Dyslexic Galdiautors*

As it goes, modern man isn't really afraid of much - not really. I mean - what are you afraid of? I can't think of anything. You need to be fully fledged mentally unstable person to actually have a fear. Not *worry* or a *phobia*. Sure, we all worry about pain and loss and loneliness, or tend to avoid, say, orange food or dirty surfaces.. But to be afraid? Be it a Hun horde, a dragon or a ghetto bully, when all instinct is purged and nothing but logic, intellect and self-esteem remain, it's "Bring it on, bitch!"

As it goes, fear isn't really something that happens lightly to anyone above twelve. It occurred to me, while watching Fringe, that these days an ideal woman is practically a Valkyre - actress Anna Torv portrays a popular character which is independent, righteous, fierce and beautiful in a robust, in-your-face way. What was the ideal woman 100 years ago? Scarlett O'Harra?

Last truly intense, mind numbing fear I can think of personally was a descent from a mountain we've been undertaking last summer. Piček and I did a peak a day before and two peaks that day and the last one was a bitch to get on, yet alone off... I was getting very tired, it was foggy, we were in a natural shaft and the path, mostly on moist wires and rungs, was commemorated with marble plaques of people who died here - a lot. It was Hellfull descend. Anything could go wrong and one of us would fall and that would be it - instantly. Even bigger problem was that we could barely help one another, there was just no room to offer a hand. At one point Piček stepped off a line, which was too low to hold and walk around the hanging cliff and the room it created leaned me outwards almost impossibly - I had no way of managing the next step. My body choked, I started to have a hysterical fit and he simply couldn't reach me. But luckily they trained us in the army to allow these fits to pass, explain we need a minute and then start cursing and kicking. Ultimately, slowly and surely we managed to reach the path on the ground (slippery and brittle, an old glacier slope, but ON THE GROUND). That, and of course driving over Tizi'N'Test were truly frightening moments.

Now, within the confide of my home, nothing much truly frightens me. But I do thrive on reflexive sensations that in the natural circumstance would offer me an adrenaline boost (other than that I am certainly not an adrenaline junky - I find such activities rather boring), so playing computer games come in very handy. A cool Saturday afternoon, post nap, post snack, and the lot of us - us two, sis and her mate and perhaps another (usually a tank), take on serious dungeons. And within those moments, when brain needs to work, reflexes need to work, concentration needs to work and stakes are high (seriously, dude, it's a GAME), I tremble and shake and itch and gasp... :D I love it. No idea how I allow myself to be so genuinely involve with something that could NEVER reach me, yet somehow I experience it profoundly and love it a 100 %. Such afternoons boost me plenty. They make for some actually good memories :)

*the name of  friend's playgroup ;))

Why are shows lately better than movies, why I don't care about extinctions and why I wouldn't mind being frozen for 5000 years..

Personally, I am not a fan of environmentalists. I have zero compassion for people who insist on staying hardcore primitive and all around them world is changing. Why should everyone else adapt to those who refuse to change? Things change. I like the fact we're changing. I like evolution, I like the philosophy of it. I like living in this age, when I remember toilet paper still being impossibly uncomfortable and journalists sending messages via a thingie that used a punctured paper strip and now sitting on the toilet, reading about phones coming out that have koi ponds in them. We are changing the environment, the climate, soon even the solar system and other planets and I am very proud of that. This world is very willing to change, too. Of course some think it's best to keep it in some stabile state that may have been or may not have been some time ago, but I am fairly certain they're like those archeologists who think middle ages were quaint. We are the dominant species do jour and while we're here, world is ours. One of these days, give or take a few thousand years, we'll be gone and our ambitions will be overgrown and forgotten. Nature won't even blink. Urbanism here, pollution there, boo hoo. How did this planet feel when ferns first came to town and totally overthrew the climate, making it full of oxygen and totally without sulfur? Radical change!! Turn it back!! Seriously..

As bad as it may be for some, machines and things that last only a short while are modern now. Factory workers refuse to understand that their time is over. Of course 15o years ago it took a whole village to school one man and now everyone is schooled and nobody wants to do grunt work. Society around me hosts 100.000 unemployed within this crisis and not a single person willing to work for a living. Where are the times when a craftsman needed a whole family of support to work day and night and paid pennies to his sweepers and wood choppers.. Now if I want someone to do my lesser tasks perish the thought I'd force them to sing for their supper! Nooo, everyone wants a great job, easy work, lots of doe, right now, right here.

Things are happening so quickly, that the whole culture, whole planet (except those with their heads insistently in the sand) chokes on daily basis. Does anyone - again, referring to those who actually know how to read - remember what was the immortal hit 5 years ago? What revolutionary product that was going to change our lives was on top of the list? Which book was considered instant classic? There are SO many now, it is SO easy to succeed, but you've got to be prepared to last only a second. Trick is how to make the most of it while it lasts and then change and start all over again.

My former video-rent boss and I chat over periodic coffees about movies and shows. Movies used to be events, social gatherings, debate clubs.. I used to see EVERYTHING that came through this town, sometimes even stuff that only screened half a day's train-ride out. Now I've had 4 free tickets for weeks and not much allures me. It's not because of the downloads - I've never had much problem knowing what's way better on screen. There were movies I'd go see 2o times in a row. There's so much people wanna say within those 100 minute frames, spending hundreds of millions of dollars (I mean - GOD!?) on sets and costumes that are on display for 5 seconds... But shows, lately, and more and more I think, suddenly attract way better cats, writers and approaches and take their time to introduce characters, explain, show of, deviate, twist, let the story grow with times and audience.. All of a sudden you want someone else's life to be happening alongside of yours, screen constantly on, grateful it's there and not yours. And for every show that goes bad after three or four seasons, lately three or four new ones enlist...

.........

Uh, it's getting late and I still have work to do and I am able to go on for a while. To be continued... For sure :p

Ones that must be paid, ones that probably should be paid and ones that go under 'awww, well, fukkid, it was fun while it lasted....'

Never had so many 'final notice' bills arrive before. All that red ink! MUCH more stylish than the normal black-on-white ones..

        Anyhoo. Spoke with my gran's shrink today. Was surprised - he wasn't someone I could yell at at all, he was a calm old man with 4o years of experience in managing a mental asylum. That does get you prepared. Ultimately we spent 2o minutes supporting each-other in our mutual fear of gran. He tells her what she wants to hear so she doesn't bring down the house and I, well, I do what I can under some very tempestruous circumstances. She continues to sue mum for theft of money that wasn't money but was royalties and has no proof any transation actually took place, not to mention mum says the money was used to purchase this flat. Lack of any hard evidence is why she is upset with me for not believing her and taking her side. I am Switzerland. And she's Queen Victoria reincarnated. Every sane worker in the retirement home bows to her. It's how I ended up in the shrink's office, without formal invite - she just walked in and all anyone could do was to smile and do what she says. When I'm 130, I'd quite love to have that kind of self esteem.

Am over my passion for elder men, though. Can say that for certain now, no matter how wise the candidate may be. Ah, well. Gues I'm old and mature now myself. Not that it was even a daddy issue, more an anti-daddy-issue. Lance Henriksen kind of a thing; since I was 12. (It was either him or the alien and not all my classmates would understand my passion for aliens...) In fact it's been an ongoing argument since yesterday, with two of my friends. An American friend whined most of the night how she likes a guy, but he's hairy and not 'hot'. I yelled at her for the rest of the nocturnal hours' duration, what the f* is she thinking? We're not in the Stone Age anymore, where facial symmetry meant the subject is fertile and thus a desirable mate. Is a hot guy automatically fun? Is a smart guy automatically loving? Is a rich snob faithful and if he is, who's to say that he will be supportive in the stickiest of situations?.. Looks and money and PhD have NOTHING to do with it. Love isn't the thing to generalize.

            'Course... On this particular subject I may not be the one to preach. My former husband was an Orlando Bloom look-alike in this one has the body of Achilles and mind of a samurai, so as 'hot' goes, I've kind of always had it covered.. but that's not the point! There was a time when I'd gravitate exclusively towards the social outcasts, the underdogs, the cripples, the ostracized garden variety, gender optional. The more unpopular the man, the greater his chances with me. For ten years I'd artistically pursue any romance that had anything to do with Mugen.

            But those don't seem to retain their appeal. Sooner or later damaged goods choke on their own issues. I'm too old for 'live fast, die young, leave a majority of internal organs for donations'.  I'd like to spend the next 2o years doing what I like, not patching another's childhood problems. I need a man who has so few  skeletons of his own that he can take half of mine and still has room for an SUV.

            I keep thinking of how Piček handled the freeze box situation. He didn't patronize my worries, he didn't try to share the burden, he didn't make speeches or vague promises - he went out and fixed the problem elegantly, intelligently and quietly. And he made nothing of it. "Do good by stealth and blush to find it fame." Such a freaky friend and vicious foe. The gentle man who never speaks badly of women, a gentleman to the utmost regard and all the while truly a  ranger, a hunter, a peasant, the kind that takes a pitchfork and handles a stable of bulls, and then goes and make me lunch. He talks to my grandma when nobody else wants to, he moves barrels for my dad, he fixes machines, he buys me a smoothie maker for my coffees on birthday. He holds me down when I have a raging fit and he powerlevels me though Warcraft. He checks in on me if I shower too long, calls me every hour from work, twice if he knows I'm in a situation that might make me scream. He doesn't let me out of his sight. He follows me to the ends of the world - literally. And he allows me to pursue a cat, but it has to have wolverine genes, so as to be able to put up a fair fight.

             And he, this man, this Celt warrior, this inventor of diplomacy, this magnificent lover and optimist, wouldn't qualify for a mate because he hasn't got posh curly hair?? What the f** is wrong with women?!

Having ridiculous ambitions is half the victory..

My first photo shoot is on Tuesday. I have no idea what I'm suppose to do :S

Taking pictures of models with favorable light and nobody throwing stones at me seems so odd? What is the story going to be? A pretty lady is going t do what I say, but she will be entirely unimportant. The person in the portrayal will be anonymous and un-alive. Synthetic beauty and evidence of my craft will be in light and grain.

Did I mention I have to do this with two tiny faulty cameras and a couple of construction spotlights? Not that it makes much difference - I'm fairly certain I'd feel equally detached if I had to walk into a fancy studio and assistants would be handling me the tools of the trade like I was a surgeon.

I'll let you know when I get as far, how it compares...

LOL. There were times when I was grateful for any sitter and would just enjoy taking 200 shot in one room. There were probably thousands and thousands of pics of my ex husband, before one delete button later they were all gone. I don't even remember if they were any good. Just because they were sentimental..

I hope I handle this one well - for my sake. If everyone will be nervous and will sniff my fear, it can get messy. I wouldnd't want my first shoot to discourage me - because it could. Piček's having me on a two-day diet from painting the panels, seeing I'm nervous because they're not as easily done as I would want. I'm working on the idle bookmarkers and collecting herbs (at the same time) with my DeathKnight. Pretty much everyone is still ill, otherwise I'd hand them the grunt work :)

I should get my biorhythm in order... With Piček working nights, I nap with him around noon, meaning I'm not sleepy enough to go to bed at 11 and I stay up till he's ready to go to work at 3.. I'm turning into a total night owl :S And this is me, the chicken sleeper. If this continues, I may want to purchase a decent false light, ere I drive myself blind with these cheap bulbs.

             One of the beehive panels is way more delicate and detailed than I would like and is taking me much longer, but I am just tired when it's 11 (my time to definitely stop fooling around and get some rest), not *sleepy*. Piček is too sick for me to wake him up and have sex, which, the way he does it, exahusts me plenty. I've spent 2 hours doing the Skeleton key chain to get the key for Scholomance. I always liked the sound of that place and never bothered to do the chain.

             Also noticed that the director's cut of Abyss is much prettier than the cinematic version. Makes much more sense, too...

Today is pension payday for the senior citizens of our country. That means two things. One: my dad descends from the hill and does his routine - goes to the doctor to get the medication, the pharmacy and then the bank. He withdraws all his money, buys cigarettes for mum, a credit phone card and burek. Burek is this ridiculously greasy thing made of gum-like dough, folded tenfold (sic) and filled with oil and minced meat or cottage cheese. It's a shiptar dish, a Turkish thing and we tend to say 'You haven't for burek!' as mobsters would say 'Forget about it!' To eat a slice mens to be really queasy for an hour and then full for a week.

           Dad then drives away, usually to get the car repaired AGAIN. But car has the tendency to work just fine by the time he gets it into the shop.

           Two - is Piček has to spend as long in the base as it takes the last postman to return from the field. Some people get their pensions via mail and sometimes a postman is new and nervous and they take longer to make sure they've done everything correctly. Reeeeeaaally easy to fuck up and lose money, or get cheated or clumsy when you know you carry with you something that would fuck up your salary for a year.  I had this old lady that would always nag how she's late for her plane to Belgium (perish the thought she's get herself an ATM card), but I was only allowed to give money to her daughter. There was always a lot of arguing there, EVERY time. Thing was, the old lady had a tendency to steak from postmen - she'd hide a bill into her sleeve while counting, thus accusing him of giving her too little. Since at first you think 'sure, it's possible I miscounted in a hurry' - though we had to count twice in front of the costumer slowly, but after a few takes, the postmen figured it out and she was taken off the list and her daughter had to apply for surrogacy.) There's a limit on hom much they can carry at the time, so as to make sure they're not too targeted by muggers, meaning they need to return to base twice as much as they would for mail. It can take all day. He usually has to go onto the field 2o times to remedy errors that occur. People are especially edgy on pay days.

An old couple I delivered to, living in one of the suburban buildings (living costs there are probably around 400 Euros monthly; less if they are really really modest and shower in cold water), the lady got something like 118 Euros. She's been a housewife and hence wasn't entitled to more. If she was a widow, she's get her husband's pension or if she was alone, social services would provide something so she's survive. Nice thing about our country is we needn't really have homeless people. The homeless ones we have are such because they're stubborn. You won't really see folk living out of shopping carts or begging barefoot on the street - except when they organize, come in a big car, go out strategically and then do dramatic poses. Perish the thought you'd offer one a job. They'd beat you. Even the seasonal farmers that require tens of hundreds of people and pay decent fees need to import; all the while the syndicates are crying how we've got more unemployment than ever before. (But then again priests are preaching how poor we all are and they drive latest beemers.)

          But anyway, I was thinking about being old and so poor, you honestly cannot afford anything, probably never again. I am not poor, not really, I just haven't got money at the moment. For me such seasons come and go - sometimes I take on a great paying job, pay off my debt and stock up supplies for rainy season. And I don't feel like I will be forever broke. Stuff I'm working on, when it sells, it sells well and my reputation is slowly and surely expanding. And I don't really need anything. I have clothes and toys, Piček brings food and pays some of the bills and the stuff we earn off my art goes for game cards and materials. We've been on a hefty trip already this year, when I had money from the previous big sale to get us tickets; we don't really want to go on another till we lose all the infections and fungy from the previous one, we got the fridge and I got my smoothie maker for my birthday... Nothing I'd want, really, right *right* now. But I can always make lists. Camera for me, plasma for Piček, a cute small city car maybe, a new rifle, loads of books, investments into our new projects, new trips. Fun stuff. I don't want to think old age has to mean it's better to stop wishing.

Hmmm... The spatter may be overdone...
It looks less like weathering and worms and more like... spatter...

Continued work on the beehive panels.I've tried a different approach this time - not painting it first and aging it second, but painting it old to begin with and then just filthying it up with spatter and smear. I'm getting better. Two more and I'll be good for business ;p I need to make the figures even more primitive and figure out how to keep some colors blazing while others completely sieved into the wood...

'Course we won't know anything 'till we've seen it actually printed..