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You can still contact me at svaha@iki.fi |
28 Sep 05: ...All Done Shouldn't have praised the weather. Bah. Useless day, except for the evening, when I finally managed to be home and available to welcome back the rest of the fantasy props, and then got myself out and to town to see Seanna. Which I was very glad to do. I desperately hope to find some simple medical reason of all this tiredness. Two more weeks until the doctor's appointment... Made some small plans today, but won't dare to talk about them until I've actually implemented them. On the reading front, going through most of Perez-Reverte. So far, Carlos Ruiz was better (though not quite as wonderful as I first thought). The jury is still out. Headachy. Should learn to write more about current issues - it's not like I don't read about them and think about them. I just don't have very original opinions, I suppose. 27 Sep 05: These Days of Belated Grace If all autumns were like this - merciful sun and the full blaze of colours so often just hoped for - I might hate them less. Cold terrifies me, and so do times of inherent change, but this is mercy and nourishment for the soul. I spent the Sunday at Mirka's place in Mallusjoki, picking berries and red apples and pretending to a proper walk with their dog before sauna, and it felt so good. So restful. I should just believe what I already know - I need to get out to nature more. Saturday was different fun: we went to EK's (the "other" medieval society's) autumn party and baronial investiture, and I had quite a good time all in all. Of course there were moments of self-consciousness and alienation, but mostly it was another nice opportunity to dress up, meet some friends one sees too seldom, and enjoy candlelight and huge amounts of good food. The party was nicely set up, and as the time period is more limited than in the SCA, the style of dress was more restful to my eye, and I can see the merit in sticking to persona and to period- suitable subjects of discussion (which for some reason is no longer done in the SCA, as far as I have observed). Not that I want to set one up over the other - both have their good and bad points, and I feel more comfortable in the SCA most of the time (I think it's mostly due to people chemistry, really). I'm awfully glad Mirka agreed to go with me, so I had a ride and a reason not to give in to the pre-party terror. Lin's dress turned out acceptably, even though it gave me no end of headache last week. Now we just need to make a linen underdress for it at some stage. I also managed a quick modification of an old dress I'd given up on (the red one in the Kristuskeisari V picture) and decided it may be added back to the active reserve for now. However, I'm still sleepy and listless all the time. I missed therapy today simply by oversleeping - and I'd gone to bed before midnight! How is it that I can still sleep until one pm just like that? Have to make Heli's dress and finish up some other sewing stuff this week, so simply have to perk up. At least there's nothing big planned for next weekend... 20 Sep 05: Vanquished, Again! I give up. I confess to being solidly beaten, trashed, trammeled. I yield to the power and mystery of chemical processes, even though I had so often prided myself with my mastery over them (or at least these particular chemical processes). I simply can't. get. this. brocade. the. right. colour. We'll have to see if it'll be at least serviceable. Been sleeping at more regular hours, but still pathologically much. Spent Saturday with Mom&co, at first "shopping" (ie. walking slowly enough for Grandma and watching them shop, getting more bored than could be thought possible) at Itäkeskus, then at Kerava. For once, fell asleep easily while there, but even then was restless and woke too early. The visit was quite nice otherwise. Was useless on Sunday, have worked on Lin's Herjolfsnes-variant cotehardie for two evenings, fiddled endlessly with the fit (with a simple four-piece pattern this could have been accomplished in an hour, while it now took about six!!). Still not happy with it; clearly one for the count of Learning Experiences, and so am not content at all. Intense therapy sessions continue. Today, among other things, I got so mad at Liisa (probably quite mistakenly) that I almost walked out, which I have never done (as far as I can remember). But at least it shows I can show negative emotions now, if need be. And it was far from being the only emotional moment of the session - and nowhere near the most important one. Too late, too tired again. 15 Sep 05: Made It Very intense session at the therapist today, thought-wise. Now need to go to sleep and see if timetable might be straightened a bit. 14 Sep 05: An Abba Song Can you guess which one? Yep, "Slipping through my fingers". Time just... disappears. Sleep claims me and rules jealously. And I drift on through mists where even dreams aren't worth remembering. I was supposed to go to Linnanmäki with friends on Sunday. Nope: sleep. I was supposed to go to therapy on Tuesday and then pick up fabric for Lin's cotehardie; was supposed to meet a friend on Wednesday. Nope: more sleep. I managed to go and see Mom and Grandma at Kerava on Monday, but that's about the only time I've been awake. I read an interesting article on the Sunday paper about the symptoms of thyroid insufficiency and wonder if that should be checked, just in case. I'm not saying my depression's not depression, just that there are these things that could also not be there, maybe. Anyway, did finish the last book of the Foreigner sequence - so far; I hear there's another one out by now. There were rather too many needless ponderings on the way, but it finally got there in the end: wonderfully engaging characters, but I think I've had my fill of the writing for a while. Now I'm reading this marvellous Spanish book, of which more later. I thought I had a French soul, but I've started to think that it's Spanish instead. And then I've ended up in an angst-filled Finnish story (for I can't pretend my life could be written by anyone but a moping Finn). I don't know why it's so difficult to go and get myself to a meeting with he therapist, once more. It shouldn't be, not any longer. I don't like autumn. 10 Sep 05: One Forward, Two Back? Thursday, I was fine: had managed to sleep at night, was up and moving, met with Paula and visited Heli to get her dress fabrics. But therapy was moved to Friday, and in the evening, for some reason, I could not get to sleep. One should have been tired by then, but I just wasn't. I tried - I went to bed properly and tried for hours - but it didn't work. And so, in the morning, I had only just got to proper sleep, and could not get up. And after that, I've mostly just slept, and read some. A bit sad about not being in any game or anything. Need more books. Sewed a tiny bit, too. Need to work harder. Much in need of good fanfiction or some other sort of escapist dreams where everyone gets to live happily ever after. Starved for great romance. Also, surprisingly, much in need of dreams to write about - perhaps there is the teeniest tiniest bit of a writing soul inside this shell after all? 07 Sep 05: Bottom of the Dive? Perhaps this time the slide is bound to start upwards by now. Star of dizziness shook me into my senses, to take the meds even if I wake up in the evening (as they are supposed to be taken in the morning). Ugh, writing about "taking the meds" always sounds so difficult, so... loaded, as if without them I'd turn into a voice- hearing serial killer, when in fact I just get weepy, self-loathing and pessimistic. Sure, seriously weepy, self-loathing and pessimistic, but not... not crazy. Anyway, shaken enough to feel somewhat more determined. Found that there's another group and a later application date for that uni dropout program, which helps a lot. On the sewing front, gave up on that complicated, wide tabletwoven band: the dark green thread is simply impossible to work with. Will do something else with something that matches it closely enough. Also found sewing metallic braid to edges is one of those things that turns out to be much harder than one would expect. Had nightmares, which I seldom do, thankfully. These were rather bad, though. Don't even want to write them up, but I suppose it would be useful. Apropos, realised that forgot the actual link to the dream diary from every single email sent to friends about it. Typical. Paula's big sister Hanna had twin sons today. The babies ("dudes", as Paula put it) were somewhat early, as so often with twins, but everyone is doing fine by now. Babies are starting to pop up all around, and I'm more than ever conscious of the passage of time. Confessing to having gone in search of POTO smut... but the results were even more unsatisfactory than usual when in search of a particular brand of fanfiction. I'm old and cynic enough to not find anything in those Christine's-true-love-heals-Erik-the-Phantom-with-mindblowing-sex stories except yawns, though I think can see the appeal of such teenage-minded bodice rippers. And I understand why most women find the Phantom more exciting than Raoul particularly in the stage version. But look, what's wrong with the young Vicomte in the movie version, really? I think he's quite the dashing hero, swashbuckling, voice and all, and would do fine for me, especially as I would nowadays run screaming away from any man in need of serious emotional healing. And anyway, how about just some honest smut? Competently written and in character, preferably? So far, findings have been nonexistent. (Words: yes, they are my "thing", even in this. Always.) Time to whip oneself into setting down those nightmares. And despite all this self-involved obsessing, I really wish I would have any means or resources to help people. In NO or anywhere. 06 Sep 05: Story 1, Ash-wing 0... But Pretend It's Tennis How can it be so blasted difficult to construct a simple narrative, to tell one thing after another as long as there are events to tell? And yet it is; it has always been the one thing that has eluded me, mocked me, infuriated me. Dialogue - sure. People - done deal. Descriptions - not Neruda or Atwood (not even AQ, and ask only if you want to know), but at least I can turn them out, and sometimes they approach something serviceable. But simply telling things? Nu-uh. It is and always has been my one huge stone on the path to finishing a letter, a game report, a character history, a short story... and, it seems, a dream entry. See, I finally got myself kicking and screaming to start that dream diary. I had a really great dream last night (well... day) and thought it would be easy - inspired, even - to set it down. Bzzzt, wrong. It took me uncomfortably long, following precisely my usual mode of stopping in the middle of a sentence for an hour or so of some completely unrelated activity, then getting back for two words or at best, a paragraph, and then another bout of some other activity for two or more hours, to come back with one or two more words, until it was finally done, by which stage the whole thing had turned into something of an anticlimax. However, it was done. And so, maybe, this is how it works. Not flowing easily, in the liquid fires of exalted inspiration, but, well, plodding. Pulling and pushing and just working on, even when the end is nowhere in sight and the small piece of work seems to stretch into grudging eternity; and even when it is, and you already feel the first stirrings of the (unhealthy, you know it!) doubt, of questioning the worth of the whole deal because you will know, and see even now, that the work didn't result in divine revelation, ascension to a higher level or the solving of the world's problems. So this is how it is. But even so, something can still get finished in that way. Like today. So perhaps it is the right practice? Perhaps? Well, we'll soon see the truth of that hope, with those three game reports I must absolutely get done. (Cue the obligatory ominous drum roll. We could not leave with a note of hope, now could we?) Mph. Okay, that was the inevitable ace from the left field, but we'll fight back. So what is it that I specifically have to learn about constructing a narrative? Simple: How. To. Be. Concise. And also, how to just bulldoze on even when I Don't Know What The Next Word Is - patch it through with something mundane and faulty, inspiration be damned, and trust that I can come back later and change it; find something more suitable, take the whole thing out, whatever. Those are the two big ones. And, of course, learning to vary language, both in service of those two and to make the text interesting and pleasurable in itself. (No, there's no link to the dream diary yet. Probably won't be, as my dreams tend to be populated by real people in situations neither I nor they would find probable or even desirable in real life. Friends - or distant enough strangers that are into dreams - can ask. But I warn you, they are extremely detailed, and as the logic of dreams goes, the details don't really add up.) 05 Sep 05: Nothing New Under These Stars I'm sort of disappointed with this August: it provided no big emotions whatsoever, despite ample opportunity (two high-maintenance games and an SCA event). I suppose I'm hopelessly past everything, a dusty tin that is pushed ever further back on the shelf so no-one would notice the long-past date. I didn't have a bad time - mostly good, really - but somehow I just feel generally... empty. August let me down, which it really should not do. It's not fair. Not that it ever was. I went all soft again and promised to make another dress - this time for Lin, and out of her fabrics, so the compensation will only be for the work. But she's counted as family, so it's okay. And I won't start for a week or so, hoping to finish lots of the old stuff before that. And then Heli's Venetian variation, which I'm really looking forward to working on, as it's new for me, relatively simple (particularly since Heli won't need huge layers of support), and the fabric is just so lovely. (Actually, I'm rather excited about Lin's cotehardie as well, as that's new for me, too, but I tried that sort of construction with Annika's dress, so it should work. But buttons, Lin'll have to manage on her own! I'll give advice, though.) Got the rest of the complicated tabletwoven band under work, too. Otherwise - slept too much, don't know why. Slept all of Sunday, slept
all of today. Keep dreaming about having a student room on rent that I never
visit - sometimes even with pets forgotten there. Hate those. Also keep
having more of those dreams about the big mansion (sometimes castle,
sometimes just a big new house) that our family rents... Have been hemming
and hawing on that dream diary constantly these past couple of days, but
actually feel that my dreams are Have finally watched Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera; didn't write about it at first because didn't want to anger so many dear people who have a soft spot for the musical, but now just want you to understand this is mean to be taken with humour... At first, was not too impressed but did not understand the most vehements criticisms either (particularly about the leads, who I thought were quite acceptable). Now, having watched it twice and feeling an inexplicable urge to go back to it once more, I am starting to agree with those theatre critics who insist that ALW must have made a pact with the devil. I mean, how else could shows that have only one melody to them, two at most, and those being repetitive, pompous ditties, be such phenomenal successes?? Phantom at least has twice that many, maybe three and a half, so it's in the realm of respectable... but now those three and a half melodies keep pestering my brain so badly and pulling me towards having to listen to them again and again that there just has to be something demonic about the whole deal... I don't even particularly like them! Well, except for "Past the Point of No Return", which I had not heard too many times before. All in all, I didn't feel at all the way I felt about Les Miserables or some other musicals, but I did not hate it either - thought it was less impressive than I had been led to believe, but quite okay. But there has to be something there to have such a power to compell... Got into such a worrisome spot in the next-to-last Foreigner book that was forced to switch into Otherland by Tad Williams for a while. Now gonna go do some sewing. 03 Sep 05: Mission Feint Successful Did it! Stayed up, sewed, watched movies, and in the morning, got out of the door and not to bed. Was reassured that the quality of the big fleamarket near us has gone down critically. Went to town, met Heli, found the perfect fabric for her new gown - well, except for color - then advised her on dyes to pick for it. Went to some second-hand stores as well, and broke all good promises by buying some pieces of fabric (but, but, really nice and useful pieces of fabric, I swear!). Had tea and chocolate cake at Heli's new place, finalised dress sketch. Pottered through some parts of Stockmann, ran into old friends on the way out and did the usual Niagara of talk in fifteen minutes of catching up. Got home. And now all ready to sleep! 01 Sep 05: Out With It! Or: Confession Time (I'll change the colour of the background once I decide which colour I want.) So. I already confessed to being terrified of going to class, not having been able to use summer productively to get into shape and the level I belong to, and also that at least part of the reason I go to SCA is the hope of finding Mr. Right. Let's get the rest of it over and done with, then. One. I've been eating very badly for the past two weeks, and part of it is that I've slid back into thinking one can always "get rid of it". Which I've done. Not always, not every day, but often enough. I've gotten into the habit of secretly "allowing" myself a whole tub of that luxury banana chocolate ice cream, because, well. One can always. And since I for some odd reason don't always feel like throwing up even if I've eaten a whole bag of bagels or a tub of ice cream, I'm putting on weight and feeling less and less excited about going to class. Part of it is surely the aforementioned terror of going at all, but a big part is number two in the list. Which is that I didn't apply for that program for university dropouts. I had simply driven myself into a situation where I was too busy by the deadline (too many sewing projects to finish ASAP), and after that I'm sure I might still have asked and begged and maybe got it, but it was too difficult to dare that. And now I haven't, and soon Mom will find out, and such a thing should not matter - I'm a grownup, it's my own problem - but she'll be hugely disappointed, and I'll hate myself. I'm hitting myself right now for having made any proud plans and promises in her - or anyone's - hearing; of pretending again that I'm actually already perfectly fine, and now people will be disappointed again. And I don't know which is the worse thought: that I could have seen this through and just was too lazy and stupid, or that I could not realistically have done it even now, which means I'm still ill and may even stay like that forever. Or at least another whole year, for which I do not have the time. Three, or: "Dear Diary, I've been sleeping with someone behind your back..." Actually, it's not that big a deal, it's only been friendly sex, and only twice, but I've been ashamed to admit it because it's been A Certain Someone. Yes, I'm over him - I haven't been hiding that - but who am I to say no to a friendly round of fun? Except, it seems our definitions of "a friendly round of fun", or what constitutes generally good sex, seem to be so far apart that I'm ashamed to admit to that story as well. 'Cause it could be read to show that he didn't even like it with me and wanted it done and over with as quickly as possible, which means I'm unattractive (and just happened to have been available). I'm not saying it is the absolute truth, just that I came out of the two different times with bafflingly conflicting and ultimately downputting experiences, and that does suggest it was a bad idea to begin with, which tells us why I didn't want to admit to any of it. I think that's enough for one night. There's still a Four, but that has to do with friendship and belonging and feeling like an outcast (the true points of terror in this time and place of mine), and I haven't yet managed to beat myself into talking about it. One day should do it. This may also be a confession, but on a completely different scale: I am now so deeply into Cherryh's Foreigner universe (fourth book half through) and so emotionally invested in it that I have to take a break from reading when things look bad for the hero's side. In other terms, am fangirling like crazy, and am even contemplating Mary Sue fanfiction. (I've noticed that nearly all my fanfiction ideas tend to be Mary Sues. I guess I just want to be there, have a more interesting life, be someone more interesting, and my need to write any fanfiction comes from that, instead of my having a primary need to write fanfiction and then think that Mary Sues are a fine form if it, which they aren't.) (Hum. That was actually an embarrassing confession almost on the scale of the numbered ones above. But, as you see, I don't actually write much anything, so it's rather irrelevant for now.) |