You know what is lately pissing me off the most? Hint - it's not facebook, even if it seems that virtually everyone is on the darned thing and yapping all over.
No. But old, outdated technology. Now, I seem to remember that saying 'oldie is goldie', but when it comes to technology, this saying is woefully outdated. Yes, some of the old tech is still good, even superior in comparison with today one - however there are some bright exceptions - case in point, machine from Antikythera, and the iphones of the newest generation - 6 as I am writing this - are bendier that a rainbow, and not in a good sense. Sadly.
No, the trouble is, when you have old, before-the-flood mobile phone and iPhone G3S just stubbornly refuses to accept the pack of the pics mum had taken with her old, outdated Nokia phone. Cue the rifling through internet, forums and Apple help pages to cure the dumb thing of its affliction, but noo, hafta to go to the specialist to get the settings done. Which for me, is no way, no how, around 21.00 PM to get the things to a master tinkerer. And I already know my awesome (not so in some cases) big brother's answer - Ask Uncle Google or Figure It Out Yourself, and grrr.
The culprit in my case, was an old mobile phone, Nokia C2, which still has keyboard and is notoriously stubborn when coming to manning the pics. I am semi-proud owner of a second-hand Apple phone of version G3S. I am still getting used to its features, however I fell in love with the touch screen typing first, as keyboards on the older versions of the mobile phones always irked me something fierce. What can I say, computer keyboards spoiled me a mite bit too much. But back to the actual case.
Task was, to send the pics from the prehistoric Nokian phone to mine, and then from mine on the laptop and then to mum's laptop. Why the long way? No idea where mum stashed her cable from the Nokian phone, and really not bothering with searching for it and then getting shocked by her devil of a laptop again while uploading/downloading the pics. The plan was simple, only the execution was fucked up nine ways to Sunday and beyond, because apparently, my iPhone balks because it isn't attached to Safari, and Nokian phone has an outdated interface for e-mail, and I had to pick each pic separately to upload it in the email compartment, and even then, I was limited by the space I could stash the pics in. So, instead of some 15 minutes max as I had supposed I would have to use at the beginning to get the thing in order, I used one fat hour and a half to get the things rolling, because of the keyboards, scrolling around and so on and so forth - I am not mentioning the failures before I switched the accounts to send the pics from. Opera browser on Nokia was worthless, as it didn't allow uploading the pics, had to go to separate compartment for email... the whole shebang. /head meets desk/. Seriously, guys and gals, I love the technology - how could I not, because I had to practically grow up with using it in some manner or another, but this one took the proverbial cake.
I sincerely, really hope the next photo session will involve actual photograph machine - mum somehow managed to get hers out of the commission, don't ask me how - so the whole process will be a mite bit easier on my nerves and fingers.
And memo to myself - gotta get her to use more up to date tech, just for the sake of my braincells. Figuring out the un-compatibility of the Nokian and iPhone was really not my favorite thing to do, especially because of the roundabout way I had to take to finally get her the pics she was craving for.
Take care and wishig you compatible tech to work with,
Eirenei
Thursday, October 23, 2014
Friday, April 25, 2014
Ordinary Day
Right, haven't written anything in a lo-ong while. Suffice to say, got my pics and all from the graduation. Today, I got the usual - waking up, doing the lunch, puttering around the house, reading a massive amount of fics and having that Brat Dog Mia to walk.
The weather is heavy, and I wish for rain. My brain is under pressure - luckily I got most of the cleaning done, so my Saturday will be relatively free - hopefully /mumbles/, and I wanna snooze without mom scaring the crap outta me. I once again got the CI on, it's a bitch to remember to actually wear it, and I will have to acclimatize to it once again, but music helps. But 3D sound is worth it. Even if I have an annoying feeling in my tongue - an unpleasant scrape in the back of it, resonating with the music. Grrr. I am wondering when I will finally conquer the damn thing to the point of actually hearing without imaging the sound - it's like hearing an inverse sound actually - but I am giving up on that kind of wondering. Who knows. I care only becasue the thing can be itchy.
Have two new pet projects - HP/Fate Zero and an original story which is still begin drafted - have the characters to flesh out before I actually begin to write, and I hope to gods I will actually have time to get the thing done. But with operation advancing, I think I will have some time.... hopefully /grimaces/. Depends on what would the docs say, and if I would be lucid enough not to spell out senseless drivel. Or sleep. Under those, if I am not loopy, I am usually sleeping. Well,not a problem, sleep is my second favorite activity, aside from reading.
Listening to the Absolute Beginners by David Bowie and my ears are loving it. For that matter, I am loving it too. Hm, seems I will be happy camper after all.
The weather is heavy, and I wish for rain. My brain is under pressure - luckily I got most of the cleaning done, so my Saturday will be relatively free - hopefully /mumbles/, and I wanna snooze without mom scaring the crap outta me. I once again got the CI on, it's a bitch to remember to actually wear it, and I will have to acclimatize to it once again, but music helps. But 3D sound is worth it. Even if I have an annoying feeling in my tongue - an unpleasant scrape in the back of it, resonating with the music. Grrr. I am wondering when I will finally conquer the damn thing to the point of actually hearing without imaging the sound - it's like hearing an inverse sound actually - but I am giving up on that kind of wondering. Who knows. I care only becasue the thing can be itchy.
Have two new pet projects - HP/Fate Zero and an original story which is still begin drafted - have the characters to flesh out before I actually begin to write, and I hope to gods I will actually have time to get the thing done. But with operation advancing, I think I will have some time.... hopefully /grimaces/. Depends on what would the docs say, and if I would be lucid enough not to spell out senseless drivel. Or sleep. Under those, if I am not loopy, I am usually sleeping. Well,not a problem, sleep is my second favorite activity, aside from reading.
Listening to the Absolute Beginners by David Bowie and my ears are loving it. For that matter, I am loving it too. Hm, seems I will be happy camper after all.
Friday, April 18, 2014
The Power Of Forgiveness
Today, when I was shuffling along the pages of Yahoo, I found a moving story.
In Iran, there was a murderer, who was judged to be hanged, becasue he had killed a 19 year old youth in a street-fight back in 2007. Today, the family of the killed youth should have been given a satisfaction - blood for blood after all, but in a stunning and unexpected turn of events they did...
Nothing.
Well, not exactly nothing, but the mother of the murdered victim did halt the execution, slap the accused and then pleaded that he should be left to live. The mother's gesture left me in awe, becasue Iran is islamic, and their prophet Mohamed had approved of the 'eye for an eye' law. Even if nowadays it's thought barbaric, and used only in extreme cases, death penalty still exists. Civilized countries want to abolish it, and they had succeeded to some degree, but islamic countries are led by different hand of justice. There, blood revenges are accepted as usual practice, and so this happening is so much more unusual.
I am not a parent, but I can imagine how hard is for a mother to lose her child - one of my schoolmates had done a suicide, and it was heartbreaking to hear her ask why had her daughter done suicide when at funeral. There's always left a deep, gaping hole, no matter if the child has done suicide, been killed in self defense or in war. By all rights, this Iranian mother should have been vengeful and demand the worst of the tortures for the murderer who left her bereft of her precious child, and yet, she chose not to. She chose to show mercy, to plead for the murderer to be let go. Of course, if we wanted to be cynic, we can attribute the mercy to the public outcry of Iranian women and public who pleaded mercy for the murderer, but the last decision was still in the hands of the family of the victim's family. How easier would it be to just let the murderer pay for his misdeed, to see him hang from the gallows, and yet....
The ones we call Islamists, Mohamed's followers, the ones who still have such a strict code, they have spoken out, declaring mercy. What does that say about us, Christians, who are sometimes squabbling about the tiniest of things? It makes me ashamed that Christianity propagates mercy, and yet, it's so rarely shown. Our greatest feast is nearing, and instead of contemplating the mercy we were gifted with, we contemplate chocolate eggs, what we will eat and so on and so forth! For Islamists, our feast means nothing, so it's even more amazing they have done the act of mercy in the days that follow to the Easter.
How different would the world be, if the people, who asked to release a murderer, would have asked for releasing Jesus? It's illogical, that the crowd would rather have had a certified wrongdoer released than an innocent man. If we shall believe the Bible, that was intended to happen and yet, it makes for a bitter taste in the mouth, reading about such travesty.
Was it wrong to show a mercy to the killer? Cynics would say yes. Jesus would say no. He was the one who advocated for mercy, even for his enemies. One old proverb says, that eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. Sometimes, mercy isn't the right answer. However, there are moments when it's a saving grace that resonates within the sinner's soul. And I believe that this little act of mercy resonated within the murderer's soul. There's not many things that could affect the man so hard as to escape the sure death, even more so, if by mercy.
We all are innocent and sinners at the same time. We can abide by the code of revenge or the code of mercy. It's our decision which one we will chose, and for me, I am glad this one family has shown that despite the pain and adversity, it's still possible to chose mercy. And for that, I thank them from the bottom of my heart.
Thank you, Samereh Alinejad. Thank you, Abdolgani Hosseinzadeh. Thank you, little daughter. May you be blessed.
Eirenei
In Iran, there was a murderer, who was judged to be hanged, becasue he had killed a 19 year old youth in a street-fight back in 2007. Today, the family of the killed youth should have been given a satisfaction - blood for blood after all, but in a stunning and unexpected turn of events they did...
Nothing.
Well, not exactly nothing, but the mother of the murdered victim did halt the execution, slap the accused and then pleaded that he should be left to live. The mother's gesture left me in awe, becasue Iran is islamic, and their prophet Mohamed had approved of the 'eye for an eye' law. Even if nowadays it's thought barbaric, and used only in extreme cases, death penalty still exists. Civilized countries want to abolish it, and they had succeeded to some degree, but islamic countries are led by different hand of justice. There, blood revenges are accepted as usual practice, and so this happening is so much more unusual.
I am not a parent, but I can imagine how hard is for a mother to lose her child - one of my schoolmates had done a suicide, and it was heartbreaking to hear her ask why had her daughter done suicide when at funeral. There's always left a deep, gaping hole, no matter if the child has done suicide, been killed in self defense or in war. By all rights, this Iranian mother should have been vengeful and demand the worst of the tortures for the murderer who left her bereft of her precious child, and yet, she chose not to. She chose to show mercy, to plead for the murderer to be let go. Of course, if we wanted to be cynic, we can attribute the mercy to the public outcry of Iranian women and public who pleaded mercy for the murderer, but the last decision was still in the hands of the family of the victim's family. How easier would it be to just let the murderer pay for his misdeed, to see him hang from the gallows, and yet....
The ones we call Islamists, Mohamed's followers, the ones who still have such a strict code, they have spoken out, declaring mercy. What does that say about us, Christians, who are sometimes squabbling about the tiniest of things? It makes me ashamed that Christianity propagates mercy, and yet, it's so rarely shown. Our greatest feast is nearing, and instead of contemplating the mercy we were gifted with, we contemplate chocolate eggs, what we will eat and so on and so forth! For Islamists, our feast means nothing, so it's even more amazing they have done the act of mercy in the days that follow to the Easter.
How different would the world be, if the people, who asked to release a murderer, would have asked for releasing Jesus? It's illogical, that the crowd would rather have had a certified wrongdoer released than an innocent man. If we shall believe the Bible, that was intended to happen and yet, it makes for a bitter taste in the mouth, reading about such travesty.
Was it wrong to show a mercy to the killer? Cynics would say yes. Jesus would say no. He was the one who advocated for mercy, even for his enemies. One old proverb says, that eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. Sometimes, mercy isn't the right answer. However, there are moments when it's a saving grace that resonates within the sinner's soul. And I believe that this little act of mercy resonated within the murderer's soul. There's not many things that could affect the man so hard as to escape the sure death, even more so, if by mercy.
We all are innocent and sinners at the same time. We can abide by the code of revenge or the code of mercy. It's our decision which one we will chose, and for me, I am glad this one family has shown that despite the pain and adversity, it's still possible to chose mercy. And for that, I thank them from the bottom of my heart.
Thank you, Samereh Alinejad. Thank you, Abdolgani Hosseinzadeh. Thank you, little daughter. May you be blessed.
Eirenei
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Graduation Day
So here it is, much expected, dreaded and longed for - the G-day (it makes a person think about G-strings, and it just as comfortable as one /snarks/).
Thankfully, there 's no fuss like it had been for the prom, but it is still an annoying piece of duty, not to mention it can eat out a significant amount of money. Okay, I will reuse most of my thesis-defense clothes, but still, shoes had cost a pretty penny, not to mention both hair-styling - would have had hair-styled it all by my lonesome if the dratted operation wouldn't have demanded a good chunk of my hair being sheared off, and I am still on the wrong foot will all bigger things with makeup. /defeated sigh/. I seriously need some makeup classes. (Mum is gunning for manicure and pedicure ones /sweatdrops/. Seriously, hello?) My laptop keyboard has ganked, so I am using my other one and it will take time to write smoothly, as I am used to my laptop one, but oh well, I am thankful I had enough of a foresight to at least buy the darned thing. (Would have loved to own a new laptop by the way, with a much bigger inner drive - 1 TB or more and possibly a SSD to boot, but that is still a work in progress, both on the tech and mine front.)
On the shoes, I am happy camper to have some that don't clack on the floor, don't have high heels and are reasonably comfortable without my feet weeping at me in discomfort. Once, I made a mistake and bought pretty shoes for some or other celebration, and the front part, where the toes were, was uncomfortably tight. The salesperson had convinced my mum that it took just a little walking around to break 'em in. You know what - that was a bullshit. I wore them for the celebration, and then never again. The next ones, I overgrew, and that was a damned shame, because they were totally to my taste. And the walk through the shops was almost an exercise in futility - seriously, if the God had wanted that we wear high heels, he would have made our feet so, and I was both horrified and fascinated at the instruments of possible death and guaranteed torture that innocently parade on the shelves in the shape of high-heeled shoes. Noo, nope, thank you very much. There are few scenes of martial arts being used in high shoes, and that for a reason. And yeah, I will shamelessly admit I am not so gifted in the balance apartment, but trying to wear high-heeled devices of murder - feet murder or otherwise, is just asking for trouble.
Still, managed to find an unconventional pair of shoes, that have a small heel and are interesting and glory of all glories, they don't make me itch to get them off the minute I get them on my feet. As I joke, I didn't buy them - they adopted me for themselves the moment I got them on my feet. It was funny that was - I came to shop, grumped around and I would've gone out in a snit if I hadn't noticed something glittering on one of the lower shelves. Yup, I am sucker for glittering something if it's tastefully done. At first, I tested them just for the heck of it, but then, I pondered - why should the shoes be black, of all things just to go along with the black trousers, so my mind did a total turnaround and I decided that I won't follow the conventional wisdom of having black with black - would've been cool, but not my style, and I snatched the pair faster than you could say 'sold'. Of course, the price was significantly higher than I wanted it to be, but they will serve me faithfully for a long time, so it was a good investment, even if a bit pricy one. So... totaling the amount of shoes I have - and yeah, have to buy winter ones sometime, I own seven pairs, four of them trainers, one pair of crocs (clogs), pair of flip-flops and a pair of sandals, the slippers notwithstanding. Some would say it's a shamefully small amount, however it's an useful one, and that's all I care about. I am confused about the girls' chat about that and than model of the shoes - what should I care about some or another Loubotini? Gimme some good book any day. /Sighs/. Women are strange species, that they are. /shakes head./
The sun has appeared, so maybe we will have a modicum of good weather today, but I am not counting on it. My headache from yesterday has also disappeared - seriously, the yesterday was stifling like hell, and I am thankful we had a rain overnight to cool the air down and so on. For April, the weather is very flighty still - we have almost summer-ish temperatures, and then, it's could outta blue. but so long so good, it seems it will be good one today. Still, better bring along an umbrella....
So, there it is... time to prepare for the G-string - oops, I meant graduation. See y'all later,
11 PM, so almost 23.00
Here, back again. Have mixed feelings - on one hand, I am relieved I avoided any overly nasty topics and on the other hand I am spooked and angry dad had looked into my graduation map. What, first thing he doesn't want to go, and then, he dares to browse in what is mine!? Hell, man would've be tempted to clock him one around his head. Shame I ain't a man.... would've probably solved some o the things. Doesn't help he is still drinking, so we had another companion to see the graduation ceremony with - don't know whether to be pissed off or disappointed in my father - I am leaning toward indifference - he wasn't here when I was one of the best, and he ain't here when it mattered. Makes me wonder if I should ever invite him to my wedding if there ever would be one. /grumbles/. Anyway, he is one of the reasons I am wary of men, because at subconscious level, my brain is trying to equate all males with him, in negative light. I am tempted to say that I am done with him. He is still my parent, that is true, but the one who reared me up, since diapers till now, is mum. But I got used to him not coming to celebrations of my achievements - first in the elementary school, in middle school there was only mum, and occasionally my brother. University, he wasn't much present, except in monetary matters. I am confused on where to place him - he provided for me, sure, but as a person, he wasn't there much. He tries, in his own, awkward way, but his tries are interspersed with my past hobbies - I painted well, and he is still onto me to get into painting sometimes. Now, I am writing. I don't have much to talk with him. But between him drinking and me having my own problems, there's not much to say. I am leaning toward indifference, and isn't that sad?
Overall, the day went well. I am tempted to continue the schooling, to reach for the Master level, but on the other hand, I now know where are my borders in regards to this particular course. I don't know whether I would have patience for getting through another heap of exams - in the end, ther eare onyl numbers and some courses you've successfully done, and I am not sure I even learned something about anything when I was in a school. True, I can draw the business plan, use programs relevant to my job and so on and so forth, but I still feel woefully uneducated about a heck-load of things, the things I can only learn in life. Probably. No matter the curriculum, the only real test is a live situation. I am leaning toward writing, because I do this the best and enjoy it, but I am afraid. What if I fail? Logically, I know if I fail, then I could always try again, but the hurt of failure is sometimes bitter to swallow. Fail nine times, get up ten. I know that only too well, what with the math subjects. /grimaces/. However, on the other side, I am feeling as if I am deliberately pressing all the wrong buttons except the right one. I am pressing the wrong button in a want to conform, to be normal and to have a dependable income. Steady job means good income and I wouldn't want for anything for a long time, drifting through the years, meeting a good person and marry them and then maybe have kids - very doubtful maybe, rear them, age, and then die. Isn't' that how the things usually go?
But on the other side, I could dare myself to go against the mainstream thinking, to write and to endure on this way. It's an unknown path, uncertain one, I don't even know if there would be a steady income to cover all my needs and more, and yet...if I succeed, it would be a success that would exceed my wildest dreams. If I fail, then I would have failed, had to find a low paying job and then begin anew from something and somewhere else.
The road that leads to nowhere
or the road that leads to you.
(Enya)
I am afraid to go against my father. It simply isn't done, and yet, this is my life. If I accede now, then I will miss something very important to me - experience, growth, self-respect, happiness, feeling of accomplishment - it sometimes irks me that my gift isn't obvious one, like with numbers or chemicals or something, but instead, I only have a gift with words. Well, yes, I am artisitcally inclined too, but still, sometimes I feel that I hold nothing in my hands.
Nothing worthwhile. And yet... If I gave it a chance, it could be something, I don't know what exactly, but something. A book, a song a picture... I don't know, but something, I don't know whether it would be brilliant, because sometimes I think myself so very clumsy, like a beginner, and then I am always happily surprised when I read the praise from my readers, that they enjoyed my works, and I read them and marvel at them, reminding myself that I created them. That is what drives me to write - to create, to push the boundaries, to make the images in my head real. To dream alongside the readers.
Scary, but true. and I am still here, still trying to fit in, and still being grumpy about not fitting in. Being ordinary is becoming exhausting, and only my laziness is stalling me from advancing forward. Laziness and fear, that is. /sour face/ No other cure than to kick my ass in gear an constantly convince myself that this was the right decision.
Today I went past the house of my deceased schoolmate, E. She had missed so many chances - she could've graduated, have a boyfriend up till now, everything, and yet, she chose to end her life. And wasn't that sad? Yes, you need to be courageous to end your life, but even braver to live it, and yet, not living in accordance with your desires, is dying in small doses. So, one step after another..../gulps/.
Wish me luck? /puppy eyes/
Thankfully, there 's no fuss like it had been for the prom, but it is still an annoying piece of duty, not to mention it can eat out a significant amount of money. Okay, I will reuse most of my thesis-defense clothes, but still, shoes had cost a pretty penny, not to mention both hair-styling - would have had hair-styled it all by my lonesome if the dratted operation wouldn't have demanded a good chunk of my hair being sheared off, and I am still on the wrong foot will all bigger things with makeup. /defeated sigh/. I seriously need some makeup classes. (Mum is gunning for manicure and pedicure ones /sweatdrops/. Seriously, hello?) My laptop keyboard has ganked, so I am using my other one and it will take time to write smoothly, as I am used to my laptop one, but oh well, I am thankful I had enough of a foresight to at least buy the darned thing. (Would have loved to own a new laptop by the way, with a much bigger inner drive - 1 TB or more and possibly a SSD to boot, but that is still a work in progress, both on the tech and mine front.)
On the shoes, I am happy camper to have some that don't clack on the floor, don't have high heels and are reasonably comfortable without my feet weeping at me in discomfort. Once, I made a mistake and bought pretty shoes for some or other celebration, and the front part, where the toes were, was uncomfortably tight. The salesperson had convinced my mum that it took just a little walking around to break 'em in. You know what - that was a bullshit. I wore them for the celebration, and then never again. The next ones, I overgrew, and that was a damned shame, because they were totally to my taste. And the walk through the shops was almost an exercise in futility - seriously, if the God had wanted that we wear high heels, he would have made our feet so, and I was both horrified and fascinated at the instruments of possible death and guaranteed torture that innocently parade on the shelves in the shape of high-heeled shoes. Noo, nope, thank you very much. There are few scenes of martial arts being used in high shoes, and that for a reason. And yeah, I will shamelessly admit I am not so gifted in the balance apartment, but trying to wear high-heeled devices of murder - feet murder or otherwise, is just asking for trouble.
Still, managed to find an unconventional pair of shoes, that have a small heel and are interesting and glory of all glories, they don't make me itch to get them off the minute I get them on my feet. As I joke, I didn't buy them - they adopted me for themselves the moment I got them on my feet. It was funny that was - I came to shop, grumped around and I would've gone out in a snit if I hadn't noticed something glittering on one of the lower shelves. Yup, I am sucker for glittering something if it's tastefully done. At first, I tested them just for the heck of it, but then, I pondered - why should the shoes be black, of all things just to go along with the black trousers, so my mind did a total turnaround and I decided that I won't follow the conventional wisdom of having black with black - would've been cool, but not my style, and I snatched the pair faster than you could say 'sold'. Of course, the price was significantly higher than I wanted it to be, but they will serve me faithfully for a long time, so it was a good investment, even if a bit pricy one. So... totaling the amount of shoes I have - and yeah, have to buy winter ones sometime, I own seven pairs, four of them trainers, one pair of crocs (clogs), pair of flip-flops and a pair of sandals, the slippers notwithstanding. Some would say it's a shamefully small amount, however it's an useful one, and that's all I care about. I am confused about the girls' chat about that and than model of the shoes - what should I care about some or another Loubotini? Gimme some good book any day. /Sighs/. Women are strange species, that they are. /shakes head./
The sun has appeared, so maybe we will have a modicum of good weather today, but I am not counting on it. My headache from yesterday has also disappeared - seriously, the yesterday was stifling like hell, and I am thankful we had a rain overnight to cool the air down and so on. For April, the weather is very flighty still - we have almost summer-ish temperatures, and then, it's could outta blue. but so long so good, it seems it will be good one today. Still, better bring along an umbrella....
So, there it is... time to prepare for the G-string - oops, I meant graduation. See y'all later,
11 PM, so almost 23.00
Here, back again. Have mixed feelings - on one hand, I am relieved I avoided any overly nasty topics and on the other hand I am spooked and angry dad had looked into my graduation map. What, first thing he doesn't want to go, and then, he dares to browse in what is mine!? Hell, man would've be tempted to clock him one around his head. Shame I ain't a man.... would've probably solved some o the things. Doesn't help he is still drinking, so we had another companion to see the graduation ceremony with - don't know whether to be pissed off or disappointed in my father - I am leaning toward indifference - he wasn't here when I was one of the best, and he ain't here when it mattered. Makes me wonder if I should ever invite him to my wedding if there ever would be one. /grumbles/. Anyway, he is one of the reasons I am wary of men, because at subconscious level, my brain is trying to equate all males with him, in negative light. I am tempted to say that I am done with him. He is still my parent, that is true, but the one who reared me up, since diapers till now, is mum. But I got used to him not coming to celebrations of my achievements - first in the elementary school, in middle school there was only mum, and occasionally my brother. University, he wasn't much present, except in monetary matters. I am confused on where to place him - he provided for me, sure, but as a person, he wasn't there much. He tries, in his own, awkward way, but his tries are interspersed with my past hobbies - I painted well, and he is still onto me to get into painting sometimes. Now, I am writing. I don't have much to talk with him. But between him drinking and me having my own problems, there's not much to say. I am leaning toward indifference, and isn't that sad?
Overall, the day went well. I am tempted to continue the schooling, to reach for the Master level, but on the other hand, I now know where are my borders in regards to this particular course. I don't know whether I would have patience for getting through another heap of exams - in the end, ther eare onyl numbers and some courses you've successfully done, and I am not sure I even learned something about anything when I was in a school. True, I can draw the business plan, use programs relevant to my job and so on and so forth, but I still feel woefully uneducated about a heck-load of things, the things I can only learn in life. Probably. No matter the curriculum, the only real test is a live situation. I am leaning toward writing, because I do this the best and enjoy it, but I am afraid. What if I fail? Logically, I know if I fail, then I could always try again, but the hurt of failure is sometimes bitter to swallow. Fail nine times, get up ten. I know that only too well, what with the math subjects. /grimaces/. However, on the other side, I am feeling as if I am deliberately pressing all the wrong buttons except the right one. I am pressing the wrong button in a want to conform, to be normal and to have a dependable income. Steady job means good income and I wouldn't want for anything for a long time, drifting through the years, meeting a good person and marry them and then maybe have kids - very doubtful maybe, rear them, age, and then die. Isn't' that how the things usually go?
But on the other side, I could dare myself to go against the mainstream thinking, to write and to endure on this way. It's an unknown path, uncertain one, I don't even know if there would be a steady income to cover all my needs and more, and yet...if I succeed, it would be a success that would exceed my wildest dreams. If I fail, then I would have failed, had to find a low paying job and then begin anew from something and somewhere else.
The road that leads to nowhere
or the road that leads to you.
(Enya)
I am afraid to go against my father. It simply isn't done, and yet, this is my life. If I accede now, then I will miss something very important to me - experience, growth, self-respect, happiness, feeling of accomplishment - it sometimes irks me that my gift isn't obvious one, like with numbers or chemicals or something, but instead, I only have a gift with words. Well, yes, I am artisitcally inclined too, but still, sometimes I feel that I hold nothing in my hands.
Nothing worthwhile. And yet... If I gave it a chance, it could be something, I don't know what exactly, but something. A book, a song a picture... I don't know, but something, I don't know whether it would be brilliant, because sometimes I think myself so very clumsy, like a beginner, and then I am always happily surprised when I read the praise from my readers, that they enjoyed my works, and I read them and marvel at them, reminding myself that I created them. That is what drives me to write - to create, to push the boundaries, to make the images in my head real. To dream alongside the readers.
Scary, but true. and I am still here, still trying to fit in, and still being grumpy about not fitting in. Being ordinary is becoming exhausting, and only my laziness is stalling me from advancing forward. Laziness and fear, that is. /sour face/ No other cure than to kick my ass in gear an constantly convince myself that this was the right decision.
Today I went past the house of my deceased schoolmate, E. She had missed so many chances - she could've graduated, have a boyfriend up till now, everything, and yet, she chose to end her life. And wasn't that sad? Yes, you need to be courageous to end your life, but even braver to live it, and yet, not living in accordance with your desires, is dying in small doses. So, one step after another..../gulps/.
Wish me luck? /puppy eyes/
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Miffed, pissy and gumpy. Satisfied?
Right now, I am feeling in a tailspin, and being pretty much miffed about it, to the point of feeling aggravated to the n-th degree, and I really wanna howl because of it. I feel confined, having no job and no work - wait, work I can find, but job... /grumpy face/. The unemployment is getting to me, and with mum biting my head off sometimes, I am not a happy camper about it. I want to do something. I NEED to do something before I burst. Doesn't help there's also that damned SOPA 2014 on the strike, and we still need some 6.400 signatures to get to the threshold!
Today I looked up the possible study choices - I am toying with the thought of picking up my previous study, or continuing the recently finished one, but to my disgruntlement, I can't find in myself to get serious about them, either becasue they are too hard or too confusing. I am leaning on continuing the finished study, because it's shorter and I already have a background, 'sides it's near my home. I am a little bit wary of picking up the former study, firstly becasue it's away from home and secondly, I know myself only too well - not having liking for language and it's grammatical nuances. Bitch, please, I can learn, but I have some notable exceptions - Old Slavic Language is one of them, because this language is dead as dead can be, and I so don NOT want to have my brains zombfied for a year before the exam and so on and so forth. Gimme French any day, thank you. And while we are at French, oh glory of all glories, mum finally did her homework without me! /relieved sigh/.
But back to me and my snit. I am feelin' snitty. Now it's a little bit easier, but in the morning I snapped at my mum when she brought me possible contact for a job - in my defense, I was eating at the time, and she came in just in the middle of my chow time. What pissed me off was that she continued even if she saw me eating. (true, I was reading alongside, but that isn't the crime, as far as I know, and I sorely despise when someone interrupts my read-chow time.) Back before the snit, I was pissed off becasue a) I found a small mountain of a freshly laundered clothes to hang, which is .... somehow my duty, and b) the two berks who shall remain nameless for the sake of democracy, left their dirty dishes in the sink ... for me to wash. Not a happy morning for me, if I have to do mundane tasks even before my breakfast. Okay, laundry I understand, because we just repaired the washing machine, so the increase is understandable, but I am a mite bit pissed off that the two don't wash the dishes they use after themselves. Noo, nope, not in a million years, since I and mum got that unwritten and unspoken agreement that I am an unofficial dishwasher in the house. Hello? Gawd, it's tedious, and I can't help but admire her for the sheer tenacity of doing this 50+ years, and being grumpy that we still don't have dishwashing machine to do the deed. if there's a machine which we use for washing the clothes, it boggles my mind that we don't use a machine that would wash the dishes and spare us the pissing around the subject of dishwashing once and for all. We would spare time, heating up the water - well, electricity and water would be a collateral here, but still, the good would probably outweigh the bad. Probably. /skeptic glance/.
Good news - this month I am absolved from paying the health bills :), so that's a plus. Still, the sooner I find a stable job, the better. That means getting off of my behind, wagging my proverbial tail at prospective employers and hoping that I would be interesting enough for them to employ me. Really, all this cheer is practically killing me /miserable groan/. And am not feeling charitable right now. Right, shutting up now.
Have to do something productive.
Today I looked up the possible study choices - I am toying with the thought of picking up my previous study, or continuing the recently finished one, but to my disgruntlement, I can't find in myself to get serious about them, either becasue they are too hard or too confusing. I am leaning on continuing the finished study, because it's shorter and I already have a background, 'sides it's near my home. I am a little bit wary of picking up the former study, firstly becasue it's away from home and secondly, I know myself only too well - not having liking for language and it's grammatical nuances. Bitch, please, I can learn, but I have some notable exceptions - Old Slavic Language is one of them, because this language is dead as dead can be, and I so don NOT want to have my brains zombfied for a year before the exam and so on and so forth. Gimme French any day, thank you. And while we are at French, oh glory of all glories, mum finally did her homework without me! /relieved sigh/.
But back to me and my snit. I am feelin' snitty. Now it's a little bit easier, but in the morning I snapped at my mum when she brought me possible contact for a job - in my defense, I was eating at the time, and she came in just in the middle of my chow time. What pissed me off was that she continued even if she saw me eating. (true, I was reading alongside, but that isn't the crime, as far as I know, and I sorely despise when someone interrupts my read-chow time.) Back before the snit, I was pissed off becasue a) I found a small mountain of a freshly laundered clothes to hang, which is .... somehow my duty, and b) the two berks who shall remain nameless for the sake of democracy, left their dirty dishes in the sink ... for me to wash. Not a happy morning for me, if I have to do mundane tasks even before my breakfast. Okay, laundry I understand, because we just repaired the washing machine, so the increase is understandable, but I am a mite bit pissed off that the two don't wash the dishes they use after themselves. Noo, nope, not in a million years, since I and mum got that unwritten and unspoken agreement that I am an unofficial dishwasher in the house. Hello? Gawd, it's tedious, and I can't help but admire her for the sheer tenacity of doing this 50+ years, and being grumpy that we still don't have dishwashing machine to do the deed. if there's a machine which we use for washing the clothes, it boggles my mind that we don't use a machine that would wash the dishes and spare us the pissing around the subject of dishwashing once and for all. We would spare time, heating up the water - well, electricity and water would be a collateral here, but still, the good would probably outweigh the bad. Probably. /skeptic glance/.
Good news - this month I am absolved from paying the health bills :), so that's a plus. Still, the sooner I find a stable job, the better. That means getting off of my behind, wagging my proverbial tail at prospective employers and hoping that I would be interesting enough for them to employ me. Really, all this cheer is practically killing me /miserable groan/. And am not feeling charitable right now. Right, shutting up now.
Have to do something productive.
Friday, February 28, 2014
Mia-tastic Day
Well, what do you know, there are some days when both of us have a respite from each other. Today, I led Mia out, let her to run and dig her goles to her heart content - I amused myself with thinking that for all of her entusiasm, Mia could definitely dig a hole to the other side of planet, but alas, her abilities to find the juicy mouse or a mole are on a declining side. However, digging tired her out.
We also found a spot where she just threw herself down and roll, roll, roll, like crazy. I don't know why, but it was Rolling Spot, even if I didn't see anything that would differ that patch of dried out grass from any other. However, Mia enjoyed it. On the walk back, I don't know, but she behaved as if she had hemorrhoids in her behind - sitting , rolling anything, just not going home! However, her 'beside-walk' improved - I just had to tire her out enough for her to comply. Today's time was half an hour, or three quarters of an hour - I am not too clear on that, but okay.
Anything else? Got amusing new concept for story, and I am grinning at the thought of it. Right now, gotta go read some more, yesterday was once again Pack Your Logs Day, and I only finished with sorting it out today.
Mia was a darling, though I will have to get her in the garage tonight, because the temperatures outside are, even if days are moderately warm, still chilly.
We also found a spot where she just threw herself down and roll, roll, roll, like crazy. I don't know why, but it was Rolling Spot, even if I didn't see anything that would differ that patch of dried out grass from any other. However, Mia enjoyed it. On the walk back, I don't know, but she behaved as if she had hemorrhoids in her behind - sitting , rolling anything, just not going home! However, her 'beside-walk' improved - I just had to tire her out enough for her to comply. Today's time was half an hour, or three quarters of an hour - I am not too clear on that, but okay.
Anything else? Got amusing new concept for story, and I am grinning at the thought of it. Right now, gotta go read some more, yesterday was once again Pack Your Logs Day, and I only finished with sorting it out today.
Mia was a darling, though I will have to get her in the garage tonight, because the temperatures outside are, even if days are moderately warm, still chilly.
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Tornado Mia turned Brat Dog Mia
Remember Mia? The Tornado Mia?
Yup, that Mia. This day, she became officially ours, and changed into Brat Dog Mia.
Duration of time spent together: 1 hour and a 10 minutes - 30 minutes in the morning, and then 40 in the afternoon.
At morning, it was good, because it was more informal, nothing to take her attention aside from usual things, but the afternoon was a whole different kettle of fish. First father instructing me the leash should be slackened - I want to see HIM leading Mia without being dragged along at first /growls out, incensed/, then I tapped Mia down for jumping on me - all right, she weighs some 35 kilos, and I am twice her weight, but that still doesn't excuse her from jumping on me.
The work was mostly Mia-centered - I let her down to wild herself out, and I made a note to talk to Mum about teaching her to let go of the things - I wanted to play fetch with her, but she is as stubborn as a pitbull on that, and I am so not risking my hands without a proper know-how on how to teach her to NOT chomp on my fingers when I take anything from her mouth. Fuck, I miss Sani. He had plenty energy too, but he at least was obedient to me /slumps with defeat/. Then, walking alongside me - she had an unpleasant habit of trying to drag me everywhere and anywhere, so I was teaching her to walk nicely beside, or even better, a little behind me. pack leader and all that. It went better than with the first lesson, but that was about it - when she was let off leash, she was crazier than ever, not listening a whit to me, and when we came home, she inadvertently - not! - scared the chickens. Mia the Dumbass makes appearance. /quadruple sweatdrop/ Father was angry, and I admit, I should've lead her home on a least, so a lesson for next time. I intend on ignoring her today and maybe tomorrow. Even Mia isn't as cute as to convince me to forgive her so quickly. One step forth, three back. Oh, God, just why don't the dogs come with some kind of an user manual? /whines/ Cat-speak, I understand. Dog brains... the next greatest mystery to me, aside male ones. Sometimes, I wish we could gotten one of the ankle-biter puppies and reared them up. Because while Mum seems to get the Mia Manual, I am hopelessly lost within translations.
Till next time,
Eirenei
The theme for today Who Let The Dogs Out?
Yup, that Mia. This day, she became officially ours, and changed into Brat Dog Mia.
Duration of time spent together: 1 hour and a 10 minutes - 30 minutes in the morning, and then 40 in the afternoon.
At morning, it was good, because it was more informal, nothing to take her attention aside from usual things, but the afternoon was a whole different kettle of fish. First father instructing me the leash should be slackened - I want to see HIM leading Mia without being dragged along at first /growls out, incensed/, then I tapped Mia down for jumping on me - all right, she weighs some 35 kilos, and I am twice her weight, but that still doesn't excuse her from jumping on me.
The work was mostly Mia-centered - I let her down to wild herself out, and I made a note to talk to Mum about teaching her to let go of the things - I wanted to play fetch with her, but she is as stubborn as a pitbull on that, and I am so not risking my hands without a proper know-how on how to teach her to NOT chomp on my fingers when I take anything from her mouth. Fuck, I miss Sani. He had plenty energy too, but he at least was obedient to me /slumps with defeat/. Then, walking alongside me - she had an unpleasant habit of trying to drag me everywhere and anywhere, so I was teaching her to walk nicely beside, or even better, a little behind me. pack leader and all that. It went better than with the first lesson, but that was about it - when she was let off leash, she was crazier than ever, not listening a whit to me, and when we came home, she inadvertently - not! - scared the chickens. Mia the Dumbass makes appearance. /quadruple sweatdrop/ Father was angry, and I admit, I should've lead her home on a least, so a lesson for next time. I intend on ignoring her today and maybe tomorrow. Even Mia isn't as cute as to convince me to forgive her so quickly. One step forth, three back. Oh, God, just why don't the dogs come with some kind of an user manual? /whines/ Cat-speak, I understand. Dog brains... the next greatest mystery to me, aside male ones. Sometimes, I wish we could gotten one of the ankle-biter puppies and reared them up. Because while Mum seems to get the Mia Manual, I am hopelessly lost within translations.
Till next time,
Eirenei
The theme for today Who Let The Dogs Out?
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