My Dear Microsoft,...

My Dear Microsoft,

how I loathe you!

You owe me this Tuesday, and I'd make you spit it back if you were in front of me.

When the motherboard of my Windows 7 computer decided to kick the bucket, all I could find was the utter crap that you call Windows 8.

It took me months to make the thing do what I want for WORK (you know, that silly lil' thing that allows normal people who don't get bonuses the amount of a small country's GNP to pay the rent and eat each day).

I probably jinxed it a bit since just last weekend, I was thinking, 'Okay, things aren't too bad with the computer these days; no funny hiccough.'...........

But when I download a Microsoft file (one part of Windows Live Essentials! Just one tiny programme!), I don't want you to take control of a sub-part of the system and tell the computer to do things that I'd turned off on purpose LAST YEAR!

It all boils down to some cretin (I suspect that the plural form for this one is "a gathering of wankers") at Microsoft working at its desk and believing from the bottom of its lil' heart that 'Oh, I know what the suckers patrons need, and I'll code the commands to do exactly what I want, not what our clients may want. I (and me, and myself, and my superior ego, too!) know best...'.

When I noticed this morning that something was wrong, what did I do? I tried to launch the System Restore... only to have it fail several times, which took hours(!!!), because Windows 8 had started its mutation, and it had already done something to the Registry.

I know that I could contact you, my dear Microsoft, but, for having already tried that with other issues, I know that clients are either ignored or patronized, and I'm in the mood for bloody neither.

It's highly unlikely that I'll ever meet the cretin/gathering of wankers responsible for my losing this day trying to fix what I hadn't allowed in the first place, but if that were to happen... Weeeeeeeeeell, be ready for a friendly chat...

Sincerely (disappointed!),

Dru

Chi va piano, va sano...

... Chi va sano, va lontano.

Mother probably thinks that my passion for languages is a kind of weird addiction (and she may well have a point).

A few years ago, as I was writing some fiction, I started learning Russian by accident: one of my characters was Russian; I didn't want the three words I needed him to say in his native language to be ridiculous, and so I started investigating how the Russian language works. I'd always said that I wouldn't start Russian because of the many declension, but I found the culture fascinating, and I grew quite attached to that Russian character, and... there you go; one more language.

[Incidentally, when I can travel normally (right now, my right ear could explode if I were to take a plane), I will go to Ukraine. Kiev... be ready for me!... And I promise to learn basic Ukrainian, at the very least.]

I've been learning Romance and Germanic languages mostly.

In college, I learnt bits of ancient Egyptian.

When I (briefly) converted to Protestantism, my awesome minister taught us biblical Hebrew, which I loved.

I've tried to learn Arabic, but that was really tough to do all alone, but that gave me a taste for non-European languages, and that was how I started to learn Mandarin. [Of course, I'm that kind of weird. Are you even surprised?]

I cowardly stopped rather fast because the exercises were killing my throat. A friend, who's got an MA in Mandarin, told me that it was a very good sign, that my vocal chords were learning to pronounce the tones in Chinese... I stopped nonetheless because that was really painful.

However... learning how to write in Chinese prepared me for my great swap: the day I started learning Japanese. Without that detour in Chinese, Japanese kanji would have been much, much, much harder to start.

My last real holiday (a few centuries ago!) was in Japan. I could shop there, and chat with a few people (in Japanese, yes). When I watch telly, whether it's the news or series, I understand the big picture, and I can write (a few programmes help me type in Japanese, and they come with very handy dictionaries).

My current big problem is... reading Japanese.

I could be happy with what I can do, and with the tiny bits I can read, but I want more, and so I've decided to start doing the one thing that has helped me with improving my knowledge of other languages: grabbing a book, a dictionary, and fight with literature.

Now that I've seen the drama 妻は、くノ一 (Tsuma wa, kunoichi; My Wife Is a Ninja), I'd like to try to read the books by  風野 真知雄 (Machio Kazeno). 

[I'm still looking for an online store that wouldn't have shipping options from hell. Suggestions welcome, by the way]

Since I need a lot of training, I grabbed a book that I already own, and I started this (on a photocopy!!!): 

Wish me luck?

(And buy me aspirin for Christmas? ô.O)

Empress of Mars

A few months ago, I added to my official bio on Twitter "Empress of Mars".

I'd said that I'd explain why, and tonight's absolutely perfect.

I chose that title to somehow replace 'I've got a bridge to sell you, and I can get you a good price on the Tower, too' because I get to read soooo many things that make me think that 'If you're ready to believe that, then I've got a bridge to sell you', and the bridge-selling turned into a pseudo-claim on a neighbouring planet...

And so, now it's 'If you believe that, I'm the Empress of Mars'.

However, my title keeps expanding... unfortunately, and that's mostly because I feel more and more as if I'm not from Earth.

Just tonight, I was watching the Ig Nobel Prize Ceremony online. I was listening to it through earphones coz... it's night here, and I already felt bad for giggling so loudly.

And then... I heard music.

Music that wasn't coming from the ceremony... 

I took the earphones off, and the din seemed to be coming from... Guess where? Yes, of course, the restaurant downstairs. And yet, since the sound also seemed to come from upstairs, I went downstairs, in the courtyard, in order to check who was the actual culprit.

The restaurant was the culprit. There was loud music, and people shouting like banshees with their dominant fingers caught in a heavy door.

I went back up, phoned the restaurant, and... a man answered (Miracle!), and the poor bunny had a hard time hearing me because there were patrons celebrating a birthday.

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww. 

Pardon my French, but... Bloody bollocking hell! Do these bipeds think they're alone on the fucking planet?

The bloke got the banshees under control pretty quickly, but I shouldn't have to keep complaining.

Tomorrow... I'll try to reach the owner of that despicable place, and I'll ask him if he thinks it's normal to hear banshees several stories above his place whilst listening to YouTube on earphones. 

He'll probably apologize, but why do I have to take time to remind him to behave like a human being? Oh, yes, because I wasn't raised in a barn. It's either that or I'm really the Empress of Mars, and I need to go back to my planet to not blow a fuse because of banshees...

Dru,

Empress of Mars (currently living above arrogant plonkers who think they own the planet)

Invisible Jane

Why did it take me soooo long to post pictures of me in my Regency dress?

Oh... probably because I didn't want to take photos indoors, in a 21st century setting, and because my digital camera did this:

For several days, wherever we tried, I ended up being the invisible woman.

I'm pale, but...

'She's guilty!!!'

Preliminary note: I considered not posting this one, but the amount of sexism and victim-blaming I've read today is making me see red, so before I blow a fuse, I give you a growly post on a thorny topic...






I'm back home, and I'm angry... because I was silly enough to watch the news (I should stick to newspapers and Twitter; those can already make me growl, but usually, I don't get to put a face on plonkers saying stupid things).

So, there was this section about the death of a baby, killed by his violent and abusive father.

Allow me to yell this in red: WE MUST EDUCATE PEOPLE ABOUT ABUSE AND HOW TO HELP VICTIMS!!!

It was a complete festival of victim-blaming in that section:

- the neighbours: heard the shouts and the wife being beaten, but they did nothing and said nothing.

- the wife's mother and father-in-law: scolded the husband, and stopped going to see their daughter after the husband threatened them with a knife.

- the wife's father: he tried to protect her by telling her to leave, but now he blames her for staying.

- the various shop owners in town: saw the black eyes and bruises on the wife, but they "didn't want to get involved" because it was "none of their business".

When the wife got pregnant and her husband kept beating her, she went to the police.

What happened?

The husband got a few hours of community service. Awwwwwwwwwww!

Now, he's killed their baby.

I've just seen the Prosecutor declare calmly that the mother is somehow guilty as well because she didn't protect her child.

What about going to court six months ago and trying to get protection - and being left alone with a drinking sociopath?

What about being brainwashed into believing that she couldn't do a single thing without her husband (as per several shop owners' testimonies!)?

What about being another victim in this? Just a victim.

People who've never been abused can't imagine what it is. As I've already said before, my own mother is deeply convinced that I could have left my abuser in the wink of an eye, and that I should have been back to "life as it was before" five minutes after leaving him.

*snort* That's a pretty dream.

Abuse victims are in a form of hell on earth, and manipulation is a form of torture.

Yes, some mothers will react and leave when their companions start attacking their children. Some can do that, because that act of violence becomes a freeing trigger that helps them make a change.

Unfortunately, not all can do that, and the Earthlings should be told and taught that until they understand that abuse victims have their souls shackled and restrained.

I'm quite angry because what I saw made it clear that the wife is a victim, too, and the Prosecutor clearly felt contempt for her.

Her parents fled, the whole town turned deaf and blind, the police and the court gave a half-hearted slap on the wrist to her abuser, and now that the murderer she couldn't escape has killed her baby, she's probably going to end up in jail.

If I were the judge... I'd make sure she gets proper help, and I'd add the number of years the Law wants her to spend in jail to the sentence of the real culprit... but that's me, a Survivor who knows how quick and easy it is to fall for a predator.