Do not forget your potted flowers

flowerpot — Wed, 04 May 2011 11:56:02 GMT

crossposted from tumblr
Whilst today is yet to come to a close, it's been brilliant insofar. Mainly because not only did these sweet guys come over and finally unstick the terrace door - by spending four hours detaching the old handle and installing a new one as well as oiling the hinges... - but they also installed a water conserving, eco friendly shower head and kitchen tap while they were here anyway, and fixed the locks on my front door so that I can finally use all my keys. Very groovy guys, thank you so much ♥ I don't know how long all this took them, because I had to leave for a meeting with the social and economy welfare peeps, but they were pretty tired when I left.

My meeting was uneventful, but uplifting. I had to tell my new contact about my partner, my coming out, and my name-change as well, all during different parts of the interview, which to me is no big deal at all, and not to her either. But. But, you guys. When she handed me a couple of papers to sign, she paused, and looked me square in the eye, and said that she was going to sound really stupid but had to ask me anyway. Did I identify female? Because she had filled in the check-box for woman based on my old name, and was that an awful presumption of her? I almost teared up. It's the first time anyone has ever been so respectful of gender identity to my face! I think I overwhelmed her with my praise, really, so we both went our separate ways quite pleased.

I celebrated with a cup of coffee. Came home to realise I didn't have my keys, and that the boys had left the building. Rats. But it didn't take one them even five minutes to get back here and let me in, so that was my bad, forgetting spare keys and all, and also gave him the opportunity to tell me about everything they'd done, so - once again - I felt grateful and pleased due to other people's thoughtfulness. I'm not regretting moving down here one iota.

flowerpot — Fri, 29 Apr 2011 15:14:13 GMT

crossposted from tumblr
Fuck yeah, dyke-cut! The milf hairdresser I've been going to since I was in fourth grade knows exactly what I want done. I always look like a million bucks when I walk out of her salon. The day she stops cutting hair is going to be a dark day indeed, a cause for national mourning. I fucking shaved for her sake this morning, and she sent me off stylin' short back and sides with one hell of a puff up top. Consider this lion pleased.

flowerpot — Thu, 28 Apr 2011 11:52:41 GMT

crossposted from tumblr
I sat down this morning to touch the old Remington Quiet-Riter that mum and dad kindly lugged back to town from its boarding-house reststop; under my old bed at the countryside house, upstairs, hidden under a throw rug. I unhinged the upper case and put it aside on the floor.

The scent that met me brought tears to my eyes, although not immediately. The unwieldy chunk of metal and I had spent many hours out of many years. It had taught me about indenture and tab. About line-breaks, the different methods of marking dialogue and the importance of proper spacing. It had followed my stumbling first steps from hand-written cursive to type-set: in fact, it was my laptop of the day, though that day admittedly was 1990. The Remington Quiet-Riter was built about forty years before that, and had belonged to my mother. Before that, it had belonged to my journalist, best-seller author, illustrator and sculpturer grandfather. The years blew past me as the smell of the rubber roll and the grey metal gently wafted out of the case, setting it on the kitchen table. By the purple tulips.

I sat myself down on a chair in front of it, and tried to play it cool. I remembered how a sheet of paper liked to dip down left when you set it against the roller, so you couldn't let it go, but had to hold it as you mangled it down, around, up, turning the dial gently until the white paper edge peeked over the ruler, perfectly aligned. I reacquainted myself with the little breakers, the colour-switch and carriage return lever. I brought it all the way to the right. It went "ping". A little overcome, I finally started crying.

flowerpot — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 23:55:48 GMT

I understood today that I had moved back home.
   It's always been troublesome for me to discern where home is, because I've been moving a lot, traveled even more, and my childhood has been spent in a lot of different countries for varying periods of time. It's true my parents still live now to where we moved in '93, but I've never really been able to pinpoint that flat as home before, or even the country in which I feel the most at ease with myself.
   Today I was visiting my parents for supper, and to pick up the beautiful Remington they brought with them from a dusty nook at the countryside house, and it turned out mum had no crushed tomatoes. So I offered to go to the store, and skipping along, I went outside.
   Spring has already arrived, sinewy grass covers any unpaved slope to be found, and if you strain your hearing you can hear the rip of leaves unfurling on the trees and bushes. We've had a lot of sun. Summer is almost here. Today was cloudy, but still mild, and suddenly it started raining. The scent of spring rain dampening the warm, dry pavement struck me like a baseball bat, and I almost teared up. That smell brought back not memories, but a sensation of being in the exactly right place, at the right time, and that for a brief moment all was well.
   The city child had come back home, and she was glad to be there.

flowerpot — Wed, 20 Apr 2011 00:11:01 GMT

I had forgotten how fucking sexy the StarCraft universe is ♥

flowerpot — Tue, 12 Apr 2011 14:59:09 GMT

Moving has been.. traumatic, but also positively exciting. I can't deny that it's the first time I'm finally on my own, and while it's kind of sad doing it so late in your twenties, heck, at least it's not doing it late in your thirties, yeah? It's good to be able to say I've tried a couple of various living constellations; with your parents, with friends, with your mate, on your own. I know which one I prefer by far, but it's great to have been able to try them all out. Insofar the only bad thing about moving has been being so wrapped up in myself.. especially when there are a few people out there who could use the attention better, perhaps. You know who you are. I wish I could be there for you more than just a sporadic comment here and there, an erratic update once upon a time, because I'm actually quite worried for you. Also, being so closely focused on only my own business has left me quite out of the loop on current events, but I like to think that I'm doing my best at remedying this now.

Insofar I've managed to fuck up my registration with the tax department, so I'm going to have to do that one over - but when I called them on the phone they told me it was no big deal so long as I filled out the same form again, so I'm doing just that. Also finally got my arse out of the cart and sent the new name form I got signed last month, so we'll see what they say in a couple of weeks. It's high time, because my ID expires soon too and it'd be nice to have it, you know, official at last. More bureaucracy in having applied for monetary aid down here - what, you didn't think moving would somehow get me out of economical distress, did you? - and waiting for those forms to pop in during the week. Also dealing with tax returns so that they go to pay off my loan to my parents instead of to myself, should be no issue at all from what I've seen insofar.

And today I had my first lunch meeting interview. It was taking "let's do lunch" to a whole new level when dealing with the vice president of a company, knowing they really want you to join them, and asap too. He was actually a great bloke to spend time with, very intelligent and a gifted conversationalist. We could have a good time working together, I think, and he seemed to believe the same thing as he offered me to translate one of their books. Something which is immensely flattering, a huge opportunity, and I nearly leapt at it before the man had time to finish his sentence.
We'll see where that lands, but I have high hopes on this one! I didn't have the chance to show him some of my earlier work, the English page for the IN: mall and FAVI's activity description for example, which made me think that I should perhaps actually put together a portfolio of my own? Something to think about.

Overall, this move has been a positive experience, and now that I've been here a week, I don't think I'll be using the tag anymore. Spring has already driven the croci and snowdrops out of the ground with reckless abandon, there's sun and a warm breeze coming in. I'd forgotten what spring in Stockholm was like... I'm glad I have the chance to be down here for it one last time ♥

flowerpot — Fri, 01 Apr 2011 20:40:03 GMT

Welp. My last day at IN: is over, with very little fanfare. It was pretty awful, in fact. I was ready to cry all day because I really don't want to leave, and also because I only got some five hours of sleep from staying up packing all night. It's okay that I didn't get paid for my translation work though, because I got those two beautiful turquoise-tinted martini glasses I've been wanting anyway, and some new nail varnish to match all my other brown and neon blue accessories. And also, this morning, I was fined 500SEK for, apparently, using a bus card for young people on the bus. When I got it, three years ago, they told me it would automatically update to an adult card, but apparently it did not so I'm going to have to dig out of my computer savings yet again to avoid putting strain on our already rattled funds now that I'm moving out. Fuck this shit. Seriously, no joke. Fuck it.

flowerpot — Tue, 29 Mar 2011 23:26:13 GMT

Productive week this. Put together a brief phrase book for the people I'm going to leave behind in the mall, featuring some common words and phrases in English, German, Italian, Japanese and Russian since, well, I know that shit right? And everybody needs a douchebag legacy to leave behind, I think. So I wrote that this evening after packing my first 2 out of 13 paper bags of luggage for moving day, which is rapidly approaching.
Mostly I'm looking forward to Thursday evening, which will be the first time me and Bobby has gone out together with another couple in three years time abouts. Or, well, ever. Time to say goodbye to some awesome people - and eachother, I suppose. The car leaves on Sunday.

Am looking forward to some particular things coming on the big screen, among them the incredibly bastardized new version of The Three Musketeers. Ms. Jovovich was made for the role she's cast in, and there's Mads Mikkelsen tossed in there as well, so it's going to be a hot couple of swashbuckling, airship-oogling hours when that comes up. Also, Rango. Spaghetti western GO. Also, Los Lobos is apparently involved there somehow, so I'm scratching my eyeballs in excitement. Maybe it's time to watch a couple of old goodies in that genre as well?
Grindhouse has been out for a couple of years, but I haven't gotten around to seeing it, so I'm putting that on my movie list together with Day Watch, Pulp Fiction, Watchmen, Owls of Ga'Hoole; just some stuff, you know? Going to have to get some new speakers before all of it, of course, I'm on mono here.

flowerpot — Thu, 24 Mar 2011 22:54:40 GMT

So I finally got approved for that new apartment contract, which means I'm moving in less than two weeks. That means I have to start packing, get the old contract torn up, tell my social secretary and my new "boss" that I'm leaving ahead of time, start looking around for someone who can help me move all my stuff that distance, and so much more.
I'm shaken and nervous but terribly excited.
Official move-in date is April 1:st - not a joke - and my grandmother's funeral is on the 7:th, so I suppose that's some good universal timing right there. It's just going to be a hectic couple of days to get there, and I'm still torn up about having to leave in the first place. I'm going to be crying hard for a couple of miles down this new road... Shit man, hold my hand on this one.

Edit: And oh my god it is so nice to see this place without ads again, shit.

flowerpot — Tue, 22 Mar 2011 00:46:45 GMT

Goodnight, grandma ♥

flowerpot — Mon, 14 Mar 2011 13:03:11 GMT

I should have so much to write about, but every day, coming home, I just don't have the energy to put the words into print. I've had panic anxiety every single night since early last December, and now it's just... gone. Like it was never there. I've slept like an absolute log, dreams completely free of disaster since two days ago, and I feel relaxed in a way I haven't felt for months. I don't know if I want to draw conclusions about this, I'm just enjoying the lull in hysterics. I hope it stays that way.

I'm fast-forwarding past the not so interesting news of having new "work" in the inner city mall since two weeks back, seven hours a day, five days a week and the wonderful weariness that comes from having an actual activity to wake up for. Also past the children's book project which is progressing slowly but surely. And past playing FFIX with childlike glee after my mother, who was visiting, left me with mine and my brother's old grey PS1 console. And past the wailing for the sake of Japan.
I've been approved to leave for Stockholm in April. This is good news. It means I'm going to have to leave to live in someone elses apartment, amongst their furniture and their smell, on my own with naught but a stupid cat, for three whole months. This is bad news. I've lived with Bobby for almost three years; I'm not sure I can downgrade this relationship to a distance one in so short a time.
Still, I remain hopeful. It's closer to the few friends I left behind, and my family, and job opportunities, and school. I've already started looking at classes for fall, and something to do while waiting. Spring has sprung and the two meters of snow have started to sag, and now I'm suddenly moving away from my new family, and all my new friends up here. I feel glad and awful, relieved but nervous, at the same time.

Fuck man. Give me a day to just calm down, would you?

flowerpot — Tue, 22 Feb 2011 23:42:11 GMT

The meeting with the nurse at the clinic went about as well as I might have expected it would. It took virtually no time at all, and she didn't seem overly impressed by the size or weight of my rack; but on the plus side she was seemed like a very nice person, and I was struck by her beautiful name, though I didn't tell her so. She caught on pretty easily that I was mostly there to get rid of my chest for psychological reasons than physical, and so she told me she'd send a referral to the surgeons. The wait is going to be long now, and if I get to see someone, my expectations are fairly low - the nurse told me with a special sort of smile when I asked her flat out if there was any chance to get rid of all of it, that no, nobody would do that. So it seems it's private clinic or nothing.. But we'll see what comes from waiting, won't we?

On the plus side, last night's chili pot was the best bang I've made so far. Tonight's attempt at vindaloo was an amazing and successful explosion of flavours as well. And just now I grabbed myself by the balls and finally applied for that position at Big Fish Games.
Tomorrow holds more adventures, meetings, and embarrassing phone calls as I have to beg a couple of companies not to kill us for being late with our bills, as we are still as broke as a pair of church mice. But this is a good thing: at least stuff is happening!

flowerpot — Mon, 21 Feb 2011 18:18:08 GMT

We're completely broke. It's fucking cold outside (-30°C/ warrants a "fucking"). We're sick. This night requires a chili. But not just any chili. The mother of all chilies. We're doing this old school style. We're popping the poor man's cheeseless cornbread dumplings in it. We're making it so hot it's like we need some more things to cry about. I'm sacrificing my one and only beer for this chili. So bring it on.

flowerpot — Fri, 18 Feb 2011 22:41:46 GMT

120 words isn't all that much to boast about when it comes to a daily word tally. But it's suddenly a lot better when you add that twenty of those words totally rhyme, with no cheating involved. Though I admit I at first tried to squeeze in the word tink'rin instead of tinkering. That's gone now, I promise. If I can keep this up for another twenty days and keep Bobby as interested as she's been insofar, I'm going to be sitting on a good thing!

I'm having a breast exam at the clinic next week, regarding size and removal motivated by weight and gender boundary issues, and then on Friday my mum is coming up for a weekend long visit ♥ I look forward to seeing her so much! You just really can't take the child out of the lady completely when her parents are involved.

flowerpot — Wed, 09 Feb 2011 16:53:19 GMT

I really enjoy Johnny Wander. It's an honest, cheerful slice of actual real life that makes me smile and draw parallels, as well as long for the things and relationships that occur in it. That household appears to keep so much creativity beneath one ceiling. It's often displays the kind of friend group that I would kill to have. Ota and Panagariya are fantastic collaborators although much of what they do is only available offline, which is highly respectable - but there's also Evan Dahm, who writes things that clench my heartstrings so tightly that I actually broke into tears at one point whilst reading. He is probably the only man I've spotted and followed on the internet whom I genuinely, truly admire for his craft. His talent is lasting, and genious.

This isn't me trying to sell you guys something. I'm just saying.

Also: Kwoon ♥

flowerpot — Thu, 03 Feb 2011 08:35:47 GMT

No really substantial update in a while, and this won't be it either, because nothing of note has really happened, though I am still alive despite my dreams continuously unleashing the apocalypse on me. Not cool, subconscious; I thought we were over that hurdle by now.
So, the news in short.

I've decided to grow my beard out completely. No real reason. I just want to see how many active follicles I have, and push the gender boundary a little, since I have the means to do so.

I've been playing World of Warcraft a lot lately. Enjoying an immense infatuation with worgen, to nobody's surprise: big hairy wolf men? Sign me up. Have managed to limit myself to two characters; Blaine Kreighton and Basil Shred. Am very proud of self.

Had an alright birthday! Actually had enough money lying around to be able to get myself some physical objects for comfort and relief, so picked up a teal earring, a leather bracelet with teal highlights, and the latest book by Ajvide Lindqvist, Låt gamla drömmar dö.

Selma is having her tubes tied, or ovaries scraped, or whatever you do to neuter a female cat, at this very moment of writing. I feel terribly sorry for her, but the running around screaming through the nights ever seven days just isn't working out, darling. I hope her surgery goes well.

Going to get some tea in a minute! I've been thinking of how it'd be great if there were more people reading this thing, or at least if I knew more people, because I do need some input on what writing project to actually pick up and deal with now. I really want to get on with writing, but I just have no get-go to start. I'm such a dead-beat.

Social services feel sorry for me for not having a job, and so they're sending me to an inspirational workshop for a couple of days - which is going to be fun - and then they want to introduce me to the local missionary shop - which is less fun, because even though activity is great and I would love to contribute to the community, they're sending me to the regional store. Which is where they stick the lowlifes that just don't want to work, the people who speak no Swedish (more importantly, the non-native Swedes who don't want to learn the language), and the people who're too mentally deficient to hold down a more complex job than folding scarves all day. I realise that saying this sounds incredibly bigoted and nasty, but I really don't want to spend eight hours of my day with people I have no chance to help. At least at Cyberia I could act as a stand-up guy, role-model, and inspiration to get out there and work your butt off, or at least smile while trying.
I've been told by people who managed to get out of those stores that it's grey, dull monotony, with maybe two paying customers a day, and six out of eight hours is just sitting around, cleaning your ears out with second-hand forks. And whilst I've been clamouring for something to do for months now? This is not it. I'm opposed. But turning down the opportunity feels ungrateful, so I'm not quite sure how to express my reluctance towards this idea.

Well. What do you know. This actually turned into a substantial update after all. Sorry y'all!

Twenty-seven

flowerpot — Wed, 26 Jan 2011 20:07:49 GMT

omg :0

flowerpot — Thu, 20 Jan 2011 17:30:17 GMT

There's something so immensely satisfying about paying your bills. You wake up in the morning and your account balance is a riveting, whooping 10 thousand bucks - that's SWE bucks, for those of you who just gasped or choked on something. You sit yourself down and you slit some envelopes in a calculating businesslike fashion with a real wicked silver letter-opener. You tear off every invoice you've accumulated during the month - there are a couple. You open that internet bank up, and you get 'er done. You get 'em all done. Then you sit back, as the king of your money, and you can relax for a while once more.

flowerpot — Tue, 18 Jan 2011 21:51:19 GMT

Because of a short comment exchange I had with 0x and some thinking on the subject of spice, I decided to indulge. I indulge often, it's not a rare thing: I frequently have cats in my lap, I indulge in lengthy sexual escapades which may last until seven am in the morning, I never get up on time, the only thing I spend my scant resources on is good ingredients for great food, I read only my very favourite books, and despite having oceans of time I very rarely do anything worthwhile at all. So indulgence is not unheard of in this household.
   Spices make me go crazy. It's like mardi gras in your nose when you toss them over low heat, and cinco de mayo when you stick them in your mouth. For some, it's the fourth of July in your bathroom the day after, but luckily enough: not for me. Spice is an integral part of cuisine to me, and so this indulgence will be of that kind. Namely that of "chai spice".
   It took me years and years before I learned that the word chai, chae, cha, et.c., actually meant tea. I saw it crop up on menus and in recipes, and I thought it meant a particular blend of different spices I'd learned from my mother's friend Shonaar, who'd attempted to sell my mum on it but rather failed. Then again, my family is scared of seasoning unless there's a bucket or two of cream going on in there along with it to keep it company, so I'm not surprised. I'm also not very surprised I lost a couple of kilos leaving home, come to think about it. Anyway, the chai spice I thought of when I on the rare occasion would make myself a "cup of chai tea", was actually masala. When I found out about my linguistic blunder I quickly attempted to look up what masala consisted of. It turns out that this bloody blend is as varied as the Italian minestrone, i.e., not very helpful. But that doesn't mean that I won't stick to that the blend that I've learned to mix up as masala, is in fact masala. Then I found out that masala means nothing but "mixture". So unhelpful. So very, very unhelpful.
   To return to the original conundrum I was faced with, I understood I had no way of making my own chai apple-juice, because let's face it, I'm allergic to apples to the extent that I have to make Ida peel them for me when I want to make pie. Making my own cold-pressed juice is out of the question. However, being on the baking spree I currently am - because none of you even tried to stop me! - means that badabing, I'll make a batch of crispy yet chewy biscuits.
   Nothing strange about it. No fancy pictures. Just an enormous glob of butter; an alright amount of sugar; the ordinary toss of baking- and vanilla powder; a smear of syrup. And then the masala. This masala, this gorgeous mixture that lends itself wonderfully to feasts both sweet and savoury. Thank you, Shonaar, for coming into my mothers life - and so also into mine - to show me the culinary prowess of India, with its gorgeous spice markets and its goat-laden stews. I wish I had been older that I could've been your friend, and not just your friend's daughter.
   Star anise, a beautiful ornament in itself, looks a little bit like bark as you crush it. Peppercorns both rosy and black give that special sting you don't expect from a common biscuit. Cloves are another magnificent thing to look at as well as smell: as a child I'd try to put one in each nostril to keep the scent of Christmas lingering forever - now I'm content with sticking them into oranges. Cinnamon has a given place in my... everything: I'll keep a stick of it on my desk just to sniff at when writing doesn't go as well as I'd like. Dried or powdered ginger can't ever compete with that of fresh - but keep it in your refrigerator for goodness sake. And cardamom of course; you'll want green seed pods ideally, but my supermarket only offers the black buckshot-looking seeds as is. If you want to be bold, you can add some of that amazing fennel in this mixture for another great bite of effect; it really complements anise quite well.
   You can rub your cutlets with that and a bit of salt. You can scatter it beautifully on vanilla ice-cream. You can pop it in your tomato and red lentil stew with a bit of goat or chicken. You can mix it with black tea and a hint of sugar, brewing it up with water or whole-fat milk for a magnificent tea moment. Or you can, as I did tonight, toss it into a biscuit batter and make some really satisfying after-supper crunchers.

I understand that I said that spice is my bro for life. But I've come to the understanding, writing this, that he is my paramour.

~~Note to self: CHOLE MASALA~~

flowerpot — Sun, 16 Jan 2011 14:39:30 GMT

This afternoon I welcome the sound of meltwater pattering down onto my windowsill. I've loved having a blanket of snow only a head shorter than myself covering the vista of the outside world since late October, but now I look forward to seeing the sun up and beaming for a little bit longer than two pm.

flowerpot — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 23:12:11 GMT

So yesterday I spent almost two hours making twelve perfect pirogis. This morning I got up at nine (!) and made myself perfect and tart blueberry scones for breakfast. And this evening I baked perfect, brittle chocolate fudge cookies to soothe the collective sweet-tooths of this household. I'm beginning to discern a trend, and I'm not sure it's a good one. Someone, for the love of god, remove me from this kitchen pantry before I try my hand at five-storied wedding cakes.

..I don't want to be in this apartment on my birthday, but I don't know where to go. I really don't know where else to go. This city offers me nothing, and it hasn't for three years I've spent here. I don't know what to do with my anxiety, and it's breaking me up inside. What the hell am I going to do.

flowerpot — Thu, 06 Jan 2011 23:46:02 GMT

Shoot. I know so many artists, and they're all always either art-blocked, busy with real life, or simply unwilling to collaborate. Where does a writer breathing hard for her visual ideas go to find someone less preoccupied? Shoot.

flowerpot — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 23:02:19 GMT

Apart from obvious problems I have with the new years switch, I thought that 2011 was going to go gold within days, but I was shot down rather brutally yesterday by the people who hold on to the cash-flow around here, so, no. Still, whilst climbing the rising tension of that negative climax I realised I have a lot of support down there in Stockholm: there is a lot of people who want to help me come back, and for them I promise my holiest not to cry, but stick my chin out and keep going at it. I still haven't heard anything from Harlequin, after all, and let's face it: I could mop floors at Arlanda airport if I really, really need to. So all I need to do is get cracking.
   Ida and I made some fabulously pink cupcakes tasting of sharp orange peel and a little cointreau to cheer ourselves up today, complete with pink buttercream frosting with coconut sprinkles: it really looks just like Marluxia had a poop before it started snowing. So nice. So tasty. I'd pop you a picture, but Ida's camera battery is momentarily dead, so I hope the mental image will suffice.

That said, I had a fantastic set of holidays, and until I ran into that aforementioned little wall I've really been enjoying the feeling of having my batteries recharged. I went down south to stay with my parents and brother - just me, for a change - and man, was that a holiday. I had the chance to see my 97-year old grandmother on Christmas afternoon, I even got to run off to the store to purchase her a hand-picked bouquet of flowers before we left for her apartment, and it was great to see her far more lucid and pleased to see us than I had expected. She and I haven't got the best history behind us, but I respect her and feel sorry for her in many ways, and I only wish her the best. Her birthday was on new-years, so I hope she enjoyed the firework display the country rigged for her.
   Most of my visit was spent in my brother's room, playing Galerians and Enslaved Odyssey to the West and Mass Effect, chatting about his many projects, seeing how good he's become at model rendering and market analysis and basically just enjoying his company. I had the chance to cook my new favourite lasagna, the one with a layer of spinach and mozarella, for them as well to cut my mother some slack over the holiday dinners thing, and it was received greatly, so I actually feel proud of myself. After thirty years of cooking for others, my mother is hard to coax a compliment from when it comes to food.
   I also had the time to see both Jenni and Rikkie during my stay, and it was great to see them. I've missed having friends around so much! It's so liberating to have the chance to just to sit down and talk to people that I'm getting excited just thinking about it. It sounds sort of sad, but it's motivating too. And it was both of them, in their own ways, who lent me the strongest support in coming back to Stockholm again. And Idas and my mutual acquaintance Kenneth, as well, when he found out we're having troubles getting down there. And my parents, too. So there's a sudden wellspring of support just showering up right now: feels good.

The holidays were bountiful in a material fashion too! I had actually expected nothing, because my mum told me in a very severe tone not to expect anything. I would have been fairly disappointed if she hadn't knit me the scarf she'd promised me, but that was really the only thing I wanted from anyone. It turns out this year was better for great, unexpected gifts than any years recently. As always, it's embarrassing to be pleased by getting stuff? But fffff it's so instantly rewarding!
   I already mentioned getting a batch of Steam games from Holly, and my old buddy Racso from the DBSE forums, as well as one for myself, but then he got me Amnesia: The Dark Descent as well, and my brother got me a physical copy of KH: BbS so I am squelching with glee. He also lent me his copy of Enslaved, which we had already completed, but I really want to try and show it to Ida because she'd love it, short though it is. And Ida and her parents got me Cataclysm collectors edition for WoW, so, am exceedingly pleased with this years turnout.
   I got the scarf from mum, beautiful as I'd hoped and looking like a string of morels, as well as a seriously sexy necklace she'd picked up somewhere obscure... It's made out of black rubber, polished and faded silver, and clasps in the front with the help of magnets. It's the most slick piece of bondage-hinting gear I've ever seen, and my mother got it for me: I think the woman knows something ♥ There was also the box of chocolates from our Canadian extra-parents Tom and Jennifer, whom I've yet to mail and say thanks to, as well as cold, hard cash. Cash. Don't tell anyone. I'm saving most of it for a new computer some time next year, but I did use some of it to buy two simple shirts, and a jumprope. I love jumprope, but because of balance issues I'm not very good at it.
   I'll tell you another secret though, and this one'll make you roll your eyes condescendingly. If I ever get my act together, I want to start kickboxing. So I'm going to jump rope in my livingroom until the snow melts - read: some time in May - and then jump rope some more. And then some more, until snow melts in May 2012, and maybe then I'll dare to join a club some time. You can stop rolling your eyes now. I'm done.

TL;DR I had a brilliant holiday, got a slew of great gifts, feel a bit bummed out by continued lack of employment but am soothed by massive love and support all around.

flowerpot — Wed, 22 Dec 2010 00:35:21 GMT

It has been a brilliant day for games in general. It has also been - quite surprisingly - unexpected gift day, for me. Last year was marked out by 0 Christmas gifts, and this year of 0 birthday-gifts, which is okay because I don't like being given things when I have absolutely no way of giving anything back, so to suddenly have people buying me things out of the blue, and all because an old acquaintance of mine linked to the Steam store, was overwhelming. But it did happen. Holly, sweet thing, got me the Oddboxx. I don't think anyone here knows it, but the Oddworld lore and mythos was one of my absolute favourite things in which to build.. well, ideas, ideas for worlds, and for adventure, and for countless creeping eyeless things with names like the worst puns you can imagine. Lorne Lanning, and back then I remember him to have had long hair, was an idol of mine when I first learned of him from the gamers magazines I was very keen on nicking from my brother - he only had them for the pictures anyway.
   Oddworlds finer subtextual plots of industrialisation and the mass-marketing of dwindling species eluded me then, but that didn't mean I didn't enjoy the game franchise. Well. I'll be honest. Mostly we enjoyed the meat-grinders, and the chunks of flesh that scattered all over the screen when you accidentally rolled into one. But I digress. The point is that Abe's Oddysee laid the foundation of how I have come to appreciate and approach world design, and while we were never able to get very far into Abe's Exoddus - because we sucked, my brother and I, back then - I still remember the good times we had rescuing pale workers from a gristly fate back at Rupture Farms. When Munch's Oddysee was announced we were banned from playing it, as it was an XBOX only release. We would have been devastated, but neither of us were particularly interested in the series then. We had moved on. We were playing Final Fantasy X, and I was dodging school, ruining my education and relationships by being gay. When Stranger's Wrath was announced, we had found each other again, my brother and I, and together we slavered over the bestial design of the protagonist, fapped a little over the revolutionary graphics of a shooter/third-person hybrid, and then wept buckets when we learned that no, we weren't going to be allowed to touch this one either. We conjured what little information we could about it from the gaming magazines, but it was fairly useless.
   So I forgot about Oddworld for a couple of years. My brother found old copies of Oddysee and Exoddus, and we both enjoy playing them from time to time now that I visit him and my parents. But now I have them for myself, both the original two and the elusive pair that we never could lay our hands on. Sure, the ports are apparently completely bug-ridden, but I have faith that JAW will do their best to patch that as fast as they can. The PC port were released yesterday, and with two hours to spare on the 50% off sale, I was gifted them. And I'll admit that I've been looking at wikis and images of Stranger all day while it was updating. Sure, I can't play any of it on a computer with no video card, with a smidgeon of RAM and 0 VRAM, and crackling speakers, a semi-broken keyboard. That last bit is my own fault, but the rest is just sad. It doesn't matter. At some point I will have a working computer in front of me, loaner or my own or someone else’s: I don't care. I will commandeer it, and I will leap about with that bestial bit of manimal until some clakker bats me over the head with a paramite pie.
   I cought, with my own few cents!, The Misadventures of P.B. Winterbottom while it was still on sale - not that it was particularly expensive to begin with, but when you're strapped for cash, you're rather keenly aware of that the money you just spent on -unnecessary leisure item/activity- could've been used to buy a bunch of eggs. Still. Bragged on facebook like some modern-day prat, very unlike me I hope, and another old acquaintance of mine added my Steam account to his friendslist. And promptly took a look at my wish-list and got me The Path, for old time's sake. That.. amazing virtual experience from Tale of Tales that's not quite a game, and not quite a story, but a dark look at an old fairy-tale with very literal and metaphorical wolves that.. Well, I won't belabour something I've already ranted about before, but I was exhilarated to say the least. So now I'm thankful to two in the span of a couple of hours and there's nothing I can do to repay them other than sit here and have a cup of tea and gnash my teeth at how I'm incapable of actually playing them now now now.
   TL;DR Got some games, am excited.

Oh, and I finished my translation for Harlequin publishing, I'm sending it in tomorrow after I've asked dad something about the properties of gypsum and check it just one more time. Wish me luck.

I'm leaving for Stockholm on Thursday to spend a week with my family. Just me, and them. It's going to be wonderful, and at the end also quite strained, but initially it will be wonderful. I'm trying to coax them into letting me whip up some holiday fare, but no, they want none of it. The large familial gatherings with the massive feasting is something of my life past now, and I guess I'll have to suck it up and wait until it's my turn to get that ball rolling again, in some ten, fifteen years. At which time I demand a child, a steady employment, and at least one published work of fiction that isn't quite the hit I had desired and not quite something I'm proud about in retrospect but at least printed ten copies and sits unread on my mother's bookshelf. That's what I want from the future.

flowerpot — Mon, 06 Dec 2010 21:21:31 GMT

Advent 2nd
I completely forgot to pimp last advent post with the pictures I took of my amazing batch of saffron and orange glögg, so I'll just link you there now. For this advent I made some marvelous spice biscuits that - to me - scream imminent holidays. Recipe forthcoming immediately here below ♥ It's a very simple, very standard generic biscuit, but it's the seasoning that wins the kaching!

Pepper and Rosemary biscuits
6½ dl flour
2½ dl cornmeal
3 dl butter
2½ dl sugar
2 tsp sea salt
2 tsp black pepper
2 tsp rosemary
opt.: almond extract

[pictures tomorrow!]