A smallish note of thanks

I didn't know what to expect from my first rezday party. It felt a little odd to celebrate it, in the first place, since I didn't start to log in regularly until almost the middle of March. And to be completely honest, I didn't expect anyone to really show up- things are always busy in Caledon, and... "What poster?" asked my friend, only a few hours before the party when I asked him if he'd be dropping by. I was hoping some would for Gnarli's sake more than mine, since he went to the trouble of arranging everything. For whatever reason, people did, and what resulted was a lovely evening of the sort I favor in RL. Between the darling gifts (a cello! from Mr. Abel, a buoy with bells! from Mr. O'Toole, a tea-table from Lady Christine with scoooooones- just to name a few), the perfect music thanks to Sir Edward, the laughter, and good company from everyone who came, I really felt quite blessed and touched by everybody's kindness. Thank you all so much. :)

LULZ, and such

First, if you can't tell, I give up (I really do) on making the blog look like something. Wrestled with the blasted thing for hours and after much swearing, reverted back to... well, it's very brown, isn't it? But nicely mellow, so it'll do for now. Perhaps the next time I'm feeling masochistic, I'll give it another whirl, but not just at present.

Second... how cheated do I feel by the fact that I completely missed out on Middlesea getting shut down by griefers the other day. By the time I woke up from my restful nap, our GGLS and two vigilant Lindens had come and gone, and the sim was purring along like nothing at all had happened. Take a moment to imagine my disappointment, if you can, as I surveyed the utter lack of destruction and noted the dismayingly lagless performance. Where were the 50m banners of Trotsky? Where were the thousands of self-replicating clock spiders? Where were my lulz? Am I not furry enough for these people? Who do I have to click around here to get buried under a mountain of flying phalli?

These griefers have no respect.

Orcas and I: A Poem

Twilight comes. I gaze

on these gentle beasts, and think:

fricken' laser beams?

To paraphrase an old friend:

Reports of my not having a life have been greatly exaggerated.

Apologies, apologies

The more confused I am, the less I want to write. You can imagine, therefore, that my mind is typically a jumble, and that the last several weeks have been worse than usual. During most of it, I've wanted nothing more than to retreat to my cave... things have a way of resolving themselves and even when I'm present, it sometimes feels as though there's little I can do. It's not exactly wise or considerate of me to attempt to be sociable when I'm reeling from things that have nothing to do with the people or place I'm around- so I've mostly stayed off SL (and away from acquaintances in real life, though it's sort of pointless to mention them because they don't know I have an SL and won't be reading this, but whatever.)
Right, so... sorry? I forgot if I had anything worthwhile to say.

The Cape of Cod

It's come at last, the week to which I look forward all year: Cape Cod week. Writer's Conference week- although I won't be attending that this year because none of the classes appealed too hugely to me. The evening lectures are always surprisingly interesting, however. Last year they had Dennis Lehane for a talk and a reading one night, and although I actually tried to get out of going because I hadn't read or seen Mystic River or any of the rest of his stuff, it ended up being my favorite night of the week due to a rather thrilling reading of his work-in-progress, a novel (or novels, according to Wikipedia) on the Boston Police Strike of 19somethingorother. Which, normally, sounds like a subject that would've had me falling asleep on the painfully hard hardwood benches, except that the man has a gift for building suspense and tension.

It didn't hurt that he's kind of cute in person. Married, of course, but so is everyone else in the entire world.

Anyway, I'll be gone until next Sunday or thereabouts, assuming I'm unable to locate a steady internet connection. The wireless on the green is perfectly fine for posting blogs (sorry!) but I doubt it'd appreciate my attempting to fire up SL, even assuming downloading and running it didn't melt my laptop into a small puddle of plastic and metal and hate.

Therefore, instead of staring longingly at the virtual water as I'm wont to do, I'll be gazing peacefully at this:




...and being generally as happy as an unfried clam.



In Other News: Is it sad when getting hit on during a late night Slushie run at the Quick-E-Mart* makes one's day?



I'll be back in a week, .03% closer to death by skin cancer.











* All convenience stores are Quick-E-Mart to me.

Beware of Flashback

Decided to make more of an effort to post in my in-character blog in order to (as recommended by a knowledgeable soul) give me more of a basis from which to conduct myself in-game. Not that I expect to do much serious roleplaying, really; SL isn't conducive to that, yet. But it never hurts to practice writing, and I hate to waste a character, so... expect many trips to the Department of Backstory in between her reflections upon the present day.

Hopefully it will not all be OH-NOES-TEH-PAIN and have some redeeming qualities, but I won't be holding my breath and I'd recommend that you not, either. Okay? Okay.