Connor (to the extent that the actor knows this). Eh? Which fans are these? And why? I can see how relentless doom might not be to everyone's taste, but why dislike the character for that? Or is it something else I can't think of now?

19 Oct 04: Reading Television

Okay. That was unexpectedly rough.

I just finished watching season 4 of Angel, with a marathon of twelve hours. I know I had lots of other things on which I could have used my time more productively, but, well, if it had been an interesting book, I would have done just the same: not been able to put it down. It's the same number of hours out of my life eventually, whether all at once or in small parts. And it actually made me feel a lot. Perhaps think as well (though that may be too much to ask of my head at any time or occasion...). I can't remember when last I have squealed and whimpered and laughed and cried at anything on film or in TV - and it's not like I hadn't already read episode summaries beforehand!

What was it, then, that made me react? Connor. For some reason, I not only found the character attractive (as I admitted in the last entry), but also - and increasingly - identified with him more strongly than I ever could have suspected. Whoever it was who predicted I would like him, you were right. Watching the earlier seasons, I've identified with the show's overall themes, but not had any one character speak to me. Now... well, now I did, and considering what this particular character went through, it was quite a ride. Not easy at all, no. Hard and painful and sad and terribly, terribly unfair, as you surely know if you have watched it (and if you haven't, I'm not going to make recommendations one way or another - not yet, when I haven't processed it properly myself).

I don't really have a good idea of why I feel so strongly for Connor, when the other characters leave me completely neutral (though I approve of the development of most in these later seasons). I suspect I need to return to this question after some thought. A part of it is certainly the fragile childlike beauty of the actor's face - the sort of beauty to which I seem to continue being irritatingly susceptible - but only a part. One part is clearly his being so lost - despite being a warrior who is very good at basic survival, he is completely cut off from any true understanding of either the people around him (and no wonder, the way he is manipulated!) or his own real self... in fact, he barely has a self at all. He is adrift in a sea of hurt and loneliness and need and so lost that he can't even try to find direction, because he would not know where to start or how.

Hm. I suppose I have more of an idea than I thought. Also, he keeps making the wrong choices because of deliberate, malicious misdirection or just horrible misunderstanding - which is something that makes me feel deeply as well (not that I feel that actually happens to me as much as I have an enormous fear, almost a phobia, that it might). And more, he doesn't really learn and develop much during the season: he is so lost he can't progress. That, also, is familiar.

The only thing is, I am not a beautiful, young, strong warrior with a relentless purpose. The desperate need to find a way to serve righteousness, yes, but that's about it.

That I still keep feeling for the suffering young heroes, ever since Frodo and Luke Skywalker... whether that should tell me something, and what that something might be, I can't really begin to grasp. I can scratch at the edges - after all, I am still at the stage of not having found my purpose and my place; and despite being deeply thankful I'm female (because I'd make a laughably incompetent male), I don't really like my own particular brand of femininity (especially not this body - one's body should be sleek and thin and strong and not have these ugly bumps and bulges all over).

Can't form coherent thoughts any more. Continue another time.

Got a very, very relevant email from a fellow victim of depression, a part of which I'd like to quote here, but another time for that, too, I suppose.

(Night) There's something big I sort of promised to do and was all keen on doing a couple of weeks ago, but now I have suddenly lost faith in my ability to manage it in any way at all, and therefore all interest in the whole business. I don't even know where this apathy came from, when I was so excited about it before - well, it's not completely uncharacteristic to lose confidence, but this totally? Didn't expect it. And it's pretty bad. I really couldn't drop it.

17 Oct 04: The Usual Resignation

Well, still here. As usual. Realised had not enough money (or self-confidence) to go to the party in Turku; almost stayed home simply because felt that if could not make one party, should not deserve the one one could make it to, either. Finally made it to Anu's after all (car ride and all, it was simple enough to be within limits of capabilities). Felt like an outsider - more so than usual, as only knew most of the people marginally. Saw that a certain cute and interesting person one noticed a while ago was... not available any more. Ate too much. At least had some nice chats with people one does not see often, and made Anu happy.

Slept at Suvi's place, which happened to be nearby. Got home, watched more Angel. Irre dropped by on her way home from a cat show. Watched more Angel. Felt guilty for finding Connor cute. Is there no end to one's inability to grow up?

Has not been in the least bit useful.

15 Oct 04: How It Goes

Wake up first time. Don't want to. Dreams are nicer. Go back to sleep until noon.

Drag oneself up. Remember should call about tax card. Don't want to, it's too embarrassing. Well, one can always worry about it later, after checking email and all preferred daily sites that are so absolutely necessary before any work (such as long-procrastinated sewing) can be done.

Find a banana for sustenance, sit down and lose a couple of hours on the Web. Even write two emails with some actual content. Wow. Should write the Vampire game report, but will see to it in the evening. No, really.

Remember not updating diary for several days. Should, don't want to: nothing good to update, after all. No nice, positive development. Find a larp.fi discussion that feel really strongly about and even end up participating in; writing three simple paragraphs takes an hour or so, with several panic breaks. Decide feeling a bit peckish. Cook some macaroni and toss it together with microwave-heated sausage and ketchup: ultimate comfort food. Park oneself in front of the TV to watch season three of Angel while eating.

Watch one more episode of Angel, and then again one more. Oops, it's past office hours: no need to call about tax card now. Watch yet one more: the perfect way to avoid making decisions on parties one has though of going to. Any moment now, will get up and make a real decision on whether to go to this general-invitation party of a nice acquaintance/distant friend whom one has not seen in quite some time, just to say hi and maybe chat a bit with other too-seldom-seen nice acquantainces/friends. Any moment now. The cat climbs in and out of one's lap several times.

More bananas for comfort food. More Angel; there's this one particular episode one wants to get to, and it's now too late to make it to the party anyway. One could, of course, make use of the time watching and take on some parts of the sewing that must be done by hand, but can't remember any convenient parts right now, and is uninclined to think about the whole of the sewing pile properly through right now.

There are also two parties one is invited to tomorrow; in complete panic about deciding between them, so don't want to think about them at all if possible. Will think tomorrow. Despite the fact that it might have affected the decision to find out in good time if the other party could be combined with other activities thereabouts. Also not inclined to think of what to wear or how to look presentable when know it's not possible anyway. Watch more Angel and get to the episode one wanted to see in the first place. It's about ballet. Watching, remember too late the huge mess of scars and pus that that will open.

Remember decision to try and exercise at home, if nothing else, and how that decision should have been in force for days already (or months, if going by earlier such decision... or years...) Go to the fridge and try to find something more to eat. Nick housemate's chocolate. Go in front of the computer just to feel one is doing something else besides watching TV. Eat half of housemate's chocolate. Feel sick. Spend a long time fighting the need to go and throw it up simply to feel something. Tragic and destructive is loads better than numb and useless, after all. Still not sure if have won the fight.

Not written the Vampire game report.

Still no idea what to do with the parties tomorrow.

Very distressed by a file that's making the rounds and that everybody seems to think is really funny and topical, as found it mean-spirited, cold and defensive masquerading as profound sense and wisdom (but could never find the words and analysis to prove it, as isn't bright enough).

Fight the urge to either eat the rest of the chocolate even though don't even like it anymore, or throw up, or both.

And so it goes.

11 Oct 04: Fighting the Frost

Timetables seem to have become more normal, which is odd, as there's no reason why such a thing should come about (no positive developments in mood or energy). I wonder if it's a sign of slowly rising panic? And if so, what is the cause? After all, for me to go from depression to anxiety is generally an indication of something very serious. Or... maybe I've just got it into my head that I need to start exercising, and the anxiety is because I'm prepared, but still not doing it? Or maybe it's basically the same case, but with something more important that I just refuse to think about. I don't know.

I left my makeup bag at the game site; need to go and get it from Suvi as soon as possible. And there's a million other things to do (instead of something more important, like getting a long-term life). Right now, I need to convince myself that I am able to get out of the door and go to therapy. I'm halfway there, though - I'm dressed (I mean, properly - in clothes that are acceptable enough and warm enough for going out of the door). So maybe I can.

(Night) Well, I made it. The ordeal goes on tomorrow (extra session) and the day after. After refusing to talk about my miserable study situation (what study?) I mentioned how I at least got a grip on my inferiority complex and got myself to Saturday's LARP - and found I was in tears. And couldn't explain why: I tried, and spend the next twenty minutes floundering in aimless descriptions until I admitted I could not catch any drift of what it was that drove me to tears. It wasn't that I knew but couldn't put into words; I didn't know. My whole deal with the character and the campaign is this huge formless lump of vulnerability that I don't know how to handle - and yet every separate issue in it seems small and really not worth getting into a bother for.

Maybe it's simply that my own relationship to this particular character is very emotional and empathetic, and her relationships are very emotional and angst-filled and vulnerable (doubly so, because WOD vampires aren't supposed to be vulnerable) - but I don't feel much connection to or support from the players I've had dealings with all these years. I've never really found my "place": my character is, or at least used to be, a fixture, but very much an outside one at that, a wall-hanging on the sidelines. The chronicle is not very emotion- or relationship-driven and never has been, but instead concentrates a lot on complicated plotting by the characters or towards them - which really should be no surprise in WOD Vampire. Isn't, actually. I've known this for a long time, but I've thought that it might change with time. And I don't think I've really been very good at explaining what kind of game suits me in terms that have been easy for the narrators to understand. Tne end result is that I have this character arc that feels real and important to me - but is of ridiculously small importance, and mostly imaginary (well, of course this all is, but I mean not in any way relevant to anything) to anyone else.

And I found that it hurts, badly. One reason why I probably find it so difficult to write my game reports is that this character makes me feel so vulnerable, and that I experience this dissonance between her meaning for me and her meaning for others so strongly (I don't actually mean that she's actively important to me, just that getting into her headspace opens some wounds for me) ...and don't want to show that vulnerability to my narrator, whom I have nothing against as a fellow human being not really connected with my life, but whom I don't trust to understand anything about my emotions or vulnerabilites. And I don't really have anyone else to confide in, either.

So, about those books... I've borrowed loads from other people (mostly Seanna, again - her tastes seem very similar to mine, and she has many modern fantasy classics in her library; books I've been wanting to read for years!). The last book in the Kushiel trilogy was quite nice, better than the middle one, though still dragging it a bit (by this third volume, the heroine's specialness was getting a little too heavy - not much, but just enough to register as an irritant). I liked the ending, though, very much. Archangel by Sharon Shinn had an interesting world, but was a bit too light on the science fiction side and a bit too heavy on the romance-novel cliches - not a bad book, quite a good one, but nothing spectacular. Bridge of Birds by Barry Hughart, "a fantasy of a China that never was", a detective story and a heroic journey and a fairytale all in one was just as good as I've always heard it to be, and miles above the recently translated, much-hyped Japanesque fantasy Across the Nightingale Floor (maybe I've just had my fill of samurai-era Japan?). I didn't like the translation of the latter, either - it didn't flow smoothly, and gave the book an oddly naive tone that I doubt was in the original. Or maybe it was?

Now I'm about to finish the Hamilton indulgence, A Caress of Twilight, and then going to decide between Iron Council, Judith Tarr's The Hound and the Falcon and Patricia McKillip's Riddlemaster of Hed - an overabundance of much-lauded modern fantasy indeed. I've started, but not yet finished, The Sky Road by Ken McLeod (I've read the quartet in patches, only finished The Stone Canal last month and was surprised to like it, so decided to give the last one a try) and some Scarlet Pimpernel books that P&P gave me for my birthday.

I'm glad I have books to curl up with, as the day was freezing and the cold is seeping into the house. Better try and check those window-frames, as I've planned to do all summer... I should, actually, let go of the tomes and write several game reports, including the Vampire one. And do some of the sewing I always talk about and keep pushing forward. I'm just too cold and tired and can't be bothered tonight...

I should write more, and with more definite goals. I thought this diary might serve as a writing exercise, but I'm pretty convinced by now that it doesn't. Maybe it's the foreign language, maybe not. Maybe I'm just not that talented despite always secretly believing so (well, my teachers did get remarkably excited in every level of my schooling, but then I grew up and decided I hated the naivety and imperfection of my own writing and stopped for years and years, and now it seems it's gone for good, or was always an illusion based on a moderate smidgen of talent).

10 Oct 04: Sluggish Gold

A cold, bright day, like white wine. Got up surprisingly early despite game and post-adrenaline and books last night. Did some arranging on the fabrics that are still lying about (though more than half of them are already more-or-less neatly stored, most of the small bits are still lying in piles here and there). Tomi got here in the afternoon for the fitting of his ren costume - it fit pretty well and only needed a bit of adjustment around shoulders and armholes. Now I only hope that the lovely sari planned for the outer fabric for both doublet and short cloak really is big enough... We made pizza and drunk quite a bit of tea and chatted about games (he'd been to Pahan tuulen suunta yesterday, while I was still trying to make sense of yesterday's campaign experience) and life until I took him to his train.

Later, I went to have late-night tea with Mom and came back with yet another piece of clothing - a coat of black suede, sort of a cross between sporty and dressy. It's quite nice, though I generally prefer more fitted styles, and it's just the right thickness for this nippy weather. She said she bought it in Savonlinna, and as usual, it was too big from the beginning (she has very narrow shoulders and short-ish arms). I am beginning to wonder if she actually makes the same mistake every time, or if it's her way of buying me clothes she deems acceptable...

Back to shameless trash: the second Merry Gentry book by Laurell K. Hamilton... Beautiful and dangerous fey men - what more can one ask, really? (Yes, I should be writing my game report, but I'm quite ready to drop, again - don't really expect the book to keep me awake for more than a couple of pages, either...)

09 Oct 04: Caesar-ish

So I got myself to the game and saw it through. And even though it was not a particularly pleasant evening for my character, getting a victory over my terror of having to dress up when looking like this must be considered worth something. Right now, I'm tired therefore feeling low, but all in all - so much better than if I had stayed in bed and given up... and lost Kaarina...

Have to concentrate on that, and how good it is, relatively speaking. In absolute terms, I'm already turning this into negativity in my head: how I should have given the character more attention these past years, and if I had, I would have much more fun now, and she would be much more important... I have to try and be rational: it would not have been possible. I did my best, with this illness. And if it isn't quite the glorious story it might have been, well, that's unfortunate, but such things happen. And it could be so much worse: it could be over in a way I didn't want. It isn't, because I managed to overcome myself today.

Not that I can really feel any satisfaction or victory. I just have to concentrate on knowing it.

I also gritted my teeth with the headache yesterday and made it to Topsu's birthday party. The headache relented, but then I got really tired. I would have liked to watch all of the funny collectible ship-card game that Topsu and Ebu started, but when I got a ride home, I had to take it. Still, fabulous chocolate cake, madeira and nice people.

Been on a reading spree. More on that tomorrow.

08 Oct 04: ...And Sinking

The odd burst of strength ran out yesterday. Barely managed to stumble up around ten - and then, with ample time to make it to therapy, just sat there, and didn't. Couldn't get out of the door, couldn't think of going to report on another period of time spent not progressing, not accomplishing... Was going to make an excuse - overslept, or something - but didn't do even that. Didn't answer the phone. Took a book, soon fell asleep again.

This should probably be worrisome. I don't know. I don't feel much anything.

I see myself repeating the self-defeating prophecy of everything I do in this diary. I always know what I should do, but I can't do it. I realised almost at once that I had grown afraid to write after that Ropecon aftertalk furor (which still was not my fault, dammit!), and that if there was any use to this diary, then I should not let the fear stop me, but just go on writing. No matter how stupid I felt. No matter how much I felt that people would misunderstand and misrepresent. No matter how afraid I was of becoming part of social wars I never wanted. And yet... knowing all this, I still went on acting in the same irrational way: not writing, letting fear control me. And am still doing the same.

I'll try again. Still, it's not just those things, either: I also grow more and more ashamed of not getting better; of not being okay already. After all, stories like this are supposed to be eventual successes to be instructive, aren't they...? (Yes, I remember I wrote about this at some earlier date, can't remember when or what exactly.)

I don't know if I have the strength to go to parties tonight. I have to make it to the vampire chronicle tomorrow, or that's it for my character. At the moment it seems impossible either way - dressing up tomorrow, or accepting the death (without any input from me) of a character of nine years.

(Later) ...Terror headache. Lovely. Will not give in and stay home, but won't be able to leave for a moment... so probably no time to stop at Nina's party.

06 Oct 04: Across the Sands

Been up and about. This was the third day in a row when I got up before eight am, and the fifth in a row when I was moving so much that I came home from the train late and with aching feet. This is good, i suppose.

So, went to Hyperborea's concert and then to dinner and even to the pub for a while. The concert was great; I liked their new sound much better this time. The CD looks okay (naturally I have a vested interest, having done those translations) and sounds much more than okay.

Too tired. Can't write. Must sleep.

Reading four books at the same time, about to start one more (but it's Iron Council, so I'm sure that's understandable).

04 Oct 04: The Familiar Layer of Void

I should probably be feeling something on account of getting over the bug, whatever it was, without another prolonged legacy of cough, and of having been a Good Person on Saturday for a couple of hours (went to help with the Red Cross campaign by standing with a collection box in Tapiola on a bright and nippy morning; it was nicer and easier than I feared - but then, I feared as I usually do, which is to say, much), and of having been able to meet friends both on Friday and Saturday, and of having been invited to a couple of parties after a long while. Instead, I just feel like always - numb. Directionless. Insulated from all these by the cold of the desert. Like the cold layer of moisture on the skin when coming in to the sauna from the lake (such an apt comparison, and totally incomprehensible to anyone not Finnish...).

Today's the day to deal with the vampire campaign thing, and I'm terrified, obviously.

Have some sewing to do before that, though, so am trying to put off thinking about it long enough to actually make it to the meeting before the quite reasonable sense of self-loathing catches up.

Oh yes, and I also seem to be up and awake at normal hours (actually woke before eight am today). We'll see how long that miracle lasts...

(Night) Rright, if I start worrying about my dress now, I may be able to psych myself up in time for Saturday's game. It's a fair try, at least.

The clan meeting dragged on far too late for my comfort - essential people were late or missing, and I got a migren or something (hurting all over and feeling nauseous, actually). Still, at least it's done now, and I can still play.

The party for Hyperborea's new record is Wednesday night at Sibelius-Akatemia. Will be there. Actually, there's a lot of stuff programmed for this week. We'll see how it goes.