Staycation! (Long post)

      What do you do with an extra week or vacation and no burning desire to go anywhere? Clean, of course! Ok, ok, I know that's not everyone's answer, but that's what we decided to do. We have a 10'x10' storage unit that we've been saying for a while needs to be gone through, and over the winter, things had sort of piled up around the house, so we blocked off a random week to deal with it. 

     For once, I remembered to take before shots of the mess to be tackled, and it looks like a pretty typical storage unit, full of just stuff. 

     We packed for a full day excursion, and arrived Monday morning at 10am, set up a table, and started pulling stuff out. That weird thing in the middle that's wrapped in plastic is a weaving loom my mother got me quite a few years ago. It is absolutely my retirement/"when I have time and room" plan, but I'm not ready for it just yet, and we can't stack anything on top of it. 

Backlash cosplay: Hood and wig

      The gentleman's Backlash cosplay is mostly done, barring - of course - the pieces that I need to work on. The character has a "mask" of sorts, that is drawn as just fabric. The gentleman, however, needs to wear glasses, so we had to be a little more inventive. The gentleman found a person online that makes custom masks, and had an option for glasses lenses, resulting in a pretty dang bad-ass looking mask:

      He then ordered a wig, since the character has white hair and that would not go over well at work. 

Backlash cosplay: Shoes

     The gentleman's Backlash cosplay is coming along nicely. He's got the mask made, a wig bought, the pants and knife are made, and all the harness bits made by a leatherworker. What to wear for shoes, though? Superhero shoes never look like actual shoes (unless they're heavy boot-style heros), so shoes are a bit open to interpretation, unless you feel like handsewing spandex over regular shoes. Which I. Absolutely. Do. Not. 

     The gentleman found some sneakers he'd be willing to wear in a color that mostly matched the other pieces. How to make them match the pattern that is clearly continued down to the feet on the character though? I poked around, and found that acrylic painting leather sneakers is actually super common, so this might be easier than I thought. Taped the shoes off, loaded my airbrush with acrylic paint, and went to town. Easy, right? 

     No, of course it's not going to be easy, silly. Acrylic paint is water-based, so it soaked right in to the fabric parts. They should be hidden under the pants, mostly, so I'm not super worried about them (although I did give them a couple more coats after this picture was taken). The tape wasn't really sticking very well to the shoe, though, so nice, clean lines just.... didn't happen. With some work, I found that by gently pushing with dental tools - which are very useful for lots of cosplay crafts - you could coax the extra creepers back into line fairly decently. The shoe on the right has been cleaned up, the shoe on the left has not. It makes a lot of difference.

     Found an acrylic sealer that is supposedly really good for faux leather shoes and put a couple coats of that on after hitting up the fabric areas a bit more. 

     Looks good, right? Unfortunately, I did this before the gentleman broke in the shoes. That bend line that goes across the base of the toes? Yeah.... buggered up my nice paint job a bit. Fortunately, everything else looks ok, so I've requested that he just wear the shoes around the house a lot more, and then I'll do a final overcoat to fill in the wrinkles. He hasn't done that just yet, but I'm counting these done. I did not track time on these, but they were less than 10 hours, all told. 

     The only things left are two red gems for the harness and belt (which a friend of a friend is working on, as I don't have casting supplies and don't really want to get into that), and making an undermask/ headsock to attach the wig and the face mask to. You can order spandex facemasks, but they all have a really loose neck to accommodate sliding the head through, and it gives a really bad turkeyneck look. I found a pattern that lets you make that more fitted and add velcro in the back, so I will give that a try once we have all the materials.  

Backlash cosplay: Pants

     The gentleman decided to do a military-style take on his cosplay for Backlash, since he's not super keen on the idea of spandex. I certainly can't blame him, I didn't want to do it for his partner, Taboo, either.

     Since the gentleman wears BDU pants for work anyway, he ordered a pair in dark blue as a base to start from. They were a little light, so I dyed them darker, then took off the cargo pockets, so I could add the white stripes. This is where I very much appreciate heavy fabric in general, and ripstop in particular - once you get a seam partly unraveled, you can just rip the two pieces apart, knowing the seam will go and not the fabric itself. 

     It took some doing to find white ripstop material, since most people want ripstop for tough wearing, which is not really synonymous with situations where white would be useful. I did eventually find a reputable website that had it though, and ordered the 2 yard minimum. Turns out it's good I overordered, because one layer of it against the dark blue looked kind of dingy. Two layers, though, looked pretty decent, so I cut out basic shapes to the gentleman's dimensions and sewed them on.

Backlash cosplay: Dagger

     After seeing me work on Thor, the gentleman decided he wanted to build a cosplay as well, albeit in a slightly different manner. I like looking at things and then seeing how I can make them. The gentleman does not believe he has crafting skills, but he can network like crazy, so he recruited various crafters he knows to do the different parts. Naturally, he came to me for the outfit/ sewing parts, but that's a different post. Rather than have a real dagger made (which would cost goodness knows how much), he asked if I had any ideas. Here's a reference picture:

     I have not yet had much experience making weaponry, but some google searching led me to the idea of making the blade out of a lightweight wood, then building up the handle and guard around it. First things first, though: come up with a pattern so I know what size wood to get. Drew up some sketches, got approval, and cut a rough draft out of an eva foam mat that was too chewed up to use for actual cosplay.

Geeky proposal

     Set this up back in March: my proposal to the gentleman.






Started on the whiteboard in the kitchen, one of the first places we both go when we wake up.

Delicious baking error

    A while back, I was in the process of making cookies and my brain somehow short-circuited. I'd mixed together butter, eggs, sugar, and brown sugar, then confidently grabbed the eggs from the fridge and dropped two more in. Not really sure why, but of course I only realized it after I'd added both, and was standing there, staring at the soupy mix in confusion. Should I toss it? Double the whole recipe? Attempt to scoop out the extra eggs? All of those required significant effort, and I was already tired, so I said to heck with it, it's extra protein, I'll just continue on and see what happens (always a good idea...).

     What happened is I ended up with something more like muffin batter than cookie dough - not as wet as cake batter, but definitely too sticky to roll into cookies. Again, though, I was too invested in it to stop, so I just dumped it all into an 8 x 8 pan and shoved it into the oven to see what would happen.

Conventions and mindsets

     We made a bit of a last-minute decision to go to a local comic convention this weekend. For once, there was no stressing out about outfits, as we just wore the Star Wars cosplay that we put together for the previous con, so that was nice. We got in, met up with some friends, and wandered around taking in the scene and the others picked up some books and art. I'm not super into comics, but I had a good time seeing other cosplay ideas (I counted 85 Harley Quinns of varying eras and accuracies). On the way home, as my gentleman did his usual "Thank you for coming!" that I always get when going to stuff he likes, I started thinking about why I go... and why I don't mind.

     I am definitely not a type A personality, but I do tend to track a number of things in my head at any given time, including a schedule of where to be, when, and the consequences for being late; who's in my group, where they went, and whether they're enjoying themselves; and whether I and my group are blocking traffic, causing chaos, or otherwise being disruptive or not. 

While I still do a little bit of that at these cons, it feels like a lot of the pressure is off, because a) I'm not responsible for everyone being here, and thus, whether people are having a good time, and b) I'm not on a schedule, so I literally have nothing that needs done/checked/arrived by/ sorted/ what have you. I can just show up, enjoy, and head home when everything's done and people start getting tired. It's rather freeing, and quite enjoyable. So while I appreciate the thanks from the gentleman, it's also a nice little break for me, even if I don't get into the actual purpose of the con. 

Counting down: 4 days

     This past week has been a frenzy of packing, taking things to the thrift store, taking things to the dump, saying goodbye to people, and preparing for the move that will happen this Friday. My mind isn't doing much better than last Monday, which is not the greatest, because I have my last final exam today at 4pm. I think I know what is needed for it, but the way my brain is(n't) working lately, I'll be lucky to find the right language to work in when I get there.

Though my confusion is from mental exhaustion, not pot.

Moving prep

     Let the countdown begin! I just realized today that there are only 19 days left until I leave this place for good and start working again, hopefully with something relevant to my degrees. This past weekend was taken up with putting a trailer hitch on my car, and rewiring the back end to add a plug for trailer lights. It took a little bit longer than expected, but I had a huge amount of fun with my (awesome) aunt, uncle, and cousin. The trailer itself didn't show up, so I get to go back up there next weekend and spent more time with them, putting it together. I've been selling stuff on ebay and craigslist, and pretty much everything superfluous to daily life is either sold, boxed up, or waiting to be donated, which makes the place rather bare. No worries though, because I have an 8-page final paper (in Russian!) due in less than two weeks, and I expect that to take up most of my time and attention.

     I won't lie, it's all a little overwhelming, and both my attention span and sleeping patterns have taken a hit because of everything going on. I've got an impressive number of lists going, and if something isn't on my calendar, well, it basically doesn't get done. Not because I don't care about it, but just because I only remember about 6 hours too late to do anything about it. As someone who is usually quite orderly, this is more than a bit disturbing, but I'm trying not to let it get me down. Remember those positive websites I linked back here? They're getting heavily used, trust me.

Good days and bad days

Saturday:

• Did laundry (down 2 flights of stairs),
• Washed sheets (also 2 flights of stairs),
• Hand-washed my winter coat,
• Did the dishes,
• Cleaned out the fridge,
• Cleaned out the cabinets,
• Culled old clothes that no longer fit from the closet,
• Put stuff up on eBay,
• Wrote up a study guide for Russian Fairy Tales midterm,
• Watched Russian cartoons to expand vocab and listening comprehension,
• Read a (short) French book,

Crunch time

     Going back to reality after time off is always difficult, and this coming week is proving to be no different than usual. On the positive side, there are only three weeks left of classes before the end of the semester, so crunch time won't be too bad. On the well, not-so-positive side, these three weeks are going to be somewhat difficult.

     For starters, the French pronunciation through song class that I'm auditing/ helping out in is gearing up for it's version of a final, which is a week of 5-hour evening rehearsals and then two nights of performances. Unfortunately, the rehearsals start at the same time my Russian class does, so I either need to beg out of the first two hours (thank goodness I just have a bit part), or go to the earlier Russian classes... which would then cut into the time I am scheduled to work. So already, right off the bat, scheduling chaos.

Why languages?

     As both a linguistics major in college, and a speaker of three languages- ones in which I am reasonably fluent, anyhow, never mind the smatterings of others I've picked up- people often ask why I chose to study language. The answer is a complex one, and ironically contained within itself, but here goes an attempt on why I am fascinated by languages.

     1) Language and thought. There are a number of different theories on whether language forces thought patterns into a certain path, or if thought patterns are learned before language, and therefor forces linguistic style into a certain shape. Regardless of the chicken or the egg question here, there is clearly a connection between language and thought, and I am fascinated by how people who speak other languages- or even other dialects- can view the world differently. For example, studies show that people who speak languages that differentiate between perfective and imperfective verbs (i.e. verbs that imply an end points vs those that don't, such as 'completed' vs 'worked on') focus more on whether a task was finished or not rather than how long it may have taken. Little things like that permeate literally everything we say and think, and that, to me, is awesome.

Yes but, for how long?

     2) Langauge and culture. Different cultures hold different things to have more importance in life, leading them to lexicalize different concepts. Lexicalization is giving an entire concept a single word, rather than having to describe it each time. As cultures mix and merge, they borrow each other's lexicalizations, since there's no one word that is a direct translation. That's why, for example, we have to use "c'est la vie" to denote the necessity of just accepting that some things happen succinctly, and "schadenfreude" to point out when someone is taking joy from others' misfortunes. Those concepts were not important or recurring often enough as English developed to become words of their own, but to the French and Germans, respectively, they were. I love finding out backstories and etymologies to explain why things developed the way they did, and what the lives of earlier people were like that made those ideas so necessary.

Practical lessons

     One day while standing in line for an ATM, I heard a little boy who was standing with his father behind me lean over to the juniper bushes and say, "look dad! Blueberries!" His dad chuckled and replied, "No son, those aren't blueberries." The little boy repeated his discovery, and was again informed of his error. At a third insistence, however, the dad simply said, "alright. If they're blueberries, go ahead and have one." The son eagerly grabbed one, shoved it in his mouth, and promptly spat it back out again, complaining that those weren't blueberries! I was trying so hard not to laugh as the dad calmly responded, "I told you they weren't. Maybe next time you should listen!"

     While there are, no doubt, plenty of child activists and safety prevention groups that would have cheerfully taken this guy to task for "endangering the life of his child," I think that practical lessons are a surefire way to let new information really stick with someone (provided it's not truly life-threatening, as juniper berries are certainly not).

Unexpected backstory

    As I've mentioned before, I have a habit of befriending generations before me, primarily (I believe) because I was raised to be polite. I take time to listen to people, and let them know that I really do appreciate hearing their stories, because you never know what you're going to learn. To be sure, sometimes you learn that you don't really want to continue that acquaintance, but there are some pretty powerful stories hidden in very unlikely places.

     Recently, as I was going downstairs to switch my laundry over, I ran into a gentleman with whom I'd exchanged pleasantries a number of times; typically I'd be on my way to work or school and he'd be leaning on the railing by his door. He seemed a nice enough person, always smiling or finding something positive to say, and I'd figured he was retired and in a similar financial situation to me- I can't imagine that anyone would live in this complex who could afford better. Today, however, I saw him sitting on the bench in the center of the building, and he mentioned he hadn't seen me in a while, so I wandered over to chat with him.

A Hostess childhood

     When I was younger, we weren't really terribly well off. We didn't eat out a lot (which I appreciate, because we got delicious home-made meals instead), but every now and then, we'd stop off at the Wonder Bread Thrift Store, and mom would let us get one piece of junk food each. Without fail, I always went for the Hostess Cherry Pie, a mass of pure sugar-coated pastry full of preserved-cherry fruit squish. It was horribly unhealthy, chock full of calories, and absolutely delicious.

     As the economy grew in the 80s and 90s, the price of these sugar bombs never went up, a fact that- I'm sure- contributed to the company's declaring bankruptcy earlier in the year. Hostess is trying to stay in business during the proceedings, but I've noticed the junk food pastry section in the grocery store is dwindling week by week. For a decade and a half, I have virtuously walked past the alluring Hostess Pies, sitting in their primary-colored wax paper wrappings, and denied myself the temptation of scarfing one down, for old-times' sake. In that last few months, however, that hasn't been an issue, because they're simply not there, and it makes me sad. 

Pollyanna

     As my father is (inordinately) fond of pointing out, there is nothing in life that you learn that does not come in handy at some point down the road. Yesterday was an excellent example of that, in a myriad of ways. Monday night was insanely hot, and I decided (at 3 am as I finally started to drift off to sleep) that I was only going to go in for the second half of Russian classes yesterday, if my sinuses had cleared up by then. They're not 100% healed, but I felt like I'd been a slacker for long enough, so off I went to school.

     Well, off to try to go to school anyway. When I reached the elevators, the button was already lit, but no one was around. Odd, since they're usually fairly fast. After a while, however, it became apparent that the elevators were simply not working, so I had to find stairs. Russia, of course, does not bother with such niceties as "Emergency Exit" signs or "Stairs are this way" placards or anything like that. I put my "let's keep trying things until something works" skills to use, and found the stairs after a bit of searching. You had to go through the room where you dump garbage, out onto the balcony behind the building, and back into the building on the other side of the balcony, through a door that looked like it had last been used back when the Romanovs were still in power.

Not creepy AT ALL...

Apologies

     It was brought to my attention that the casual mention on Wednesday of when I was raped was not something many of you were prepared for, and I apologize for that. I have been working and focussing on it for a number of months now, and have finally accepted it, so I didn't realize I hadn't let people in on what was going on. I tend to be fairly close-mouthed when it comes to personal stuff- it was not intended to make anyone feel left out.

     The short version is that I was raped, six years ago, by someone I'd known for a long time as a friend. He told me not to tell anyone and that it was my fault for "being too sexy," and like an idiot, I believed him. I guess the guilt got to him, because he then went and told his wife (and girlfriend... he was not what I'd call a moral person), and they believed it was my fault, and came after me. After much mental and emotional abuse, I finally cut all contact with him, and tried to forget it happened. I didn't tell anyone because, well, it was my fault, right? I know it's not now, but what can I say.

    I hid most of myself from everyone for years afterwards, and the few relationships I attempted went horribly, because I'd internalized his lies that all I was good for was sex. It wasn't until last year, when my sister Suzanne died that it all came back to me, and I started trying to accept it. I was still pretty bitter and closed-in, though, until a chance remark to a friend in WoW opened the door, and he hit me with some hard truths I needed to hear about not letting it hold me back. Maybe I felt it was safe to talk to him because he was only a friend on WoW, and if he considered me a whore and a victim, I could just stop talking to him- I wouldn't potentially lose a close friend or family member.

In Memory

     Last year, at about this time, my older sister died while leading a group of climbers down from the summit of Denali, in Alaska. At the memorial, my younger sister and I both declined the opportunity to talk about her in front of everyone, mostly due to emotions being way too high. Now that some time has passed, though, I'd like to share a few stories, because that's what I do. (And just a warning, these aren't all the "oh she was so wonderful" stories... this is a sister's perspective, good and bad!)

Me, Suz, and mom in Seattle

     Suz and I didn't really get along very well. We were only two years apart in age, and shared a lot of the same interests and hobbies when we were young, so it always felt like she didn't appreciate me tagging along, and I didn't like that everyone saw me in her shadow. Ultimately, we did talk this out, many years down the line, but suffice to say, we weren't on the best of terms while growing up. She was busy being the straight-A student, first flute in band, piccolo soloist in marching band, and setting the oldest daughter example. I was busy, well, playing with Morgana, our littlest sister, or reading, or ignoring homework, basically trying to figure myself out. Which, as I'm sure many of you can attest to, is difficult when everyone's asking, "why can't you be more like your older sister?"

Perfectionism and 'thank you's

     Have you ever been around a perfectionist? Once of those people who have to have everything just so, and have to be always on top of things, always on time, always exactly the way the think it should be? While I do have perfectionist leanings (what, my GPA is 3.8??? Unacceptable!), I have learned to calm down a bit overall. Perfectionists are rarely happy, because the world is not exactly so, and there will always be conflicting ideas of what needs done. Perfectionism assumes a certain level of expectations. If you fall below them, you will be criticized; if you meet them (however ridiculously high they are), well, that's to be expected. There is no such thing as going above and beyond, because perfect is the limit, so do not act surprised when you are not complimented or thanked.

     One memory that sticks with me pretty clearly is one day when I was a child, probably 8 or 9 years old, I decided to help my mom out while she was out of the house. I knew she didn't really like vacuuming, but with three kids, two dogs and a cat in the house, it was a chore that needed done on a pretty regular basis. So I dragged the vacuum out, hooked it all together (this was before upright, single-piece vacuums were common), and managed to get all three levels of the house done before she made it home from whatever errands she had that day. I even remembered to clean it out, rinse out the basin, and put the vacuum away, and was feeling pretty proud of myself.