tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370234254706781532024-03-14T06:00:07.063+02:00Dreams of Starlit BalladsLife, as seen through the eyes of the Lami.S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-76198688351269448792014-08-16T19:51:00.001+03:002014-08-16T19:51:58.687+03:00Les Chats du Cimetière du MontmartreWhile meandering in the Montmartre cemetery, we came across at least six different cats. One presumes they are at least half feral, and that they are tolerated for being useful in keeping the vermin population in check. There will be a slightly longer post about the trip to Paris in its entirety, but I thought that these lovelies deserved their own entry.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This little beauty being the first one we saw, I was momentarily taken aback — tell me you wouldn't be, suddenly chancing upon a black cat in a graveyard.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This one was perhaps the most shy. None of them appeared exactly social, but neither were the others quite as quick to hide.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It seems that grave stones make good beds.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I suspect that this ball of fluff is more fur and bone than fat.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glare. This one did not care for us in the least.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Really did not care for us. Human approaches, cat finds another stone to recline upon.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Near the gates, remaining immobile and staring at the entrance as if determinedly waiting for something or someone.</td></tr>
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<br />S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-76413002203883455812014-08-16T13:33:00.000+03:002014-08-16T13:33:13.955+03:00Ropecon 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As before, the last weekend of July brought thousands of roleplay and game enthusiasts together in Dipoli, Espoo for the biggest Nordic RP convention. I attended, obviously, and this year was part of the team responsible for card game tournaments. Lots of MtG players. Lots. The experience was different to that of the GM info team, and not entirely in positive ways—but the reason for that can be found in my own social anxiety, not any fault of the team leader's or fellow workers'. Being also in the pool of back-up personnel, I got to handle the videotaping of a lecture. The experience was not horrible.</div>
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Cosplays are diversifying, although it's kind of sad to see many of the old favourites (Naruto, Potter, etc.) dwindling. Group cosplays are still going strong; I spotted X-Men, a good number of Disney princesses, and probably some others that I'm now failing to remember. The Slenderman from last year did not seem to make a re-appearance, which I am both glad and disappointed about. Glad because he freaked me out, disappointed because I really wanted a photo. Ah, well.</div>
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Here are a few that I managed to snap during the weekend.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can't see it very well, but there's a pin that says "The Doctor - Here to help" on this Eleven's jacket.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Link playing his ocarina. Zelda OoT, even though I never finished it, is still one of my favourite games.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidEUTt75_xmQeKkH-KVkTDHkAImDDdW2rsxr8Y2kg6Guhv35KiqeczK4XgiZTWyXzWcEHOnAzwXq4hgw7ydZ4REm5FWS1wiw0ABg9Po_8Tudm_4QgTz5iJU5QVJ0Z7biFCjeb23ff3B5yA/s1600/IMG_4467.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidEUTt75_xmQeKkH-KVkTDHkAImDDdW2rsxr8Y2kg6Guhv35KiqeczK4XgiZTWyXzWcEHOnAzwXq4hgw7ydZ4REm5FWS1wiw0ABg9Po_8Tudm_4QgTz5iJU5QVJ0Z7biFCjeb23ff3B5yA/s1600/IMG_4467.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I may have squeaked when I first spotted this pair. And look, they even have Pascal!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip26HZeicPff-1CohD3mqPd_zL0HVlJDn6x55yyKbcpKF9Y6RXHA0C68pN6qb2QbGl5noVotbx8t4HM6MtN5LbGoEKZUbLALU6FJ1MeuYbHcdnZSPQPt9MHCtfhnnPGZahpmW7GRyBV44_/s1600/IMG_4477.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip26HZeicPff-1CohD3mqPd_zL0HVlJDn6x55yyKbcpKF9Y6RXHA0C68pN6qb2QbGl5noVotbx8t4HM6MtN5LbGoEKZUbLALU6FJ1MeuYbHcdnZSPQPt9MHCtfhnnPGZahpmW7GRyBV44_/s1600/IMG_4477.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm not quite sure what is going on here, but it was fun to follow the set-up.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzhpJVudvCXoGzmJOQRf0uXfv1-xf5pHxMd9dofnnQiuhIfXEvbllMp0VZX-2Y7Xmq8Dk8jiapkVqrzVTB7CdLHY0yY7gUFR2zAmLK9DvICS7q9o8SQ6XKSRPZ1DcUfVL47OrE2IyhJd-Z/s1600/IMG_4481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzhpJVudvCXoGzmJOQRf0uXfv1-xf5pHxMd9dofnnQiuhIfXEvbllMp0VZX-2Y7Xmq8Dk8jiapkVqrzVTB7CdLHY0yY7gUFR2zAmLK9DvICS7q9o8SQ6XKSRPZ1DcUfVL47OrE2IyhJd-Z/s1600/IMG_4481.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now that I'm looking at these pictures, these two are definitely of the Deadpool variety. Damn tricksters.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwAhJSZ99pjGBHrAdBzNviTB7vIy49sc3F9Ew9UqaLLNx_knlWjxH8YURNneikepRCmd0pjyOa2CBzT_8zDRAeYWKS4o4SBDAoiCqithj4jElWftRzbyXyD4eWmQDEx7kra37QMlmPtpHl/s1600/14606752727_9a93fdfee5_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwAhJSZ99pjGBHrAdBzNviTB7vIy49sc3F9Ew9UqaLLNx_knlWjxH8YURNneikepRCmd0pjyOa2CBzT_8zDRAeYWKS4o4SBDAoiCqithj4jElWftRzbyXyD4eWmQDEx7kra37QMlmPtpHl/s1600/14606752727_9a93fdfee5_o.jpg" height="331" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the highlights of the event was definitely the water fight, which they're planning to get into the programme booklet next year. (Photo © Samuli Airaksinen)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuyCbzadXkSyITFI1Cg0QBapTsmUCdLwxC5V6zcQqKquc418Qy06FefytukvklCust1vc8bjg2mFWNne8hWH52VvOmU85gs1EtqSeUPDBbEdaqqIJ_dwQsorbJT-HddzjkrgDxi0uDYsjq/s1600/14793267595_1fab5e54c6_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuyCbzadXkSyITFI1Cg0QBapTsmUCdLwxC5V6zcQqKquc418Qy06FefytukvklCust1vc8bjg2mFWNne8hWH52VvOmU85gs1EtqSeUPDBbEdaqqIJ_dwQsorbJT-HddzjkrgDxi0uDYsjq/s1600/14793267595_1fab5e54c6_o.jpg" height="248" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everyone versus everyone, and we continued for as long as we had breath to do so. (Photo © Samuli Airaksinen)</td></tr>
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<br />S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-81860520861276675772014-08-15T20:58:00.000+03:002014-08-15T21:00:31.574+03:00Vignette: Obfuscateobfuscate<br />
Syllable breaks: ob|fus|cate<br />
Pronunciation: /ˈɒbfʌskeɪt/<br />
<br />
verb [with object]<br />
1. Make obscure, unclear, or unintelligible: the spelling changes will deform some familiar words and obfuscate their etymological origins<br />
1.1. Bewilder (someone): the new rule is more likely to obfuscate people than enlighten them<br />
<br />
Origin late Middle English: from late Latin obfuscat- 'darkened', from the verb obfuscare, based on Latin fuscus 'dark'.<br />
***<br />
<br />
"Obfuscator, obfuscate, make my brain as flat as a cake," muttered the new girl, tapping her sparkly pen against the page. Her book was most definitely not open to the chapter on European colonialism. Janet shifted on her chair, attempting to stretch her legs while looking at the movement of the new girl's fingers. What was her name? Helen— no, Ellen? Worth a try.<br />
<br />
"Ellen," she hissed. No reaction. "Ellen!" she tried again, this time reaching over the gap between their desks just enough to poke the neon-green-clad elbow that jutted out towards her. Grey eyes flashed to Janet, then made an exaggerated roll in their sockets.<br />
<br />
"It's Lena, you twit," the girl hissed back. Then she shushed Janet and pointedly turned her attention to Ms Ramsworth.<br />
<br />
Lena. Right. Janet glanced at her watch, shrugged, and tuned in.<br />
<br />
~<br />
<br />
"Hey! Lena!" A girl's voice pierced through the instrumental solo currently blaring from her headphones. She simultaneously lifted an ear pad and an eyebrow, sweeping a glance over the person currently encroaching on her personal bubble. Her gaze paused briefly at the unicorn pendant dangling just above neckline, then at the lip piercing, before she flicked it up to deep yellow eyes.<br />
<br />
Lena blinked, quirking a smile. "Nice contacts...twit," she said. The other girl blew out a short breath through her nose, her forehead scrunching ever so slightly. "You're Janet, right?" Lena steered to the side and sat on the corner of a table covered with leaflets in a hundred screaming colours. Janet the twit perched right next to her.<br />
<br />
"Yeah. So what was that word you used just now? In class I mean."<br />
<br />
A faint scent of peppermint drifted to Lena's nostrils, and she absently rubbed at the bridge of her nose. Then she grinned. "From what I can tell so far, it's Ms Ramsworth's favourite pastime." Janet blinked at her, and she sighed. "To obfuscate means to deliberately make something confusing."<br />
<br />
She pushed off the table and read the direction signs hanging from the ceiling, then plucked a long red hair off her sleeve. Before she let it fall to the floor, she grasped Janet's chin with the fingers of her free hand and planted a lipstick print right at the corner of the girl's mouth.<br />
<br />
"See you tomorrow, twit," she said.<br />
<br />
"Later, Ellen," said Janet, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-57186191552275384912014-07-05T12:54:00.000+03:002014-07-05T12:54:19.518+03:00Hyvinkää Revisited (Photo Post)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQGS4c5kA-zDokv2ws97TyazfKKllSp7hTF-dXrA5x_aWCEk51CZKShFgB52ImZYjsMHcAiUujVx83C4JKbLm34x7VoDdGQu5dit_ARgK76jGTR25DstKW5gQOFqDPiogtrh0_UWNt267Z/s1600/IMG_1973.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQGS4c5kA-zDokv2ws97TyazfKKllSp7hTF-dXrA5x_aWCEk51CZKShFgB52ImZYjsMHcAiUujVx83C4JKbLm34x7VoDdGQu5dit_ARgK76jGTR25DstKW5gQOFqDPiogtrh0_UWNt267Z/s1600/IMG_1973.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I just spent a few days with Laura in Hyvinkää, the place where I grew up. My relationship with the place is a tad...strange.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOpK9_W4v3-UqDKOlByz0og6upGfB14-v7mAc764rggZsXpnqbjUbVeLfzy4pzsuZYHBIahyphenhyphenX4zLMu4_3eVeka3M-n7bVKlgub9UEgskXGjj4BmPPhq-sP1PkFKy0D4dkeglfWz9eTvJDd/s1600/IMG_1975.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOpK9_W4v3-UqDKOlByz0og6upGfB14-v7mAc764rggZsXpnqbjUbVeLfzy4pzsuZYHBIahyphenhyphenX4zLMu4_3eVeka3M-n7bVKlgub9UEgskXGjj4BmPPhq-sP1PkFKy0D4dkeglfWz9eTvJDd/s1600/IMG_1975.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I used to feel angry and bitter towards not only the people, but the town itself, yet still harbour a sort of grudging fondness. These days, it's mostly the latter.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNKvnUzWi7w4zGY3A5YuezAzE59aWFmSPnqOrpVSvFLNibrY9ur7sLkW6fLdYRxK-8_rpUG6TS8fGl7zOyn89gY_KuSP-DZRPqnMlX7qbDwkfSN06LIYnBE4BklXvExMJ3ndm9jTEQ5A7S/s1600/IMG_1976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNKvnUzWi7w4zGY3A5YuezAzE59aWFmSPnqOrpVSvFLNibrY9ur7sLkW6fLdYRxK-8_rpUG6TS8fGl7zOyn89gY_KuSP-DZRPqnMlX7qbDwkfSN06LIYnBE4BklXvExMJ3ndm9jTEQ5A7S/s1600/IMG_1976.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This wasn't the first time I have gone back there, nor will it be the last. I'm already discovering much more hidden charms now that I can see with a more objective eye. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJKV51SHNFvwTXLazcesZ79PQWmUHD8coHbrJ1UX-YbrKnqaJbY0nEtYGJcI6vS2j3gwkh5ebJa09AkkYVrry-K_6L9ftVgN1Ld2swwX1Z33arAlFII9lrZMgJBHKQD6lNkFXLZv_OTGwA/s1600/IMG_1978.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJKV51SHNFvwTXLazcesZ79PQWmUHD8coHbrJ1UX-YbrKnqaJbY0nEtYGJcI6vS2j3gwkh5ebJa09AkkYVrry-K_6L9ftVgN1Ld2swwX1Z33arAlFII9lrZMgJBHKQD6lNkFXLZv_OTGwA/s1600/IMG_1978.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One thing that hasn't changed much is my love for this library. I used to carry stacks and stacks of books home and then in no time go right back for more.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUjDKRWB4vzD-St03u1eQ7YukpH2OnKEoSEOtGgQR6pqKkIHVoeIm9DgnlweahLCNH-3TUIpE6wJT_SBO0E0v3RQBd9UYmO2efzRRDdSucFZSW2hGorde-ybBpBMcrnpuBMdPbtJ2f4Xxp/s1600/IMG_1979.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUjDKRWB4vzD-St03u1eQ7YukpH2OnKEoSEOtGgQR6pqKkIHVoeIm9DgnlweahLCNH-3TUIpE6wJT_SBO0E0v3RQBd9UYmO2efzRRDdSucFZSW2hGorde-ybBpBMcrnpuBMdPbtJ2f4Xxp/s1600/IMG_1979.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There is an actual mall in the town now, right next to the library. I wasn't too sure what to think of this at first, but I suppose growth is a good thing. The mall itself isn't bad, either, although I'm kind of worried that it will sooner or later completely make redundant Jussintori. It is one of the many scattered little clutters of shops that I used to think of as mini-malls.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEyNhlDGdiSFc60MFbGprusA7YSNRZptMTcGZ9mSzOtHeWaWSXcCxYNW888qY9nqobhHc2_KpUbPake28NpzJiYpTy639MHLw-HZ6nBfAMGYZkvFkydDLka-Hp5dlYfmroEYol0QkHatKY/s1600/IMG_1983.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEyNhlDGdiSFc60MFbGprusA7YSNRZptMTcGZ9mSzOtHeWaWSXcCxYNW888qY9nqobhHc2_KpUbPake28NpzJiYpTy639MHLw-HZ6nBfAMGYZkvFkydDLka-Hp5dlYfmroEYol0QkHatKY/s1600/IMG_1983.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somehow I feel like this cat is not too impressed with its hometown, whatever its improvements in the last decade or so.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaCj_mZqX_ynx-GeiH-CscdvGYLMFBE9j8Yi8qN9UdE8Tw6jtjR_zTVnCbp5JJE3gurIgc8VjiCBdXGjZu8TF8JYYMl6C5FxV48Sb1zo02dgi1QzaFooG3kpXk0TZjmlW9juBiyTjYtkv1/s1600/IMG_1980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaCj_mZqX_ynx-GeiH-CscdvGYLMFBE9j8Yi8qN9UdE8Tw6jtjR_zTVnCbp5JJE3gurIgc8VjiCBdXGjZu8TF8JYYMl6C5FxV48Sb1zo02dgi1QzaFooG3kpXk0TZjmlW9juBiyTjYtkv1/s1600/IMG_1980.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Since Laura is taking a Spanish course this month, I got to spend a little quality time with this bugger...</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWJ1_4XmenyVoS6IZHuNzaHikP8VbzxcO-oeuvontc1ROccT8L4DptBqsCVTLriBUirJCxqAcLpGKp-NlKT90BkCmRXK1atq68fkmDC1ck973RkX_YGPQ8YZpYcfzgV70HXBuxOTM-mq0z/s1600/IMG_1986.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWJ1_4XmenyVoS6IZHuNzaHikP8VbzxcO-oeuvontc1ROccT8L4DptBqsCVTLriBUirJCxqAcLpGKp-NlKT90BkCmRXK1atq68fkmDC1ck973RkX_YGPQ8YZpYcfzgV70HXBuxOTM-mq0z/s1600/IMG_1986.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...but mum is always the best human in Oodi's mind, of course.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-78517688818904354712014-07-02T22:33:00.003+03:002014-07-02T22:33:33.272+03:00Helsinki Pride 2014<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPyMHNfFPk5bK4exvOQUhoExmOKb07tfNuGgc7VfA9Mz2JFU9Vy37-svbo5_ZcNqbTJrj_GkVNM-zvVBjIrKZcNg6SgfvsmO3RUmM1u4EL0Kb1_ZLH2AxcEmCV6as-l7mNHPdqvaefztQC/s1600/pride2014lami.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPyMHNfFPk5bK4exvOQUhoExmOKb07tfNuGgc7VfA9Mz2JFU9Vy37-svbo5_ZcNqbTJrj_GkVNM-zvVBjIrKZcNg6SgfvsmO3RUmM1u4EL0Kb1_ZLH2AxcEmCV6as-l7mNHPdqvaefztQC/s1600/pride2014lami.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saturday. Waiting for the parade to begin.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
As usual, I participated in Helsinki Pride. I did end up missing a couple of the events I intended to attend, but the opening ceremony on Monday and the parade on Saturday are the most important in any case. Perhaps next year I'll manage to go to the bubble party.<br />
<br />
Pride week is important to me not only because of my values, but also because I can reach that inexplicable sense of <i>belonging</i>. I'm a bisexual oddball who has felt more or less like an outsider for most of her life; this one week in June is one of the things that makes it okay.<br />
<br />
What incensed many of us during Pride is the fact that the Legal Affairs Committee — one of the many committees in the Parliament — turned down the bill for gender neutral marriage. Thanks a lot, arseholes. However, the matter will still come in front of the Parliament sometime during the autumn, so not all is lost. We might get there within the next couple of years.<br />
<br />
Anyway...want to know something amazing? We were 20,000 strong on Saturday. The people were definitely voting with their feet.<br />
<br />
All of the photos are from Saturday, because I was a fail-kitty and sadly neglected to take any during the other events. Well, any worth sharing. I do, however, intend to retrace the route we took on the Rainbow City Walk (touring some of the important places in the LGBT history of Helsinki) and snap away, especially towards the end. And then snap a few (dozen) unrelated shots because Embassies and villas and... I just have an appreciation for architecture, okay.<br />
<br />
Photos. Yes. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_zOUJayWl-y2mDM4rLRa7ApNThtaHsGDTbQ92FbBbQ54I7vKBiqu_VfhDPRLaPpffskNuEwAFROLBfSwWpaFoqfkqtb1YSLQibzrClRcAzRmx49MFCbBBzXX0OsRXpjdjcJsKReyLZ-H6/s1600/pride2014_01.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_zOUJayWl-y2mDM4rLRa7ApNThtaHsGDTbQ92FbBbQ54I7vKBiqu_VfhDPRLaPpffskNuEwAFROLBfSwWpaFoqfkqtb1YSLQibzrClRcAzRmx49MFCbBBzXX0OsRXpjdjcJsKReyLZ-H6/s1600/pride2014_01.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">♥</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjy6ZPqygHzlhz07yO_2f4u9-bjDc66ZGo-YUS08cvX41rhIpbdsidkF_quhp72NJSRepBXI_kUIYKnnszEWklOnOZLfysam6q0CvOC6wYBeqnEzT0VGPTqLOt4viXY1mKamsMWoZEMrn2/s1600/pride2014_02.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjy6ZPqygHzlhz07yO_2f4u9-bjDc66ZGo-YUS08cvX41rhIpbdsidkF_quhp72NJSRepBXI_kUIYKnnszEWklOnOZLfysam6q0CvOC6wYBeqnEzT0VGPTqLOt4viXY1mKamsMWoZEMrn2/s1600/pride2014_02.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beware! A homosexual might treat or perform surgery on you!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_kvHzJY0FUZdZK_B8e58jIsxfHDI_yHkd_qC7f5dIFsRdVaEDv9kaGm1SLs0LbE0gIlYBm2L9v8Kll6aDS2fsizjpb_TVIZccYc_-tR32jSWaMWKLrhfrvWSVJ7VOX6r4UKlNpk2iM_hX/s1600/pride2014_03.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_kvHzJY0FUZdZK_B8e58jIsxfHDI_yHkd_qC7f5dIFsRdVaEDv9kaGm1SLs0LbE0gIlYBm2L9v8Kll6aDS2fsizjpb_TVIZccYc_-tR32jSWaMWKLrhfrvWSVJ7VOX6r4UKlNpk2iM_hX/s1600/pride2014_03.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Floral McSassypants. He noticed I was photographing him, so he struck a pose. Then we gave each other a smile and a thumbs-up. wh00t for random short connections.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiITCgdRD4VpxRFxniOQv1-MH_M1gY0J2RKKRqyCE5ojtc7uMplUiQ0m6isxqDol2brH8VoazMQYy9dhhiIUOVbqqDhpqaN7bVo03BWmazHC71RkC8JRM3TjdEp5T_ZdoDlGQJxq003darL/s1600/pride2014_04.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiITCgdRD4VpxRFxniOQv1-MH_M1gY0J2RKKRqyCE5ojtc7uMplUiQ0m6isxqDol2brH8VoazMQYy9dhhiIUOVbqqDhpqaN7bVo03BWmazHC71RkC8JRM3TjdEp5T_ZdoDlGQJxq003darL/s1600/pride2014_04.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The parade always ends at a park, where we then sit and listen to performers and see what goodies participating organisations have brought with them. As you can see, there were loads of people.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihrUqh7Pt5PnQq5NpUqou6CT7HNYcSS_I-OgodsleUiGEizgkF4Mk3R-VI2n8EZqzJDbDLIpFXEG-Vvq7_ItuY48_I587xqjprhyhyqhueCsCmHT6lGK8n1msxrFbrhs-D0YErsZFvM5ow/s1600/pride2014_05.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihrUqh7Pt5PnQq5NpUqou6CT7HNYcSS_I-OgodsleUiGEizgkF4Mk3R-VI2n8EZqzJDbDLIpFXEG-Vvq7_ItuY48_I587xqjprhyhyqhueCsCmHT6lGK8n1msxrFbrhs-D0YErsZFvM5ow/s1600/pride2014_05.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Artsy picture is artsy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-16347516332299974222014-07-02T20:36:00.000+03:002014-08-15T20:11:51.081+03:00Book Review: Love in the Balance by Marianne K. Martin<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2192247.Love_in_the_Balance" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="Love in the Balance" border="0" src="https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1362875131m/2192247.jpg" /></a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2192247.Love_in_the_Balance">Love in the Balance</a> by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/60479.Marianne_K_Martin">Marianne K. Martin</a><br />
My rating: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/981178533">3 of 5 stars</a><br />
<br />
This is a BookCrossing book I nabbed from a shelf in the Lasipalatsi gallery space in lieu of Pride merch, because most of said merch was already gone. Sadface. In truth, I would like to give this novel 2½ stars. Here is why.<br />
<br />
Although the romance itself was quite lovely and, yes, occasionally titillating, there were some aspects of the plot that I simply did not care for — especially in the last third or so.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: #cc0000;">SPOILERS!</span></b> <br />
<br />
After our lovers are happily established, a side-plot comes careening out of nowhere in which two of their close friends, a slightly older lesbian couple, are shot to death by their neighbour. A bit of reflection revealed this to be (in my opinion) a poorly executed Chekhov's Gun. The threat to shoot any animals that might wander onto the neighbour's property is mentioned only a couple of pages before. The event might work better if it didn't appear slapped on like a sticker. Honestly, it reads like the author was running out of plot and decided to just tack this on without much to connect it to the rest of the story. Also, Kasey's reaction is unintentionally amusing:<br />
<br />
<i>"Nooo!" Kasey screamed.</i> (<a href="http://www.nooooooooooooooo.com/">http://www.nooooooooooooooo.com</a>)<br />
<br />
Much social commentary ensues, flavoured with a bit of interpersonal drama. They eventually win the court case, though. Two years later, Connie asks Kasey to marry her. Happily ever after?<br />
<br />
<br />
In conclusion: It's a nice read, and the development of the relationship between Kasey and Connie is quite lovely, but if you don't care about a hefty dose of (poorly integrated) socio-political commentary with your fluff, you may wish to skip the last third or, you know, the whole book.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/11964591-saara">View all my reviews</a>
S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-52320640761748028622014-06-22T20:48:00.001+03:002014-06-22T20:48:34.017+03:00Book Review: The Vesuvius Club by Mark Gatiss<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/838668.The_Vesuvius_Club" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px"><img alt="The Vesuvius Club (Lucifer Box, #1)" border="0" src="https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1348057213m/838668.jpg" /></a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/838668.The_Vesuvius_Club">The Vesuvius Club</a> by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/74861.Mark_Gatiss">Mark Gatiss</a><br/>
My rating: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/394024907">4 of 5 stars</a><br /><br />
I think I must have spent less than ten hours altogether reading this novel, and that in a single day. It has been a while since I finished a book that quickly. Then again, I do my fastest reading when travelling and today I spent approximately six hours sitting in a car. That accounts for most of the novel.<br><br>What to say of the story itself? I liked it a great deal, and although there were some twists I saw coming long beforehand, the form those twists took was unexpected. The narrative is in first person and past tense, which is never the easiest thing to pull off but fits this particular story splendidly. Lucifer Box is conceited as anything — and it is very difficult not to adore him. His relationship with Charlie Jackpot is marvellous, and I hope it remains as wonderful in the sequels. Yes, I will be getting my hands on those sooner or later!<br><br>I admit that I expected much from a book written by Mark Gatiss. I was not disappointed.
<br/><br/>
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/11964591-saara">View all my reviews</a>
S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-59955655229784733962014-06-20T23:33:00.000+03:002014-06-20T23:33:55.926+03:00Book Review: Dragonflight by Anne McCaffrey<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/480569.Dragonflight" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px"><img alt="Dragonflight (Pern: Dragonriders of Pern, #1)" border="0" src="https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1324422680m/480569.jpg" /></a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/480569.Dragonflight">Dragonflight</a> by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/26.Anne_McCaffrey">Anne McCaffrey</a><br/>
My rating: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/948396818">4 of 5 stars</a><br /><br />
I wish Goodreads supported half-stars in its rating system. For me, this book wasn't quite a four but still slightly more than a three. Oh, well.<br><br>More than a decade has passed since I last read this novel, and I have the sneaking suspicion that I did so in Finnish. (I only started being picky about translations sometime after HP 5 came out. Read that in English, have endeavoured to do so ever since — when the original is in English, obviously.) Thus, my memories of the story were vague at best.<br><br>What struck me most was how very unlikeable Lessa is for much of the book. She has her reasons, certainly, and many of the entirely frustrating things she does are, in the end, quite understandable. Nevertheless, this realisation threw me off balance for a while. It's a bit discomfiting when you find yourself unable to like the main character. Then again, that is probably one of the strengths of this novel; McCaffrey manages to make the reader sympathise with someone whom, for a good stretch, you feel like throttling.<br><br>Honestly, I'm much more fond of F'lar and F'nor.<br><br>The lore discovered throughout the story is revealed at a good pace, not too slow and not too fast. No awkward infodumps here! Also absent are overly detailed character descriptions. Clothing and appearances are described, yes, but those parts feel much more organic than they often do. It's a skill many writers should spend time honing.<br><br>I'm glad I reacquainted myself with this series, and quite look forward to reading more of it.
<br/><br/>
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/11964591-saara">View all my reviews</a>
S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-84774996634629741122014-06-18T20:01:00.002+03:002014-06-18T20:05:47.241+03:00It's Summer, But That Doesn't Mean Holidays<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoOca471xkfrQUfv3lJdYYVJGaNyCqlQqqvl82z4Gz7hIyPJKL_wlDKRtp5K94a5z5aVoasPpHwrcjO07XBIM2fYrZipjUUWh-lVVw0nKcapDiBCotrAe8hD-iWXK4t4haJuukIZuuHjUF/s1600/_DSC2614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoOca471xkfrQUfv3lJdYYVJGaNyCqlQqqvl82z4Gz7hIyPJKL_wlDKRtp5K94a5z5aVoasPpHwrcjO07XBIM2fYrZipjUUWh-lVVw0nKcapDiBCotrAe8hD-iWXK4t4haJuukIZuuHjUF/s1600/_DSC2614.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">*wink*</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span id="goog_1837633666"></span><span id="goog_1837633667"></span><br />
<span id="goog_1837633666"></span><span id="goog_1837633667"></span><br />
I don't have a summer job; nay, I have not been so fortunate. There is, however, an exam taking place in August that needs to be studied for, and a home essay for English Grammar 2. Furthermore...the tiny little detail that I only received a 2 on my BA thesis. The grade ought to be at least a 3 for me to feel anywhere near comfortable, and not only because I am so self-critical—it's also because in order to continue on to do an MA I need an average grade of 3 or higher in Intermediate Studies, and with such a low grade on my thesis, it's looking unlikely. Had I started at the university a couple of years later than I did, it would also have been a requirement to have at least a 3 for the thesis in addition to the aforementioned average. Fun, aye?<br />
<br />
Honestly, when I received the e-mail containing my thesis supervisor's comments and the final grade, I was crushed. As in, started crying uncontrollably, that sort of thing. You don't need to hear about that, though. It took a few moments, but I calmed down and am now resolved to do what needs done. <br />
<br />
Thus, some of my time before September shall be spent furiously revising the thesis. I mentioned in my previous entry that I might post the whole thing here, but until it has been significantly improved, that will not be happening. I'm sure you'll survive.<br />
<br />
As usual, I'm in Helsinki for much of the summer, staying in my old room at my folks' place. There's a fairly long-winded project underway to clean it, and has been for a while now. My current task is to re-organise the bookshelf. After that, I think I'm going to attack the desk area.<br />
<br />
It's not all work, though: I get to be with Laura, to attend <a href="http://www.heseta.fi/english/pride-en" target="_blank">Helsinki Pride</a> and Ropecon, aaaaand to... GO TO PARIS WITH MY MUM! We're planning to travel pretty much right after Ropecon, in the junction of July and August, and we'll be there for about a week. I'll have to brush up on the little French I've managed to learn thus far, but that won't be too much trouble. Really looking forward to it.<br />
<br />
There you have it, a general sort of summer update. I'll try to blog once or twice a week from now on, but no promises!S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-50211693228488704492014-05-29T22:45:00.000+03:002014-05-29T22:45:13.143+03:00Insert Expletives Here<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj51x3x4zSoTcEnb3xKv7dLoFzl6ZCxPzMSP_xpHneO-0x08Glc35Vd4wB8t6M_o-4ILFiCAEZoRgntb5eDUQHaX_3vF6-Rxo8TKjDknJOworFgrOWlL-EftbfiS7zH9NfA6-OO6qQP6wFV/s1600/IMG_20140529_153923.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Squirrely terrace guest.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Oh dear. Deadline for my BA thesis is approaching at an extremely alarming rate. Am I going to get it ready on time? Fuck yes. I'll work myself down to the bone if need be. At this point, though, I'm not so sure of the quality. It is really, really, really important for the sake of my current plans for the future that I get at least a 3 out of it. (Our grading system being 1-5; 1 = passable, 5 = excellent.)<br />
<br />
AAAAAAAGGHHH.<br />
<br />
I shall possibly maybe post the whole thing here on this blog once I'm done with it. Perhaps. Anyway, that's what's going on with me at the moment. There is going to be a more interesting update in a week or two, okay? Okay.<br />
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Bye. ._.S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-67565496090098053052014-05-21T13:15:00.001+03:002014-05-21T21:54:46.873+03:00Book Review: The Fault in Our Stars<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17118893-the-fault-in-our-stars" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="The Fault in Our Stars" border="0" src="https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1391442043m/17118893.jpg" /></a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17118893-the-fault-in-our-stars">The Fault in Our Stars</a> by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1406384.John_Green">John Green</a><br />
My rating: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/940088205">4 of 5 stars</a><br />
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Here's the thing about seeing a book praised, especially by your friends: It creates expectations it is pretty impossible for the real thing to live up to.<br />
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Don't misunderstand me. I liked this book. I really, really did — just not quite as much as I <s>expected</s> wanted to. I wanted to <i>love</i> it, not only because of those aforementioned friends but also because I consider myself a Nerdfighter. Alas, it was not to be. Further skewing my experience was the fact that, being late to the party, I had encountered spoilers. I knew about the big twist long before I even acquired the novel. Sad, that.<br />
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To the point, now? Yes.<br />
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<b>CAUTION: MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS.</b><br />
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After finishing the novel, I looked at a few reviews of it here on GR. Some were very critical indeed, and there's one point in particular I would like to address. Well, no, that's a lie. There are more. But the first order of business is this thing about the differences between Hazel and Augustus. There are people who posit that they are, in fact, the same character. Personally, I wouldn't go quite that far, but they are perhaps not as different, or at the very least not as easy to tell apart, as one might like. They are distinct personalities, yes, but their speech patterns are fairly similar.<br />
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There's the metaphor thing. I must say I wasn't overly impressed, but for one thing, that horse is as good as dead, and for another... I think that was the point. Not to be very impressed with this idiosyncracy of Augustus's, especially when it comes to his deal with the cigarettes. Hazel is never really convinced; she indulges him, because she knows that it matters to him. To have the illusion of some kind of control. In other areas, the metaphors are kind of sweet. The boy likes grand gestures, and Hazel lets him have them, but the truth is — and I'm not interpreting, it's right there in the fricking book — that she prefers him without that smooth veneer.<br />
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One thing that really surprised me was the fact that <i>An Imperial Affliction</i> and Peter Van Houten had such a major part in the story. I mean, I knew John Green had moved to Amsterdam for a couple of months while writing the novel, specifically for research and authenticity purposes, but somehow that didn't click. Threw me off for a while. I'm not really sure how I feel about it. On the one hand, it's an interesting thing to have there and gave Hazel and Augustus something they otherwise might never have experienced. On the other hand, I can't help but wonder whether I would have preferred a more insular story. I'll never know, because this is the one we got.<br />
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My emotional response? The tears appeared much later than anticipated. Quite a few chuckles for the dialogue, and I refuse to agree with the nay-sayers who think the lines were too witty for teenagers to come up with. Some of the monologues were definitely thought up beforehand, yes, I'm looking at you Augustus Waters. But the banter? Heck yes I buy it. I've known some amazingly bright people in that general age bracket, and don't believe for a moment that Cancer Kids are exempt from being endowed with loads of wit. These kids were. (I'm sure there is at least one YA novel where the protagonist suffers from an illness but is otherwise entirely unexceptional. If someone recommends such a book to me, I'll read it.)<br />
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In light of all this, you will forgive me for not giving the book five stars. I'm very stingy in that regard, to be honest. Nevertheless, this is a beautiful book and I shall doubtlessly re-read it more than once. And yes, damn straight I'm going to go see the movie.
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/11964591-saara">View all my reviews</a>
S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-51864043022582690682014-03-26T14:06:00.001+02:002014-03-26T14:06:58.092+02:00Blue Skies & Yelling Birds<p dir="ltr">April is fast approaching, and the days between the present moment and end of term are once again running by at an inconvenient pace. Oh, to be in possession of a time-turner!</p>
<p dir="ltr">In place of a real post, have some random photos taken with the smartphone I finally deigned to begin using.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUQ_dtgff3FHP94UyZKJEzATtPySvfhmSTmcuhXcVxekxQr2sFOT43kE126us8r69u3rQFhE-twZGL6l6YVOTPOsIP2R1NWTSZCaHXAATdIpetA6fYFbYfU9BsHGUTzXy_aZxAkAh5AT8O/s1600/IMG_20140308_215101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUQ_dtgff3FHP94UyZKJEzATtPySvfhmSTmcuhXcVxekxQr2sFOT43kE126us8r69u3rQFhE-twZGL6l6YVOTPOsIP2R1NWTSZCaHXAATdIpetA6fYFbYfU9BsHGUTzXy_aZxAkAh5AT8O/s640/IMG_20140308_215101.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrwSBON8mE9EjVGxugrKhEAlfPq5BW6FIedt69qT5H6WmBWxj7WLXk3LkO54kb7BRdXNpirt7cy5tpkUGL4H9-X8XOkAI0eR0pf9PCAwxVqChQX2ApmlnwtrWvPiQy7tuiO683wl_78mgn/s1600/IMG_20140314_134346.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrwSBON8mE9EjVGxugrKhEAlfPq5BW6FIedt69qT5H6WmBWxj7WLXk3LkO54kb7BRdXNpirt7cy5tpkUGL4H9-X8XOkAI0eR0pf9PCAwxVqChQX2ApmlnwtrWvPiQy7tuiO683wl_78mgn/s640/IMG_20140314_134346.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx8FLhbRI70gIqDJOC9eaq4it6hm9f5N7IimU0FjB8P3wcKHn7aGAD5JLKDhBcg9K5GE3y9eOOFXq1ZgCfJOkRmhXZC_9a4NjtW69KHnSzi32KpSrZiUqx7WmyPh9hILllyXAv2QWNToHM/s1600/IMG_20140302_152733.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx8FLhbRI70gIqDJOC9eaq4it6hm9f5N7IimU0FjB8P3wcKHn7aGAD5JLKDhBcg9K5GE3y9eOOFXq1ZgCfJOkRmhXZC_9a4NjtW69KHnSzi32KpSrZiUqx7WmyPh9hILllyXAv2QWNToHM/s640/IMG_20140302_152733.jpg"> </a> </div>S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-41821529324919582582013-12-06T16:48:00.000+02:002013-12-06T16:48:06.035+02:00Book Review: Women & Ghosts by Alison Lurie<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1033575-women-ghosts" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px"><img alt="Women & Ghosts" border="0" src="https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1386339643m/1033575.jpg" /></a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1033575-women-ghosts">Women & Ghosts</a> by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2046.Alison_Lurie">Alison Lurie</a><br/>
My rating: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/782738727">4 of 5 stars</a><br /><br />
A little gem of a collection, <em>Women & Ghosts</em> held me enthralled with its tales. Ten women come face to face with something not quite of this world and find themselves wondering if they have in fact gone mad. We cannot be sure, and that's part of the charm.<br><br>I have lately come to appreciate the supernatural genre, so when I found the little paperback in a box of our late professor's books that had been donated to my student guild, I decided to pick it up and see whether it was a good read. Now I'm glad I did, and will probably try to get my hands on Lurie's other work.<br><br>While I did indeed like this book, it's an unfortunate fact that I have way too many in my possession already. Thus it shall be freed.
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/11964591-saara">View all my reviews</a>
S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-23355736826517878912013-11-22T18:02:00.000+02:002013-11-22T18:03:22.213+02:00Book Review: Catch of the Season by Barbara Benedict<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/10379758-catch-of-the-season" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px"><img alt="Catch of the Season" border="0" src="https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1307618575m/10379758.jpg" /></a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/10379758-catch-of-the-season">Catch of the Season</a> by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/689208.Barbara_Benedict">Barbara Benedict</a><br/>
My rating: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/771247642">3 of 5 stars</a><br /><br />
So here's the thing. About a decade ago, romance novels were a sort of guilty pleasure of mine. Barbara Cartland was my favourite, although I did read some Danielle Steel as well. That phase of my bookwormdom was rather short-lived (only a year or two at most), but it remained with me. It was a fact. I had read romances and <em>liked them</em>.<br><br>A couple of days ago, I decided to stop pretending that it wasn't a thing I still wanted to do every now and then. I picked up a free-to-grab book at uni and proceeded to find out whether the genre was still something I could stomach.<br><br>The answer is, perhaps a little to my chagrin, yes.<br><br><em>Catch of the Season</em> is a bite-sized novel that goes by quite fast. It made no great impact, but it was entertaining enough and well-written enough to keep my interest. I have no intention of keeping it; despite being a sweet, cheesy little morsel that I did enjoy, the novel has no place on my bookshelf. There will be others like it. Instead, the story shall be released once more unto the world to find someone else who sometimes likes to indulge in a bit of syrup.
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/11964591-saara">View all my reviews</a>
S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-49071957791318296322013-10-07T23:18:00.000+03:002013-10-07T23:18:00.747+03:00Deathigner<iframe src="//player.vimeo.com/video/72625639" width="500" height="281" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen mozallowfullscreen allowfullscreen></iframe> <p>Possibly even more adorable than Death of Rats, and that's saying something.</p>S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-37324214820638345852013-09-28T23:59:00.000+03:002014-05-21T21:56:02.819+03:00Book Review: Brain by Robin Cook<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18592434-brain" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="Brain" border="0" src="http://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1380394860m/18592434.jpg" /></a><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18592434-brain">Brain</a> by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19697.Robin_Cook">Robin Cook</a><br />
My rating: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/729822728">3 of 5 stars</a><br />
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Let me begin by stating that I did enjoy this book significantly. I for some reason had a preconceived notion that the story would be much trashier than it turned out to be, which might have influenced my opinion in a positive way; I was pleasantly surprised, ergo inclined toward a kinder review. My grievances are, in the end, minor ones, even though they did affect my reading experience negatively.<br />
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<i>Brain</i> takes place over three days in the life of Dr. Martin Philips, a radiologist who has faired well in his career and is now collaborating with a computer scientist in research that could revolutionise the field. When testing out a device he has been given, he starts finding peculiar anomalies in several patients' head X-rays. Something is not right, people are exhibiting unexplained symptoms and then disappearing, and soon Philips finds himself in danger as he tries to get to the bottom of these mysteries. I admit, for some bits I did feel like I was at the edge of my seat. The novel was gripping and easy to read, so I plowed through it in just a few days — which at the moment is a bit of an exception for me. When the final twists began to be revealed, I was delighted at the successful red herrings. Funnily enough, my intuition woke up at the last minute and when the true culprit's identity came to light, I already knew to expect it. Whether or not this was supposed to happen, I haven't the foggiest.<br />
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However, there are multiple issues which prevent me from giving the novel a higher rating. First, Cook falls victim to the sin familiar to many writers: suddenly pausing to describe his characters at length, instead of giving an image of their appearance at a gradual pace. There may be differing opinions about this, but to me it has long been a sign that the writer has not quite grasped the concept of "show, don't tell". Then again, I'm not sure when that particular piece of literary advice was coined.<br />
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Second, the narration switches point of view at whiplash speed. Most of the novel is experienced inside the skull of the main character, Dr. Martin Philips, but every now and then we are given a chapter or part of a chapter through someone else's eyes. That is not what I find problematic. What I find problematic is the way we are often taken to another person's headspace for a couple of sentences, maybe a paragraph, before jumping back to Philips or whoever else is the main focus right then. For some reason, omniscient narrators irritate me. Perhaps here it was a source of annoyance because the switch felt like an unnecessary blip in the flow. <a class="jsShowSpoiler spoilerAction" href="https://www.blogger.com/null">(view spoiler)</a><span class="spoilerContainer" style="display: none;">[As an example, toward the end of the book there is a scene in which Philips is in the apartment of someone involved, and Cook finds it necessary to tell us that the other person picks up a knife and slides it into his sleeve. I found this entirely superfluous; it could have been conveyed indirectly after Werner is killed by the agent, and perhaps Philips could have seen Werner fingering his sleeve nervously. <a class="jsHideSpoiler spoilerAction" href="https://www.blogger.com/null">(hide spoiler)</a>]</span><br />
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Third, and this might really start to sound like nitpicking, Cook keeps going back and forth between what he calls his main character. In one sentence it's Philips, in the next it's Martin. I understand that this is the author's tactic to avoid using either one of the names until the point of aggravation, and to avoid using descriptors such as "the man" and "the doctor" but hells if it doesn't drive me bonkers. There is no internal logic to when either name is used! That is the issue.<br />
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Then there is the fact that the blurb on the back is misleading, although I suppose I should not dock any points for that—this is a common problem for books. I have never understood it and I never will.<br />
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It's probably a good thing I know next to nothing about medicine. Otherwise, the practices portrayed in the novel might have seemed rather archaic. Now, even though I know that they must be, it did not bother me.<br />
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In closing, I would recommend this to friends of medical thrillers who do not mind reading older material, but in all honesty, you can take it or leave it. I am certain there must be more modern versions of the same type of storyline. And yes, the subject matter did wake a few questions.
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<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/11964591-saara">View all my reviews</a>
S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-22429636859299131282013-09-24T21:59:00.000+03:002013-09-24T21:59:31.067+03:00'Tis My Second Vlog (Finally)<iframe width="420" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/OiaTfPB0K-E" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-89565396960835191912013-09-21T16:41:00.001+03:002013-09-21T16:41:26.482+03:00Sunset Variations<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Most of these photos look nothing like they did in their raw form. Truth be told, I couldn't get them to resemble the originals while fiddling in UFRaw, so I started experimenting with colour settings instead. I kind of like the results; especially the blue one is rather... magical.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span>S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-8404000392475918482013-09-21T15:21:00.001+03:002013-09-21T15:21:26.437+03:00Celestia Image Captures, Part I<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Feast your eyes on these lovely sights. More will come in small doses every now and then.</span><br />
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<br />S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-11678241223618622842013-09-21T01:08:00.000+03:002013-09-21T01:14:16.091+03:00The Name of My Blog<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">No one has asked, because the readership of this blog is extremely tiny and they're all on some level of friendship with me. However, I am going to tell you where the name comes from: this poem here.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i>The Timid Fancy</i></span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i>Here is the ideal:<br /><br />I will surrender my heart<br />and love you as ever only imagined<br />in dreams of starlit ballads;<br /><br />in your hands confide<br />all my aching wounds,<br />old love-battle scars; and<br /><br />lay at your feet the keys<br />to hidden corners of my self.<br /><br />All of this, through the prism of emotion,<br />is beautiful to you—not beyond compare<br />for I was never so foolish—but<br />more than enough to make you stay.<br /><br />The reality<br />is never made of silk or velvet. It is not soft<br />like dawn or a misted rain, but sharp,<br />edged as winter's wind.<br /><br />Here, then, is the hope:<br /><br />My jagged edges will<br />line up with yours—click into place<br />like pieces of a puzzle—<br />and if not, the hope is still this:<br /><br />We will not become the shards of our selves<br />and injure each other<br />while pulling the pieces apart. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Like many of my poems, this is a love poem. I wrote it in the autumn of 2010, back when J and I were beginning our relationship and I had no bloody clue how it would all go but was really quite hopeful that it would, at the very least, not end in tears and misery.<i> </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Our story is still very much open-ended. I have arrived at a point where I think it might all just work out, although my blind faith in the existence of happily ever afters has pretty much diminished to nothing. That's neither here nor there and so not the point of this post.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As you may notice, the fourth line of the poem features the words familiar from my blog title. Truth is, I fell in love with that line and wanted to use it. That happens sometimes, and it feels perhaps a little bit egotistical, but the thing is... Occasionally I come up with some pretty darn good lines. This happened to be one of them. </span>S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-34477100043662402212013-09-20T22:25:00.000+03:002013-09-21T01:15:11.554+03:00Background and Its Source<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My blog has a new background, huzzah! J used <a href="http://www.shatters.net/celestia/" target="_blank">Celestia</a> and some Photoshop magic to fashion it for me. Then, after some problems with viewing, he added a line of CSS and made it work on smaller screens as well—which is a relief, because it really is such a pretty image.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I have a feeling I'll take some Celestia captures and post them in the future. There are a few already, in fact... but indeed, that is for another entry. </span>S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-26556323192737490762013-09-20T15:01:00.000+03:002013-09-20T15:01:24.736+03:00I Have a New Skill! (& Two New Addictions...)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A couple of days ago, I watched <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f-9_HwRcd1A" target="_blank">this video tutorial</a>
on how to make animated GIFs. There were some photos from late June I
had wanted to make into a GIF from pretty much the moment I went through
them, and now I finally learned how!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The two I have made are fairly small, but I guess I'll put together some bigger ones soon. Here they are: one of Jussi making funny faces at the camera (which is the one I procrastinated on), and one of me standing on some rocks, looking at the sunset. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I also have two new addictions, the first one being Robot Unicorn Attack, a brilliant game which is occupying an unhealthy amount of my leisure time. The second one is watching videos by Hank and John Green on their <a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/vlogbrothers" target="_blank">vlogbrothers</a> channel. It has, in fact, led me to neglecting Pewds. The horror! I can't help it; they're just too funny.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">No but seriously. I need to do uni stuff. Hopefully I'll be able to be at least a little bit productive in the midst of all this shiny distraction.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Speaking of shiny...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRgBFIperlAZi32BWnUbVnZxuWKBCU08wFbWfCJ-mkfOQ-XCWNAfud__qWXoKTiRg9G2o2uLZe5UErFhcb1GBsXPZhtGIuxnxIkvfgQ-my4UPXDv5uPjQKG8YJiZyGUOYcWpnqDx0jIO-V/s1600/0914_DSC2410.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRgBFIperlAZi32BWnUbVnZxuWKBCU08wFbWfCJ-mkfOQ-XCWNAfud__qWXoKTiRg9G2o2uLZe5UErFhcb1GBsXPZhtGIuxnxIkvfgQ-my4UPXDv5uPjQKG8YJiZyGUOYcWpnqDx0jIO-V/s640/0914_DSC2410.JPG" width="427" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span>S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-33928263349813883212013-08-22T23:08:00.000+03:002013-08-22T23:08:02.744+03:00Oh My Skies, It's a Vlog<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I have very little clue of what I am doing; in fact, it's lucky that the video turned out even as well as it did. Here we go, then, and do expect more of these in the future. :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span>S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-84603841764510230872013-08-22T11:07:00.000+03:002013-08-22T11:07:03.450+03:00Σ8Þ<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So I took a <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/summeranne/what-famous-internet-cat-are-you" target="_blank">test</a>... </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">You got: Lil Bub!!!</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Who has time for haters when you’ve got squonking, drooling,
playing outside, hanging out with your favorite dude, napping, and being
a total rockstar to do? You’re not afraid to let your weird show, so
some people will keep calling you a “freak,” but as long as you know
your friends got your back, you’re brushing that dirt off your
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<br />S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137023425470678153.post-28417183586018575752013-08-01T18:21:00.002+03:002013-08-01T18:21:40.916+03:00Ropecon 2013<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Oh, there's so much I could tell you about this. For those not in the know, Ropecon is (on our humble North European scale) a great big convention not about rope, but roleplaying. There are lectures, LARPs, tabletop gaming, card gaming, board gaming, tournaments, a cosplay competition, a sales hall... It's a weekend full of awesomeness, and this was my 10th year taking part — my 4th as part of the volunteer force of 600+ people making it all become reality. This time, as the two previous years, I was on the team running the GM info desk, looking after tabletop GMs and their players alike.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I won't go into detailed description of each day, but I will mention a few highlights. Pictures are included. There's already an album on my Facebook page, but I figured, why not throw a few shots here as well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">First things first. Being the DW fangirl and tea lover that I am, I decided to paint a metal tea tin to emulate the TARDIS and use it for my frequent need of tea leaves on my trips to the back room. The paint job was not entirely successful, but I'm happy enough with it that it doesn't matter too much. To my knowledge, no one took up the offer written on the label there, but I'll probably use the same tin in future years as well. Perhaps they will one day observe it. And if not, well... more for me! What I also discovered was that badges make for pretty good tea tin openers. No joke.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8clBuaYM3AuWkCrgSbTH61vBsTa4s0PDR2oj3s4t0NXEmJIad1fwTPuG-3j2icqGKKeO9nEuGzCXIp7c0E1f1JVeHA17ULOWXgoDEN0jttvrqxEG91ujGvUkXzwjy0wA9jsdo0vTk5zdM/s1600/IMG_3039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8clBuaYM3AuWkCrgSbTH61vBsTa4s0PDR2oj3s4t0NXEmJIad1fwTPuG-3j2icqGKKeO9nEuGzCXIp7c0E1f1JVeHA17ULOWXgoDEN0jttvrqxEG91ujGvUkXzwjy0wA9jsdo0vTk5zdM/s320/IMG_3039.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cover reads "Propertea of Lami". I am so punny. :)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Continuing in the same Doctor Who vein, let me show you a dear friend the acquaintance of whom I made in last year's con. This is Sampsa. He dressed up as Eleven then as well, which is actually how we met — I asked him for a picture, he requested that I e-mail him the shots. The rest is, uh, slightly angsty history. Slightly. However... whatever troubles knowing him might have caused me, I'm still glad that he's in my life. He's pretty great. And, as you can see, pretty adorable.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVeXrTNnsriSyaR-2gjGMGcEtf2wGYAa6jMb3lAK1KQSOpmGm78AltE_A7tVFaKezHFURpuU08UbbhsHNZeX7V3f7Xr9egM0uzKKJd3fiLGIHMnnvuWV4K0qAoUv15Iyhyphenhyphenlk-E284AokGN/s1600/IMG_3006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVeXrTNnsriSyaR-2gjGMGcEtf2wGYAa6jMb3lAK1KQSOpmGm78AltE_A7tVFaKezHFURpuU08UbbhsHNZeX7V3f7Xr9egM0uzKKJd3fiLGIHMnnvuWV4K0qAoUv15Iyhyphenhyphenlk-E284AokGN/s320/IMG_3006.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note the TARDIS emergency self-destruct button.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He actually held a lecture on "fantastic topography", meaning, obviously, fantasy maps, their clichés, and their relation to the real world. There's a video of it somewhere, but unfortunately the presentation was in Finnish, so there's no point to post a link even if I did manage to find it right at the moment. I would like to locate it at some point, though, because I was late to hear it and did not get a very good seat. The room was rather packed. Maybe I'll remember sometime this week.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">While hanging out, we both tried a bit of archery. There are strict rules about weapons, even simulated ones, on con grounds, so naturally the arrows were as blunt as they could be made. Still pretty awesome, though, and I would like to perhaps begin it as a sort of hobby. I've already looked up some instructions on how to make a rudimentary bow and arrows. Maybe one day I'll have the financial means to enroll on a course or something, but for now, I think independent dabbling will do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So, the archery was on Friday. Saturday was probably still the most fun for me, as it often is. Aside from Sampsa's map lecture, there was an assassination tournament (didn't even have the chance to kill my target because I hadn't seen hide nor hair of him before I was killed, but I did get to carry around a tiny water pistol in my cleavage, which was kind of fun and no, there are no pictures of this), a game, and the Discolarp.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The game, Monsterhearts, was run by a friend of mine. Initially I had not intended to participate in any tabletop games since I often want to keep as much of the time I'm not spending on shift reserved for lectures and wandering as possible... but then my captain (this year it was not Jukka; as the Bastard took on other duties, the responsibility went to Patrik, one of my fellow minions from previous years) recommended it to me and I caved. Pretty damn glad I did. :D</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Monsterhearts is about a bunch of supernatural teenagers at a summer camp for rich kids. They're all undercover, pretending to be normal, like all the others stuck there with them. Weird shit happens, but that does not directly correlate with the fact that there are freaks present. We had a witch (myself), a fae, a werewolf, a ghoul, a ghost, and a mortal as player characters. My character's crowning moment was when she had a tryst with a fae NPC. A female one. Other than that, and a little bit of breaking and entering in search of marshmallows to toast, she did not have all that much excitement. General excitement, yes, but personally partaking of, no. It was hilarious to hear what everyone else got up to, though. We started half an hour late, which was completely my fault since I was slow at closing the desk. But work's work, and what must be done must be done. Thus the session stretched all the way to 2 AM instead of the intended 1 AM. I don't think any of us really minded, though — we all had a lot of fun. Should she run something similar next year, I think I'll sign up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Afterwards I did a quick change of clothes and went in for some dancing. Attending the Discolarp is a personal tradition that I started a couple of years ago to challenge myself and now truly enjoy. There's something very liberating about this kind of dancing. No set moves, just going with the music. It's one of the rare situations where there's lots of people and lots of noise and <b>it's okay</b>. I cannot stress the wonder of it enough, the sense of freedom it gives me. Just take my word for it, yes?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Then, sometime around 3, it was time to quit for the night and trudge home. As I was on foot, I didn't get there until a little before 4. Did fall pretty much straight into bed for a glorious wink. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the scenery that greeted me when I walked across the bridge from Espoo to Helsinki.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sunday morning, I had the opening shift at 10. This basically meant that I was to spend the whole day running on half a brain, if even that. Good thing not much thought is generally required on Sundays. Through some miracle, however, I survived the day and came back home to be a zombified kitten.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpEQ67FxKPklbBQeFuWO1Z880xxXwS1W51SeKMyo0TuoKPAJ2BGttq8qvyaMkdfeujured2cjbJyBIejUNzpqSAsaTDsTFMOyP77GR9ze6-iGuA4Wb7mpOWBGKpeXwM1tqkk41XCyzvwfN/s1600/20130728_011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpEQ67FxKPklbBQeFuWO1Z880xxXwS1W51SeKMyo0TuoKPAJ2BGttq8qvyaMkdfeujured2cjbJyBIejUNzpqSAsaTDsTFMOyP77GR9ze6-iGuA4Wb7mpOWBGKpeXwM1tqkk41XCyzvwfN/s320/20130728_011.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can this be considered witty? It was something past 10 in the morning and I was feeling very foggy.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Next, a few random observations...</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8ONOpSbqWLbTb_-Ai1x-p8NCg3imr8eE0NNGHKlimY0aO8LVv8F4mgy4ljCw5BPG-QlN9I8GsRrjS_JuvpyK_yHGdR4D-uWskpe1OwtLYM3H3PL0iEMH2tpPEfaoUihmADIho1BE-qsn/s1600/IMG_3021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8ONOpSbqWLbTb_-Ai1x-p8NCg3imr8eE0NNGHKlimY0aO8LVv8F4mgy4ljCw5BPG-QlN9I8GsRrjS_JuvpyK_yHGdR4D-uWskpe1OwtLYM3H3PL0iEMH2tpPEfaoUihmADIho1BE-qsn/s320/IMG_3021.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the only Potter-related cosplay I spotted. Good thing it was Draco. Not a bad one, either. (I've a deal with Trin that should I see any Potter cosplays, especially Malfoys, there should be photos.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGXKLP09GDGc2fEYvWaW97cUe1mOZC4A0-9c60NLTqEhoEuGfJExUcXCczrTYklqRQO40P7HfJD5GJ5TavwI4d2ng1FSB1_L8JK4s6yD49czuLqZnWLYMKp-GhvBGKSkEgf-eM-rzmnaiE/s1600/IMG_3037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGXKLP09GDGc2fEYvWaW97cUe1mOZC4A0-9c60NLTqEhoEuGfJExUcXCczrTYklqRQO40P7HfJD5GJ5TavwI4d2ng1FSB1_L8JK4s6yD49czuLqZnWLYMKp-GhvBGKSkEgf-eM-rzmnaiE/s320/IMG_3037.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is this the cutest gryphon you've ever seen? This sweetheart was part of the art exhibit they always have on the landing of the big staircase leading up to the biggest hall.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1-4oOLZEB28kMu1mtaEI2nWZ1iv5xV8mChcRJj7bxtcsRMnL6XhCwbjLm5EycN6hEzFr3YlYp4zJ6XqJUQRqkMtXT95qBPtyTQektRrmwbyI9AlwnoqRnccjxenpbCiOG9dbDGCuFwL-Q/s1600/IMG_3042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1-4oOLZEB28kMu1mtaEI2nWZ1iv5xV8mChcRJj7bxtcsRMnL6XhCwbjLm5EycN6hEzFr3YlYp4zJ6XqJUQRqkMtXT95qBPtyTQektRrmwbyI9AlwnoqRnccjxenpbCiOG9dbDGCuFwL-Q/s320/IMG_3042.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I left these for GMs and players (or any other passersby, really) to play with on Sat/Sun night.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH0h6Odjf6pyxWTcCL7jpLgzzx1crjwXkw8-9E2_CpIMOeqTMZuSUiMG0FW1EPAuFuL-6ZayvPeCeVgjGbxYnlNtXYrjpTPlifYTXeaxRwgzJQQnuJK_6gqxferjfNqYCIXvHzm7_bz8L5/s1600/IMG_3075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH0h6Odjf6pyxWTcCL7jpLgzzx1crjwXkw8-9E2_CpIMOeqTMZuSUiMG0FW1EPAuFuL-6ZayvPeCeVgjGbxYnlNtXYrjpTPlifYTXeaxRwgzJQQnuJK_6gqxferjfNqYCIXvHzm7_bz8L5/s320/IMG_3075.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This cosplay troupe won some kind of recognition at the ending ceremony. I forget whether it was an actual placement or an honourable mention. Still really effing cool, though.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">All things considered, I think this is one of the best Ropecon experiences I have had. Hoping the next one is even better. Before that, I really ought to get my hands on all the videoed lectures that I missed seeing live. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Next year I shall attempt to submit some art in the exhibit, supposing I manage to create something by then. This one is already a good candidate — I am rather proud of it — but I also want a newer piece or two.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I've also made it a goal to get in shape and scrounge together a decent cosplay of <a href="http://goo.gl/oA1h3b" target="_blank">the Major</a>, who has for a long time been one of my biggest fictional femmecrushes. It may even be that the former is easier to accomplish than the latter — but I can be resourceful when I want to. And I really, really do. I've dreamed of this cosplay for quite a few years, but never really felt up to it. Now I say bollocks to that. I shall go forth and grasp my highly inconsequential dream!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I'll keep you (the very, very small readership of this blog, that is) informed of my progress.</span></div>
S. A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01208324238188030312noreply@blogger.com0