So long...

This is my last post here.

It has been nice to have a blog, but I have realized that it changes my life one way I cannot let it be changed - as brief as my experience is. My friends have found some insights into me that I would have liked to avoid, I have published too private material... This has been an interesting experiment with my life, but I see that it has to end now, before it gets too bad. So here it is, I am ending this blog. I am sorry.

Kidding! That much of it is true, that I will not post here anymore. But you should just update your links/bookmarks/feeds to http://blog.liriel.pri.ee/. I like the idea that all of my web is in one spot - thanks to Duke Lupus for recommending Wordpress, an installable blog engine. Though there might be some unconfigured links, some not-so-good-looking places, but I will not do anything more with it today so let it be known now before anyone posts any more comments here.

Parim vannikogemus - eales

***Aitäh kõigile, kes osalesid selles kingituses, millest allpool juttu tuleb!***
**Ettevaatust! Mõelge enne kui mingit kommentaari lisate/mulle edastate, karm koristus tuleb nende hulgas!**

Käisin just vannis - ja nagu pealkiri ütleb - oli see minu parim vannikogemus üldse ja ma tahan seda teiega jagada. Aga selleks, et jõuda selleni, kui mõnus oli vann, tuleb alustada tänasest päevast või kolmapäeva õhtust. Või veelgi varasemast...

 

Sellel talvel sai ette võetud vannitoa kordategemine - enne oli seal pisike dušinurk ja nüüd sai sinna vann - mullivann - surutud. Mahtus! Mullivann on üks fantastiline leiutis - kuigi mu poeg vastu ootusi mullitamist ei tahagi. Väga lõõgastav ja mõnus. Olen loomulikult selles vannis ennegi käinud, selles suhtes ei olnud tänane üldse eriline, teadsin täitsa hästi kõiki oma vanni võimalusi (polegi nii palju tegelikult) ja ka puudusi (õnneks pole neid ka palju). Seega ses suhtes oli see väga ootuspärane vanniskäik.

 

Eriliseks tegi selle tänase vanniskäigu hoopis muu. Esiteks tulin trennist. Eile sai ratas maalt ära toodud ja tänasest ei ole mul enam ühistranspordi kaart kehtiv niiet tegin kõik oma sõidud (tööle, koju, kodust poodi ja trenni ja lõpuks ka trennist koju) sellel. Juba see oli väsitav, iga sõit omaette oleks mu selja kergelt märjaks tõmmanud - pool sellest teadagi adrenaliini- ja hirmuhigi vastavalt Tallinna suurepärasele liiklusele - aga lisaks käisin ka trennis.

 

Täna sain ma nimelt üle tüki aja käidud Reval Spordis, oma lemmiktreeneri lemmiktrennis (vastavalt siis Fjodor ja BodyCombat). Alustades algusest on Reval Sport jäänud minu klubiks eelkõige oma asukoha ja hinna tõttu - minul, ühistransporsdiga sõitval üksikul inimesel on kõige mõistlikum käia ju kohas, mis on keset linna ja odav. Aga seal on ka päris palju häid trenne. Hüpates esialgu treenerist üle - BodyCombatis käisin ma üks talv kaks korda nädalas ja see on trenn, mis tõesti võtab esimestest hetkedest higiseks ja hoiab pulsi tipus kuni lõpuni. Hea kui lõpuni üldse vastu pead! Kui ma peale haigust käisin, siis pidin poole pealt ära minema, sest pea hakkas ringi käima... Rääkimata sellest, et selle rütmika muusika taustal on hea oma viha ja frustratsiooni hea välja elada. Ja lüüa, lüüa, lüüa - ise tead, keda sinna ette kujutad. Ja see energilisus - nüüd jõuame treeneri juurde - noor mees kargab seal ees, ergutab, vilistab - ja teda vaadates nakatud ise ka sellesse ja ei märkagi, et lihased juba ei jaksa, hingamine on juba väga hingeldamise moodi ja vaevu suudad kombinatsiooni jälgida. Kokkuvõttes - trenn on korralik ja mõnus (kuigi võrreldes aastatetaguse ajaga oli tempo ühtlasem, pausid väiksemad - ei jõudnud juuagi - ja juhendamine vähesem, aga õnneks ei vajanud ma seda ka niivõrd - need siis tänase trenni miinused).

 

Ja meelega ei läinud ma sealsamas duši alla, võibolla ka sauna. Vahetasin kiiruga riided, istusin veel kergelt higiselt ratta selga ja tajudes iga oma jalalihast, paarist kondist tagumikus rääkimata, ja tulin koju nii ruttu kui vähegi võimalik. Kodus oli esimene asi panna vanni vesi jooksma ja...

 

Nüüd hüppan ma kolmapäeva, 30. aprilli, õhtusse. Mul käisid külas töökaaslased ja endised töökaaslased (oh, keda ma petan, keegi muu ju seda siin kunagi ei loegi - niiet teate kõik niigi, mis siis toimus) osaliselt selle puhul, et ma vannitoa korda tegin. Ja kuigi ma ise ei osanud arvatagi, et keegi võiks mõeldagi sellele, et midagi muud kui oma jook kaasa võtta, pidid nad loomulikult mulle ikkagi kingituse tegema. Tõesti poleks pidanud. Aga nad tegid ja ma ei saa muudmoodi kui olen selle üle rõõmus, sest see oli täiesti ideaalne kingitus, just nii nagu ma ikka tahan teha - asi, mis iseenesest huvitab, aga mille ostmise peale ise ei tuleks kunagi. Kingiti mulle terve posu käsitsi tehtud kosmeetikatooteid firmalt Lush, eelkõige vannis kasutamiseks. Ma küll ostsin ühe esimese asjana vannivahu kui ma oma vannitoa kasutamiseks kätte sain, aga mitte midagi nii erilist nagu selles karbis oli. Seal oli eri lõhnadega, eri nimetustega, eri värvidega, eri kasutusaladega...

 

Niisiis vesi jooksis vanni ja mina võtsin selle karbi ette ja vaatasin üle selles olevad vannis kasutamiseks mõeldud asjad. Kuidas kasutada vannipommi? Või vannisula? Kas kõik läheb sisse või ainult tükike? Igatahes valisin esialgu tüki nimetusega vannisula ja viskasin ta tervenisti vette - ei hakanud tükeldama. Ei tea, võibolla oleks pidanud, aga tükeldamata oli igatahes mõnus. Ta hakaks tõesti sulama - nagu või. Temas olid ka mingid õied, mis ka lõhnasid kui näpu vahele võtta.

 

Selleks hetkeks olin ma siis higine, väsinud ja ei suutnud oodata, millal ma lõpuks ometi pikali saan. Aga teha oli veel üks oluline asi - muusika. Vahel on juba täiesti võimatu on valida, millist neist stiilidest ja millist ühe stiili sees kuulata tahad. Eriti kui oled, nagu ma olin, higine, väsinud ja ei suuda oodata, et juba pikali saaks. Lisaks oli mul just hiljuti - viitan ikka sellelesamale kolmapäeva õhtule - olnud kummaline kogemus, kuidas minu muusikavalikut peeti esiteks masendavaks ja teiseks uniseks (eri esitajaid), lisaks naerdi ühe minu ammuse lemmiku üle, kelle nime kohe ekstra ei nimeta praegu siin. Absoluutselt kummaline, kuidas erinevad inimesed tajuvad sama muusikat nii erinevalt. Oli ennegi arvatud, et ma kuulan masendavat muusikat, aga sellesse olin pigem irooniliselt suhtunud, aga nüüd... Ok, ma läksin teemast kõrvale. Tegelikult olin ma ju nüüd üksi ja ei hoolinud üldse, mida keegi teine võiks sellest muusikavalikust arvata, mis ma iganes otsustan valida. Aga pidin seda mainima, sest see oli selline väike ärritus mul eelnevalt sees ja seega näris mind ka kahtlus, et milline see minu muusika siis on, mis mul siin üldse on. Niiet tegin seda, mida ma pole ammu teinud - panin kõik oma kõvakettal oleva muusika playlisti ja need suvalises järjekorras mängima. See oli ka kõige kiirem valik, väsinud ja kiirustav nagu ma olin.

 

Ja siis, lõpuks! Panin endale veel valmis mõned vannis pesemiseks mõeldud asjad ja läksin sisse. Vesi nägi küll välja kahtlane - piimjas ja üksikud taimetükid sees hõljumas - aga ta oli pehmem kui ma ühtki vett olen kunagi kogenud. Selles vees niisamagi olemine oli nauding omaette. Aga loomulikult panin ma kohe ka mullid tööle. Valutavatele lihastele ei ole midagi mõnusamat kui üks soe massaaž ja kuna mul massööri, isegi algajat, käepärast võtta ei ole siis on mullivann mullitamas parim variant. Keerad ennast tagurpidi vanni ja lükkad seljamassaaži käima ja lased jalataldadel mõnuleda. Või suunad surve küljelüüžidesse ja kogu ülejäänud keha lihased ja liigesed, kuklast varvasteni, on korraga masseerimisel. Liigutad ennast, liigutad lüüže, sätid neid erinevasse suunda laskma - niiet lõpuks on kogu keha mõnusalt läbi hõõrutud. Ja see ei ole terav hõõrumine loomulikult, ikka pehmeim, mida üldse on võimalik saavutada - eriti kui vannis on selline õline vesi nagu selle vannisulaga tekkis.

 

Ja vaht, mis selle vannisulaga tekkis, oli kogemus omaette. Kirjutasin juba, et esimese asjana peale vannitoa vastuvõtmist ehitajalt (sest ega ma loomulikult seda ise ei teinud) ostsin ka vannivahu. Vannivahtudel kipub olema uhkustavalt peale kirjutatud, et nendest tekkiv vaht on eriti tugev ja püsiv. Nii ka too vannivaht, mille ma ostsin. Mu poeg ehitab sellest losse, sätib seda habemeks ja mütsiks ja mis iganes riietus- ja muiduesemeteks ja naudib igati seda sellisena nagu ta on. Aga minule see vannivaht ei meeldi. Ta on kõva ja külm ja ta ei anna suurt midagi vanniskäimisele juurde. Aga see vannivaht, mis sellest vannisulast tekkis, oli pehme ja mõnus. Nii mõnus, et määrisin seda igale poole. Nii mõnus, et lasin oma mullitajatel korralikult ja korduvalt töötada, et seda veel ja veel saada. See oli pehmem kui ükski kreem, pehmem kui ükski vaht, mida ma siiani kogenud olen. Jah, O., isegi pehmem kui vahukoor.

 

Ja kogu selle aja - korduva vahutekitamise ja siis jälle sellest lahtisaamise, mullitamise ja niisama vedelemise nautimise aja - tulid ainult mõnusad lood taustaks, nii väga kui ma ka kartsin mõnda ebameeldivat üllatust, mis sunniks mind kaaluma, kumb rikub mu vannikogemust rohkem - kas vannist väljaminek ja pala vahetus või selle loo lõpuni kuulamine. Tuli lugusid, mida ma ei mäletanudki, et mul on. Jazzist klassikani ja tagasi metallini välja. Vahepeal sattus isegi üks jõululaul, millele ma kõvasti ja ilmselt valesti kaasa laulsin. Ma mõtlesin küll vahepeal, mis lugusid kõik võiks juhtuda - aga nad ei juhtunud ja ma olin seal vannis üliõnnelik. Juba sel ajal ma mängisin mõttega, et ma kirjutan sellest kogemusest - mis tegelikult on täiesti tähtsusetu igapäevarõõm, aga sobib seega ka ideaalselt minu "nothing important" sildi alla - siia blogisse, ja mitte lühikese jutu. See mõte tegi juba iseenesest tegi mind seal õnnelikumaks. Oleks mul läpakas, mida saaks võtta vanni kaasa, siis ma oleks võtnudki ja hoolimata sellest, et vannituppa wifi ei ulatu (nagu MDW nii eredalt kolmapäeval demonstreeris), selle posti sealsamas vannis valmis kirjutanud. Oleks ilmselt tulnud detailsem ja tõesem, sest see kogemus, mida ma praegu üles kirjutan, oli tol ajal veel reaalsus ega tahtnud uute kogemuste sisse ära kaduda. Oojaa, praegu tekivad juba uued kogemused...

 

Niisiis, mõnulesin, kogu oma naha ja karvadega. Aga vannis tehakse muud ka peale mõnulemise, vähemalt vanasti mõeldi ta selleks välja - tänapäeva inimesed armastavad miskipärast dušši all käimist rohkem. Aga loomulikult pestakse. Ja ma olin enne ka käepärast võtnud mõned asjad sealtsamast karbist, milles see suurepärane vannisula oli. Esiteks oli keha koorija. Küll mõeldud dušši all kasutamiseks, aga vannis saab ju ka. Võtsin lahti - ta oli süsimust. Hirmutas. Aga sellest hoolimata hõõrusin sellega oma jalgu - ja nad muutusid siniseks. Nähtavasti oli tegemist mustikatest või millestki taolisest tehtud koorijaga, seemned veel koorimiseks sees. Samas oli ka see mõnusalt pehme, mida ma tol hetkel tema plussiks pidasin (kuigi ma vahel tahan just, et kooria oleks piisavalt kare), kuid kahjuks sulas ta mu käes liiga kiiresti - kohe kahju hakkas, et ta seega nii kiiresti otsa saab. Hõõrusin sellega ka oma ülejäänud keha - ka nägu. Ilmselt nägin ma tol hetkel päris naljakas välja, aga õnneks või kahjuks ei paista peeglist vaatama kui oled vannis ja seega saan ma ainult arvata. Kusjuures vannituba plaanides ma isegi kaalusin lae tegemist peegeldavast materjalist, et mingi aimdus oleks pidevalt olemas ka vannis käies, aga kartsin, et konservatiivsemad inimesed, kes võivad ka tahta seal käia näiteks sellel ettekäändel, et nad on mu lähimad sugulased, võiksid sellele halvasti vaadata. Nii palju hoolin ma nende arvamusest näete!

 

Oma juustesse ma aga seekord veel ei julenud midagi uut määrida - eelkõige sel põhjusel, et ma ei kujutanud ette, kuidas kasutada šampooni või palsamit, mis on kõva. Aga ma uurin välja ja siis katsetan. Igatahes sain nende praktiliste asjadega ka ühelepoole ja muidugi nägi vann kohutav välja peale vee väljalaskmist, ta polegi kunagi nii jube välja näinud. Aga huvitaval kombel oli ainult välimus see, mis oli hirmutav, sest reaalselt sai kerge pesuvahendiga pritsimise ja kergelt švammiga ületõmbamise tulemusel ta kiiresti jälle puhtaks. See on lohutuseks neile, kes kardavad oma vanni pärast selliste vahendite kasutamisel - midagi hullu pole, vähemalt nende konkreetsete asjadega.

 

Aga tegelikult nüüd alles jõuan ma ka selle pointini, mida kõik meesterahvad on oodanud. Loputasin ära ja see oli täiesti ime kui mõnusalt pehme mu nahk oli. Igaltpoolt. Ka kohtadest, mis üldiselt on õrnad ja tundlikud ja ei armasta isegi kerget puudutust. Nüüd oli terve keha tõesti nagu reklaamlause selle vana ja vale vannivahu peal - skin soft enough to eat. Ja huuled! Koorisin ju ka oma nägu ja ilmselt siis ka huuli. Ja nii tundlikud, nii mõnusad ei ole nad kunagi olnud. Tol hetkel oli - tegelikult siiani on - kahju, et mul ei ole kedagi, keda suudelda. Kui ma muidu naudin suudlemist väga, siis mida ma teeksin veel selliste huultega - nendega suudeldes võiks suisa teatud kõrghetke saavutada... Mmm, siit jätkan ma ainult oma ettekujutustes ;)

 

* Avastasin, et mul eesti keeles ei olegi enam kuigi kerge kirjutada niiet vahelduseks ka emakeeles.

** Pildid on minu vannitoa seintel olevatest minu sodimistest. Üks neist mulle isegi meeldib, võite arvata, milline. Asukoha järgi ei saa te seda küll arvata ainult, sest see sai täiesti suvaliselt pandud. Ja meelega ei üritanud neid otse pildistada, sest täiesti ei saa nagunii.

*** I hope all you guys got it - especially you - but I don't know if you ever read it...

INFJ

Being alone at work can be frustrating after a party spent being silent. And so I went and confirmed the type of person I am. Yet again. True, true, true! These are the things I feel constantly. Could I ever change?

The agreeable nature and quiet personality of INFJs makes them particularly vulnerable to hurt feelings. Distress within close relationships can shatter the INFJ. Like all NFs under stress, INFJs feel fragmented and lost — as if they are acting out a part rather than simply being themselves. This disassociation can be related to physical symptoms for the INFJ, whether real or imagined. Feeling split off from their physical natures, INFJs may become virtually immobilized by repressed feelings.

Although INFJs may feel like remaining still and stationary until the chaos and confusion of a stressful situation dissipates, it would be best for them to actively sort out their needs from others. Being excessively cooperative and agreeable, the INFJ has a tendency to adopt values and beliefs of others as their own. When external conflicts grow, so does the INFJ's sense of personal disharmony. Disassociating themselves from others takes a great deal of effort for the INFJ.

Careers

This lists represent careers and jobs people of your type tend to enjoy doing. The job requirements are similar to the personality tendencies of your personality type. It is important to remember that this is not a list of all the jobs possible. And it is very important to remember that people can, and frequently do, fill jobs that are dissimilar to their personality... this happens all the time...and sometimes works out quite well.

career counselor
psychologist
educational consultant
special education teacher
librarian
artist
playwright
novelist/poet
editor/art director
information-graphics...designer
HRM manager
merchandise planner
environmental lawyer
marketer
job analyst
mental health counselor
dietitian/nutritionist
research
educational consultant
architects
interpreter/translator

Discover your personality type

How I appreciate art

This is in part a reply to Mongolian Deathworm's comment to Unconquerable Wet Fire.

Although I enjoy painting and some other activities that might be called art, I am not a big art appraiser myself. I might find something nice, but most of the items are somehow boring - or maybe that's what bad art is? or maybe it just doesn't get through to me because I am not a big art appraiser? Anyway I thought to write a little bit of how I think of different art.

One and the earliest ways I have appreciated art is by seeing how exact and recognizable objects are. If I understand the story behind the piece, if I can explain myself why the artist did what he or she did. I can appreciate the exactness and ability of replicating the real world in his/her work. That way I am appreciating more the skill not the overall piece. But I think it is really hard to make realistic art tell something straight to your heart. You can enjoy the picture, the beauty (or not), the objects, associate them with your own life, but there is something missing. I myself try not to replicate objects that I see, mostly anyway. I think I am not very skillful at drawing but, more to the point, I feel that I rather take a photo than draw the same thing up. It is only rare cases when a photo can't show what you wanted to.

Another way is when you can't really tell by picture alone, what is it that the artist tries to say. Does he or she try to tell at all or is it just beauty- an ornament - that he or she is after? You have to look at the picture as well as inside yourself to understand what it really means. Sometimes the picture's name will point you in some sensible direction, sometimes the name doesn't connect you at all. I like this way the best, because each time the experience is different. Every time I might feel differently about the picture, every time explaining it differently. Yet sometimes not making the connection at all. That way even a familiar art museum can give you something. That is what I try to achieve with my pictures¹. Nothing recognizable (though I am a human and have trouble making it abstract enough), nothing even in symbols. Colors, movement, techniques, lines and contrast - these will have to stay because a picture is nothing if it does not captivate somehow.

And then there is conceptual art. Art which is to shock you somehow. Art of exploring the boundaries. I say this is only rarely done well enough for me not to feel bored and even disgusted with it. This is how I think about "Domestic Tension" of Wafaa Bilal. It is a novel way of doing art, the random element of the mass thrown in as co-artists, Internet as the new media is used. It is all nice - and it is sad that his point got proven -, but it is only an interesting idea and one that doesn't captivate me, doesn't make me feel enlightened. There might be more to it, maybe if I had seen the performance at the time I had thought about it differently, but right now it's just a curious fact that that kind of art exists.

Now don't get me wrong, I am not against good conceptual art. To illustrate I'll tell you about a video I saw in Kiasma (Helsinki Modern Art Museum) a few years ago and can't forget even now. It was a silent video, at first nothing special. It was a sunny street corner, where several young people were hanging out. There were four different groups of one (with a mobile phone) to three (on some kind of discarded couch in the center). When you gave it a passing glance you thought it to be just about hanging out, about social life. But when you paid more attention, then you understood, that each group was in a separate loop in itself. They all repeated their actions, but the length of one loop was different. But nevertheless you could see how the groups still interacted with each-other and it was always as if it was meant to be exactly like that. You could see one group telling a joke at another and the other answering, etc, etc. I think I sat there for fifteen minutes absolutely in awe.

And then there is life and the appreciation you can get only from living yourself. You might find me captivated at odd moments. It might be an emotion on someone's face, it might be the feeling I feel in my arm, it might be some vague thought that happens to come into my mind at just the right moment, it might be an unwanted detail in exactly the right position on the floor, it might be the room designer has done a good job - but you'll see my eyes going distant and me, I am happy for that moment. Happy to have recognized it, to have felt it, maybe even memorized it for later viewing or thinking about it. Some might tell, that it is not art, but I appreciate it just the same. What is art anyway? Only the things displayed as art? That is a question still unsatisfactorily answered.

Notes
1. I am a bad judge of that because in me there is the itch I scratch with making the picture and I can remember it too well when looking at it.

Dune - the whole series with sequels and prequels to Frank's books

My friend DukeLupus recently finished the series of Dune books and posted an article in his blog about the last books (Hunters of Dune, Sandworms of Dune). I am the Kaja he thanked for loaning the books. And he asked me if I could post my comments on the series as well. I'll try. But knowing myself I write more about how and when I was reading than about my opinion or something worth knowing.

Warning! I didn't make sure to avoid spoilers, there might be some! It is more of a musing about already-read books than recommending to get acquainted.

I came upon Dune in a way that made impossible not loving it. I remember clearly the first date with the man. I was 18. He was the smartest guy I had ever known. I almost held my breath to immerse myself in all he told me. And I remember clearly, how we drank tea in the end of the date in his granny's cramped kitchen - after a Nirvana Jam in Von Krahl bar, after an hour walk in chilly February - and he told me about this book. The whole evening was novel for me, plus falling in love. There and then I decided to read the book. I didn't know of any sequels or prequels or the complexity of following in great father's footprints - and some of them didn't even exist back then.

Previously I had been an avid reader of almost everything that happened to be within reading distance. Everything remotely readable in my family home was read - with more fascinating books read many times over¹. But there weren't many science-fiction/fantasy books there. Just some from Mirabilia series - thin and not that epic, I still liked them more than the others. And so when I read the first, the real Dune (hereafter referenced as "the real Dune"), I was amazed. It was entirely different from all I had read at that time, so precisely balanced, so through in all its details, thought-provoking, absolutely non-soapy... I loved the delicate balance of politics in the book, the massive scale of ecology, the expanded limits of human abilities. It really made me think - and I love that about books (and everything else).

By the time I got my hands on Dune Messiah and Children of Dune, I had read the first Dune novel at least ten times. Strangest thing about it was, how every time I read it the time-span seemed to shrink - at first reading I did really feel the years as they were pictured, but later the whole book seemed to last only a few months. Somehow it became so hectic, everything happening too fast, when I already knew, what will happen.

So when I came to Dune Messiah, my hopes were really up. And I was disappointed. I think this is the most pointless of all the Dune books written by Frank Herbert. If I didn't have Children of Dune already there in the reading distance, I probably would have stopped the dive into Dune Universe right there. Dune Messiah seemed like an afterthought, like the material left out of the real Dune, showing only the inevitable, the logical and adding little of value. While Dune was a really strong standalone book, this is not. It couldn't exist without the real Dune. It won't hurt if you won't read it at all and continue with the others in this series.

But with Children of Dune the series found a new breathing - you could see it developing toward another goal, toward something greater than the universe as they in the book know it, a buildup to something even greater. I always think that Frank didn't think of visiting the Dune universe again after the real Dune, but seeing its success he had to write more and so there was Dune Messiah. But after or while writing it he got the new great idea, how you really should go about being the Kwisatz Haderach on the throne of the empire, about directing the future and Children of Dune is the buildup to that and more. After that book I still had some doubts, but now I understand that by that time I was locked in and had to follow the series.

Then I broke up with the man I mentioned at the start of this post. I won't go into details in that awful breakup, but I want to stress that I was disappointed in the man who told me about Dune, but I was never disappointed in Dune itself. So when we split up I lost half the books I liked to read over and over again and had to start ordering new ones². I did. I went to Amazon and a few books at a time they arrived. Dune was one of the series I ordered pretty soon. I remember loving God Emperor of Dune - the end of the thousand-year peace which made me think about how the short-term solution always conflicts with long-term goals, how it is unavoidable, that you have to sacrifice some of today for the better of tomorrow - but how far can you go in that sacrifice? How long ahead can you see, how far can you set your goals? Is it fortunate or not that our life-span is thus limited? I found it a good book in itself and almost didn't notice it building up to even more, the urgency of Leto II to prepare people for what is to come. Somehow it is one of the favorites for me among the series. Somehow it is the turning point, maybe because it is stronger in philosophy than those two before that. Though it is pretty good and defined as a standalone book, you have to know the background to really enjoy it.

Heretics of Dune and Chapterhouse: Dune were good books, still written in Frank's enjoyable cryptic style, involving more of the exciting Sisterhood's intrigues and bringing in new forces, showing the changing universe, but overshadowed for me by the Golden Age, the thousand-year-peace. Somehow they seemed to be a decline, or rather felt as a calm before the storm. All of it seemed logical, but I was already too much in the universe and I read it more for the completeness than for any great truth to be discovered. After reading them I was curious of what will be that great unidentified danger and how could they conquer it, but thought I would never know. I read and reread the Frank series of the Dune books and was quite happy.

Until, surely Amazon got back to me with exciting new possibilities - Frank's son writing prequels and promising to end the series as well. Of course I recognized it instantly for what it was - making more money, milking the same cow that already cashed in pretty well, I guess. I agonized over the decision to buy or not to buy the books which were not written by Frank - but my fandom was rooted too deep and I had to find out more about them.

So I bought the House-trilogy (House Atreides, House Harkonnen, House Corrino). Frankly I think it should have been one book - no book in the series can be considered standalone - and it is the most pointless of all books Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson have inflicted upon the Dune universe. There were logic errors, the book was disgustingly soapy and dragging. I believe it is intentionally stretched into trilogy so that you could charge for three books instead of one. There are so-oh many Dune fans out there who can be cashed for being disappointed - but who won't resist just like me. And I would like to believe Frank wouldn't think well of publishing even one concentrate of them instead those three. It doesn't really add any value into the series, it is just a way to feel nostalgic about Dune.

But did it stop me from ordering even more of the books written by that tandem? No, I couldn't, with the promise of bringing in material left from Frank himself looming ahead. Though I admit that after the fiasco of House series I agonized over the decision even more. But I could not deny my will to extract the bits of original outline scattered amongst the excess and I ordered the Butlerian Jihad trilogy (The Butlerian Jihad, The Machine Crusade, The Battle of Corrin). Once again a trilogy instead of a single book. But this time I think it does add value. All throughout the real Dune series there are scattered hints about the end of the machine age, but never definite enough to understand how it came to the machine-free universe of the real Dune (Thou shalt never make a machine in likeness of the human mind!) and the exploration of the limits of human beings. And after reading the last books, allegedly on the outline by Frank himself, I say that it does explain the "evil" machines better, make them understood, what they are and why.

But even though adding value, it also adds excess weight, excess hundreds of pages to the series as well. It is stretched longer than needed with pages of people's reflections and memories, of telling the reader about everything he/she already knows and understands. I think I managed to get past my frustration only because my practice at "swallowing" the books - when you read quickly enough, you pass over the excess sections quickly as well and they don't bother you as much. You can just extract the important bits. But it is not enjoyment, the snobbish lingering over each sentence as could be the case with Frank's books. I really miss the cryptic writing style of Frank, I have never read anything like that before or afterwards, at least in non-scientific books and scientific books aren't that enjoyable in themselves, they are not meant to be.

Oh, but where was I? At the earliest end of the whole Dune series (with prequels and sequels). After reading the Butlerian Jihad trilogy I was really determined to read the end, no matter how expensive and dragged it should be. In fore- and afterwords the tandem of Brian and Kevin had promised a book to end the series. I read carefully all the mail Amazon sent me - though I did go on the "recommended" page and marked "Not interested" all non-Dune Kevin J. Anderson's and Brian Herbert's books. And then came the day and I instantly pre-ordered Hunters of Dune. When I saw the book - bigger format than the ones before, but also more thick - I hoped this could be it, my last investment into the series - as ugly as it is to be so much bigger. I really hoped they managed to pull themselves together and put it all into one book. But really, you can't talk about it without Sandworms of Dune that came after a year of waiting for me. They are not standalone books, don't let them be sold to you thus. You have to read them both. But it is an improvement over three that was customary before that.

About them - the tandem still writes the same way, bringing in more than should be brought in. But if you read it quickly, past those musings, then the information is there, that you could expect to have in the end of the Frank books. DukeLupus complained about too simple characters in the books, but I tell you honestly, that I didn't even notice while reading, but if I think back then he is right. I myself was probably already too cynical at the time of reading the books to expect more and tried to be blind to everything else but the outline, the Frank heritage in it. But now I see that there was a whole undeveloped potential there - and instead they filled the pages with trivial or unimportant bits.

In the end it is really sad that Frank died before finishing the series himself. I am sure he would have done a far better job with it. Writing and rereading this piece I see that Frank's writing has been in waves. The best, then less, then buildup, then whoa! and then a little calm before the storm again. I would guess that the grand finale would have been more grand if he would have had the time. But it is good to have been finished at all. And for those not having read the prequels and sequels - try to look past that writing style, the price, the volume, and you'll see a bit of Frank here and there. Frank or the reason you read his books in the first place.

Notes
1. They said I was not reading books - I was swallowing them. I think, I was rather being swallowed by them.

2. At that time it was impossible to find Dune books - or any good sci-fi/fantasy books - in Estonian shops. This has improved since then, but I still get most of my books from Amazon or as loans from friends - I don't have that many books.

Laziness hurts in the end

Last weekend a friend of mine - whom I had had as a friend long time ago and now our friendship was renewed - gave me some music. I copied it to my !New Folder, where there were other folders of half-unlistened albums from two other friends as well. Some of them from very long time ago - close to a year? Anyway, I listened to those albums, that A. gave me for a while and classified them - deleted some, moved some, etc. Then I decided I should organize other music in that folder as well.

As I said, they had been there for long. I had tried to listen to them, but never really had paid attention to them. So when I listened to those albums, one by one, moving some to the main folder, deleting others, I came upon an album that literally made me cry. It was so beautiful! Sad, delicate, perfect. I couldn't believe I had dismissed it always before - and I had listened to it before, so much that some of it even sounded familiar. I couldn't work any more, I had to listen to it. I had to stop organizing folders because I had to listen to it. I listened and I listened and although the album itself was rather sad, touching on some of the not-so-happy points in my own life as well, I was even more sad about the fact that I hadn't discovered the treasure earlier. I had it right there, for too long to be tolerated. I listened to it, but never understood how good it was. It was always there, but I never did anything to take it, to even try it. Just as it is the case with some other things in my life.

Now I feel like I have to make some promises - to always organize things sooner, as soon as I get them, won't let it happen again -, but I can't give those promises and believe them to be true. I know I am lazy. I'd like to accomplish many things, so many that at some times I can't choose, which to pursue next (when I have the time and place and privacy, will I knit, write (blog or book?), paint (new or some of the unfinished stuff?), read (which of the books?), do something for my house, search for a longer skirt (or its canvas?) or well-fitting trousers in shops, work out, etc). Organizing music I have is just one of those options. I just can't start without wondering that maybe something else would be more practical, more productive, more enjoyable thing to do. I love doing all of those I listed above, but there are always some things that need to get done more than these. Things I don't enjoy so much, but that have to get done. There is always something I should do with my time, even when it subtracts from one of my long-term goals. And it is so-oo enjoyable to just lay around, just feel comfortable in my laziness. Just feel like I can let myself enjoy it. Just sleep. Dream. Nothing serious. And so the weeks and months - and years! - go by and I have not really finished a picture, got off from the start of my book, more than started my next jumper, etc.

I always wonder how come some people have the initiative and will to do great things, that take so much time. The willingness to risk losing everything for some great goal. The ability to choose one of these many things that are in one's life. I can't do it. I can't accomplish anything with my focus divided. I can't even start doing anything when I am just so lazy. And it hurts to see, that another measure (a month, a season, a year) has gone by and still, nothing accomplished, nothing really moved.What to do? I don't know.

Soundtrack: Dial - Synchronized

Infosüsteem on kõigile kasulik

Post on tehtud ettevalmistades ettekannet esinemisoskuste koolituseks. Kuna seal on mul (homme!) aega ainult 5 minutit, siis pidi see olema lihtne, lühike ja üldmõistetaval tasemel. Tahtsin siiski, et see puutuks natukene minu erialasse ja töösse, et saaksin just selle jaoks olulisi/sellega sarnanevaid argumente harjutada. Vabandan kõigi ees, kellele see on iseenesestmõistetav ja lausa rumalalt lihtne. Luban edaspidi keerulisemalt ja pikemalt kirjutada :)

Ma olen tarkvara analüütik firmas Uptime. Uptime tegeleb tarkvarasüsteemide loomisega vastavalt iga firma või asutuse eripärale. Minu töö on välja selgitada, mis probleemid kliendil on ja kuidas neid infosüsteemis lahendada. Ma olen olnud analüütik umbkaudu neli aastat ja selle aja jooksul olen ma kokku puutunud vähemalt kümne infosüsteemiga. Neid infosüsteeme on tellinud väga erinevad kliendid - riigiasutused, firmad - suuremad ja väiksemad - ja väga erinevatest ärivaldkondadest. Ma tahtsin siin rääkida seda, mida ma neile räägin, aga paraku on konkreetsed lahendused konfidentsiaalsed niiet ma ei või neist rääkida. Niisiis mõtlesin rääkida üldisemal tasemel, mida tavaliselt kolm osapoolt - töötaja, juhtkond ja klient - tarkvarasüsteemist saavad.

Mida saab töötaja? Huvitav töö Kindlustunne	Alustan töötajast, sest tema puutub tarkvarasüsteemiga kõige tihedamalt kokku. Esimene asi, mida töötaja saab tänu infosüsteemile on huvitav töö. Tänu infosüsteemile saab töötaja keskenduda oma töös huvitavale osale - sellele mille pärast ta kunagi üldse oma eriala valis, miks ta tahab tööl käia. Ta ei pea tegelema paberimäärimisega, rutiinse tööga, paberihunnikutest või eri failidest info kokku otsimisega - need osad teeb hea infosüsteem ise töötaja eest ära. Järgi jääb just see osa tööst, mis talle endale meeldib. Teine asi, mida töötaja saab, on Kindlustunne. Kindlustunne teadmisest, kus on tööjärg; kindlustunne, et ta ei pea liiga täpselt kontrollima oma sisestatud andmeid; kindlustunne, et teatud hetkedel saadab süsteem talle meeldetuletusi. Selge on, et töötaja saab infosüsteemi kasutamisest märkimisväärset kasu.
Mida saab juhatus? Ühene info Rohkem raha	Järgmiseks, juhatus. Hoolimata sellest, et juhatus võibolla tarkvara nii tihedalt ei kasuta, on minu kui analüütiku jaoks oluline nende kasu välja selgitada, sest neilt tuleb projekti kinnitus, raha minu töö eest. Niisiis, mis nad saavad? Ühene info. Infosüsteemi olemasolul saab sinna luua kokkuvõtted infost, mida on juhatusel vaja, et otsustada, mida firma peab tegema, kuhu liikuma. Ilma infosüsteemita see ülevaade tihtipeale puudub või on väga raskesti, ainult väga suure tööga saavutatav. Infosüsteemis tüüpiliselt avad vastava vaate ja info on olemas. Rohkem raha. See on ilmselt kõige olulisem iga ettevõtte juhtkonnale. Tarkvara on investeering, mis toob raha sisse. Ja mis veel oluline, see on mõõdetav. Töötajad teevad efektiivsemat tööd, teenindavad rohkem kliente ja kliendid tulevad konkurentide juurest ära - sest neile pakutakse siin paremaid tooteid ja teenuseid - kokkuvõttes rohkem raha. Niisiis juhatuse kasud on vastuvaidlematud.
Mida saab klient? Hea teenindus Erilised tooted	Jääb veel klient. Mis ta saab? Nagu ma enne juba mainisin, saab ta hea teeninduse. Keegi meist ei taha ilmselt tagasi minna aega, kus poes või mõne teenuse pakkuja juures käis majandamine ainult paberitel? Ei. Tänu infosüsteemi olemasolule käib kõik kiirelt ja efektiivselt - olgu see siis esialgne toote tellimine, muudatuste sisse viimine või mingi probleemi lahendamine. Ja see ongi hea teenindus, nii palju kui infosüsteem saab seda tagada - inimesi infosüsteem muuta ei saa. Erilised tooted. Kuna juhatusel oli kogu vajalik info olemas oli tal ehk piisavalt mõistust, et teha konkurendist paremad tooted - just need, mida kliendil on vaja. Niiet ka klient saab kasu sellest, et firmal on infosüsteem. Lõplikust esitlusest jäi kliendi osa välja, sest muidu läks ajaliselt liiga pikaks, aga siia jätsin ta alles.

Niisiis kõik osapooled - töötaja, juhatus ja firma klient - saavad infosüsteemist suurt kasu.

Unconquerable Wet Fire

Today I did what I haven't done for ages. What I should have done months ago. I made photographs of my paintings - to be uploaded here and to my homepage. The paintings were ready in November, but I haven't took the time to take pictures of them. By the way - taking a good picture of a painting is not easy. The hardest part is to get your camera to be parallel to the picture. I can never do it quite perfectly so I'll cut some edges and corners of the picture afterwards. Another difficulty is of getting the light just right to let camera see the right colors on the pics. And this is another thing I fail at constantly. I change the color balance/contrast/lightness later in some picture editing program just to make it closest to the real thing, but it is never quite perfect. So, I'm sorry, but that's unavoidable until it is me to do it. Any volunteers to do it better..?

Anyhow, here they are.

Unconquerable

Wet Fire

To skirt or not?

I have been to work in skirt for two days now. I had some perfectly good reasons to:

• My usual jeans are hopelessly threadbare, even having holes in indecent places.
• Other trousers I have are hopelessly out of fashion and don't even fit any more (they have stretched bigger - I haven't lost weight).
• There have been some more springlike weather than the usual something-in-between.
  
• I've felt like I need some imago change for a while. So it was good to try out one possibility.

This experiment has yielded some unpleasant results, though. Or depends how to look at things...

The results are as follows:

A workmate (a he) I get along with quite well told me that his mouth was almost left agape at me. Now, I am not in a line of business, where complements are handed out generously. I am not even in a land where inhabitants would be generous with them. Vice versa, they rather keep themselves reserved, critical, detached and honest to the point of rudeness, especially in IT. So it was a blow to me. Not that I wouldn't like to look jaw-dropping sometimes, I rather do, who wouldn't, but there is always something more behind a complement like this. At the moment I heard it, I once again became afraid of losing a friend and gaining yet another "someone to avoid". (If you do read it, think about it, please.) Fortunately in this case I know it is alright, but this was my first fear nevertheless. And the reason might not have been the skirt at all - I didn't press to find out.

But it got worse. I went to a client of mine to get the first details of a new project. There was only one man I had to meet, but there were several at the secretary, probably waiting for their turn in a meeting nextdoors. While I took off my coat the other guys started picking on the man I had come to meet. "I didn't know you had private meetings with such beautiful girls here" and the like (I tried hard not to remember them, but there was more, some of which I do remember but will not repeat here). I ignored them, I always do, this is my defense reflex, but I felt really awful. I could feel my host getting uncomfortable as well (or was it only my projection on how I would feel in the situation?). (Fortunately the meeting went well, that man already knows me.)

And it's not really that short a skirt, I tell you...

The reason for my feeling bad - aside from the rudeness of that other encounter - is this: I am not there to show off my appearances but actually I am on a very practical, serious and intellectual task there. I have to be sharp and logical and ready to perform my work well and their complementing me stirs up my emotions to cloud all that. Furthermore, I feel that being as feminine and nice-looking as to stir their oafish comments compromises my feeling of being taken seriously at work. I need to be taken seriously. Those who know me, do take me seriously - and I am more happy to know they want to work with me than, about any complements about my looks, ever - but I feel like I have to prove myself to everybody at the first time. Prove that despite my looks I can think, too.

And my looks aren't that good, also. Don't you dare to contradict me here!

Maybe if I had gone into modelling (I couldn't very seriously because I am 6 cm short of industry minimum, btw) I would enjoy getting complements on my looks.
Or if I was as cynical as one R., who has (in my mind) insulted some other women by saying they should use their strong side to get that smth (meaning: show off their nice looks and surely they'll get it) - even bragging about it himself.
But my chosen line of work is quite indifferent as to the appearances of people, I even think that too often good looks are a hindrance there.

And, you probably guessed it - there was an even worse incident. This time, fortunately, not at work. But if you wear a skirt, you wear it everywhere. In the bus. In the shops. On the street. And there are not only your IT-professionals from work - people with a certain shyness and probably some more school behind them -, there are people of all social and economic classes. It was on street that I got that painful reminder. I was peacefully walking down a street with my friend, past some really drunk middle-aged man (drunkenness should not be an excuse but an embarrasment in itself) and off those comments came. He was that drunk that it was hard to understand all his words and in my rush to get away-away-faster-away I didn't try, too, but he apparently took me for a prostitute and it was a really stomach-churning experience. This incident alone could make me avoid skirts from now on. Only once before have I been thought of being so low, and then it was a pedophile (I was only 12), who wasn't even drunk (but wouldn't stop following me as easily as that one today, too).

I know all of the blame is really on that man, but I can't help but wonder whether I could have avoided it somehow. And the first thing to come to mind is that skirt. The best way to avoid those is to dress as though you were going to work the fields. He wouldn't have probably muttered more than "nice a**", if I had been in jeans. Another way is to keep off the streets. Not really an option. Ignore them? I do. But emotionally, completely you can't. You can only avoid it getting even worse than that.

Now you think that's all, no skirt for liriel any more, but actually - all these situations are something a girl like me has to get used to, that I have gotten used to (to the point of forgetting why I don't wear skirts more often), even though they are not pleasant. If I hadn't thought about blogging the situations above I might have forgotten about them in a few days. Only reliving them now made me realize how clearly they are not what I would want into my life.

I think I'll wear a skirt sometimes in the future, too, but I might change it for a longer one. It might be more "me" as well. I don't really care about my looks and it should show. I don't really care about looking like a cute smart kid from school, I'd rather be a bit of a weirdo. But it is not today that I can change something. Tomorrow will see me in that skirt again, I don't think I can find a new and more "me" version before next week - and next week is an optimistic opinion.

* Soundtrack - Lush "I've Been Here Before"

Kui kallis on mulle kass*

Minu kõige lemmikumad loomad on alati olnud kassid, nii kaua kui ma mäletan. Lapsena mingil hetkel armastasin ka hobuseid jms, aga kass on olnud ja jäänud. Ja ma ei hooli isegi kassipoegadest niivõrd (mängimine jms) kui just täiskasvanud kassidest.

Lapsepõlves oli mu esimene pikem kokkupuude kassiga millalgi 11-12 eluaasta paiku, kui üks "metsik" kass tegi meie heintesse pesa, ema hakkas talle süüa andma ja ta jäi meie kassiks. Sellest peale on meil pidevalt vähemalt üks kass olnud, kõik (ühe erandiga) selle esimese kassiga suguluses. See kass, nimetagem siis nimepidi, Muki (2-3-aastane õde pani selle nime, ta ei taibanud, et see on koeranimi), oli minu arvates kõige ideaalsem kass üldse. Natuke pelglik, äärmiselt naiselik ja õrn, iseseisev. Tal ei oleks meid üldse vaja olnud, kuna ta toitis end vabalt hiirepüüdmisega ära, aga ta tuli sellegipoolest meie juurde ka siis kui ilm oli soe ja ta ise oli end nii täis söönud, et kõht märgatavalt suurem oli. Pai tegema ja pai saama. Olema seltsis. See mulle kasside juures nii väga meeldibki, et nad on väga iseseisvad, suhe nendega põhineb vastastikusel austusel (vs koer, kes armastab pimedalt ja sugugi mitte nii peenelt ja ausalt).

Aga läksin teemast natuke eemale. Nimelt unistasin siis lapsest saadik, et kui olen suur ja mul on oma kodu, siis võtan endale kassi. Ma isegi mõtlesin, milline ta olema peaks - lühikese karvaga, emane või väike isane ja ühevärviline. Muki oli laiguti triibuline, see oli vast ainus asi, mis mulle ta juures ei meeldinud. Värvil endal nii palju isegi vahet poleks, must, halli eri toonid, valge, pruun - kõik sobiks. Aga isegi mustal ei tahaks sokke jms laike.

Samas on mul olnud oma kodu juba 4 aastat ja ma ei ole selleni iroonilisel kombel kunagi jõudnud, et reaalselt kass võtta. Esialgu arvasin, et teen suuremad remondid enne ära; siis vaatasin, et mul on pojaga niigi raske; siis läks nagu meelest ja tuli uus remont peale... Ja nüüd lõpuks olen selles suunas rohkem ja realistlikumalt mõtlema hakanud ja ka poeg tahab väga. Talle meeldiks küll ka koer või mõni muu loom, aga kassiga on ta väga nõus. Niisiis olen hakanud uurima, mis ja kuidas olla võiks.

Ilmselt võtan kassi loomade varjupaigast sinna toodud kasside hulgast. See ei ole tasuta:

Uus omanik tasub looma vaktsineerimise, kiipimise ja
kastreerimise/steriliseerimisega seotud kulud

Täpset hinda ei ole öeldud, aga arvatavasti ei ole see midagi üle mõistuse.

Järgmiseks on vaja osta kassile minimaalsed vajalikud asjad - liivakast 79-500.-, kandekott 300-900.- (mina küll kardan süles kanda, kui vaja peaks minema).

Järgmine asi. Ma elan esimesel korrusel ja piirkond ei ole kõige turvalisem (Pelgulinn). Seega on mul peal valvesüsteem - kui keegi minu kodust äraolekul tubades liigutab, siis antakse häire. Seega uurisin oma turvafirmast, kas kass ka alarmi käivitab - "Jah," vastati, täpsemalt nii (koos kirjavigadega):

Selleks, et liikumisandurid ei reageeriks kassile, saab paigaldada loomaandurid. Ühe juhtmega loomaanduri hind on 578,20.- krooni. Pole vaja kõik andurid korteris vahetada, piisab nendest mis asuvad seal, kuhu kass vabalt pääseda saab. Andurite hinnale lisandub tehniku väljakutse hind, 490.- krooni.

Samas pean Teid ette teatama, et loomaandur ei anna 100% garantii, et valehäiret ei tekki. Loomaandur töötab kahe erineva kiire süsteemi põhimõttel , st. loomaanduri reageerimise piirkond on jagatud ülemiseks ja alumiseks. Juhul, kui liikumine toimub ainult alumises piirkonnas kõrgusel kuni 1 m, siis häiret ei teki. Juhul aga, kui liikumine toimub nii anduri ülemise kui ka alumise või ainult ülemise kiire piirkonnas, tekib häire. Seega, kui näiteks kass ronib kapi peale anduri reageerimise piirkonnas, võib see häiret põhjustada.

Siinkohal tahaksin tähelepanu pöörata, et tegelikult ei oleks sellisel juhul alumist kiirt üldse vaja - igal juhul kui ülemises piirkonnas miski liigub on häire... Kas neil tõesti ongi selline loogika või jäetakse midagi ütlemata/antakse valeinformatsiooni..?

See selleks. Kass pääseb minu kodus igas toas ka kõrgele ronima, selles ei ole kahtlust. Igal juhul tekitab see dilemma. Näen järgmisi variante:

Loobun valvest täielikult - Oht ju on, et keegi tungib sisse ja siis on kahjud meeletud. Samas kui suur on tõenäosus, et keegi üldse mu korterisse sisse üritab tungida? Samas ehk valib ta sel juhul kõrvalkorteri, mille akendel-uksel ei ole turvafirma kleepse? Samas esikust on korra mu käekott juba teadmata suunas kadunud, ka praeguse olukorra juures...

Loobun valvest elutoas ja köögis - Need on just need kõige kallimate asjadega toad, magamistubades on ju eelkõige riided ja natuke mänguasju. Seega risk koonduks just sinna, kus ta kõige rohkem kahju teeks. Siis pigem juba esimene variant.

Kass on päeval minu magamistoas ja sealt loobun valvest - Kassi liivakasti ei tahaks oma tuppa, aga sellisel juhul see peaks seal olema. Joogi ja söögi nõud saaks ju veel sinna ära mahutada, aga liivakast on asi, mida ei saa küll...

Riskin valehäirega elutoas ja köögis ehk tellin sinna loomaandurid - 2 andurit vahetada ja tõenäoliselt päris tihti valehäiret, sest kass on roninud arvutilaua riiuli otsa. Või akvaariumi otsa, kui ma selle olen hankinud. See on ka üks asi, millest olen pikalt unistanud, aga mitte nii pikalt.

Loobun kassivõtmisest - ei taha, kohe üldse ei taha loobuda, aga kui selle hind on pidev oht minu kodule, minu kõige kallimatele/armsamatele asjadele..? Isegi kui läks ainult käekott, oli kaotus minu jaoks korvamatu, näiteks ei müüdud seal olnud lõhnaõli enam kuskil. Näiteks ei ole ma siiani teist nii mõnusat käekotti leidnud, jne...

Mida teha? Jääb veel mõtlemiseks. Kui välja mõtlen, annan kindlasti teada.

* Vahelduseks eesti keeles, sest nagunii on vahepeal eestikeelsed tsitaadid...
In Estonian because some quotes are in Estonian anyway...

A fruitful day for my blog

This is already third post today - but these other two have been nagging at me for a time, too. This one is just about today.

I have been thinking that I can't get much out of my mind and into the blog too often. And I am really sorry about that. It is not that I don't have any thoughts to share - rather I am lying awake every night for some time thinking of everything I should write about, but I can't do it because I should sleep. Well, I have come to a decision. If I feel that the dream fairy is not very kind with me at that moment (catch my irony on that fairy thing, please) I will come and blog even if I have to rise early the next day. I should get more often something published in this blog, I should get more practice at writing, I should get more things out of my head. And in the long run I might even find that I sleep better and won't spend half nights finding a more comfortable position.

My bathroom window

Some time ago I got my bathroom remade - practically from scratch. There is - and has always been - a small window in my bathroom. And it faces a staircase to another home squarely. Before the renovation there was a steel curtain, but it was cold and steely and I didn't want it to stay. My bathroom has to be warm in colour and materials. The room got quite a bit narrower at that point as well and so I didin't want any other type of curtain as well. What was left? Window art!

Now exclaimers:

* It was made over a period of many weeks but on only 3 occasions. Don't look for coherent thought.

* It was made by me and my son - often fighting - and finally finished by me alone. Don't look for coherent thought.


* At the time of finalizing it I had a crazy notion of dedicating it to the God of Random. Don't look for any meaning or system.


* At the time of finalizing I listened to Huun-Huur-Tu. Find its influence on the pictures.


* It is really not very easy to get pictures at one metre across room - when there should be parallel lines and you only have your soapbox camera-dear. Be happy with what you got.

But otherwise enjoy your glimse into my bathroom window :)

God or no god

A few weeks back I had a conversation IRL, which I am now so-oo sorry not to have on a chat log or e-mail or somewhere. And as it has been bugging me on and off, I had to try to get it out. I might not be able to replicate the dialogue very exactly and I will avoid telling about that other person - so, K., your private thoughts are still safe and I hope you're not mad at me for publishing this.

My memory of the conversation starts with me trying to explain how the issue of soul or life-force was explained in the end of Ender's Saga (Orson Scott Card's series, specifically books "Xenocide" and "Children of the Mind"). Long story short, they find out that there is an aiua (wrong accentuation here) for every living being and every living cell. How some of them are strong and some weaker, how in humans (or any other sentient beings) there is a central aiua holding all of the others together and that way if this aiua is leaving the body the body dies (there are far too many details to the theory and I will not tell about all of it here - if interested, read the books - I am not too sure I got these details I did put here right).

Which made K. ask me whether I do believe in the existence of souls.

This is a tricky matter, but to my mind nobody has explained well enough for me to understand, how a body can be alive if there wasn't a soul of some sort. Somehow I doubt that if some intelligence (our own bio-engineers?) would put together all component parts they would get a living being. Or more pointedly, if there is a person who is for example suffocated and the suffocating agent is removed - why does he or she still remain dead (all physical parts are still the same, unharmed, person has just stopped supporting life for a short while)? So I have to say that I still believe there has to be some kind of soul to every living being. I would welcome it if anyone could point me to an article or other piece of knowledge, which could disprove it to me understandably, but as yet nobody has come out with evidence of that (I admit, I find it hard to believe in soul but I have not explored the subject very throughly as well). Not knowing a way to explain it to myself I put it amongst the things humans have not explained yet. Not to me anyway.

Now you know, this is my piece of superficiality. I do consider very doubtful all the stories about ghosts and life after death etc, but as long as there is no way to definitely disprove their existence I remain ever cautious about the matter but tending to be sceptical.

Somehow the conversation then took us to yet a bigger question - is there a god (or many gods)?
I would vote for No, but - something I haven't heard anyone else saying, something that gets so puzzled looks to missionaries on street (and there is a missionary church near my home) - I think it does not matter if there is a god. What I believe is that god helps those who help themselves. Which in my mind really means - do what you have to do and you might get what you aim for, god or no god. Just praying won't help.

Let me explain it further. Humankind has grown, evolved out of a very primitive state. In my mind it is very similar to how children grow up. At first they are very dependent but then they learn to do things by themselves - from eating to walking to getting food to taking responsibility in life to ... And just as there was a need for a parent in our childhood - someone to depend on, someone to take care of us, to explain the world, to teach us, to love us - primitive peoples found the need for god. So they found or created one. Someone all-mighty, all-knowing and all-loving and all-forgiving. Someone to get counsel from at the time of emergency. Someone to trust in if you couldn't control the situation yourself. It is so good to feel there is some other great plan and your mishaps might be for the benefit of that greater and more important plan. But at this time we know that the prayers are not always answered and the religions have been used for evil as well as support. And why should we pray to a god that doesn't answer? Isn't it better for us just grow up and take our life's, humankind's life's reins into our own hands? I won't deny the right to love god or gods still, just as I love my own parents more and more, but they are more proud of me if I can make it on my own. In fact, in a stage in child's life parents knowingly withdraw their control to let the child make its own mistakes, to find its own feet.

The conversation went to some other path, but what I would like each person to ponder for themselves - religious or not - we have grown so much from our primitive roots that we have a responsibility to all of the world, to all other life as well as our own. The world as the planet and the world as all the countries and states in it. The world as all the people. We have grown smart enough to find ways to cooperate for the better of all. God or no god - we need to get matters under intelligent control. God will help us, if we help ourselves.

I don't know if we ever got to the point where I would try to explain why people should be moral - god or no god, life after death or not. I try to be anyway.
And I really don't remember if we got to discussing the possibility of life after death - or maybe I just waved it off as "there's no way of knowing" (as I would today to that question) or maybe our most delicious Italian food arrived first...

Tonsillectomy: The Revealations

I really thought I would publish this post sooner, almost immediately after the first of the series, but the intention didn't come true until a dear friend of mine told me he will be going through it himself (there are more tonsillectomies in Estonia than in some other, more southerly countries). But let's get on with the real revealations, that everybody should know before they get their tonsils removed. It will be a very different post than the previous, indeed...

Get a sizable supply of Paracetamol to your home on time.
In the first post I told how it wasn't that painful at all. I was in the hospital and probably still under their more powerful painkillers. I could talk, even yell and was even a bit angry that others wouldn't let me because they knew I should heal first. My last shot of hospital painkiller was sometime the morning after the first day (that was described in my first post). Some time around midnight after that the pain became unbearable. The doctor had told me I could only use Paracetamol for my pains if it still hurts after the soluble pill she gave me. I rummaged through the first-aid cupboard (at home) - there was exactly one pill of Paracetamol. Not lucky.
About Paracetamol - you can't swallow well, so you'll have to dissolve it in some water to be able to swallow it all. It is quite bitter so it really is an ordeal. You cannot use Efferalgan (soluble paracetamol), because it's too sour.

You will only be able to eat very fluid and not sour substances.
Get a supply of icecream and milk to your home. I melted the icecream before eating though some I heard could eat it cold. You cannot even eat every yoghurt. Don't even try any fruit or fruit juice, the result will be horribly painful. There is a possibility you could be able to eat puree soup, at least after a few days, but not hot. Somehow they could make a soupy porridge in the hospital, that I could eat, but at home I couldn't imagine eating something like this. It will be like this for at least one week. An historical note - my grandma said she had to drink raw egg with milk because this was the only thing, that would go down...

You won't exactly starve.
You won't eat much, that's true. But you won't starve either. You just don't want to eat as much as usually. I thought going around starving would be an ordeal in itself, but it wasn't. Uh, I only lost 2kg's, too (compared to 5-8kg's I've heard of it is really very small amount).

You better not talk at all.
Though at some times it feels OK to talk, you shouldn't for a week at least. You will be in pain soon after each time you talk. And you shouldn't read out aloud for at least two weeks (it has been two weeks for me, now, but I still won't read to my son, he's been reading by himself now - and doing a good job, too).
So what's the solution? A notebook and a pen to be carried with you at all times. You shouldn't use just papers lying around or you'll soon find how easy it is for others to read your previous conversations even though they shouldn't know about it. Other reason to keep it with you all the times is to keep yourself from being left out from important conversations, the arguments - and when your argument is written down, it is just a bit clearer than any of the others ;)

You will get the chance to understand how much you say unimportant things.
Use it as a chance to understand yourself. I have always thought about myself as the quiet person. But at least half of what I would have said at that time, I didn't. It just wasn't that important that I would start writing - and others would've moved on from that point in conversation by the time they read it. The jokes, the nice things... They all stayed inside me. You'll understand how much you spend in your conversations just socializing and not sharing information. Which is notr exactly bad thing, but you'll get an understanding from your temporary muteness. And you'll understand mutes better.

You will be told to avoid water procedures.
That was the one I hated that much that I didn't follow it. I had to wash, my hair at least. I didn't stay in the tube for long and avoided extreme temperatures (I love it quite hot) and I didn't do it as often as usually, but I did it. And nothing bad happened of it, I'm glad to say.

You will be told not to do any physical work.
You will be able to do your work if it is in the computer or without talking, but it will be tiresome. You are told to avoid it for two weeks, but it will get better after a week. You can't work out, you can't do anything hard at home. I didn't exert myself as well so I can't say is it really necessary after a few days, but better careful than sorry. You can't do anything, so...

Get some books :)
To while away time while you can't do anything physical and can't very well take part in social life, read. It is one of the best opportunities in your life to be just reading - everybody knows you're sick and can't be interrupted. Well, some probably will be satisfied with watching TV, but that bored me very soon.

I have to say that I was very lucky and it was easier on me than on some others I've known. I spent a full day in Finland to learn about a program there just 6 days after the surgery. I could even eat regular soup there and each day afterwards I ate just the regular foods (not sour ones, though). I was working full time after a week and the weekend (the surgey was on 21.02 and I was working in 4.03, that's 10 days). It is usual to be told to be at home for 2 weeks. Some have experienced bleeding after a week, but there has been no bleeding for me, there wasn't any in the hospital as well.

Now my throat only hurts when yawning and coughing (I have developed a small cough, I suspect it to have something to do with the healing of the throat tickling) and I am not reading out aloud or yelling, but that's OK. I think I might use that opportunity to end reading bedtime stories to my child (he's 6 and reading pretty well himself) and yelling at him (that's never good anyway) :)

Maybe you won't be that lucky. I was. Good luck!

I'm an Idealist

The four aspects that make up this personality type are:

Summary of Idealists

• Make sense of the world using inner values
• Focus on personal growth and the growth of others
• Think of themselves as bright, forgiving and curious
• May sometimes appear stubborn

More about Idealists

Idealists put time and energy into developing personal values that they use as a guide through life. They may seek fulfilment by helping others improve themselves and often want to make the world a better place. Idealists only share their inner values with people they respect.

Idealists are the most likely group to say they are vegetarian, according to a UK survey.

Idealists enjoy discussions about a wide range of topics, particularly those that deal with the future. They are typically easy-going and flexible, but if their values are challenged they may refuse to compromise.

In situations where they can’t use their talents or are unappreciated, Idealists may have trouble expressing themselves and withdraw. Under extreme stress, Idealists may become very critical of others, or lose confidence in their own ability to cope.
Recognition for their work is important to Idealists; however, they are also good at spotting false praise.

Idealist Careers

Idealists are often drawn to jobs where they can help people reach their potential. They are also attracted to careers that allow artistic creativity.

It's important to remember that no survey can predict personality type with 100 percent accuracy. Experts say that we should use personality type to better understand ourselves and others, but shouldn't feel restricted by our results.

Find out about yourself in BBC Science & Nature

Tonsillectomy

Now I know, I am getting old - these days I mostly think only about my health. Well, there is a good-enough reason for that really, I had a tonsillectomy a few days ago. Yes, I had to look up that word. And there are many things you only hear from your friends and family about it, so I thought it better to write down my experience so that others could recoil in terror before this surgery - and be prepared.

My story began several years back, when I was 20 or something. This was the first time some doctor thought of looking into my throat and discovered some pus on my tonsils. I had to take some antibiotics and there was a procedure I had to go through every day on site. That time it got all well, only some holes remained. I didn't even think about it too much afterwards for years.

Last year about the same time I got gradually aware of my throat being always a bit sore. I didn't drink cold drinks, I drank a lot of tea with honey (and lemon if possible), held it always covered up with my clothes... I have always been very sensitive to cold, but even then I noticed, that this constant sore throat is affecting my clothing style, with all those high-necked jumpers. But as the soreness wasn't really critical I put off going to therapist all the time. I don't like to disrupt my normal everyday life and that is the main reason I won't go to doctors too easily. So spring came, weather was sunny and my throat got well. Not that well that I could eat icecream unlimited, constantly drink cold water etc, but well enough that it didn't bother me every day.

Came summer and fell fall. The first time I discovered my old throat soreness is back was after I read first bed-time story for my son after his holiday with my parents in the country. I thought, maybe that's what it was from all the time! I was more careful with these bedtime stories, sipping a bit of water, not singing too long, choosing shorter stories, letting my son read some of it himself... But it didn't help. I settled that it must be the cold and wet weather of estonian fall and winter after all - I settled for 9 months of sore throat.

Then sometime in October it got worse. The pain attacked my ears as well and looking into my throat I saw similar pus spots as at that earlier time. Only then did I come to terms with the inevitable - I visited a doctor for ear, nose and throat diseases. When I really went to the appointment, I had got the problem to mild down with home means (there wasn't any earlier appointment time free). So the doctor didn't think very seriously about the soreness and wrote just mild antibiotics and told to be back in a week, if it doesn't get better. I was sure it wouldn't and I was right.

While taking these pills my throat got actually worse and I was back after a week. Then the doctor really saw the worst of it and said that if we don't get it well, we'll have to cut the tonsils out. That time the pills were stronger and for a time I didn't have the sore throat anymore. I was even a bit hopeful, that this could be it, but then it came back again, worse than ever.

I got the appointment sooner as a repeating visit because there was so little time from my last visit. It was a new doctor (because the other one had gotten sick). She looked into my throat, looked into the case history and said we'll have to cut the tonsils out. Wrote me a transmittal letter and told to call for an appointment for operating doctor of ear, nose and throat diseases in another clinic (because at that clinic there wasn't one). That was it, she didn't even give me antibiotics to alleviate my pains at that moment! That was the hardest time to get over the main soreness, the pain in the ears... I even was doubtful if i should go to a concert at that time (I did and I am happy I did) because I had that big a ache in my throat and especially ears. I used too much Trachitol and somehow the pain got down to bearable again.

But the appointment to operating doctor wasn't available until 19th of February. Luckily I didn't have very bad episodes between the last visit to my own doctor and the one in the other hospital. It was just a soreness, that sometimes got a bit into my ears. Sometimes it manifested as an headache as well. In worse cases a warming lamp for my ears helped a lot. And keeping a diet of only warm foods and drinks as well.

Then the day came and I went to see the operating doctor. She had only one look at my throat and said, yes, these have to be cut out, is tomorrow okay? The shock! Tomorrow a surgery when I had been at home with my son for almost all of that year! When I had a ticket for a concert tomorrow night (disappointed in it, by the way)! When I had plans of going to a trip just some weeks later (11.-16.03 in London)! When I had just been blood donor a few days ago! When I had just bought a card for a month in a sports club! None of these were any real arguments, of course. They assured me that I would be well for the trip - and if I wanted that, that had to be soon to let me have the time to get well. And they were able to get me a time day after the tomorrow as well (that is 21 not 20), to let me go to the concert.

They explained, that it is very unusual to have the surgey so soon after the decision, but some of their patients had gotten sick and so they could put me in instead. They gave me a bunch of papers to read - about general anaesthesia, about all that I have to agree with, about my own physical condition, how should I act on the morning before the surgery and told to be there (ironically, the surgery took place in the same hospital where I went to see the first nose, ear, throat doctor, that wasn't operating herself) at 7:30. And they took some blood samples.

Now, I was truly shaken. Truly afraid. Why? My sister died in 1995 while in general anaesthesia on a non-lethal operation. I couldn't help but be afraid of having the same fate. Some thoughts that went through my mind:

• When my sister died, it seemed absolutely impossible for her to be dead and me still alive. We were that close that it surprised me that I could exist without her (that's kind of superficial, I know, but I was only 15 at the time). At last, that injustice, that abnormal condition, will be cured. How right that I should die of the same thing.
• Oh, what will Ragnar, my dear son do without me! He'll go mad!
• Will my possessions be automatically inherited to my son or should I promptly do a final will and testament?
• I should be happy, if these two days should be the last of my life! Always look on the bright side of death. You've come from nothing, you go back to nothing... What have you lost? Nothing! (Monthy Python, The Life Of Brian)
• K. will be really hard pressed (what will become of my dear little UIT!), as will be E., because they have counted on me to come back to work. Well, these time estimations were overly big anyway, I can just work from home a bit, that shouldn't be so hard, just moving my fingers on a keyboard... (K. and E. being different project managers I work for, UIT being a program I love like my own son, which IS in every important way my own son)
• Hmm, I've heard them say this is the perfect diet, maybe I could get in shape for spring after all despite the fact that I can't do any sports... But doesn't that mean, I'll be hungry most of the time? I wouldn't like that.
• I've never been to any hospital before, that would be a first.
• I should get some books somewhere to while away the time at the hospital (fortunately, I did get them even without particularly searching for them, thanks I.!)...
• I have to write to the sports club and ask them nicely, maybe they would change the dates of my card - maybe they will take pity on me, it doesn't cost me anything to try...
• ...

As you see, I had several quite scary thoughts, but most of them were rather trivial. Oh, I did cloak my fear into jokes and behind a happy facade. Seriously, many people hadn't probably seen me before as happy as I was at that day. I even filled the questionaires at work to have fun doing it - quoting questions, wondering about whether I should list chocolate as something I am addicted to, etc. But it was all a show...

I didn't write the last will and testament, I didn't really believe I would die. But I got more and more afraid of the surgery itself and the pain afterwards after each bit of information anybody gave me.

• That there is hope I can eat something by 5th of March (what the hell? I thought it would only be a few days ..?)
• That I should only sms from the hospital, because it would be hard to talk (what the hell, why didn't the doctor mention that I cannot speak..?)
• That I shouldn't be ashamed of using painkillers (the doctors will prescribe me as much as needed, won't they..?)
• That I wouldn't be able to eat anything but vanilla icecream (I love icecream, but it doesn't fill the stomach, oh why, oh why... I'll get bored by this soon I bet.)

Me myself, I couldn't help but read wikipedia about general anaesthesia, then I found out the condition my sister died from, Malignant Hyperthermia, on read that as well. That latter really made me fear. Some facts I couldn't help but send almost everybody:

• This condition is inherited - thus when my sister had it, I stand a bigger than average chance to have it as well.
• It cannot be pre-determined definitely, that a person has the condition. Additionally, this isn't always triggered the first time, or second. Person might have had several anaesthesias before and only then does the condition get triggered.
• It can be triggered by all known anaesthesic drugs.
• The symptoms usually develop during one hour, but it may take significantly longer.

I was determined to repeat the fact that my sister died of it over and over to everybody in the hospital. I was really jumpy, I even left the concert I went to before its end - I don't know if it wasn't really my kind of band or I was just too preoccupied, but I just couldn't connect. So I bought a 4,5L box of icecream (not for that evening but for eating afterwards) and some milk and went home. Got a nice massage bath, sent out the last of horrible facts about my sister's condition and how it makes my surgery more risky, found out the best route to the hospital (and what time should I go out), filled my bag, ordered EMT MSN Messenger into my mobile, slept well.

In the morning I got up OK 20 min before the departure, checked my mail for the last time and off I went. I couln't eat or drink before the surgery so the usual breakfast was skipped. And I didn't need any makeup in the hospital (though some time ago I read in some stupid women magazine, that hospitals are a good place to look for men, because bank director can be there just as easily as your common folk and you already have something to talk about, but I knew that wasn't for me). So there I was, 30min early. Sheckley "Status Society" went open right away and I read. I read all the time until I got changed into hospital clothes and was led into a room four floors up. There was two beds, a sad young girl (seventeen or something?) with biiig cotton tampon below her nose was curled up in the other bed. We didn't exchange even one word. I read.

It was a really interesting spot in the book when a medicinal sister came and asked a few questions. That was the first time I got the chance to point out my sister's death. She left. I read again.

Another interesting spot and another medicinal sister leading me with my bed to the surgery room. Before that she robbed me of all my valuables - to put into a safe of course. I was given a cap for my hair (though I had braided my hair beforehand, I don't do it usually) and then given over to another sister - with a mask, only overly painted eyes and some wrinkles showing through the slit between the cap and mask (she scared me although I could see she was smiling behind the mask). The operating room wasn't impressive at all. Rather usual room, just one bed in the center. Another Monthy Python moment - after I had been laid down on the operating table and made comfortable there, a sister in the room asked something like "Shouldn't we bring the machine here as well? You know the one I mean..." (The one that goes Ping! ?). But that wasn't true. A woman in her forties sat down and started asking questions about the anaesthesic questionnaire I had filled. It was kind of confusing moment. One medicinal sister doing something with my right and another with my left arm and she asking me questions. She asked about the incident with my sister, several questions (I remember being asked why was she having a surgery, where, what year was that, how old was she). Then she decided for a drug, said that to the sister at my left and ...

That's it. I woke up. It was that instantaneous I couldn't even start being afraid again, not one thought about how that could be it (reading before was a kind of defence mechanism. I wasn't really in that world where I would be having a surgery - where I could die - soon. I was in a book, but only an observer, I would be OK, I didn't have to be afraid).

Waking up my first problem was - I forgot to breathe! That's so silly, but it is true. I have always breathed, all my life. But I didn't remember I felt no need for it, I didn't remember how to do it. I was given oxygen mask and told to breathe. I concentrated on that one thing and somehow started doing it again. Oxygen smelled like fresh air. When I had got into the rhythm once again, they asked me if it was painful. That's the first time I thought about it and "Yes" I answered. They added something to the mix that was dripping into my vein, took away the oxygen mask saying something about how that dries up the throat and it isn't very good. At some time I was said I was on my own bed again. I was on my right side with cannula into my left arm. I was really sleepy. At that moment, when I was transported back to my room on my bed, I thought that I had promised to send sms to everybody if I didn't die (it's obvious my fears were void), but I was sooo sleeepy and I believe I slept at the time I reached back into my room.

When I opened my eyes, Status Society was soon open again. I believe somebody came to see that sad little girl and then I could ask my valuables back so that I could sms. Or MSN for that matter. I had promised to sms so I did, but after that I logged into MSN and spoke with several people. But it was really tiring at first, before I found the perfect pose - holding the phone with my left and typing with my more dexterous right. Surprisingly, my eyes didn't focus well after a few hours of reading and msning and so I slept again. And then woke up again and read, then slept again and ... At some time the floor sister came and gave the other girl food, but to me she gave only another bag to be dripped into my vein. I found it interesting, that I didn't feel any hunger. I know I was fed through the vein, but doesn't the maw want food whenever it is empty? Apparently not.

All that time I was wondering, that it isn't that painful at all, as I would have thought. The tube coming into my vein made finding a comfortable pose difficult, but It wasn't that difficult. I couldn't be on my back because then something in my throat would try to block my breathing, but on the side it was OK. The pain in the throat wasn't worse than the soreness before the operation. So when the medicinal sister came to give me my painkiller, I would have denied the need if she had but asked. She didn't.

That's how my day there went. Reading, sleeping, messaging - and then all over and over again. At some time the other girl had a visitor and then another. At some time she was said that if she wouldn't eat she would have to be fed directly into her vein. But for me the time was very peaceful. I finished the book by evening (and that is really slow reading for me, I finished the other Sheckley book that I. gave me on the day before without letting it even interrupt my regular day). I was disconnected from the dripping bag for the night. After finishing the book I went to sleep.

That's where I leave off tonight, I'll try to continue the story soon with the true revealations at home.