#BattleforAzeroth

You know what would be really really twisted? If, since we're running out of candidates for warchief and nobody wants to see Baine Bloodhoof in charge, after the crazy banshee's been dealt with, possibly by Saurfang and Zappy Boi or any of the people whose families she's murdered, something terrible happened to Anduin "Justin Bieber" Wrynn and he woke up Undead ... and HE inherited the Horde as suddenly one of ours. He's an excellent king, if born so, unlike most of our warlords, who are homicidal maniacs terrible at diplomacy. If that crazy bitch Jaina got full control of the Alliance... Now THAT would mean another two years of massive clashing. 

It's gotten cold the couple past days; in fact I've been unusually chilly going out, battling sniffles and outdoorsy melancholy - weather feels transient, not yet winter white, no longer autumn orange, and heavy and dull. I'm perfectly fine indoors, doodling with my stamps, carving erasers to make more, looking to construct my own paper-making sieve from stuff I have laying around the house. Gran's in the hospital with pneumonia, I hope she's well soon; am on my way to visit her in a bit, visiting hours are at 15:00. I was looking for something to binge watch, settled on Boston Legal. I tried with Ray Donovan first, but that show's a downer. All the sex is angry and everyone feels quite doomed. Ironically I really liked Schreiber's portrayal of Marty Baron in Spotlight, film also touching on the subject of priests abusing kids. Boston Legal, on the other hand, touches upon some serious matters in a pleasantly clownish way. All the sex in that show is comical.

Am saving all my spare change for a promised trip to Ikea one of these weekends, otherwise I'd be on my way to the arts&crafts shop right now, to check if they really got a whole palette of new pigments from Schmincke. I am still riding the high of accumulating the miniature watercolors, priced around 6 bucks per pop, which is about as much as I manage to accumulate in three or four days. There's just something in my life about hiding spare change from G, then running across town to purchase a thimble of beauty. I have 78 of them so far. I think about 100 more to go. Though I only really have room for maybe fifteen in the box. I don't want all of them. You don't really need more than three or four yellows, greys or oranges. If the pigment retains its luminosity, you can only have one orange and then mix it with yellows, reds, browns or golds to make any color you want. Course Schmincke made an effort to argue that by adding greens, blues, reds or browns to grey to make all kinds of pretty. I have three greys so far. I think I'm fine.

Webby. And wet.

Forest rim

Dandelions: nutty by nature :P

Gloomy much?

Nicotine makes addicts

I heard sth fairly interesting the other day, in some debate regarding vapes. Someone was talking about how addictive nicotine is, though it's the smoke which harms the body, so vaping is a less nasty way to be down for ciggies, if you've gotsta be. That said ... a lady stated that if you're too young when you start - if you're exposed to the addiction to nicotine too early, several parts of your brain will start to act like addict's and you'll be prone to other urges for substance later on.

Let's consider this for a moment. a) I've been exposed to cigarettes since ... ah, about 10 years before I was even conceived and then consistently until I was 30, by consistently meaning I was day in and day out surrounded to three or four or even more people who smoked a pack a day each. b) I am constantly obsessively in need of various escapisms. Buttons, books, chocolate, watercolors lately - I think about those all the time. I also yearn alcohol all the time and psychotropic medication that would deal with my overly active imagination and overly emotional responses to events. I resist them, but I yearn them all the time.

Hmmm .. could at all those two be connected, I wonder?

"You may live a thousand lifetimes, each different at the start, you will still always fail those who love you the most, always suffer long after they're all gone and in the end, none of them will matter the slightest bit. "

First tiny panic attack of 2018. Can’t really remember the last time I had one, in 2016 maybe, when I couldn’t find G on a simple trail in the mountains, because he kept walking too fast and was always one turn away? … I saw this one coming a mile away. Good thing, too, because I almost peed myself, in public. The General was on stand-by the entire time, he could tell when my palms began to sweat, when I began to shake and couldn’t finish my sentences. He didn’t try to calm me down dismissively, didn’t try to stop me when I said I need to leave the room, I’m choking. Didn’t try to rush me up the stairs when I said I needed to sit, because contents of my bladder threatened to evacuate. Those fucking stairs, man, they felt like they’re leading up to a Chinese mountain monastery, they wouldn’t end! And I live on the first floor! … Took a tiny nap on the kitchen floor while he made us some food. World felt so large, I felt so small. It was bound to happen. With a little luck all that mess is over now. I mean, I know it’s not. But I’ve exhausted myself on that project, my brain is locking down to keep me creatively sane. G believes I should take on another menial job, something behind a machine, a complete no-brainer. I agree. Just leave me alone, give me something to do and forget about me for the next couple of months …