Life Experiences Research Logs, Series IV, rev 0

 It has reportedly been a week since the last log entry. It did not feel like that amount of time, or any amount of time. Time still goes on at its pace, and for now, I fought off the urges to disable or hide my wall chronometer. This log entry is going to be peculiar.

I had learned that some of my measuring devices I lent Garlond Ironworks were destroyed beyond repair. The room they sat in became more empty. I have been given generous prices for the loan, and suitable compensation for the item's destructions. But it isn't about these items.

I have worked under assumptions, and reoriented those assumptions as needed be. Only twelve years ago, the aetherologic community at large thought of Aethernet strands as direct rays rather than a condensation that progressively dissipates and reorganizes, but the changes in the ways this principle was seen allowed for improvements. The changes to the aethereal forces of light and darkness, and their influence on astral and umbral polarities will lead to improvements, already have in fact. It isn't about that.

I do not know what -it- is. And my entire life's work is to figure out -it-s and crack them open. To simplify. Except there is no known thread to follow, no work that I can do effectively either. I didn't always need the tools I had, but I got used to them.

There is one type of research I should still be able to do. Should be able to do even better than before. The one these logs are about. It's starlight celebration out there, friends are exchanging gifts and wishes and making plans to see plays and choirs and whatever else, fertile grounds for this research. But fertile grounds must be cultivated.

I have not yet related any concrete events in the past week because there hasn't been anything worthy of note. No strange party, no unexpected encounter, no reunion turned horribly right. No wonder either, the only real outings I had made were getting groceries, and, when they ran out, going to a diner before getting groceries again. Which felt weird because it felt like I had just did that the day before, but it was actually five days ago, so this was strange.

No stranger than my current situation. It actively fights me as well. When I try to figure the issue out, my inability to have it figured out discourages me from trying to figuring out. This does not make any logical sense. Meaning, of course, that the answer is emotional, not logical. I am not so far gone that I believe myself above emotions, but, there are no strong feelings on the forefront. I feel lost, after the sudden changes in... Everything quite frankly, sure, but I've felt lost before.

Every hypothesis. Every guess more accurately is simply another reason to tell myself this is silly. Maybe it's the cold. Maybe it's tiredness. Maybe it's unreasonable expectations amidst a changing climate. Maybe it's a lack of recent companionship rather than simply a cause of it. Whatever -is- is. This still hasn't been established.

I have changed cushions off of their spots a few times before returning them where they were. I have eaten easy to make dishes, and went out to eat that one time. I have started reading books and stopped at the first pages. I have moved a sculpture out of its alignment. I have contemplated cleaning up a fallen bottle of wine some times but haven't touched it yet, three days after having taken noticed of it. This was my week. This, if nothing else, is my hope the next one will be different. Should I force trying to find solutions? Should I continue to figure it out, and in what ways will I get help if need be? As long as these questions are on my mind, even my nights will not let me rest.

Life Experiences Research Logs, series III, rev 7

 

I started the week in my laboratory, doing one thing I've tried for years to avoid: sleep in it. This is why the place was devoid of beds or comfortable chairs with enough support after all, but after having brought the armchairs all the way there, I simply had enough energy for a last work writing the last log entry before taking a "six hours nap" in the freshly brought-in piece of furniture. The best of intentions cannot truly get in the way of what the body needs after all.

Stranger still were the events at my return to consciousness. (or a reasonable impression of it) Indeed, I was met by employees from none other than Garlond Ironworks, a company whose unique blend of bold creativity and moral tempering I somewhat admire. As a result, when they asked for the ability to rent at a fair price the analysis devices in the laboratory, I accepted right away. I did ask some more details even as the engineers were taking to a caravan nodes, tables and integrated analysis units alike, but they kept the topic under wraps due to security concerns. At this point I did have a few misgivings of course, but their promise of a report at the machine's restitution did do enough to tide me over. Besides, I didn't have that much time to argue given my own appointments. And so with one last look at the strangely empty laboratory, I went back to Vylbrand.

The operation in question was certainly large scale. A round table of the main Lomsinian factions along with the major beast tribes of the isles. A high stakes meeting for which an eye for trickery was certainly useful. Or at least would have been, if the meeting did happen. But, after having scrubbed for nascent magicks, secret crystal stores and hidden magitek devices multiple ships top to bottom, one of the factions, one of the pirate factions might I add, just decided not to show up. Just like that.

And so, what was planned as a punctual display of high end security ended up being an overblown escort for a handful of Sahagin and Kobold delegates with nothing much to do but take in the sights. Thankfully a specialist, I wasn't part of the poor crew that had years of training pay off by playing tour guides... It's a bit unfair to put it like that, I suppose at the time I was mostly annoyed that a handful of people can so callously let an olive branch wither like this.

Things took a turn for the interesting a couple of days later thankfully. With outside help, and a renewed motivation, the admirality led a direct operation that brought back the defecting pirate crew back in line, and then went one step further, starting a new draft of the relationship them and the beastmen are having. Great, if confusing news at the time. I am not privy to the details of the operation, but it did seem that things moved real fast all of a sudden for a reason.

This, to me, became apparent and clear once the operation was over, leaving me free to attend the very next day an Ishgardian conference at Saint Endalim's Scholasticate. And what a conference that was. You know you're starting strong when your opening statement includes facilitating the deployment of a cure for tempering. This sounds ludicrous enough a concept in itself, but well, some mused that the primal influence could be directly fought against when pigs fly, and the current solution involves flying piglets of all things, so I guess they were right on their money here.

The theory behind the fact is perhaps even more... Ludicrous and incredible at the same time. Up is down, down is up, birds burrow and moles soar through the skies, warm is cold and the frost burns. I am being a bit dramatic here perhaps, but apparently, these new developments required making the assumption that astral polarities applied to elements draws them towards stasis, while an umbral polarity draws to action instead. Not only that, but also that light and darkness merely corelate to these aspects rather than embody them. This will... Take a while to process.

Speaking of processing. Turns out the solution to the tempering problem was achieved via a Garlond Ironworks supercluster of Allagan processing center, which was pushed past its limit, and exploded shortly after yielding results. Turns out this was why they mobilized so many devices. Which are now burned and in pieces. Including mine. You know it's a good conference when a hefty amount of all the work you've done so far has been shattered both theorically and indeed, literally.

I tend to try my best not to drown my sorrows. But this isn't so much sorrows as a complex, as of yet untangled yarn ball of feelings. And it is one that stems from a once in a lifetime and then some recalibration of how we view the world. And after careful consideration of the pros and cons, I came to the following conclusion: "fuck it, let's get shitfaced"

And so the evening went. No specific color theme this time, just people dancing, and people pretending they're just about to dance but don't want to steal the spotlight. I'm the latter, obviously. I came in with a couple of people from the conference, but lost them in the crowd pretty early on. That or they left on their own accord. Their loss in that case of course. As for me, I shared Nanami Blasts which are somehow still named this way after fishing the owner from a hot tub, and then brought the one I shared the blast with all the way back to the lab... Which isn't that much of a lab these days I suppose, so all the more room for some enjoyment.

I suppose I should have left with fond memories of a good time, but strange moods have an impressive ability to perpetuate. And even as the tall, beautiful, naked Viera in front of me told me how much she enjoyed that evening and what we did on the armchairs (that was a pain to clean afterwards), all I could think of is that she looked sincere, but that I couldn't just leave that impression. Little old me.

Sure I had some studium experiences, cultivated a bit of dexterity, and don't let myself rush at the first bit I see before mechanically harassing it but by hearing the words of many, that's enough to make me amazing and I just can't buy it. Not because I think them insincere, but because I just genuinely don't feel like I'm putting a strong effort. There's no plan, no secret sauce, no carefully crafted, personalized effort or anything. And like... Do people just have personal lives they fill so consistently that my mild efforts are enough to wow them? Menphina's love, it sounds more pretentious than I'd like but still it's all like in this aspect as well, I was blind to a fundamental truth of this world. Like, do happy couples and joyous, adventurous singles alike just have bad sex on the regular? Enough to make me. Me. Look notably good in comparison?

Also I'd have to investigate if there's something in my taste that's different because four different completely unrelated people in the last three weeks told me I tasted great and it feels way too specific to be just a corny line. Except I can't investigate it, because I have no analysis machines because they exploded, but I can't be mad because they exploded for the sake of discovering a cure to friggin' tampering.

I'm just gonna rest for a day. Lie down. Think. I thought the current logs might have helped organize my thoughts, but reading things again, it all feels more disorganized than ever. And was barely related to the life experiences research. I've certainly experienced... Things. A whole lot of them but... Nevermind, I will simply publish this article, and at worst, what? Slight regrets at a sub-optimal ungraded unreviewed personal work? I'll be fine.

I'll be fine.

Life Experiences Research Logs series II, rev 3

 This week has been akin to a long rumble. You hear a lot about the proverbial calm before the storm, and it certainly makes sense as far as seafaring goes. But for landbound situation, proverb-inclined people don't give nearly enough traction, in my opinion, to the time before a storm where the thick carpet of black clouds is still rolling by, where the very skies seem to clear their throat before their thunderous opera, and where the air feels so heavy it might as well crush you... It sounds more distasteful than I feel about it. The anticipation and tension building in the air has this precious intensity to it.

It all started, in that regard, with drills. Not the ones in my hair, though they certainly have kept their shape so far, but training drills for the Maelstrom. I may not be part of the regular frontline contingent, my work as a consultant does extend to help train their soldiers. Training and teaching seem similar at first no doubt, but the practical aspects of reinforcing the knowledge instead of presenting new wisdom seems to have kept me safe enough so far. And in a battle situation, it's very much important to know how to do a thing instinctively, than to know how to do a great many things only by focusing, for calm, peace of mind and focus are among the first victims of any battles.

As of the time of writing, the events this drill is preparing the soldiers for have not been made public by the Maelstrom Admirality. As such, even though this log should not be made public by a time this will be a problem, I will refrain from commenting on operational details, and will instead either issue a correction with some possible redacted elements later, or group all operational information after the facts in a future entry.

The human aspect of this job is something that is, as a result, difficult to discuss in the details... But I do wonder a bit about these soldiers I trained. Do they think of me simply as this taskmaster? Do they look up to me? Is my somewhat distant position something unusual, expected? And should I change stance? It would make sense given my current little challenges and the logs thusly reported, but given the high danger of this situation... Maybe opening myself to people that might very well never return from a mission is too much of a risk, grim as it may sound. I do not think I have suffered too many losses in my life, but have met some who do. And for all the respect I owe to some of these, I hope I can delay for as long as I can this nostalgic glint, this permanent tinge of sadness, this extinguished relic of a light that adorn their eyes.

So anyway as I was musing these things the day after, I got a watermelon thrown at me. She did say "catch" first, and I did dodge, but yeah, it was a pretty weird encounter. I suppose some people feel like grabbing the attention of lone people pondering near the beach does them good. No matter the intent, I was somewhat cross, and having fallen in the cold coastal water after my dodge, a bit wet too, which added to my response. I was worried at first that I came at her a bit strong as a result, but then she kinda seemed to be into it and that escalated pretty quickly, to the point where I don't even know if that's plain weird, or if it's a common practice. Like, if I share my experience at a club, will the other party simply chuckle and say "Took you that long to get watermelonned? Ah, that's a classic trick"

Now that was a bit of a change of pace for certain. But to be fair, that girl had a way to make me forget about the looming world to focus on her instead, and I'm not sure I'm fully comfortable in the role of the stern, rigid woman hellbent on dishing out punishment and the likes. It was fun in context, very much so, but also kind of draining. The unexpected nature of that encounter probably didn't help either. Still, no regrets there.

After that, I'd say most of my week was spent preparing for the Maelstrom operation one way or another, or for the conference at the Ishgardian Scholasticate that will come right after. It's of course not ideal to devote some of my time to these acts that do not further my current researches. But, it's more than a single-minded social interaction study after all. In fact, making it single-minded would invalidate it. If my aim is to "get a life" to simplify, I need more than to have the freedom to enjoy it in ideal conditions, because, let's be honest, these ideal conditions are hardly ever there. And so, finding  the ability to balance income and outgoings, business and pleasure, focus and fun, projects and spontaneity, is a heavy part of this deal.

A few days later, I made plans to attend another evening of partying. A different place had this pink-themed night, and after some searches through my cupboards, I found a suitable-enough outfit that dates all the way back to a Little Ladies' Day charity drive a few days ago, if memories serves well. Point being, I didn't have many alternative, and it felt like it'd be straightforward enough. Go there, enjoy the party, voila. Which is, of course, when my door got kicked open by the Dumonds.

Now, no lock was broken or anything, the kick was more for effect since the door was previously unlocked. These two do make quite a pair in that respect. Still, it's funny. If anyone else entered this way, with their tone, I probably would have taken the nearest magical focus and start unleashing the power of the void to destroy all in my path. Defensively. But there is a complicity built up that let me know, even when their tone wouldn't, that things were going to be okay.

Turns out the crux of the situation was that the Dumond that last visited my laboratory reported the events of the evening in a more sensual and intimate way than how they really happened, and egged her wife on. Maybe seeing her jealous rush of passion was one way she gets reassured on the strength of their love, or maybe she just finds it all hilarious. I certainly would prefer not being a reoccurring victim of their games however, if at all possible.

Still, after the initial shock, the rest of the encounter was pleasant enough. I had this hot cocoa I was promise, even though it was at their home, rather than at a fancy place. We talked aquariums, pastries, and military organization, along many other topics I may have forgot along the way. And while I had my encounters with each of them separately, seeing how they play off each other in this expert blend of private dialogue, slight tension and playful displays makes me happy for them and what they have.

Since the encounter only took so long, I did come to my evening party next after. It was a bit late already, and while I skipped on the early phase where the place fills up, most of the evening seemed to have a bit of a quieter scene. Some of it was probably due to the way the place was organized, a bit more decentralized, with two bars across three floors, as many main scenes, couches on a half-floor and  the likes. Still, this doesn't mean the evening was quiet by any means.

First thing first was the fact I met familiar faces. The "Seat Thief" as I so dubbed him last time, certainly was looking a bit softer dressed in pink. We've crossed paths every now and then. I'm certain that he would have been fine with just my company for all the evening, even though he knows my interest, at this juncture, lie in the fairer sex, but still appears to have this very focused way of keeping up a conversation that need to have some ways to halt it. It's not so much that he wouldn't take no for an answer, thankfully. But he needs to be told that no in no uncertain terms. In these situations, I am pretty happy to be able to place these limits and think of myself, as I imagine many a person could, when faced with those people, take it until the rupture point.

My dancing game absolutely did not improve. And for that matter, my approaching game didn't fare that much better. I did hold a couple of conversations with interested parties, such as these two highlanders or that highly stylish Miqo'te that was absolutely not in theme but I didn't even mind. I also pushed for a little bit of rivalry between the two bars, which ended with the place's owner coming up with a cocktail now bearing my name. A full course in fact with an appetizer, a unique blend of faraway liquors, and a shaved ice desert. I thought at first that she was just pulling my leg, but later heard by accident that she was indeed calling this new item the Nanami Blast to other customers too. For a first timer at that play, I'd say that's not a bad achievement...

Anyway, I got way too drunk in spite of my early attempts at moderation. What was I supposed to do? NOT take a cocktail named after me even after all the other drinks I've drunk? And so I ended the evening napping against the outer enclosure of the place for a couple of hours, before I could get my bearings and return home to spend the rest of the night. Not my most dignified moment, perhaps, but not a bad night either. Sometimes, it's fine to just come back having been entertained, even without a stand for that one night. I am after all in search of fun, social relationships and meaningful partnerships, which is very different from being a sex-starved floozy.

Most recently, after a day's rest, I remembered some of miss Dumond's concerns about my laboratory's ill welcoming nature. And while my plan to avoid any sort of bed stands, I did consider that I had maybe a few too many couches and armchairs home, and not enough there at the lab. And so I took it upon myself, as a last act before writing this log entry, and going to the Maelstrom operation, to move some furniture. But of course, aethernet-based travel doesn't really work for these, and so I took the long road. Well, the ferry followed by the long road more accurately, with Anthy, my trusty chocobo handling most of the heavy load, and frequent pauses because my poor legs can only take so much.

On one of those pauses, near the frontier between Thanalan and the Black Shroud, I had a chance encounter with a strange, heavy-accented duskwright, Mr. Leaurant. A traveler himself, he appeared intrigued by the vision of a lone Au'ra sitting on a fully featured armchair in the middle of nowhere. To be fair, I probably would be. Talking with him certainly helped prepare my thoughts in preparation to this very log, and I suspect it should have fewer revisions as a result. Concerned and friendly in equal measures, it was a charming encounter, and one that might bring me closer to my objectives as well.

Indeed, Mr. Leaurant appears to have been in contact with a Viera dancer that could feasibly teach me, and I gave him my addresses so that he may put us into contact, once I return from my duties, and the Ishgardian conference after. I do hope she will be able to not merely describe the motions of a dance, but also their reasons. I find that I learn better when I know what led something to be the way it is, after all. After enough time to feel as rested as I'd be that day, we shared drinks, and I returned to my path towards the Lavender Beds.

Seeing things through the lens of these studies and the present logs is certainly an interesting perspective. Measured, get timed, dedicated, yet having to be open to what comes, it is a careful balancing act I probably make more mistakes in that I realize at this point. It's not dissimilar to reminding someone to breathe. They are most likely doing it already, but paying attention to it changes how it comes out. I travel on occasion, not necessarily to move furniture around, but chance meetings still happen. Would I have dismissed it were it not for my current activities? Will I change course once Valentione comes and goes? It's like deciding to act natural. It is at the same time important and self-defeating. But well, as long as I don't randomly break the flow of a critical military operation to tell Admiral Bloefhiswyn some corny one-liner about her eyes, I should be fine.

Life Experience Research Logs series I, rev 6

 At first, I will admit I was somewhat worried that, given the unconventional field of research I am investigating, and its just as unusual motivation, things might start of being quite arduous. In most new projects, the beginnings, full of their uncertainty, their many unknown factors, their wrong leads and their indecisions are the hardest part. Not simply because of the difficulty of the research in itself per se, but also because it takes a significant amount of time to get any result at all, results helping tremendously with motivation of course.

Thankfully, I am very good at what I do.

Now, sure, technically, I set exact objectives in my preliminary notes, and didn't outright accomplish those. But, these searches and attempts led to curious, enjoyable experiences that I went through, and that made me go further along in my plans. Given the many steps taken, and the way some elements intermingled, taking it chronologically makes the most sense.

I started by laying down the groundwork. I knew I wanted to brush up on my image, and that meant, among other things, a little change in hairdo. Now don't get me wrong. I've liked the one I was sporting so far very much. It's practical enough, and thanks to affixing curling irons to a frame of the proper distance, I had a long time ago divided by two the amount of time it was taking me to maintain those "hair drills" that I am quite fond of. But I still feel that it lacked a certain grace, a certain... Sensuality maybe. It was dignified, but not regal. I confided as such to this Lominsan hairdresser, a Roegadyn of repute that came warmly recommended. This was only our first appointment however, as he deemed he could not accomplish my vision with my hair being the way they were. That he needed "more material" and that if I didn't want to wait several months to reach an acceptable level, there was a way to accelerate things.

I took him up on his offer, and after giving a slip to an apothecary, I ended up with a lotion to make use of every morning for three days. Given the amount of tingling that happened the moment I used it, I felt compelled to give it a closer look back in my laboratory, and well, I'm sure many aspect join in to make it effective, but on an aetherochemestry point of view, that thing is so lightning-aspected that anything more and it would technically count as liquefied crystal. It is, no doubt, stimulating growth, but it also made intensely wet days look tame and dry, in comparison to how much they made my hair curl and tangle and twist and turn and frizz. Even after pulling on them or pouring water over them, they would snap back in this giant tangle of hair sitting atop my head in mere minutes. The end result was worth it of course, but in the interim, I simply had to throw a hood on top of it. If not for my sake, then for those of onlookers.

Undeterred by the hair jungle I was hiding, I decided the next evening to rejoin miss Dumond at her home, in order to plan some adventurous excursions. She wasn't home however, or at least, not the miss Dumond I was looking for. Her wife however was out gardening, and we ended up conversing. Then, she invited me to go to this hot cocoa place she remembered... Except she didn't remember at all where it was, while thinking she remembered for long enough for the both of us to get entangled in the Mist's network of winding streets. I couldn't help but respect her curiosity and friendliness through this endeavor, and after a few moments, rather than search for the mysterious hot cocoa place, I went and took her to a different place: my very own laboratory.

My intuition at the time (which proved correct) was that her inquisitive nature would be receptive to elaborate devices and scientific endeavor. And, given that I haven't shown them to most other people, this also checks out the two meanings of bringing someone home. Over the course of the evening, we discussed crystal tower architecture, phytogenic analysis, self-replicating micro-aetherochemical alteration, Allagan tomestone storage and rewritability, and she neither fell asleep nor fled, led some of those topic's questions and taught me some things about herself too. And of course we talked about Sammy a little. Not nearly enough, but that just leaves more room for next time. In retrospect, I probably should have considered that the devices activated for these little demonstrations cost me quite a handful of gils. They go through aether batteries like nobody's business. But I suppose I've made worse investments in the past.

Over the course of it all, we also shared some drinks. I do have some on hand even there, and they proved like a great way to break the ice, and to be a not-completely-horrible host. I wouldn't say it fully compensated for my poor attempt at a cocktail, my hair reveal, my lack of more than a single usable chair, the haunting sounds looping from the devices on hand and who knows what other faux pas I might not even have noticed... But it helped, hopefully. It also allowed me to note that I've gotten way more easily drunk than back in the school days, which if anything, is singing the praises to the Au'ri body's regenerative ability. And after my guest took surprisingly well in retrospect a patdown, we even went for round 2, this time actually finding a restaurant no less. The details of our conversation are admittedly more blurry at this point, but I woke back up home with no surprise guests in my bed, so that's generally a good sign.

Then, I checked my agenda. I did some groundwork before that day of course, and had spotted a public little show in this one place I didn't know at all, and that sounded like a good adventure. Now, chaining two drunken nights in a row wasn't the best planned of plans, but that's how I ended up rolling anyway. The club was charming, with a lounge at the main floor, and a multi-layered dance floor and bar on the basement. I came in confident but... I will admit I struggled way more than I'd thought. For the first hours I think, I honestly was a mess. I did established I didn't know anyone in the place after all. And even in my rowdier days, generally I got involved in private parties, not open clubs. I didn't even manage to order a drink the first time. Seriously, I tried, was unheard, tried again, wasn't the first pick, and when asked what to eventually pick, didn't see where the menu was and simply slinked off in shame. Then on the dance floor, I remembered that I had plans to take lessons for a reason, and just kinda shook vaguely in rhythm, tried to imitate someone here, hummed along next, but it was in equal parts embarrassing and exhausting.

That's when I decided to slink back to a couch. Not to awkwardly try to get to people on the other end of the couch on the sole basis we had similarly colored clothes, that was before and justly ignored. Here I just wanted to rest my legs anyway. Did so a little, next to a couple, a Roegadyn and an Au'ra, the latter sitting in the former's lap, and calling her her owner in an obvious BDSM display of affection. I left the couple to get my first actual successful drink order of the day, and returned to see somebody got my seat. but there was close enough room, so I started sitting, but then realized the Au'ra's tail was on that spot I wanted to sit on, and I know how irritating getting someone on my tail can be so I avoided it, and ended up bumping in the "seat thief", thus starting an awkward display of "where do I even sit" that... Actually worked as an icebreaker.

Now, it wasn't all smooth sailing from that point on, but that couch disposition ended up kinda working out. I'm pretty sure after a while that the seat thief was trying to hit on me, but that I was in kind of a gayer mood, which reignited his dancing spirit. But around that point, the Roegadyn decided she'd use her willing property to make me have a good time, and that leaves of course interesting questions such as whether if you use someone that's property to kiss someone else it counts as the slave kissing, or the master kissing through the slave, and given my very close brush to a much less sexy display of slavery I probably shouldn't be intrigued by these questions that much, but anyway, we ended up deciding that the club wasn't the ideal place to continue, and went home... All in all, it feels like a string of bad ideas that turned out well. It was a bad idea to get there, a bad idea to drink so much, especially that one time I didn't check on my drink before drinking it while it was manipulated by someone else, and then it was a bad idea to go on the first evening to a matronly roegadyn's home. But I did all of that, and got quite the passionate night for my troubles.

One of the other notably strange aspects of it all was that I was pretty light in the description of the Roegadyn's slave. But, she is a Ra'en with white hair, and limbal rings just as white, whose horns pointed forward, and... Other face details that overall made her look quite similar to myself. Not completely identical or anything, but it would take surprisingly little glamor to play twins. That makes me strangely curious about her, because I'm superficial and self-centered like that apparently. It'd probably be even closer if I didn't -still- have the poofy monolithic hair at that time. Yet I can still get some, ha!

I was completely drained after the evening however, and didn't take care of my needs nearly enough, which made for quite a dreadful awakening. And so, I just took a day for myself, to recuperate a little. Read journals, ate sandwiches, then started an adventure novel. This day had nothing eventful happen, and that was the plan, proving that once again, I am excellent at what I do.

The last day before writing the present report was spent preparing for a dinner, and then enjoying it. Of course, preparing for a restaurant dinner isn't that much work, but it did imply in this situation deciding what dress to go for -and I may have overdone it with that long elegant yet sexy sleeveless design one- and finally, my second hairdresser appointment. My hair fell flat on my shoulders in the morning, and was finely rearranged in a complex set of loose, lush drills, ribbons, braids and all that, overall making those three to four days of embarrassingly spherical hair worth it. At least Samantha seemed to think so.

Samantha, in this case, is the former teacher that helped me investigating the matter of the enthralled headmistress (that is still a developing situation) Not miss Dumond, which is also a Samantha. In any case, since on our first encounter I found her logical approaches charming and comforting, I offered her dinner, and she took me up on the offer. That was, by the way, set up before professor Ravenheart's challenge, because I'm just that much of a smooth operator.

Comfortable was how I'd say this dinner turned out. We went to a restaurant held by a former academic, reasonable prices, large servings, and of course, the conversation was... More or less a first draft of this log, told through anecdotes. I was quite surprised to learned Samantha wasn't single too, she had this sort of demeanor I suppose, though her looks very much justify on their own the fact she "has a mate". This sounds like a crude way to put it, but she was the one putting it in those words, in her usual... Raw demeanor. Which contributes to the comfort of talking with her of course. What you hear is what she means. A quality even my analytical self cannot aspire to, at least not to that degree. Point being, I'm not certain yet whether she could be the best or the worst wingwoman ever.

Now comes the matter of planning what comes next, taking the current developments into account. I'm thinking of three main avenues of progress once more.

First, I must reach the intervening parties I had planned on joining. That means finding a dance teacher, and a painter. I had leads on the former, and haven't heard from the latter, though apparently, Samantha paints as a hobby, so that's an interesting out. I should probably handle the painting first, since I doubt I'll be able to maintain such an elaborate hairdo for weeks, especially not if I dance myself to exhaustion beforehand.

Second, I must refresh my coffers. I have some reasonable savings of course, but for this project, I am going to be able to take less financially viable opportunities for a while. As a result, jobs that can be done in a reasonable amount of time and not detract too much from my current focus, or can otherwise provide side opportunities shouldn't be ignored. These drinks won't pay off themselves. I've had some Maelstrom drill running already planned for later this day, and in general, heard about some operations building up in the outer rim of La Noscea that could probably use one such as me.

Third is maintenance I suppose. Maintenance of myself, I'm no machine after all. But also maintenance of those relations established previously. Every person is connected to others, connected to others, and from connection to connection, I might spool that spider's web of relationships until I find the right person. Maybe I even found them without realizing. Point being, that might be an analytic sort of a challenge situation, but this doesn't mean I should simply toss away once I've used them the many lovely people I'm meeting along the way. I know I'd want the same were I a subject rather than an experimenter.