An Advent Tale XI

While Julian managed to spill his cup of tea and Ray tried to clean it up without Shana noticing, Kati told them her mission.

“Like I told you over the phone,” she said to Shana, “The Invictus are looking for this guy who’s been all over the vampire radar the last weeks. He’s killed everyone who came in his way. Traveled very pointedly down south, and then back up north lately. We still don’t know why or who he really is, but whatever he’s trying to do he must be stopped before he kills more of us.”

“Wow,” Aiden said, “that’s a powerful vampire.”

Kati shook her head. “That’s the thing. He’s not a vampire. As far as we know he’s just a mortal.”

“A hunter?”

“He hasn’t gone after anyone personally,” Kati said, “only defended himself. So, Shana, what can you do?”

“Like I said,” Shana said, “I’m on Ray’s side, and Ray is neutral, so I won’t help you go after anyone. But I can see if I can find him.” Once again Shana opened her book. Again purple energy spewed out. She quickly snapped the book shut, with her hand this time. “Damn. That’s strange.”

“What happened?” Kati demanded.

“Something is protecting him from my sight,” Shana said. “The strange thing is, the same thing happened with that girl Sam.” Julian perked up. “I think they’re in the same place.”

“He killed her!?!” Julian demanded.

“If he had killed her they wouldn’t be in the same place,” Shana said. “What I do know is that he’s coming this way. In a very straight line.”

An Advent Tale X

While Shana alone appreciated her tea, Julian came to understand that his newfound friends’ friendliness indeed wasn’t the result of the hallowed time of year, but rather his instinctual use of vampire powers. Once that was established, and the others had declared they would help him find Sam but would also kick his butt if he tried to do that again, attention turned back to Shana.

“Well, I’ll see if I can find her then,” Shana said, setting her empty cup aside.

The book on the table snapped shut and Shana closed her eyes and mumbled a few words. Another book came flying to her and she flipped through it, still with her eyes closed. The room seemed to shrink on them and the air became heavy. Julian thought he could se swirls of pink energy emanating from the book. Halfway the energy changed color into a sickening purple clashing horribly with the red cashmere and blue silk.

Then Shana opened her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, waving her hands to chase the purple color away. “Locating people is difficult, but vampires are almost impossible. I can tell you’re not from around here, though. You came from down south, many nights ago. Fleeing from something, or someone.”

“And Sam didn’t come with me?”

“Not as far as I can tell.”

“Well,” said the woman who had brought them there, “if you’re done, can I have a moment.”

“You came to see Shana too?” Aiden asked.

“Obviously,” the woman said. “Why else would I have taken you here.” She stood and held out a hand to Shana. “I’m Kati. I called, remember?”

An Advent Tale IX

“Thank you,” Julian said, “but we’re kind of in a hurry. I have to find Sam. She’s my girlfriend, she was with me when…” A cup of tea came levitating towards him and he took it out of pity. Teacups weren’t supposed to levitate. “Well, I don’t know what happened,” he finished. The cup was warm and he tried to warm his hands. Otherwise the tea smelled suspicious, and he wasn’t yet sure if vampires could drink tea, so he decided not to try drinking it. No one but Shana tasted either.

“Please describe her,” Shana said and gestured for him to sit down. He shook his head because his clothes were all dirty and full of snow, but she insisted, so he sat down on the edge of the seat of a dining room chair with a blue silk pillow on.

“She’s blonde, about this long, and skinny,” he said. “Her name is Samantha… and she’s a vampire. I think. I mean, we think, I don’t know. I, um, last thing I remember I wasn’t one, and I was with her, so I guess…” by now Shana was staring down into her teacup and didn’t seem to listen so he changed course. “Please, if you can help me…”

“Yes, yes,” Shana said, “of course I help a friend of Ray’s. No need to try and awe me.”

“Do what?” Julian said and saw the other cast glances on him with narrowing eyes. “Err… sorry?”

An Advent Tale VIII

Her apartment was the third on the second floor. It said S. Fields on a little sign next to the door. “So since a mage isn’t a vampire,” Ray explained to Julian. “She lives like normal people do. But she’s not quite normal either.”

“You’ll see,” Melody told him and rung the doorbell.

The door swung open but there was no one to be seen inside. Ray walked in first as if he owned the place, and the others followed, one by one. Aiden politely invited the woman to come with them inside and was surprised when she said yes. Julian was the last one to enter. It was odd, because the apartment really looked larger from the inside. In fact, it even had stairs leading to a second floor, and the windows overlooked some kind of sea or ocean. The door slammed shut behind him and he jumped of surprise.

The hallway led them into a large living room with hand-woven carpets on the floor and paintings of landscapes on the walls. One entire wall was occupied by bookshelves; shelf after shelf with books no less than half a decimeter across the back. In a red cashmere sofa sat a blonde woman with her head bent over a book. The pages were flipping themselves.

She looked up when they entered and smiled to welcome them. “Ray,” she said. “How nice, you brought friends. Would you all like some tea?”

“Maybe later,” Ray said. “This is Julian, and…”

After the initial greetings were over Shana returned to the tea. “It’s not tea-time, I know,” she said, “but it’s always night here in case Ray wants to come visit. So we might as well call it tea-time and have some tea.”

Sors, no pic, I messed up dates and numbers XP calendaring is difficult stuffs, must know numbers 1 to 24 :o

An Advent Tale VII

Melody went and came back in the exact same manner, only madder once she realized what had happened. Aiden didn’t want to try. So after some bickering Julian went. He walked up to the woman like the others had done, but while still at some distance he said, “Excuse me, we’d really like some help, if it’s not too much to ask.”

The woman stared at him, but then she said, “Fine, what?”

He smiled with relief. Everyone was so nice to him, he didn’t quite understand why. His earlier excuse of Christmas spirit was beginning to sound a little too childish. “You wouldn’t know where a woman named Shana lives, would you?” he asked.

“Sure I do,” the woman said.

“Really? Could you tell us?” Meanwhile the others had joined him, having gained confidence from his success. “Ray seems to have gotten lost.”

“Lost? In a town with one main street, you got lost?” the woman said disbelievingly. “Fine, I’ll show you the way since you seem incapable of navigating straight roads.”

She started walking, and the others followed even if Aiden had to talk both Melody and Ray into coming quietly.

“I’m Julian,” Julian told the woman, walking up front with her.

“Really,” she said.

“Uh… well… you haven’t seen a girl, have you? About this tall, blonde…?”

“No,” she said without looking.

“Well, we’re looking for Shana because these guys tell me she might know where…”

The woman stopped and he stopped talking. She turned towards him and he half expected to tell him to shut up, but she said, “We’re here.”

They had arrived at a run down apartment building where Ray immediately recognized the tilted mailbox and declared this must be where Shana lived.

An Advent Tale VI

“Hm,” Aiden said. “We could ask that person over there.” He was watching a lone woman standing in the shadow between two light-coiled poles. She looked largely innocuous, brown haired, wearing jeans and a winter jacket, but she was one of them. Julian was beginning to understand how to know these sorts of things. It was still overwhelming to think of what he had become, but finding Sam was much more important than that. Even if he had some questions he’d like to ask her, once he did find her.

“Alright,” Ray said and began walking towards the woman.

Ray approached the woman briskly and head on. Most often others of the kin were far more likely to resort to violence if they felt as if they had been snuck up on, so he preferred the open method. He went up to her with a smile and waving his hand in a friendly manner. Just as he opened his mouth she stared him in the eyes and spoke one word, very articulately.

“No.”

He turned around and walked back to the others. They were looking at him funny.

“What? Weren’t you going to ask her?” Aiden asked.

“Um,” he said, trying to figure out why he hadn’t. “Yes. Sure.” Tried to turn back and changed his mind again. “You do it,” he told Melody.

An Advent Tale V

The group of four turned to the east and walked on. After not as long as Julian would have expected they reached a road, and following that road the forest grew less dense and houses started appearing as dots of red among the black and white. He must have walked right past that road and missed it. Forgivable, remembering how dark the winter night was, and that the road lights were turned off.

“Odd,” Aiden commented. “To turn off the lights at the darkest time of the year. Quite impractical, if I may say.”

The houses heralded the coming of a town, that would have appeared completely abandoned had it not been for all the lights, in windows, in trees, following roads and adorning bushes and poles. Even in the middle of the night the town was sparkling.

Ray led the way but after a few blocks he slowed down and began looking around with a suspiciously confused look to him. Another few blocks and he stopped completely. “Um,” he said, still looking around. “I think we should have taken that other road.”

“Really?” Aiden said.

“Um, yes, probably,” Ray said.

“You’re lost.” Melody stated. “How many times have you gone to visit her, and you’re lost.”

Ray held out his hands. “It hasn’t been this shiny before! All these lights distract me.”

An Advent Tale IV

Julian wasn’t really sure how this had happened, but he had borrowed a warm black coat from the man called Aiden, who apparently had a whole stash of warm black coats. He was walking through the forest again, through the dark and the silence, but this time accompanied by three others. He didn’t really know them, but something told him that Ray would do whatever he could to help, and the others would follow. Maybe it was because it soon was Christmas.

“What happened to your Sam?” Aiden asked.

Julian thought back, but his mind went blank somewhere along the way. “I… don’t remember,” he said.

“Tell us about her, then,” Ray suggested.

“We met some time back, things just happened,” Julian remembered. “I’ve gone to her place every night since.” Something slowly dawned to him. “Every… night…”

The other three exchanged glances.

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever seen her during the day… but that’s ridiculous. She’s small.” He held up a hand to show the measurements. “And… young. She’s not a vampire. Vampires are tall and dressed in red and…”

“Stupid, apparently,” Melody added. “If they all walk around looking distinctively vampiric. Hard to blend in, wouldn’t you think?”

Julian went silent and thoughtful.

“Well, since it is soon Christmas,” Melody went on, “I suppose we could return the pet to the master.”

“But I’ve never heard of a small, blonde vampire girl around here,” Ray said.

“Hm, maybe we should ask someone,” Aiden said.

“Yes!” Ray said and lit up like a candle. “Of course! Shana knows a lot of things! She might know something useful!”

“Is she one of us too?” Julian asked.

“A mage,” Melody said. “Quite some difference.”

“Then isn’t this a bit late to go visit?”

Melody just smiled. “No sleep for the wicked,” she said.

An Advent Tale III

Ray yawned and stretched and went out into the living room to see if someone else was bored, and was met by the sight of Melody arguing with some young man he’d never seen before. She was trying to explain the concept of vampirism and that it was indeed real, but the less the guy understood the more agitated she got until it sounded more like a fight. Ray decided to make an attempt at breaking in.

“Hi,” he said, walking over and holding out his hand. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

The man turned towards him and, with heartbreaking desperation, said: “I need help!”

Ray stopped. “Okay?”

“This is Julian,” Melody said and explained the situation as far as she knew.

“You want us to take you to a city?” Ray asked.

Julian shook his head so that flakes of frost and snow flew off of him and started melting in little puddles on the floor. “I have to find Sam! My girlfriend, I have to find her.”

Ray seemed to think for a moment. Then he shrugged and nodded. “Okay.” Melody took a deep breath. Ray did the same, but called out: “Aiden!”

Out from another of the little bedrooms of the cottage came a giant of a man, completely dressed in black, peeking in through the doorway as if he was extremely busy elsewhere. “What’s all this yelling about?” he demanded.

“Julian wants us to go find his friend Sam,” Ray said and patted Julian’s shoulder.

Aiden thought for a moment and then, too, shrugged and nodded. “Okay.” He left his doorway and started looking around for shoes. “Where are we looking first?” he asked, pulling on his black coat.

While Ray said he didn’t really know and maybe Julian had an idea, Melody sighed and watched with a growing sense of coming disaster as they made plans about making plans. “Could this maybe wait until tomorrow night?” She asked. “Besides, we don’t know who this guys is, it might be a trap. And how long has he walked anyway? And he hasn’t eaten in forever…” But it was useless because the three men were already going out the door.

An Advent Tale II

The woman’s eyes scanned the man in front of her from his head to his toes and he retreated slightly and pulled his thin clothes tighter around himself. “Who are you?” she demanded. He was only slightly taller than herself, and pale and ill dressed both considering the weather and, well, everything else. On top of that he was stiff like a corpse from the cold. A miserable sight.

“I’m… my name is Julian,” he said and threw a longing eye into the warmth of the cottage.

Since he didn’t go on she sighed and let him in. “I’m Melody,” she said. “I have no idea how you got here through the snow, but you better have a good reason for invading our privacy.”

“Our?” he said and looked around. The cottage was hardly something to be proud of, small and scarcely furnished with a few shelves, sofas and tables, nothing on the walls. Any number of people could have lived there, from one to ten.

She didn’t answer that. “I thought you came to meet Ray? He knows a lot of strange people,” she said instead.

“I don’t really know where I am,” Julian said. “I, I don’t know what happened. I’ve been walking through the forest for days. You haven’t seen someone else have you? A woman, blonde, um, short?”

“Nope,” Melody answered.

“Oh,” he said and looked sad.

“Maybe she’s dead,” she said. “If she wasn’t turned, in this cold, she wouldn’t make it.”

What she said seemed to upset him, but he focused on what he didn’t understand rather than what he did. “Turned?”

“Please, I’m not stupid,” Melody said. “You must have fed since you turned or you wouldn’t have made it so far. You’re one of us. The kindred.” When he still looked confused she sighed, walked off to a bookcase and came back with a book, blood red. She held it in front of him and, with a bored sneer, clarified; “A vampire.”

An Advent Tale I

The winter night was dark and cold. The first snow had covered the land in a dampening blanket and rested beneath the pine trees like a gray beast lurking on the living, waiting to swallow them into its freezing belly. Through this black and white landscape came a single figure walking, the air around him having crystallized into glittering frost against his clothes and skin. His back was bent and his movements were stiff, but there burned determination in his eyes and nothing in the world could have stopped him from taking one more step forward… and then another one.

His walk through the endless forest hade been long and hard, but this night he lifted his gaze from the snow to see lights in the distance. A little cottage daring the cold in the middle of nowhere. Empowered by this welcome sight he went on and arrived after some time on its doorstep. Just as he lifted a hand to knock the door was opened and before him stood a young woman. She was lean and beautiful with short chestnut hair, but there was something distinctively dangerous about her. The way she stood tall in front of him, the way she met his eyes. He let out the first breath that had come out of him in days, but there was no heat left in him to turn it into a cloud of mist.

And so it began.

More Guessing

More fun with sketches. I call it "village people" :3

Only two days left and after that I won't be able to blog about anything else... but I can't think of anything to say anyway XD My life isn't very interesting right now, since all I do is take care of the house when everyone's off to school and work, do Math C and play Wow. Really, honestly, coupled with some Sims 2 and Skyping, that's it.

Oh, except sketching like this, ofc.

Fave food of the week: schnitzel + noodles + soy

Guess who

Drew this for a different purpose, but won't be using that... though I liked how this part turned out. The pose and background doesn't make much sense anymore since pretty much everything else about the drawing went wrong. Well, seeing as this part was ok and I won't try again, I thought I might as well post it.

I'm also sketching along the Cristmas Calendar drawings... I've already changed style about three times and scrapped about 9 sketches... So I've decided now that I'll use whatever style I feel like at the moment with the Calendar, so don't expect a coherent style or story as far as the drawings go. Black and white, colored, shaded, manga, portraits, chibi... I'll mix and match a bit. FFS = For Fun's Sake!! ^^

This blog is turning completely schitzophrenic... :D

That Which Is Holy

Funerals.

What a spectacular parody on life they are. This fumbling attempt to through the correct tunnels and ways pay respects to someone's life, their deed during their time in this world. Churches. Psalms. Coffins. Rows of people with their bent heads, speeches and songs of words, that are just words, no more. How come they can't say to each other, what they want the priest to say? How come they can't say to the dead, what they want the priest to say? No, it should be out there, spoken by the right, high and loud for all the hear. Pitiful.
Grief cannot be handled this way, can it? Explain it to me someone. Grief cannot be shared this way. Grief cannot be eased by displaying it on the stage of the altar of Christ. Grief cannot be understood this way, can it? Explain it, because it is beyond me.
I understand tradition and ceremony; they grant safety in a world of chaos, sincerety in a world of lies, and strength in a world of weakness. They are holy. But I cannot understand why they must be displayed.
A rap star swearing to avenge the death of his brother in front of his crew, this I understand, and respect. A king's coffin followed by the masses of his people. This is not burial, this is for the living, statements for the world and thus justified to be public.
But funerals. Especially for those who never believed in the religion they still insist on being buried in. This ridicule of sacred things, this joke of a ceremony! Relatives, each wanting their own thing, each having their own ceremony in their head, but still playing along with the game of intelligent beings. Compromises. Pretty words.

Grief cannot be handled this way.

Give me the funeral I deserve, when I one day return to the source of all things. No words. No social games. No outings of pretended religion, no traditions made for tradition's sake. Give me silence. Give me the whisper of the winds and song of water. Give me your thoughts, your grief. Sit down and share your memories, but do not for a second think you can share grief. Give me your tradition, your ceremony, that which is holy to you. A drop of blood. A tune whispered in your head. A parchment of poem in my grave. A prayer to whatever god you follow.

Give me your respect when I go. No bloody funeral.

Important Announcement!

Hey.

Nightflyer asked me, one of these days, "would you want to do a Christmas Calendar like Eva did last year?", and I thought, it could be an awesome tradition of ours to make one every year. I worried a little how I'd come up with anything nice, but that solved itself as soon as I sat down and wrote the first letters. From then on it was just a whole lot of fun and I wrote the first version last night (I blame the Nightflyer for all lost sleep). I'll fine tune it later (or not, dunno) but I also thought I might draw little cute illustrations along the way. Nothing too complicated, but just to keep myself entertained since I won't be allowed to blog about my own stuff and already know how the story goes.

Main point:
There will be a Christmas Calendar, it starts the 1st of December, and it will be right here.

There might even come teasers further up, so stay tuned.

Sexy in red

Ah, finally finished this. (Hm, it looks odd in this thumb, but I can't decide if it's for better or worse :P)

Remember that small on-site sketchchallenge we had because of boredom? Remember me not being satisfied with my pic?

Just so you know, I always think something or other could be better. This one is closer to what I wanted than that one (mainly because drawing on the computer is cheatingly easy compared to drawing by hand) but it's not perfect. Far from it, in fact.

Although I don't think it's humanly possible for me to make a drawing I'd consider perfect. Pics are only mimickings of reality, after all. So in this case, only reality could be perfect. For once.

Mi mi mi mi miiii... nope, still just rambling.

My studies are going in the grave just as I had decided to invest myself in taking them more seriosly. It seems my life is this way a lot of the time. It goes out of its way to prove me wrong.

My dreams are keeping me entertained, though. I so wish I could take them to one of those psychoanalyzing dreamreaders. I want to know what wanton destruction and insane fun could possibly mean, in a dream way. Probably that I'm inhibited in real life. Hm. I read somewhere that how you read your own dreams tell you more about yourself than what you actually dream.

I read a book called "Swedish Mafia" (although in Swedish), about biker clubs like Hells Angels and Bandidos in Sweden. Kind of serious and kind of scary, although sometimes it feels like it tries to condemn what they do but only manage to boost their reputation. What I do know is this; a police badge should be like the cross to the vampire. In my book, you do not target cops. Bust whatever you want, but lay a hand on a decent cop and you're out. Strike three, red flag. Corrupted cops, however, should be taken out back and shot. And a police force should be (and is, sometimes) the way that hurt one of them and you get half the country gunning for you. I like the idea, and I like the message. You do not mess with.

Also, read Lee Child. I like those books. As entertainment of couse, it's hardly higher level academics, but they follow my moral code, I think. The way I wish the world was. And the way I wish I were.

That which matters more than "where":

When you have decided,
When you have nowhere to go,
When you have nowhere to stay,
When you have nothing,
When you lose everything?

When you stop breathing,
When your dreams end,
When your mind is broken,
When your blood is taken,
When you love no more,
When your eyes lose their shine,
When your heart breaks?

When you go cold,
When you are burned,
When you are set at sea,
When you are sent into space,
When you are fed to the beasts,
When you are buried in the ground?

When does a human die?

When does the soul leave?

One thing I do know for sure,
One soul left today.

Tongue

Orenmanieyo - It's been a long time!

My Korean is progressing, if not at all at the pace it would with actual real lessons. Self-learning does appeal to me in many ways, though. The optimal would perhaps be to just know someone personally to ask if you have questions.

Anyway, I do love languages. I had my sights on something like Japanese or Arabic before, but I like Korean better and better, even disregarding the fluff. I love the sounds and the way people look when they speak it and the way it makes perfect sense even thinking through the filter of western grammars once you cut through the initial layer of prejudice. I'm not going to pretend it's easy, but what language is, really? One of the hardest part is how f***ing fast they talk natively. I mean, French doesn't stand a chance. Another complicating factor is that I briefly studied Japanese not long ago, and tend to mix up words sometimes. Not because they sound alike, because they don't. I actually have no idea why. I guess they have similar base sounds or something.

Having listened to, say, the same song in both Korean and Japanese, though, I can officially state that Korean is a much more beautiful language. And whether or not it could prove useful to me I will learn it. And when I know enough to survive (vague term, right? but I know what I mean, you I don't bother about) I will go to Korea. Maybe find my family? Maybe.

So Little Time To Think

I was packing for a week-long trip knowing I'd spend hours on end on a variety of trains and busses, some of them alone. I like traveling alone. Anyway, the first things I packed was my PSP, the iRiver, my math-book and another book although after some consideration of weight I left that one at home. But why is it that I pack all those things before considering what clothes to wear, even before I check if I have cash in my wallet? Not because I'm a tech-freak. But because in my head is the idea that "what if you'll get bored on the bus/train" and that idea apparently is so loathesome I have to guard myself from it before I put on my glasses for the day. Insane, isn't it? Because when this comes to that, I like being bored. Being bored means forcing my brain to think, come up with new ideas and solutions, going over things I otherwise shy away from. That's why trains and busses are awesome.

My brother, who's grown up even deeper into the internet-generation than me, brings his MP3 to the bathroom. I'm not quite that far gone, but the thought has fluttered over my head once or twice. He SMS:es practically until he falls asleep. He claims it's because he get's bored otherwise. I wonder then, when does he think? When does he turn all other senses off and just let his mind fly?

What kind of world are we creating where boredome and time for thought and inflection are things that must be fought with every last ounce of electronics we can muster?

Worldly comments

In other news: North Korea has agreed to allow nuclear inspections, which means the US no longer automatically considers them terrorists. Yay.

In less globaly and politically relevant news: Swedish Idol for the first time sports a participant of Asian descent who can. actually. sing. Wow. I was just starting to wonder if Asians were too smart and stuck up to sing.

Gaming comments: I've been playing a lot of different PSP games lately. FF:Crisis Core is, of course, a favorite and, thankfully, everything but a disappointment. But I actually want to bring some attention to a game I did not expect to enjoy; The Godfather. I mean, what could have been another horrible transportation from movie to handheld game turned out not only keeping the original's manlyness and tone, but also having excellent gameplay and lots of value. Tumbs up for EA.

Reflection... inflection?

I actually had to buy a new headset to get Skype working. So to not let my money go to waste, sms me your Skypes, everyone :P The idea was to cut cellphone bills and get away from MSN... although I've noticed that if MSN cuts my computer speed by half, Skype cuts internet speed by three quarters... you win some and lose some.

What else... I'm looking for an education that would take me to Uppsala, since I have two friendly friends who also want to go whom I could share apartment with, and since I made a plan... actually, let's talk about the plan.

Did everyone read Loverboy's post about being out of balance? My instinctive question was, how? How get back into balance? Do you know what brought you out of it? If so, do you know how to get it back? I've been out of balance for about five years. So what is balance, really?

I don't have any answers, do I ever have? But I started out at the question, what is most important in life? What could you absolutely not do without? What is the thing you would never give up, even if you had a gun to your head? Or to your loved ones' heads? I went through a whole lot of things; love, home, material possessions versus spiritual, survival versus ideals, but my final answer ended on respect. If someone held a gun to your head, would you still respect yourself if you gave in? If the answer is yes, if you have good reason, if you can live with it, then okay, give whatever up. To look at the other angle, can you live without the respect of the people around you? I'm not asking, can you survive. Live. So; cred, simply.

Step two. If respect is the all-time star of the game, the player you can't be without on the field, then logic says you have to do everything you can to get him on that field and keep him there. How? So list number two was born. The list of what I theoretically must have to have respect, well, two lists, one for self-respect the other for the outside, although I soon came to the conclusion that if the self-respect quota is filled, most of the outside follows per automatic.

And, finally, one of the posts on that list was, having my own place. Supporting myself too, but further down the list. Having my own place, space... simply somewhere where I call the shots, where I don't have to ask mom if I can take the last apple and don't have to explain why I'm not there at dinner. It sounds trivial, but I suppose it's like a symbol somehow. Independence, maybe. Or the satisfaction of knowing that I can. That I can survive without someone doing my dishes and telling me to vacuum.

So... Uppsala. The first step towards a better me. Are you guys still reading? Okay, then just stop me before I completely embarrass myself :D See ya around!

Whistles and Warnings

Watched my brother's hockey game today. I like hockey. There's something distinctly manly about it that other sports (specifically soccer) lack. ^^ Even as I say so I keep sitting there crossing my fingers hoping no one will provoke someone else into starting a fight; it somehow ruins that perfect manliness. Hm, and I guess handball is manly too.

Just at the end of the game some idiot dude (my father chose to call him "ADHD-case", but I shall keep that as a quote only to preserve this blog's political correctness...) decided that crosschecking my brother in the back while he held the puck would be a good idea. Then he decided that continuing to crosscheck him sixteen times, moving him forcibly from the area of the goal all the way until my brother fell and hit his head in the rink side was another great idea. I cannot describe the roars of protest from the stands and bench, but even as it was painfully obvious (even the other team's supporters were yelling) it took five minutes of arguing before the guy was shown off the ice. I seldom see my father angry anymore, and I've never seen him, y'know, rightfully angry. I got to see a little glimpse of what would happen if someone purposefully hurt me or my brother for real. That's also manly. My brother, on the other hand, was probably the calmest person in the hall. He didn't get hurt either. Just stood up and went to his spot on the bench from which he watched the ensuing chaos as the judges tried to sort out who to punish, since several of his teammates had decided revenge was on the menu. I must respect that.

Watching hockey on this level, compared to Elitserien or NHL is fun in another way. For one you get to see drop dead serious eighteen-year-olds acting all tough only to stumble over their own feet and go headfirst into the ice, and then remarkably stand up as if nothing happened and continue to chase the puck. You also get to see goalkeepers who, when they think no one's looking, push their own goal out of place to get an end to the other teams offense. And then, after the whistle's blown, take a look over their shoulder and bump it back into place. No one saw that, right? Or when two players collide in a mess of arms and legs and skates, get untangled and skate away, only to discover when they try to play that their sticks mysteriously have changed size... and color.

Gotta love warning tags. I found this text on the back of a children's book from McDonald's (it measures about 25x15 cm): Keep out of reach for children under 36 months since small parts may pose choking hazards. Which part of that made sense?

This Is Not The Weirdest I Have Posted Here

How big is the dick of a sibirian tiger?

Girl in Red

I'm on a roll!

See, I realized...

That's not boobs; This is boobs!


I make no promises, seeing as that is a guarantee for failure, but if you want to request something do it now. Because apparently I'm stuck on boobs. And also, I seem to be in a drawing-frenzy.


The wolf-tattoo and crest are shamelessly stolen. I make no claim whatsoever on the design. And to be fair, the letters are from something called "the Theban alphabet".

Girl in Green

Hi!
I got a sudden urge to draw boobs. So here, enjoy!
(I know the background is kinda slobbish, but whateves, it didn't have boobs.)

Also... I accidentally discovered something awsome when channel-zapping: serious, cute, non-joking, non-provoking gayness in a Swedish-produces drama series directed at the large crowd. I'm impressed.

Randomness Presents: The Name makes The Game

You can always find connections where you look for them. There are no coincidences.

Been lots of twists and turns in the story of The Name, but it has finally been concluded. My name would today be written "Da Yeon" and means, roughly, "very compassionate". Huh.

Doing quizzes is the perfect way to waste time. I dunno why I'm so fascinated, but it's fun.

The romantic type, those with turquoise hearts are the kind of people who wish their life would read like a romance novel. They love to be the one rescued by their mate--or alternately, the rescuer. They are also the kind to be socially cruel to those who wrong them, destroy ing the person's life for the pain caused to them. Those with turquoise hearts are faithful, but dislike boredom, and will leave if interest is lacking.


It's also darn impossible to get Korean music. I started out trying to find somewhere to buy it legally, like, say, iTunes. Do not work. Then I went illegal and pissed and tried to download it. Do not work. It's as if the only source is, like, YouTube and imeem. Idiots. -_- Dammit.

Talking just to hear my voice

I've colored my hair, finally! Not even close to as radically as I meant from the beginning, because hairdressers are cowards, but it's something, and I like it. I've also spent a ridiculous amount of time on learning how to get stuff from my PC to my PSP, it's simple enough, I just made it stupidly complicated by not reading the instructions, which I otherwise always yell at people to do. I sternly believe in instructions. Who was it that worked with writing instruction books for electronics? I have a vague memory of that someone I know did... ?

Honestly I don't have anything to say today. I just wanted to update the blog anyway. So...

Things I would talk to you about if you were here:
Financial crisis.
Front page designs.
One-tracked cultures.
Professional dancers.
Short term memory.
Sleep schedule.
Travel conference.
Ireland.
Battery time.
Automated costumer service.

Things I wouldn't talk to you about if you were here:
Things lost.
Travel plans.
Obsessions.
Cherished distance.
Getting lost in the beat.
Charisma.
Bodily frailty.
Passions of the future.

I haden't written a word for three weeks. Two nights ago I wrote two and a half pages by hand, around three at night, then I couldn't keep my eyes open. The urge struck. I've had that itch since then, but I don't sit down and write. Why?

Finland

My interest for knowledge would, if possible to express in physical form, probably look something like the model of time-space that a funny guy in a hood carries around in the DC universe. I can't find any pattern in what I'm interested in. I like parts of history, mathematics, psychology, philosophy, biology, sociopolitics, computer science... yeah, but on the other hand I really hate other areas within the same fields.

What brings about this poinless confession? I sought distraction from a very long time on a train, and found a book on the Soviet invasion of Finland. I'd really like to learn strategics and warfare; real large-scale combat, and I've already studied the Finnish Civil War and have a better overview of WWII than the first, so I thought, why not look intellectual on the train.

Well, the Finnish fought most of that invasion in the scale numbers of roughly 1:10, had severe lack of ammunition most of the time, and equipment that barely passed as cool in WWI. They did however have the wheather on their side, if by that I mean that Finnish people survive -38C and Soviets do not. Specifically since the Soviets for some reason forgot to bring proper coats, even if this was in the middle of December and Global Warming was still hiding in the bushes. They also forgot that most of Finland consists of forests and lakes, which implies that bringing dozens of heavy tanks that completely destroy the small roads and make retreat utterly impossible might not be the best idea. As if that wasn't enough, they also decided that one officer should have no say in where the other officer was, resulting in that they often blocked said small roads for each other with said tanks. Left was for the Finnish army to ski in, hide behind the trees and grant frozen, starving and locked down Russians warming gifts in the form of bullets and morlotov coctails.

Said should be that Soviet learned the lesson for the next war, handing Hitler and his nazis about the same treatment when that time came. Which was only fair, since Hitler swore in his non-agression pact with Stalin to not sell Finland weapons, but then used the ships he sent to fuel Stalin's submarines to ship weapons to Sweden. As if he had no idea what Sweden would do with them.

All the political bullshitting confused me, since I hadn't read such in-depth stuff about WWII before. But I think I have the general pictue: Finland is awesome.

The Tiger's Cave

So...

Pull myself up
Take the step
Move about in the big wide world and
open my eyes until the dry air make them hurt.

And...

Dive into the pond
Stick my head into the tiger's mouth
It doesn't matter if I answer the question right because
its fangs were made of foam.

It's strange, but...

No matter how much I drink
Or if I put a bucketfull by my bed
Only the humid breath of the tiger soothed my eyes and it was
warm from the heat of its lungs.

Feel Good

The one thing that makes everything feel better no matter what:

Laughter.

So, from now on, whenever I'm feeling down, I'll go YouTubing for Korean boybands and Asian gameshows. An irresistable combination.

He's called Ghoul, don't ever call him Nate

Hey!
It's been a lot of seriousness lately, and I think we all need a break. This was meant to just be a character sketch to begin with, so I tried a lot of new techniques that I thought of or picked up from here and there. To begin with I drew the sketch on real paper, scanned it and then drew the outlines again on top of the old ones, because I have yet to figure out how to make scanned imagines good outlines. Gave me the chance to correct some flaws on the original sketch too. Next came the flats. I only heard of flats recently, which should tell you how nooby I am at digital coloring. Google it, or better yet YouTube it, if you don't know what it is. The most genious thing since... I dunno, the start of digital coloring? Made everything insanely much easier and faster, which is why I felt I had time and interest left to make a real background with.

I feel pretty good about myself right now :P But more than anything, I have fallen in love with my tree. That tree, right behind him on that hill. Isn't it the prettiest thing you've ever seen?

An Answer

I feel that my answer on Nightflyer's comment on the previous post became too long to be a comment. I imagined that someone would think what she thought about what I wrote, but decided to post it as it was to let whatever come come. Because when you ask the question, you'll get your answer. Because this is what I wanted to say:

I understand what you want to say, and I agree, mostly. But that everyone can make their own happiness doesn't mean we shouldn't try to make it easier on everyone. It doesn't mean we should ignore shit people throw at us, "turn the other cheek". Even if fact is that life deals you cards under the table, you don't just sit down and take it. You stand up and shout. Because whether or not it helps you, whether or not it helps the ones who come after you, it makes you feel better. It gives you the special word for "pride" or "honor", self-respect, that Asia uses, that we here in Sweden have replaced with "lagom".

That I am adopted is an issue in itself. One I will, and am, dealing with. What's done is done. The question whether international adoption should or should not be performed, however, is a completely different issue and on a different level.

What I dealt with the first post was basically my own feelings and the beginning of me connecting to where I am from; because it is true that where I am from does have significance in the choice of where I will go tomorrow. I am also very aware of that I am the one who have cut myself off from my heritage.

The previous post, however, is aimed more at the later issue, an attempt to bring the question into the light. Adoption has always been seen as a good thing, right? I question that. I propose that it might even be bad, and I'm not the only one. I do that counting all information I know at this point, logically, and that my own feelings agree is only another fact that supports this theory. I am a part of my own test-group. Not scientifically viable, but in real life a rather commonly practiced form. I want people to think about whether what Korea practices is adoption or a dandied form of selling humans.

Listening to someone feeling sorry for themselves is quite annoying. I know I do my own bit of whining, but for your information quite a lot of it is venting and/or the author side of me going haywire because strong emotion is the best food for words and letters. I'd say my flaw is to blame stupidity and systems created by stuidity for all my problems instead of dealing with myself, but I do not feel sorry for myself. I have chosen my path; I could have made it easier, but I will not. Neither would I change the fact of my adoption if I could. I never said I'd rather have stayed where I was; I have no idea how life would have been or who I would have been; quite frankly I have never thought about it. Can't change the past. No point in thinking about whether I would want to.

I know you know me better than most. Do you think I would take an opinion because "everyone says so"?

The land of opportunities

I'll actually continue a bit on the last subject, because I've been thinking a lot about it since I wrote. I've read a lot of stuff, Korean language, history, culture - and viewpoints about adoption coming from both Korea and Sweden. It gives me a growing feeling of that I've unknowlingly chosen to ignore a large part of my life.

Here's some facts that can't be denied:
Many adopted Koreans return to live in Korea when they're adults. Many of those never feel at home there either.
Suicide is considerably much more common in people adopted into another etnicity than their born one.
Korea still gives up thousands of children for adoption even as their economy is now well above the average line. Adoption within the borders are very uncommon. They make millions off foreign adoptions every year.
Korean culture still carries the remnants of a time where an unmarried woman could not have a child. Most children up for adoption come from single mothers.
Sweden adopts many more children from Asian countries than others, like Africa.

There is a strong feeling of sitting between chairs, so to speak. For some reason I'm not yet at the point of being angry, or even accusing, of Korea. Maybe because I've recently read about how rough the road has been for her. But she gives many opportunities. I'm slightly less inclined to give Sweden the nice treatment. Have anyone ever informed parents or the people working with adoption about the skyrocketing suicide rates, about the feeling of sitting between chairs? Sure, it's better than leaving children starving on the streets. But kids in Korea are hardly starving on the streets anymore.

I met the other Korean girl I talked about. We just had a night on town, and as if fate intervened we ran into a group of Korean tourists. They were exalted about every little thing we had to say, though the hardly spoke english. Apparantly I have the same name as a famous Korean singer. They asked who we were, where we were from. My friend knew the Korean word for adopted. All the women of the group said "aaaahhh," and tilted their heads. I got the distict feeling they felt sorry for us.

Maybe they should.

Korean

I've been watching the Olympics. No, I won't ramble about sports and stuff. What I will ramble about is nationality and identity. See, these laste six or eight months I've been feeling myself changing a lot on a certain point. Confidence. And within that lies the fact that I've changed attitude to myself being Korean.

Before I've always ignored it. Seriously. As a child I avoided mirrors. When people pointed it out or asked questions I just turned my head off and answered blank statements that I'd learned from listening to mom. I kept myself completely, utterly neutral to the fact and held it at arm's length. It didn't exactly damage me. No one ever made me do it. I just chose to not handle it at all. (Being made easier by the fact that I've been lucky enough to never have encounteder racism.)

This christmas I met an old man who had been everywhere and met everyone and had had four wives. He was always blunt to the point of rudeness. As soon as he saw me he started talking about that I should go to Korea and find my biological parents. I got angry, actually, but he just kept talking about how nice Korea was and how beautiful the women were and how they all spoke english so I wouldn't have a problem speaking to them. (Not true, as I've found out, the english that is.)

But it got my head going, and the more I thought, the more I felt... maybe. Maybe I should. Another guy at school, also unafraid of speaking his mind, had a theory that the bond between mother and child the first few weeks or months are very important, life-defining. I asked him face to face if he thought being adopted disrupted that and he said yes. People around got uncomfortable, but the oddity that struck me when he said it, was that I agreed.

And this week put two more nails in the coffin, so to speak. For one I watched the Olympics, and the nationalism is always as strongest in sports. I got to see more Korean people than I have in my entire life, and somehow as I saw them, something clicked into place. Just the way they looked and moved. This is my people too. And then I talked to another adopted Korean who have found her family and spoken to them over the phone. They don't speak english, but they talk to her anyway, for some reason. And I felt, as I listened to her story, that it could be me.

It is biologically in our blood, isn't it. The feeling when we stand side by side with someone who shares our genes and our faces and look into the mirror, seeing the ghosts of two of ourselves. And people who have lived with that their entire lives, do you understand it? What you get? I didn't. Not until now, when I'm starting to wonder;

Can you ever replace family?

Speaking of the devil

We live in a world we can't control. We pretend. When we were wandering nomads or poor farmers we had no control over the weather. But we pretended, through religion and witchery, through study and lies. Now we face the fact that even the things we ourselves created we cannot control, just as little as parents can control the personality and skills, and future, of their children. We can nudge, we can force, we can pretend. And with science and religion, through psychology and systems we pretend.

We live in a world of constant psychological warfare. Political, religious, philosophical and scientific propaganda. Commercials. Papparazzi, eggshells, even blogs. We nudge, we force, and we pretend to control other people's pretenses. And to some extent, we succeed. But what do we succeed with, really? We bring out weaknessess, the flaws of human nature, into the light and we exploit them. But we are all only human.

Someone I pretend to know said something along the lines of that a weakness is only a weakness if you allow it to be. Doesn't that mean that by exploring and exploiting human weakness, our nature, we weaken ourselves, every singe one of us.

No?

[Insert Approptiate Label]

I saw Batman Gotham Knight, not a bad thing. Like the Animatrix, but Batman. Well, the torrent-comments were filled with people yapping about being fooled to think it was The Dark Knight (awsome movie too, btw) because of the name. It seems it's incredibly hard to tell the word Gotham apart from the word Dark. One of them said "well, it wasn't labeled [Animated]" to excuse his apparent inability to read. (Especially since like a dozen people above him in the comments had already complained and said it was animated.)

Well, well, fine. Internet is crawling with idiots. But then I saw this on another well-known torrent site, and man...


No wonder they put labels like "Do not microwave" on cellphones.

Randomness Presents: One Plus One Is Two

Here's an interesting discussion I had: Types of couples. Which one do you want to be?

The Cute Couple - Bouncy, snuggly and happy are the trademarks of this couple. They fight, but only until one of them starts singing the Bumbibear intro. Probably the couple with largest survival chances. Unless someone kills them for being too cute.

The Clingy Couple - What, that's two people, not one? Really? And they don't die if you separate it... I mean them?

The Frustrating Couple - If you let this friend fall in love you won't see him/her again for the next two weeks, and you'll be happy if he even considers speaking to you and not his partner when the three of you are in the same room. Want to talk to either alone? Forget it.

The Practical Couple - No, hey, we just like the same things and don't drive each other nuts, and the sex isn't too awful, so, you know... we just thought, what the hell. Sadly, this one has pretty high survival chances too.

The Weird Couple - Imagine the two people in the world you think would fit worst together. Now make them lovers. They're defying the laws of nature and you can't stop thinking about it.

The Heartwarming Couple - You know, those two that seem to fit each other perfectly, always keeping an eye out for each other in small, heartwarming ways, making sure everyone else are jealous. Makes you wonder; are they really this perfect all the time?

The Token Couple - For some reason they think their partner is the perfect accessory to carry around. When it's one-sided it's sad, when both play the same game it's just hellishly annoying. And making out in public is just a small part of their reportoire.


Hm... can't come up with any more right now.

Poetry or Rambling? You decide.

This is our lives:

Dividing ourselves between everything there ever was and everything that will be. Chopping our flesh into little pieces and sprinkling it over the drooling jaws of the hungry crowds, knowing it will never be enough. Choosing one child out of ten born from the womb of our blood and feed it knowing the other nine will die. And knowing that whether we feel the pain of their deaths or not they will come back to haunt us until our minds are obliterated and absorbed by the one child that did not die, the one that will survive us and carry our failiures on into the future, the one that will carry even more dust than we have gathered. Ever since the first strike of lightning that gave life to that which was dead we have carried the dust and pain and blood of the nine children.

There comes short moments where nothing of this matters. Moments where our minds are released from our forms and poured into another's. A form where our presence is only drifting and our responsabilities slim, one that will carry his own dust while we borrow his existance in the world and peer out through his eyes, hiding, amazed at how beautiful living can be when looked at from the outside.

This is roleplaying. This is movies, music, books and art. This is games and sports and for some people work. This is murdering and stealing. This is sex, and this is love.

And according to most people, perhaps even me, this is what kills us.

To the tunes of my inner music

Silence in the Nighttime

Let's stay up,
love
Until dawn creeps over your face
Let's stay up,
love
Til I can't seem to think straight
I don't have much to offer you, but I
won't pretend
Let's stay up,
love...

Let's stay up,
love
Til the cold forces us together
Let's stay up,
love
Pretend night will last forever
I won't ask much of you, but I
like to pretend
Let's stay up,
love
Time and time again.

And what the shadows reveal of your face,
my friend
Is more than either of us could take.
All the possibilities of heartbreak and pain,
my friend
Is more than enough for me to
pretend.

Let's stay up,
friend
Until dawn creeps over your face
Let's stay up,
friend,
Til I can't seem to think straight
I 've so much to offer you, but I
will pretend
So let's stay up,
friend
Again and again.

Why we have pets:

From a webcomic called xkcd which I encourage anyone to read who:

• finds math at least remotedly enjoying
• have patience with that not every strip is hilarious
• find bizarre nerdiness more fun than implying that women are somehow lesser beings
• believe in cats, hats and your mom (and your sister)
  

Right, didn't have time this morning, but I just want to point the attention towards the update panel. Finally Kirya is underway after a stupid pause during which I've been doing many things but none of them producing any tangible results. Otherwise there's some stuff going on in my private life, some of them sad, so I'm not sure I'll be blogging quite as regularly for a while. Not that it matters.

I'll probably be holed up here writing, though, to the satsifaction of my peers, since emotional periods mean more dedication to my work. Stay tuned, have fun. I'll see you around.

You Are What You Wear

Time moves fast now when summer vacation is here.

I've been trying to get Spore Creature Creator up and running. As far as I know right now, there is absolutely no reason why it refuses to work. The support I've gotten so far has consisted of "have you updated the latest drivers for your graphics card" which feels like an insult in the scale of a slap to the face, since I've been spending a lot of time now looking up specifics for my video- and soundcards and updating BIOS for my motherboard, restarting my computer something like 16 times. Argh. If they don't answer my mail in another 24 hours, I'll consider myself spit upon, and they'll have hell to come.

For now I'm sketching on all kinds of outfits, trying to figure out how you make an outfit for a guy that oozes goodness and kindness without making him look like a wimp. And how to make a woman a dress that looks cool, but not priestly, yet not as if she was a porn star, and should be imaginably possible to fight in. Checks and balances, it seems. A little boyish here, a little coolness there. A little bare skin here, a little layers there. Puh.

Tomorrow I'm going for a weekend of off-time, roleplaying, deep philosophical discussions and sillyness. Can't wait.

Update at the End of Things

Hope all of you had a good time Thursday-Friday celebrating your new freedom. For some it won't last long, for others longer than they wished.

My brother finished 9th grade. Dunno when all this growing up happened, I sure wasn't there to see it. But it's only fair, I guess. When I turned 20 was the first birthday I actually felt a difference; it felt like I was an adult now, like I was only pretending before. Bro had his first taste of it now, I think, realizing things like that the future is a scary place, that progress is both good and bad, and that just when you start to really get to know people it's time to break up. I think he'll be okay. And he looked smashing in new jeans and a striped shirt. Been ages since I saw him in a shirt.

As for me, I won't have a job this summer. I can only pray I get into school, because I have no second choice. Otherwise my life will be pretty empty, and I can't take sitting by the sidelines another year. It already feels like the world, and the people in it, is moving along without me. This summer, however, will be pretty full anyway. I have some projects I want to finish up before getting busy with important things. Stuff like two novels and a few short stories to polish off, some drawings and illustrations, losing those three kilos I gained this winter, doing Math C unofficially just for the heck of it since I have the book, and so on. And I need to make some time for friends too. I dunno what everyone fill their summers with, but this is good enough for me.

Oh, and for those with free time and a computer; play The Witcher. Wonderful rpg, without the silly "good or evil" choices, but with choices that actually make a difference without being too obvious. I've torn my hair more than once wondering who to assume is the bad guy. And combat can be everything from a pushover to a real challenge, since there are three difficulty levels to choose from.

Tan carefully, buddies!

*playing around with an imaginary stage+microphone*

It may have gone unnoticed, or rather it should have gone unnoticed since I've done absolutely nothing to make anyone notice, but I actually have music to a few texts myself. I don't trust my musical ear, and I don't know any instrument well enough to be able to write it down properly, but it's all stored in my head. No complicated tunes, I assure you. Just a natural effect of me meddling with writings, poems, worlds, languages and mystics. Creating own races with own languages and cultures aren't half as hard as making a half-assed song, but since their culture includes music... you get the point.

This piece, as such, has a tune. Things I write for music tends to have a different rhythm than other poetry, and is less rigid in rhymes as such. Neither is it finished, this is the ending of it. But songs, more than poems, need to come spontaneously and of themselves. As soon as I intellectualise them, they flat-out insta-wise very much die. Anyway, I like it sooo much. I guess I can't really convey why, because you can't hear the music in my head, or the Nickleback-ish rough voice singing it, but bah. Have some imagination. ^_-

What I would give

I would give the world for you
I would kill a thousand men
I would turn out all the stars
and I would light them up again
I would give my life for you

But there is no God
or the Devil would collect
my heart

Hope

I am going to lose you.

All has been said, all has been done
I believed in that you would stay this time
it hurts so much because
I believed in that you would stay this time.

But I am going to lose you
I am going to lose you
I. Am going. To lose. You.

I did all I could do
Nothing I do matters
I gave you time. You used it.
But now?

It is within you
Death is within you
death is within You
And the only way to pluck it out
is to cut up your chest
and break your ribs apart
and tear out your heart

Death is in your heart
and it's eating its way out

I will remember you.
I will always remember you.
And every time I will stand
before the choice to reach for something
that can be lost
I will remember you.

Oh Father who are in Heaven.
Holy is thy name.
Be thy will, as in Heaven
so on Earth.

And we pray.

IMPORTANT MESSAGE

Oh, and just so you guys know I won't be available on cellphone again until Friday the 6th of June. So if you want something, easiest way to get hold of me is to drop a comment in the blog or mail me. Cuz I'm still at school. But soon no more. ^^

Carnege

Forgot to tell about the Tattoo Expo (but Nightflyer filled you in a little, I guess?). Fun. So many ideas, so little time. And so little space! I don't want to cover my entire body in tattoos. =P But I came to think of that if could be a good way to hide my skin-thing. I could totally imagine tattooing the entire left arm, shoulder to wrist, which would cover it up. I thought about piercing my ear, finally (two holes in the right ear, don't want in both) but didn't feel like it right then. I will definitively get a tattoo eventually, but I'll need to pile up some gold first; my treasury is in a sad state.

The evening ended with Iron Man, a most superb movie, though his lovidoviness with Pepper irritated me. Can Hollywood produce one single movie without having to add love to the story? The old "the hero gets the girl", and the old "hero saves girl" really pulled a lot from my final opinion of it.

The Expo all in all resulted in two things: web addresses and phonenumbers to very good artists in case I, in the future, would have the cash to go get a tattoo by a real skilled artist. And this:


This is Carnege. He's a psychopathic alien-infested bad guy in Spider-Man. (Everybody say: "Hello Carnege!")

I saw a photo of him being tattooed to some guy's arm (this exact picture) and I thought... he could make a real good tattoo. I love tattoos that look as if the image is a part of the body, either a pattern following natural lines or something crawling out from underneath the skin. Carnege's loopy symbiot would be perfect for it, while maintaining my nerd-factor. I think it could get really good. ^^ Only problem is to get someone to sketch the final image out; I can't really do this symbiot-thing very well.

I have candy, chips, and a new game. Cheerios!

Existential Writier's Blabberings

Recording of day-to-day mood antics: Kirya sucks. I need to read it through. I need to change loads, I know that before even having read it through. There are loads of stuff that doesn't work. It doesn't say what I want it to say. My characters have no personality. I ruined Obon. What the hell is this latest chapter, what the hell am I trying to do with Shemhazai... why do I always twist and turn the reality in the same damned shape? Why do I make angels the bad guys? That doesn't surve the purpose. Bad writing. And what am I trying to do with Crow anyway? I just changed his personality from the other writing at will. Bad writing.

My other me thinks this is bullshit, but she's a little tired today. I thought it would be interesting simply for my own sake to write this pointless existential blabbering down just to show myself how ridiculus it is. Blogs aren't exactly diaries but... good for me, in a way, to make it "public". Makes it harder to ignore.

Anyways, this was selfish, thanks for listening. ^^

By writing these lines

By writing these lines
do I separate myself from you?
By old clichés of feelings
and old expressions about darkness
have I shown myself any different
from any of you?
If we all share darkness
If we all whisper instead of speak
If we all are the same
why would I do this?

One artist in every village
One joker in every castle
One plagued teenager in every home
Two would destroy them
Nonetheless
Their loneliness was never chosen

Only by seeing the bigger picture
can you see that what is good
is less than what is bad
Only by doing this
can you change it
But seeing it
changes you

When we see beyond
we scorn those who have not yet seen
but did we understand those who scorned us
before we saw?

The blind cannot understand sight
The deaf cannot comprehend sound
Thus you
cannot see or hear me
until your mind has grown eyes and ears
No blame on you
All blame on you
And no one I can shout at

Anger
Rage
Like a silent
Beat
In my chest
Like a shadow of a sixth sense
Once known, now forgotten
Ghost pain from a stolen limb

Fists
Teeth
And only my
Eyes
Can still howl
Like the beast starved to silence in its cage
Once howled in the night
Blood dripping from satisfied jaws

Its fangs
Like razor sharp snowflakes
A handful sprinkled in the wind
It has starved
for many nights now

Knowledge 2

More things I'd like to do, in the name of subjective knowledge:

* Smash a window (or any glass) with the little hammers designated that purpose found in busses.
* Meet my grandparents back in the time before they were grandparents.
* Learn a part in a real play (or part thereof) written by someone else and in a serious manner, but not necessarily for performing in public.
* Learn to ride a horse.
* Work real charity shit, like in Africa or something.

In other news: back from Uppsala. Sorry you guys I didn't get a chance to talk to you more seriously, which I would have wanted, things went kind of fast and I was really tired. Hospitals tend to drain energy as if I was a zombie with a barrage of regen cast onto me - and they stacked.

All the Wiser

Hockeywise: Damn. But it was Canada. What else was there to believe.

Partywise: Ball at school yesterday. Had whiskey for the first time. (Equally disgusting as all other alcohol. Kinda' hard to motivate myself to drink when it tastes like date expired cold medicin.)

Otherwise: I'm reading the first issues of X-Men. Laughing at the cheesyness. Smiling at the cuteness. Being amused by the obvious connections to the politics at the time.

Personalitywise: I did make some interesting realizations from talking too much after the ball. For one that it's people's concern that make me hide in a corner when I'm all down for the count. If I could just be ignored, invisible, I mean completely gone and unnoticed, then I think it wouldn't be a problem. I get this voice inside whining about "what do people think about you when you do this", knowing how much people misunderstand me, and everyone. So if I knew no one thought anything about me, then I'd be fine.
Look at the world's most reknown dramas. They all build on misunderstandings and slight mistakes. Remembering this, I think you can understand why I'd rather hide in a corner. The small things just overwhelm me by numbers. On a regular day I manage to ignore this. On a bad day, not so well.

Suggestion for the Book Circle ^^

I have too many thoughts in my head right now.

I finished "Flyga Drake" today by Khaled Hosseini (I don't know what it's called in English). Horrible book to read, I was on the verge of crying 75% of the time and two times I seriously considered putting it down and never picking it up again because it hurt too much. But it opened my eyes a lot to the complexity of the conflict in Afghanistan and to my own prejudices, besides being a great book about being a human, about loving, losing and letting down. (It's also made into a movie now, but I seriously doubt it could carry through into a movie very well. People say it's good but very, very different from the book.) It's not political, which I appreciate. Only human, and very emotional. I got a headache every time I read in it. But it was probably worth it, though the end wasn't as well written as the beginning and mid-section.

I have also been to a small introduction to the education I'm applying for this fall. It really sounds like the perfect "me". They said I needed: math (check), english (check), computer familiarity (check), 3D thinking (check), creativity (check), and interest in technology and machinery (check, though no schooling). I'll be alternatively sitting and standing, very good for my leg. I'll learn business planning and presentations, sorely needed. Teaching takes place about three days a week in a classroom and the rest homework or over the internet. Male-dominated workplace. The teacher we met seemed like the perfect kind of man; confident, straight-forward, kind.
It's too good. I'm scared out of my freaking mind. Especially of getting my hopes up. Maybe also of settling in too well here. Do I want to live the rest of my life around here? I used to not understand people who would. But I'm growing into it. This is my home. No matter what I think of it, it's difficult for me to leave it.

Yeah. Too many thoughts. Reading the book made all these old thoughts wake up. I used to want to become a psychiatrist. Don't think I could manage it, neither the long time of school or the mental pressure. But that has always been the thing closest to my mind in the subject of "making the world a better place". Taking care of orphans or abused homeless animals.

I didn't want to have children because I was afraid I wouldn't like the kid. But maybe that's part of it. How could I ever know whether I would like him/her or whether I would make a good parent? How does anyone know? Maybe I want a child after all. In any case, passing on my genes might make the world a slightly better place. Yes, I am that full of myself.

Russia - Sweden 3-2

Five *fucking* seconds. Five! We dominated the damned game. Sad, pissed, stupid Ovechkin = happy Swedes. It was a physical game, we played with four backs, forwards having to come down playing defense, but did the best game so far. Had a few fights (I keep squealing at them to stop but in the end some fighting belongs to hockey. Even I have to admit that. That is, in part, what makes it superior to, for example, silly football.) and did a few goals. And did I say I hate Ovechkin? This was totally unfair. Being interested in sports, any sport, is like falling in love. If you don't get invested, you don't get hurt. But not being invested is boring. Alright, next game I'll excuse anyone for not watching. It's at 02:00 in the morning. Bleagh.

I really miss skating. I don't know why I don't skate more often. It's the closest one can come to flying. To slide across the ice, feel the speed, the force, the momentum, the friction. Actually it's as if my body enjoys the sheer physics of it, the balance, everything. I can think of few physical activites that beats it. If any.

Denmark-Sweden 1-8

Hi. I will assume you are all watching the Hockey World Championship, and cheering for our boys. The only excuses for not watching it I will accept are:

You have IB exams.
Finding a TV would be accompanied by mortal danger.
You are blind. (But then you should at least keep track of the results on radio.)
You are not Swedish. (In which case you, obviously, cheer for another team.)

If you're not interested in the sport itself, why not come over and watch me yell at the tv?

Mr. Cat

Made some half-assed attempt at new coloring which proved too time-consuming to actually be worth it. This didn't get at all like I imagined. In another world where I wasn't lazy as hell, I'd learn how to make it look like his knives were glowing. =P But I think it tured out better than the pencil original, which is cool. Coloring realistic skin and eyes are hard! So screw that, I'll stick to the more cartoonish style from now on.

And dudes, what happened to "yes, ms, of course we'll vote on your poems, we just forgot, let me tell my girlfriend and we'll get right on it"? Huh?

"Only Spartan women can give birth to real men!"

My view of honor has been seriously fucked up by all comics and books I've read throughout my childhood, so I must say that watching 300 was an enormous experience. I wish I'd had the sense to watch it on cinema, but I had been gruesomely misinformed that it was just a long splasher movie of too much blood, like a prolonged version of the mad crusade-slaughter in Kingdom of Heaven. That is, I believe, the part I like the least in KoH, so I avoided 300 and was idiotic enough to ignore the fact that several of my best liked friends and webcomics continuously kept yelling "This Is Sparta!" at all odd times.

I now stand corrected. I watched it approximately five minutes ago, and my fingers are itching to press the play button again. Just to illustrate how good I thought it was, I can honestly say that I was not once distracted by the disturbingly many (300, I believe^^) half naked and very muscular men in cool looking mantles and helmets soaked in sweat and blood standing around with flexing muscles being zoomed in on every other second. Now that I think of it, I do believe I should press the play button again and pay a little more attention to that fact. Excuse me for a few hours or so.

Oh, and I also watched Stardust. It's like a fairytale (for some reason I'd gotten it into my head that it was Science Fiction, so boy was I in for a surprise). Very cute. Right. Bye.

Waaah, I just noticed, it says 21 downloads of About Love on my hosting page. 21? Scary! My inner paranoid Modesty Blaise requires me to have everyone observe my Copyright claims! Hahahahaha.... yeah.

Knowledge

I was going to wait you guys out until you voted on poems, but my patience isn't as great as some people think. ^^ So here's another contribution to the wide world of random information.

Things I'd want to test myself with but don't think I can/want/will arrange:

* Kill, skin, slaughter and cook my own food. A cow maybe. Or a rabbit. Fish don't count.
* Have to deal with a seriously mentally ill person.
* Tame a wild animal.
* Walk along the river here from home to K-stad. Preferably without telling anyone, before or after.
* Be in a real fight. Yes, I know I can't fight, that's not a factor.
* Be really drunk. No, I haven't been, I'm cheap and afraid of the maybes.
* Watch a human die.

There are probably more, can't think of any right now. Since most of my readers are the people they are, I think you'll understand what I mean with this. Experience. True knowledge.

But a few of these I really hope I will arrange in my lifetime.