Just dropped in to write few lines and let you know that I'm still alive, 'though just barely. Suffering from a very bad case of flu, this being the sixth day. And I've just about had it, three days ago. Enough!
More to this, I've got 'trials' in just a week. Last Saturday the practice was cancelled and since I was in no condition to practice yesterday, well, I seriously doubt that I'll pass. One thing is for certain, I will not sit through another practice, I can't afford it. True, I might be coughing my lungs out but I will not sit, I've been sick long enough. ...Does it look like I've found my thing? I like to think so. And I do believe it has been noticed. Splendid...
The Writer's Block has passed, this time. It will be back, soon. If Chapter 8 was not easy to write, the next thee will be even harder to write. It'll get a lot darker before it gets light again. Can't remember who said/wrote that...
I'm meeting Ismo on Friday and rest assured that I will blame him for my illness. I phoned him last Thursday and asked if we could have a cup of coffee on Saturday but he said no, he had a lot of reading & writing to do. No problem, I understand, I had to write too. And later that same evening (Thursday) I am aching everywhere, like I've been trampled over by a wild herd of chicken. Seriously, he's not to blame, not really, I visited Sanna and her kids were sick so most likely I got this from them. But the opportunity is much too good to be wasted. I am terrible, I know.

Renny-Alexander




20/10/05 Writer's block and Ireland Blues

Only a mild case of Ireland Blues this time. Just pissed to be here, that's all.
The writer's block is far worse then I first realised. I cannot write at all. Chapter 8 is outlined on a paper and that's it. I cannot write it. There seems to be a brickwall between my brain and fingers and nothing gets past it. This blog entry is an exeption, it seems.
I could kick myself. For not being able to keep my mouth shut. I am given two books, the Dance Macabre & the Lagercrantz books, nothing wrong in that, none. But my distrust to other people. And the fact the now I feel that I owe something to the Green-Eyed Devil. So, I said it to him, that he has me in an awkward situation, and that me, I have this habit of giving out Christmas presents to my friends (if I know what they need, that is) and that I have no idea what to give him. So he says that since I don't write poems I could write him a story! Aye, that's an easy challenge, now that my head's empty, truly empty of all ideas for a plot. I did have this vague idea that I'd write a Chris Anderson -short story for him. It might even help me with the Chapter 8 and rest of that story too. Get my mind off it, for a week or two.

Anyway, he and I went to the cinema last night, to see The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. The only reason I haven't seen it before is because I've not read the book and I'd've liked to read it first. Can't have it all and to read the book right before seeing the film is not a option, for then I'd, mentally, compare notes with the book and there'd be the danger that 'it was not like that at all in the book' -comments. Uh, yes, the film. I liked it, a lot! Laughed myself silly. One that will find its way on me shelf as soon as it comes out on DVD.
Thanks Ismo! Not that you really had to speak me into seeing that film, sci-fi and I'm most likely sold. *winks*
I think I go and give a try with that Chris -story.

Renny-Alexander




13/10/05 Irrational fear

Story is that today there was a new toy shop opening in town and I thought to visit it. No, I do not want to discuss the reasons here. I went to the town, not only because of the mentioned shop, but because I needed flour and riding the bus whom do I spot riding a cycle? Aye, The Green-Eyed Devil. So, I get out of the bus and what happens is that he passes me by, so fast that after five minutes my hair is still flapping on my face, AND he never looks back.
Note: Had I had a stone or other variable thing in my hand, rest assured that I'd've used it. bang! Right at the back of his head.
Enter modern technology in the form of mobile phone. Result: No answer.
Some time later I spot the toy shop and at the entrance there is a lady with big silver-red BALLOONS! Oh, horror! I am afraid of balloons, seriously. It is an irrational fear, I cannot explain why am terrified of them, I just am. So, I think I can do evasive manouvers and get past the lady and only then I see that the whole shop is COVERED in balloons on the inside. Uh-oh, I am so not going in there.
Result: I visit the book shop next to it and while studying the selection my phone rings. The Green-Eyed Devil is calling. And he laughs at my irrational fear. It is not funny, lad. Anyways, I'm meeting him next week, most likely on Wednesday and as usual, the topic will be, (drums, plz) litterature.
Back to the balloons, I'd perfectly happy if I never saw one again in my life, but then I'd have to move on some deserted island or something. I have a question to the shop owners & publicity people. Would it be so immensly diffucult to announce that you're having these dreadful things floating around in you shop? A sign or something that says: 'balloons be here', or something. I mean, they are sometimes handing these things over in a normal supermarket! And the kids take them everywhere and don't care where they go and I get an anxiety attact and a serious need to flee, fast. This with many balloons, one I can deal with but more than one... Uh-oh, no way.
*shivers*

Other thing, last night I went out with my bamboo sword to practice a little. The unthinkable happened this Tuesday, I did not learn the new 'movement' there and then, I was very much at loss with it. Oh, don't get me wrong, I was expecting this day to come, much sooner in fact and I never thought that I needed no practice on my own. I am not THAT good. *grins* In fact, I quite enjoyed this private session. Just me, the sword and plenty of free space around me. Fantastic.

Renny-Alexander




03/10/05 Immnese stupidity?

Aye, the immense stupidity in other people has a way to drive me mad. Especially when I get same mail sent to two different address. The exact same thing. The Writer's Course strikes again.
...That sound awfully familiar...
So, I get this mail from a (apparently illiterate) lad, mailed into two different email boxes. One is for private mail, so to speak, the other for the use of this Writer's Course. Just to make things a bit easier, and mostly because I have no time, nor the desire, to hunt down the text sent to me which might be in three different locations. (This too has happened.) But NO! For some people that one-address -system seems to be beyond their capability of understanding!
I sent the whole sorry mess back at him and I don't often 'raise' my voice on mails for it is most impolite, but things like this deserve Capital Letter Info basically saying that you're an idiot, illiterate bastard and never do this again for I have very little tolerance for things like this.
Where he got this other address is beyond me. Hmm, maybe from the About?
Anyways, back to the business, writing Chapter 7, very unfinished, still.

Renny-Alexander




01/10/05 Am I being educated?

I got this feeling that I am, without me even noticing it. Not that I mind, no, learning new things is fun. Most of the time, that is. And when one does it out of one's free will. Ha-ha. Anyway, I met with Ismo (the green-eyed devil) Wednesday and we swopped some text over a cup of coffee, 'though I had a hot chocolate. So, along with thirty or so pages of his text, Ismo gives me this book by Olof Lagercrantz and says that we talked about it some time ago. (right, as if I remembered) But in all honesty, I do remeber hearing about the book, either from Ismo or from the Writers or both.
I will not bore you with a detailed account of what we talked about, I only want to share this:
Early this summer Ismo and I agreed that in the autumn we'd visit dad at his work, on an ice-breaker, because Ismo has never been on one and so I asked daddy-dear when. September or later would be fine. So, I was stupid enough to tell this to a friend of mine, it was more like an off-hand remark, meanning nothing more than it is, I and my friend will visit dad. Right, you can just bet how it turned out to be... So, this friend phones to me, with other business and asks when I'm coming over. I, being honest, say that I really do not know, because of my work and hobbies I have very little time to share. Then she says that if I don't come alone, I should bring my boyfriend. O_o My what? So she asks about Ismo and I have to explain that we're friends (I know how it sounds!!) and there is no more to the story.
The point of this long story is that it was such a good joke (sick maybe) that I had to share it with Ismo. So, I just asked him: 'Did you know that we're a couple?' He looks at me, baffled, for a moment and says 'No.' To which I say: 'Good, for I did not know that either." And then, of course, I have to explain the above.
Now, don't get me wrong, the concept of a boyfriend is perfectly all right with me. What most people do not understand that if you meet 200+ people during your average working day of 12-14 hours, the last thing you want to do in the evening is to be with people. At least I don't, I need an hour, hour and half to get my head off the work as well and most often that is also my bed time. Yes, I admit it, I've become a hermit of sort. I'm unsocial and live in a cave. (quoting Juk) Also, with my work, you cannot really have a normal relationship with anyone, unless the other part fully underdstands what it is. Think about it, what if someone you're invloved with says to you that he's working, say, three days and that you two could meet on the fourth? How would you feel? Abandonned? Unimportant? Left out? What about the people your loved one is working with? Most of my 'colleques' are men, for most often there is only one of the catering staff on one train. Think about it.

I so need to go now, my shinai is in pieces and I need to iron my clothes, too.

Renny-Alexander




23/09/05 Curse of 23

After thirty years one would think one had learned something. Not me. There are days when I should not even consider getting up from the bed. Every 23rd day of the month, 46th, 69th 92nd,.... of the year, no crucial decisions should be made on week 23 or 46... You get the idea?
Since I was born I was cursed with the number 23. No, it is no blessing!

This morning, after I had paid a heap of bills, I went for shopping.
First stop: hardware store, for gray plastic tube, usually for the underhouse sewer. This time no, I needed it for my shinai (incorrectly spelled, I think but not my fault). I need to sink it in water for 12 hours and after that oil it. So, I get the length, the stopper on the other end that is suppose to seal it. Two hours later it turns out that the thingy leaks. (no shinai in it) Back to the hardware shop to bitch about it and in general to be a difficult customer. Seriously, I was in no mood for no as an answer, besides I made it very clear that it must not leak under any circumstances.
That solved I come back home via Prisma and start with my breakfast/lunch/dinner, lasagna.
All went fine as fiddlesticks until... Aye, until I made a crucial underestimation in the number of how many hands I have. Six would have been the needed number but I only had two. Big pasta kettle (aye the one that says quiPasta on the side) for the cheese sauce, frying pan for the minced meat, another kettle for the green pepper sauce, and...disaster! The cheese sauce base decided to burn at the bottom the the kettle and the only way to get it off and not ruin the rest of the lasagna is to pour the non-damaged sauce base in another kettle and scrub the burnt goo out. While doing that, the minced meat nearly burns to crisp.
Note: I did get the damned lasagna done.
There I was scrubbing the quiPasta kettle and wondering why all this and it comes to me: The Curse of 23!

A few words about yesterday, I got tired of waiting a SMS/phone call from the green-eyed devil for a man, so I SMSd to him, like how about a cup of coffee tomorrow (referring today) and I could bring the next chapter of my sorry excuse of a sci-fi/fantasy/fan-fic story along for you to read if you want to. Here I must admit that it took me all twenty minutes to make up my mind whether to do it or not because, all of the sudden, I was feeling rather shy about meeting him. I know, it makes absolutely no sense. Anyways, the Devil phones me and says that Friday is not fine, for he's got things to do and he suggests Saturday. Nope, I'm busy all day, Sunday he's busy again and Monday I'm working, Tuesday is no good because of Mike's course and my Kendo practise. Anyway, we agree to phone about the 'meeting' later on, early next week or so. Right, then he asks if I want to read more of the thingy he's writing and I say that I've been expecting when he'll bring me more. Stupid man! Of course I want to read more, I told him so the last time we were talking about his text. A sudden case of amnesia, perhaps?

I go now, to write a bit more of the story, part 2, chapter 7, of which one third is alredy written, the story came out quite easily.

Renny-Alexander




19/09/05 First flu of the autumn

This really is unheard of! Me, having flu this early! MostUnfair! You can just bet if I have the Irish Cure for flu. Nope, not a drop of good whiskey. Not that it'd do any good at this point.

Thus, me head is quite useless and it shows. Hence the silly quiz-thingys, thanks Rika!

Your Inner Child Is Naughty

How You Are In Love

You Are a Chick Rocker!

What Your Underwear Says About You

Renny-Alexander




17/09/05 Insanity, anyone?

Before anyone jumps to any conclusions, I am referring to my new hobby, Kendo. Been doing that for two weeks now and, well. It is not as easy as I thought it would be, but much more easier than I feared. Me feet actully listen what I tell them to do.
To the point. I know there is a reason for everything we do there 'though there seemingly is no reason at the moment. And me, with this built-in sense of sarcastic humour and ability to find the ridiculous side on everything, I find it enourmously, and irresistably, laughable when twenty-odd lass & lad run from the other end of the hall to the other, bamboo swords raised, bellowing on top of their voices. Take a moment and visualise that, please. Now, hold on to that image of the hall and picture yourself on the outside.
Ô_o .....

Seriously, it sounded like the local loonie assulym was on a field trip and that did not help me at all.

Must go, my story wants out.

Renny-Alexander