Abandonment

I don't think that it would matter much to me that my brother acts like three- year old if there wasn't someone else involved: Tiny.
Because by doing his thing my brother is the second man in Tiny's life who has left him before he turned two.

It hurts me when Tiny mentions "Unke Pampa" because I know that he remembers his uncle, even I wished he didn't - but I have learned that little children have terrifyingly good memory.... at least Tiny does.
And it makes me wish that I could hit that guy, hard. Because he is so fu*king blind or stupid or bitter that he fails to see what he is because he is what he is. Because he hurts my son.

Brotherly Things

As time passes one learns things and it seems that the fallout of my brother and I is a sum of multiple things, all as... stupid.

First is that my father promised to buy, Tiny and me, a flat from our future hometown which he would rent to us, and of course he had mentioned it to my brother. He just failed to mention that he backed off from his promise less than two months later.
Luckily I know my father so I was not surprised at the least. What surprises me is that my brother does not realise that. Despite being told the truth.
And anyway, had our father bought the flat it had not been under my name so it had been his and his only.

Secondly he considers that his kids were and have been treated worse than Tiny. At least by our mother.
Something one could understand if his family had not kept distance to the rest of the family since the beginning.
My mother did knit and buy tons of clothes for his kids, gave them gifts etc., but after it turned out that they were not appreciated at all and my mother stopped.
She has various things she has bought wishing that my brother's kids would visit her and could use, things that now have been given to us as we actually have use for them and we do use them.
He also seems to fail to understand that his situation was and is completely different even if we look at the basic level of me being a single parent with no support from Tiny's biofather.

It makes me wonder is he really that dim? Or has it been intentional? (Let's not get into how childish it would be to cut your sister from your life just because you think that you have been mistreated by your parent(s..).

Still, it's just so weird.

Tiny thoughts in the middle of the night

It makes one wonder, when watching that beautiful little boy sleep, does his biofather (not a father, just biological father, if you ask from me) even understand what he lost by disowning Tiny?
Does he ever even think of that little boy he swore he won't meet before he comes of age?

Having been set free has made me think and remember a lot of things that happened when I left Mr. Ex II, the whys of doing that. I had almost forgot he disowned that precious little boy, even before I told him it's over.
And my simple mind simply can not understand and for someone who strives to understand that is a huge problem.

But then, I am the one who knows what a loving, funny and smart little boy Tiny is. And I know that sometimes Tiny smiles because I am his mother.
That's all one needs to know. Nothing more.

In old days I used to somewhat enjoy verbal conflicts, challenging people's opinions and ideas, but I have come to realize that those days are over. When someone starts to pick up a fight, I just vanish as I simply don't see the point in engaging to one.
And somehow it seems that some people consider it cowardly that I do choose... no, I don't choose my battles. I simply avoid them.

To be honest I just don't give a damn. Even if I know that I actually had some real input on the matter. And I do miss having heated conversations, I just don't want to have them with someone I don't know or trust.

It seems that the knowitallness of youth is becoming the settled universal wisdom of nearing middle age. Though, I still do know it all and better than anyone else. You can't take ass away from smart ass. *grin*

Anti-compromise act: the fine print

There is a limit to compromises to remain faithful to yourself, but the question is how you know you have compromised too often?

There is no way to say that "X times is too many" as in a relationship based on love, understanding, respect and trust you should not have to question anything.
Even less you should be questioning is your partner worth of all the compromises or which one of you compromises more than the other. As it is not a competition, it's supposed to be all about love. All about wishing the best for the one you love, all about helping them and all about not being selfish.

And still you should remain selfish to stay honest to yourself, keep your vision clear to see when you are beginning to lose yourself or when you are being bossed around.

What about us silly folks you have raised up to help others, to walk that extra mile for people? We have been raised up to be emphathetic, but does it need to mean we keep losing ourselves? Or do we just choose the wrong people? Do wrong people just choose us?

In my case the question is how the heck I have ended ending two marriages if I am as good as I am told I am? Or is it just like 1st husband said after we broke up, that I am too kind and good and people will use me because of that?

Do I have the "Good Guy Syndrome"? Or am I, as said before, a half-broken thing?

Anti- compromise act

I've come to understand why some men I've met during my life have stated that they are sick of compromising.
Turns out that they weren't immature and selfish, or if they were I've become immature and selfish - which I don't really believe.

It just dawned to me that my problem, one of them, in relationships is my ability and willingness to compromise. Which is a good trait, but one should also be faithful to herself.

Which is something I've failed to do.

I've been unfaithful to myself by being the one who always compromises, understands, forgets without even the simplest "sorry dear", and the one who forgets herself in order to be a good partner.

And today I realized that somehow I've happily accepted things I didn't ever realize I had accepted, before now.
And somehow I didn't stand up when things that were completely normal things in a relationship were told being somehow wrong, or wicked as he so often judged things that weren't like he thought things should be.
I can emphatise as I think I know why he saw world as he does, and I feel sorry for him because he loses so much of life's beauty.

ETA (as my phone didn't want to edit):

But remember dearest me that if you are not accepted as you are, nor your habits or your likings then he is not worth it.
No matter how much you care for that person he is not worth it if he doesn't show that you are worth your weight in gold.

Posted via m.livejournal.com.

Yes, I am unconditional

Some time ago I was thinking could I ever, in that highly unlikely eventuality that pigs would fly, take Mr. To-Be-Ex back and realized that no I couldn't, never ever.
I can forgive a lot, but there is one thing I could never forgive: father willingly abandoning his own child.

I can never understand that, nor I can never respect that person again.

Outsider parenting

As some of you know I have always felt more or less an outsider in this world. Sometimes the feeling goes away. Only to return at some point.

I have come to realize that that feeling is back. I don't feel like belonging to any peer groups regarding my parenthood and even though I can talk about people's interests and their topics I feel an outsider. Whether it is mother's with babies and partners or single parents.
Somehow I don't fit into either category. That I don't really know what they are talking about even we are more or less in same situation in life.

Or is it just that I don't share other people's problems, period? Or maybe I just have an amazingly easy child - which is not true.

Most likely it's all about the way I look at life and things. I seem to see goodness in everything (my mom heard that she has cataract and scarring in both eyes and I was immediately looking at the bright side: now she can afford to pay the surgery as she'll retire soon and her expenses decrease as she will only have one home to keep up) no matter what.
As I was overly optimistic.

Yes, Tiny keeps me awake at nights: he still drinks milk 1-4 times a night, he has very bad case of teething going on, housework is lagging behind, he is really a momma's boy and I basically can't have any hobbies outside home. Basically we are attached from the hip.
But so what? That is how it is with a baby. They grow, they learn, they are dependent. I am his only safe full-time adult, of course he wants my attention. I have been there for him since the moment he saw the hospital lights for the first time and if he wasn't so dependent I would be worried.

If I wanted I could sleep 12 hours a night (excl. feedings), if I wanted I would be able to take two showers every day. And I do, but it is my own damn fault that I don't get bed when Tiny does and it's my own damn fault that I don't shower when he sleeps. (I could shower when he is awake, but he loves our shower a bit too much to stay away from the water.)

Sometimes I do wonder how women with a partner and a healthy, average child can claim they are SOOOOO exhausted. How they can be if I, being alone and having a chronic illness that has negative effect on your energy levels, am not?
Or is the difference that I don't worry if there is some dirty laundry or dishes? I don't need to be THAT perfect, not now.
Maybe it is beneficiary for me to be alone with Tiny? No energy spent for social niceties and trying to be perfect. Tiny's happy lad as long as he has clean diaper, clean clothes, milk, food, his mommy and something to do/ play with. He doesn't care if there is dirty laundry or the flat is not spotless.

To Be Afraid

To be afraid that you are damaged for life. That you have been damaged since the day of your conception.

To fear that everyone lies to you, that everyone keeps things from you. That those who matter, or would matter, have a secret life you are not aware of.
To fear that everyone just uses you like you have been used.

To be afraid that you are too demanding, that wanting 110% trust and openness is too much, too egoistic. Being afraid of voicing your demands just that people wouldn't think you are an impossible, demanding, egoistic bitch.

To fear that all your relationships are doomed to fail. That if you don't leave him, he will leave you.

To be afraid. To be paranoid.

To fear being broken again, of losing yourself because you love someone. To fear that when you love your love is not appreciated and cherished the way it should be.

To be afraid of having to cry alone, to sleep alone, to feel joy alone. Despite of being one of two.

To fear you are not accepted as you are, with all your flaws and quirks. Not to be loved as who you are, that your stupid jokes are not understood, that the things you love the most are considered stupid and unnecessary.

To be afraid of having to live behind facades again. When it should not be important how things look like, but how they really are. To have to hide your love, happiness and life from everyone else because the one you love has something to hide from you and from someone else.

To fear being controlled. Being watched. Being blamed for what you don't do and what he does.

To be afraid of repeating your mistakes over and over again. Never learning anything, being blind.

To fear loving as it overwhelms you and blurs your sensibility. Exposes you to hurt, sorrow, pain. Takes away healthy criticism and makes you blind to everything.

To be afraid of not being praised, of not being attractive. Or losing attractiveness.

To fear of hurting your child with your choices. To fear that you are ruining his life because of what you want and decide.

To be afraid of being too afraid.

1999,5: Sigh, Spoof and This-And-That

Editorial note: for some odd reason my LJ client published this entry in draft state. It probably has been my mistake, but still I can't recall clicking that little Post Entry button... Regardless, the official, better version is now here.

 

Editorial note II: I know this is officially my 2000th entry, but I promise to draw the name the name of the lucky winner when I am feeling less lousy. Show some pity to sick person, please.

 

His flight departed early in the morning of 3rd of January and it feels so empty in here without Mr. Wonderful. This was a home when we left to the airport, when I came back it wasn't a home anymore, just a place. Luckily His belongings here prevent me from being completely moody.

It is great to see that the amount of His belongings here is increasing slowly (which means lots of clothes to smell! I am perverted that way. His scent soothes my nerves) - actually the sight of His clothes in the cabinet make me feel like home again. To be completely honest that is the only thing that makes me feel at home at all at the moment. It's ridiculous how different everything is when He is not here, even the light is of different shade (more blue, when He is at home it's redder).

And next time He arrives He is planning to bring as much as He possibly can as that will be The Day™.

We had a wonderful holiday season together and those 11 days passed too quickly.

He arrived on the most beautiful winter evening, all the trees were covered with snow, the weather was freezing and it was snowing lightly. And He left again on the most beautiful winter's morning with exactly the same weather.
Upon His arrival He said that Finland welcomed Him home with the beautiful weather, and when we were driving to the airport I was thinking that Finland was saying Bye bye, come back soon to Him.

I am so confused about His absence that I don't really know what to say even there is so much to blog about. Which probably means that I am quite a sad case as I knew that He would travel again on 3rd.

I have been so confused that I haven't had enough words to write about the things I want to write about.

 

"An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind." (Mahatma Gandhi)

Those of you who haven't been in complete media blackout within last month know about the attack on NWA flight 253 on Christmas Day and the consequences it has had.

Less surprisingly we followed the news about the incident very closely for various reasons. Of course we were curious because Mr. Wonderful is Nigerian citizen (dual citizenships are wonderfully confusing to many ("But didn't you just say he is British?")) and there has been no records whatsoever of international terrorism (islamic or any other kind, just internal issues) in Nigeria (which is basically half muslim, half Christian and healthy serving of indigenous people to spice things up country), and we are both also quite critical about the way certain countries handle and publicize certain, even though extremely unfortunate and cowardly, events.
Therefore I found this clip extremely entertaining - and for some reason Hitler talking about how he wants a Nigerian wife makes it hilarious (even though Hitler as a person was or is never a laughing matter).

Nigeria is a troubled country, but to judge whole country because of one idiot who got radicalized abroad (maybe in UK, as he had to have some reason to go to Yemen where he was supposedly trained) is in my less humble opinion... stupid.

 

Otherwise...

Mr. Wonderful is in sunny Lagos at the moment seeing family after few years and getting some things He left there last time - next time we hopefully travel together.

And I am sick again.

But, and this is a BIG but(t har har): I do not, I repeat, I do not have sinusitis (though I have to admit that I have already found a positive side of sinusitis: your nose is not running like Niagara. I had already forgot how much fun it is to have a regular cold without blocked sinuses... )! This is apprently thanks to my Neti which I have started to use again only few days before getting the virus.
The Secret of it all seems to be the salt used: I started with regular salt and it caused me migraines. Hence I hid the Neti to toilet cabinet, until I dug it out again and decided to try it with Himalayan salt which is not refined like the regular table salt (and which can be found from local "Eco" store only 12€/ kilo).

There has been two noticeable advantages from it within this short period: I smell things better (which is great as I can still smell my Wonderful's scent when I come home, whereas I couldn't before I started rinsing) and I am on better mood. Oxygen is a funny thing.

And I miss my Darling. Funnily enough nowadays I still feel like He was here close to me even when He isn't - but still even feeling close to Him at all times does not take away the devastating emptiness when He is not here.

Luckily He calls me more often now that I am sick. ^^ (I called Him today, a short 60 - 90 second call, and it was like three euros! O.o So, I rather let Him call me, anyway He has always been better caller than I am.) And when it comes to phone calls I find it very interesting that when He calls from Nigeria the quality of the signal is much, much better than from Spain. Though that is not the only thing that is far worse in Spain than in Nigeria, I can tell that based on personal experience.

1999: Exotism?

There is certain form of prejudice, which makes me annoyed quite... well, too often.

For some reason (too) many people seem to think that someone who seems to date exclusively out of their own ethnicity/ culture is purposely looking for someone "exotic" and disregard the possibility that one can be interested about everything else but person's ethnicity or culture of origin. (Like, even it is a shocking idea, their personality and core values.)

And why aren't they assuming such things (purposely looking for....) when someone is dating exclusively their own ethnicity/ culture?

As an example: when I dated exclusively Finns, no one ever asked why I do it or assumed anything based on it. It was obviously supposed that I would, being a Finn myself, date men of Finnish origin. And coming to think of it, it is a disturbing thought. (Though I find many things disturbing - and my regular readers know that people assuming things is one of my thousands of pet peeves.)
Whereas when dating men of non-Finnish origin I have encountered certain assumption of exotism.

Though, the assumption of exotism is yet another proof that people are basically eerily similar in their ways to think: coming from all ethnicities, genders, cultures etc. it could be considered as a refreshing experience - as long as you keep the whole issue out of your personal life.

I mostly encountered following during the single period between 2006 - 2008, mainly because that was the longest period I have ever been without relationship in my adult life: many men seemed to have this urge to know had a woman they found attractive ever been with a man of enquirer's ethnicity - and I found it extremely annoying. Why it would matter had I or had I not? There is no way to know about how it would be with person X if you have dated person Y even if they were of same ethnicity and/or culture so why would it matter? Or is this just all about I-want-to-be-the-first-man-of-X-in-your-life syndrome? (One of the many reasons why I love Mr. Wonderful was that He never asked such a thing - but He is a practical man: he doesn't care about who I have been with before Him, He just wants to be the last man in my life (yet another thing we have in common). )

Interestingly enough this was mostly a phenomenon of dating sites, regardless, or because of it, my profiles always stating that I was open for contact regardless person's ethnicity.
Admittedly during that time I had a profile at one site which was more or less focused on people who were looking for interracial relationship... maybe it fooled some to assume things about my preferences even though my only reason to register there, or any other dating site, was to expand my search as I was very aware that it's more likely for me to find a life partner, my future Husband, from somewhere else than Finland.
This was as much statistical as it was (and is) a cultural issue - being brought up outside my "native" culture made me a dating outcast in this homogenous society.

But I digress.

Those who have read my blog are aware of the issues I have had with my father regarding his obvious assumption of my exotistic character and/or his obvious issues with people of any other ethnicity/ culture than his... nothing more to say about him, though I am not eagerly waiting for his comments about Mr. Wonderful's ethnicity/ culture/ etc. and tons of more assumptions of me being with Mr. Wonderful because [add bazillion stereotypes here], not because I actually love and respect my Man as a person.

Interestingly enough many, if not all of them, men I have been in a relationship with since I broke up with Dan (now isn't that a civilized way to say after our separation and divorce? *g*) have considered me "exotic" because of my fair skin, blue eyes and ethnicity.
And surprisingly it has never bothered me to be the the subject of exotism, as long as it has been positive - but I also know that my looks, exotic or not, hasn't been the main factor of intrest in me, just an added bonus.

Slightly Off-Topic

This all actually reminds me of an interesting visit to hairdresser earlier this month: I was having having my hair cut and chatting with the hairdresser when Mr. Wonderful called me. We happily chatted for a while on the phone and after the call hairdresser's first comment was "Oh, is he ENGLISH?!" with such a tone that you could imagine that she had been about ten years younger and had just been asked out by Brad Pitt or whoever is hot at the moment. A school example of real exotism.
Her tone soon changed after she asked could she see His picture, which I showed because I have His picture as my cell wallpaper and even we had been talking about me and Him before that the topic somehow changed after that... Basically I can't understand why. Maybe she was so awed because of my Wonderful's gorgeousness (I know I would have been, but I guess I am kind of biased).

(If I was mean I would assume it was his ethnicity that made her silent. (For those of you who wonder about the whole ethnicity of an Englishman thing, He is black Brit, whereas people often seem to assume (in these latitudes) that English people are all fair to the level of paleness and no true Englishman/ Finn/ you-name-it can be any darker than piece of A4, regardless the history of the world and people's tendency to immigrate.))

But still, in general I am not saying that there weren't many, many people who simply don't give rat's a** about who someone is involved with and many, many people who don't give that same part of a rodent about someone's origins.

7 x 4

They say that life goes in cycles of seven years.

I realized that I am in the end of the fourth seven year cycle.
Maybe it is why I have been feeling lost, easily bored, found odd things from myself.

It's quite an interesting thing that seven years ago I moved to the other side of the country to study. I went there to study something I found interesting as much as I ran away from the situation Dan and I were in. It was my first attempt to leave him, or rather I wanted to see how my life would be without him. I wanted to see do I have a reason to come back to him.
I could have survived without him, but I came back for two reasons: I loved him and wanted to try for the second time and... I didn't want to live without physical intimacy. Maybe it makes me a moron.

Nowadays, few days before my third divorce anniversary... part of me doesn't want even think of being with someone, other part of me would love to be head over heels again, settle down and live in wedded bliss with kids... In its way it scares me, this all or nothing attitude I have found from myself. Or rather I have recently accepted it in me, as we know, I am a person with very passionate character and I am only contented with the highest high or the lowest low.

Though I am not sure would I like to change that in me, even it would probably make my life easier, at least it might make it easier to gain those few things I actually would love to have.

I have found myself from thinking men I once had in my life, but only those who I met after Dan, thinking of them with warmth, the good times we shared.
I don't miss them as such, but I miss the little things, the most I miss the feeling of warm skin against mine.
In theory that would be easy thing to achieve... Once just having that would have been enough, but not anymore.
With age I have collected a good deal of deal breakers and must-haves, aging has made me pickier and sometimes I worry have I got too picky, or is it just as they say: when you once have it good there's no going back.

Maybe I am, as I once thought, a love junkie. Maybe I suffer from emotional mania: only thing worth feeling is being high up in the clouds.

Our student advisor, when I was in ninth grade, said that I could be described as a person who has her feet firmly on the ground... and her head firmly up in the clouds. (I also surprised him in all the suitability tests he loved so as I was both artistic and mathematically gifted and my personality is suitable for both team work and working on my own. He decided that he can't suggest me any spesific career, but was sorely disappointed when I didn't apply for "high school", but applied to Crafts and Design School and got through the application exams well enough to be approved - there was some talk later about the basics why people were accepted and I recall hearing the words "great eye for colour".)
I think there should be one addition: my heart loves the sun up there, over the clouds, so it is either all sunshine and butterflies or nothing.

I am afraid that it makes me kind of an ass. It means that I have to be completely honest to myself, but it also means that I may change how things are in a second because even the smallest rain may drop me off of my cloud.

The interesting thing in this is that I find myself from thinking along the same lines as the other half of this shared, and in its way shattered, soul. The one I love dearly, the only person I seem to understand no matter what, but can't have because love isn't always fair. (Maybe that explains why he has been only one to be able to really knock me off of my feet to date.)
It doesn't mean that I am not over him, it just means that I have become to find life very odd thing - and in certain way I find it soothing to know that there is someone like me, spite of everything as I can't be a total ass if someone like mr. W. thinks like I do.

96 days until my 29th birthday, 96 days until the next seven years begin.

1717: "If to love you is to die/ Then let me die a thousand times"

I once read that love is not that feeling when you can't live without someone, but when your life would be good without the person you share your life with, but the person you share your life with brings some pizzaz to your life.
I have come to understand that notion during the last few years.

Admittedly I have never been good in clinging in anyone (I am physically clingy, sometimes emotionally too, but I know when it's time to let go) so the basics have always been there. Probably I am just too lazy to waste my energy to someone who doesn't want to/ can't be with me.

I have given quite much thought for love as an aspect and on how love reflects into my life lately...

The main reasons for that are the truce with Sonnenschein, the SMS I got from Wolfie in New Year's Day and a conversation I had with mr. X (remember the guy I had a crush on about a year ago?) - mainly the two latter ones.
The SMS just told me what I knew and showed to me that I have traveled far since The City of Angels (the funny thing is that we both still love each other about as much as we used to - we are too alike, and probably we are only ones who can actually understand that fact about the two of us).
The chat with mr. X. was confusing in its way, but eventually I think I know what it told me... mr. X. ran away because he was scared of me and what he felt for me, and scared for those feelings I had for him. It's saddening, but it's not something I could change.

Wolf called me a paradox once "because you are as beautiful as you are intelligent" (for clarification: he considers me as a very intelligent person (that alone proves that there's something in wrong with him, right? *grin*)) and mr. X. surprised me by saying that I have both internal and external beauty - it was surprising because last time I "talked" to him we argued quite badly.
And those lead me, for about the thousand time, wonder what in me causes my singledom? As it seems to me that most who have seen who I really am run away, but still consider me as someone wonderful, someone good. Once again I wonder can it really be so scary to actually be kind-hearted and honest... and depraved as heck.

I have also come to wonder if love is anything else than a form of happiness, an illusion created by feeling good. (I am not saying that it would degrade love in any way if it is so, as I find it only naturally egoistic to keep those people close to us who provide us the feeling of happiness.)
If you think of it, you feel like being in love if you have a good time, the weather is nice and everything seems to go your way - even if you weren't in love, at least in conscious level. And even if you were in love you may not feel like it when the mailman bites your dog and neighbour's roses stomp on your kids... or was it vice versa? Anyway... in the days when nothing seems to work you may also lose the loving feeling.
What if it is lost just because you are not happy in that particular day? Known fact is that relationships tend to break during hardships, i.e. during times when you confront so many hardships during certain period that you just don't have room or time for happiness.

If I just could understand it all....

Things really change...

While doing a slight inventory of stuff to get rid of I had a thought to browse through all my cross stitch magazines and sell the ones which have nothing of interest in them... I think I am sick.
But then, I see no point in having loads of useless magazines hanging around if I could make some money and acquire some more free space by selling them...

I think I finally found some use for my eBay account...

Time makes the memories golden

Or then I really am too good for my own good.
I had a chat with N. yesterday and the in fact, thinking of it I wouldn't change anything in you bothers me as it means that I am plain scary.
Even it is nice to know that he thinks that highly of me I find it a bit paradoxic.

Though, I have noticed that my way to try to actually get, relationship wise, attached to the people I find imperfectly perfect isn't a common one and I would like to know why it is so.

Memes and unsuitable thoughts after a massacre

Foto Pherrets: Week 95

Our word for this week is: Cloud

Apparently a rain cloud from last summer. Describes my whole summer quite well actually...

Today’s

Stitching Bloggers' Question

is:

When you have to frog out stitches, do you reuse that thread or do you start over with a new strand?

It depends on a situation. If the floss has been badly twisted or suffered from the frogging I just toss it.

Forced empathy?

What actually makes me wonder in honouring the victims of the Jokela shootings is that people didn't lit up candles yesterday, impulsively, as a sign of empathy, but it has been arranged through a SMS campaign that people lit candles... today.
As tragic it is I see it odd that those good people need to be told to do that. I lit the candle yesterday, without anyone telling me to, when I came home to grief what happened, to guide their souls home - and I am generally considered as an unemphatetic person....
Some things just boggle one's mind.

Isn't it odd...?

Why it seems to me that I stitch faster when I stitch over one? Even when I stitch 1/1 on black...
Maybe it is just the tiny stitches, but for some reason I don't believe that theory.

What if I weren't myself?

I have probably wondered about this issue before, but it has been on my mind lately and a short chat with N. brought it so close to the surface that I can't stop thinking of it.

People often wonder why someone like me is single, I have heard that I am the ultimate woman (which is interesting knowing that he knew that I classify myself as a female androgyne - I believe what he said though and I know he meant it) and all that... I don't doubt a moment that they meant what they said. Which probably makes it even harder...

As I can't understand how someone who seems to be close to perfection (based on the peer feedback (I can list "few" flaws in myself very easily - I'm far from perfect)) in eyes of many just can't find what she's looking for - or when she finds it can't keep it.

Maybe it's the claimed perfection being too scary, maybe it's the claimed perfection which is so imperfect in me that I alienate even those I could love or who care for me.
It can't be the looks of me as I know that even I am not what is, acclaimedly, generally considered as hot I am it and much more... maybe it's the looks and intellect combo which intimidates people, but I can't change who I am - and I don't want to.
Maybe I am just too depraved to be actually be interesting even though I know that my level of kinkiness would keep most people entertained for the rest of their lives... that I am the dirty dream of most straight/bi/whatever men.

Thoughts have their own merry-go-round in my head and they make me dizzy. They also make me sad, because I can't find the answer to my questions, because things got blurrier the more I think of them.

Maybe there's nothing in wrong with me, maybe it is the world which is crazy. Maybe it's my karma or maybe I am just so absolutely impossible... I'd love to know what is in wrong with me or the Universe.

Happydancing dragon and on Round Robins

What do I do when I am having a fever, my joints kill me and I need to blow my nose every ten minutes? Watch movies with comment track on and stitch dragons.

(Fear not Jenna, I have cleaned my hands with fresh-up towels before getting back to stitching! *grin*)

1. I absolutely adore the colours, but I am not fan of the fact that due constant colour changes with cotton+filament mix the back does not look too nice. But then, no one won't look in the back (except Christine, who gets this next, and Jenna).

2. Spite of loving stitching on black the backstitching phase was rather difficult as 3371 just doesn't contrast with black that well (aren't we surprised?!). Nevertheless, I managed it too, and as said these draggies look gorgeous on black.

Based on two previous dragons and the chart of fourth I have to say that Autumn Fall probably is the most difficult of these. At least it takes more time than the previous dragons did.

(Cross posted to Solarium Sublime.)

On Round Robins

While stitching on Jenna's piece I was thinking of round robins and I think that Teresa Wenztler themed RR would be nice to participate to. I have seen some RRs which consist from different borders of designs of TW and they look great.

One of the advantages of such RR would be the fact that it had to be stitched on plainweave so no aida stitching there, and, people who stitch TWs are usually rather skilled stitchers which would lessen the worry over the quality of work on the piece.

Though I have also played with the idea of having RR consisting of Dragon Dreams' Elemental Dragons.

Shawl

My mother kind of promised to knit me a shawl in December because since my asthma broke down my outer body temperature has been incredibly low. This means that I have, for example, used my winter clothes since beginning of September (it still is ~+16 °C during days) because it has been so cold...

Anyway, I promised to provide my mother a link if I find some shawl pattern I'd like, and latest Knitty had it: Muir.

And I have to get these! And THIS!

Things that disturb the disturbed

Part gazillion and one.

I had a dream about one of my course mates... it was nothing drastic, in general at one phase of one dream he wrapped his arms around me after I fell asleep (in the dream - silly really: one sleeps in a dream), but it disturbs me for some reason. Maybe because it felt good and he is so *not* my type. Maybe because I actually have a reason (or rather reasons) to believe that he has a thing for me, a thing called crush.

Which is very understandable, noticing how absolutely adorable I am...

Nevertheless, it's very confusing (Finnish men just do not usually have a thing for me, unless they are unhappily married or otherwise desperately lonely - which kind of explains why I haven't been on too many dates (read: none) with men of Finnish origin last three years).

One of the facts of life is that we can't please everyone and someone will always think badly of us, but still it bothers me. Or rather what bothers me is that people don't voice the issues they have with someone else to the person whom it concerns.
I know that I give the impression that nothing gets me, but still most things do.

Spending time on daily basis with people is very exhausting - even more when some have issues with you, when they jump right to judging and don't even try to see why things are as they are.
I remember why I withdrew from most social contact to begin with and I feel the reason again: humans exhaust me. All the hatred in them, all the ignorance eats me. It saddens me. And it makes me more of that person they dislike, that socially incompetent, sheltered bitch.