Wednesday, August 17, 2016

I can hear myself singing that song, over and over until it belongs to me

Malware programs have finally leapt to mobile devices. This is a really, really bad sign.

Want a truly random piece of art? Go play. The system creates the art; you name it beforehand so it has something to work with. It's an interesting concept.

Google will soon kill off Chrome apps. Their reasoning is that since the net is a more powerful entity now, than when they introduced the apps system, that there are other, better ways to do the same things.

If you're worried your system's going to be affected, realize you have until 2018 to find alternatives, so it's not going to happen next week. Google's just letting Chrome users know well in advance what they plan to do.

There's an upcoming Lost Boys television series. Start dreading all the things now.

This may be the best family tree for the Norse gods ever.

Need fake, royalty-free music to use any way you desire? Go to the Fake Music Generator site and 'create' to your heart's content. No content claims, no worries, just royalty-free themes to use in your animations, vlogs, let's-play videos, and whatever else you might need.

And let Kyle McLachlan describe the plot to Dune completely in emoji. It's brilliant.

Saturday, August 13, 2016

when meaning's gone from every word

(( RP mode...sort of. ))



There are times in life where recovery demands change. I went to hide in the shadow spaces, to breathe in the fae lands, as diminished as they are. I needed to know the face I'd grown accustomed to seeing in the mirrors of Sakura was not the one I wore at present.



I feel frail, fragile, weak. And it is the greatest struggle not to pull my tattered shields around me, strap on what armor I have left, and pretend I'm stronger than I am. It is so very difficult to remain open to wisdom from the universe, to the things I need to hear. The things I would not hear if I was armored, shielded, shut down.



I recognize so few of the fae now. The Unseelie Court scattered to the four winds, and to this day I do not know where. Imprisoned as I was on the forbidden isle, I think I forgot how to even ask after those I'd known when I broke free, or was released, from the Queen's punishment.



But even the edges of the fae lands are healing. And my walls are currently paper-thin, ribbons of their former sun-baked clay and solid stone. I will heal, even if I have to retreat again and again, make myself believe anew that I am more than what I pretend to be. More, greater, a deeper presence, a stronger core.



And yes, if my gates are held open, there will be weak points in my structure. If I close those off, everything off, become a smooth and perfect sphere, no doors, no windows...well, what has no way in, also has no way out. And I no longer wish to lock myself away from the whole of the world. Just those parts of it that are currently hurting me.



In the meantime, the shadows will comfort me, when I cannot stand the light. I will reinforce what I need to, recover, remold myself yet again as I move through the glowing waters that were formerly home. I will heal and find comfort again in the mask I wear, for it is teaching me what I need to know about the human world, again. And I will seal off the access points I need to, to survive. Rebuild my walls, to grow strong again. And reemerge whole enough to continue.

After all, it won't be the first time.

when meaning's gone from every word

(( RP mode...sort of. ))



There are times in life where recovery demands change. I went to hide in the shadow spaces, to breathe in the fae lands, as diminished as they are. I needed to know the face I'd grown accustomed to seeing in the mirrors of Sakura was not the one I wore at present.



I feel frail, fragile, weak. And it is the greatest struggle not to pull my tattered shields around me, strap on what armor I have left, and pretend I'm stronger than I am. It is so very difficult to remain open to wisdom from the universe, to the things I need to hear. The things I would not hear if I was armored, shielded, shut down.



I recognize so few of the fae now. The Unseelie Court scattered to the four winds, and to this day I do not know where. Imprisoned as I was on the forbidden isle, I think I forgot how to even ask after those I'd known when I broke free, or was released, from the Queen's punishment.



But even the edges of the fae lands are healing. And my walls are currently paper-thin, ribbons of their former sun-baked clay and solid stone. I will heal, even if I have to retreat again and again, make myself believe anew that I am more than what I pretend to be. More, greater, a deeper presence, a stronger core.



And yes, if my gates are held open, there will be weap points in my structure. If I close those off, everything off, become a smooth and perfect sphere, no doors, no windows...well, what has no way in, also has no way out. And I no longer wish to lock myself away from the whole of the world. Just those parts of it that are currently hurting me.



In the meantime, the shadows will comfort me, when I cannot stand the light. I will reinforce what I need to, recover, remold myself yet again as I move through the glowing waters that were formerly home. I will heal and find comfort again in the mask I wear, for it is teaching me what I need to know about the human world, again. And I will seal off the access points I need to, to survive. Rebuild my walls, to grow strong again. And reemerge whole enough to continue.

After all, it won't be the first time.

Wednesday, August 10, 2016

the hardest part of ending is starting again

Yesterday, I got an offline:
[2:05] Xxxxxxxxxx: When's the last time you said something about me that didn't involve the word "manipulate"?
In our past few conversations, before he decided we were shattered, it did come up quite often. His manipulation of me to get what he wanted, or just to affect me in a certain way towards a certain outcome, or for all I know, just to upset me so he could score points in a mental tally. I truly have no idea, but he is right; 'manipulate' came up. Manipulation, manipulative, manipulated; it was all there. No breakup is ever easy.

There were, there are, good things about him. He's funny. He's smart. He's witty, which is even better. He likes many of the same things I do. He did fulfill needs that I am trying to figure out how to fill now that he's gone, and I don't just mean sex. Though he's really good at that, too. I do miss him, now that he's gone. I can't, and I won't, demean that. I do miss his conversation, his intellect, his presence, and that's not going to be easy to replace. I'm not going to try.

But, while I was sorting through all this mentally, and wandering the grid through various odd events, this happened:
[23:37] Xxxxxxxxxx: How manipulative am I today?
Wow. That's...well, I'd say very, because that is an alarmingly manipulative statement. I asked a love about it, in fact:
[23:38] Emilly Orr: The answer is, I don't even respond, right?
[23:39] Fxxxxx Axxxx: Yes
[23:39] Fxxxxx Axxxx: Because that is, ironically enough, manipulative.
[23:39] Emilly Orr: Okay.
[23:39] Emilly Orr: And I agree, but...you know how hard this is for me.
Because ignoring conversations that people send to me? It has always struck me as unutterably rude, and disdainful, and cold. Not to respond to any conversation, even hurtful ones, bothers me, flat out. I don't know that it's ever not going to bother me.

I must have dithered about this too long, though, standing firm on my 'no responses' stance. Because a bit later he sent this:
[23:50] Xxxxxxxxxx: Anyway, if calling me manipulative is how you absolve yourself of any responsibility in your own mind, go for it. I've been called worse. See you around.
I'm not absolving myself of responsibility in this. I am broken in entirely the wrong ways to be with him, and none of that breakage is his fault in any way. I have issues that I'm working on, some with my therapist beyond the screen, some with my loves, but whether that work results in any cumulative change may take months, or even years from now. Right now, in this moment, there are too many ways to slip through my cracks and cause great harm, and that is no fault of anyone I'm with, it's just the fracture points from earlier damage. I am not as strong as I was. I am not as capable as I was. That is a disturbing thing to admit, a saddening thing to admit, but unfortunately, right now, it happens to be the truth.



I am clinging to the concept of kintsugi in these moments, because the Japanese have taken a very unique approach to broken things. If something of value breaks, that is the technique used to make it into a thing of value again. The fracture points become very visible, but at that point, part of the design, adding to the piece, not subtracting from it. It is no longer what it was, this type of repair work says--but it can still be beautiful, useful, and be of value.

And I am still of value--both to myself and to those who love me. I am of value in all worlds, not just one. And just as I do not absolve myself of responsibility, so do I not absolve him of responsibility for the breakup. If he had been willing to talk rationally, instead of lashing out, we might not be where we are. If he spoke first, without the need to cause pain, we might not be where we are.

But we are here, and there is no going back. We were equally at fault for the disaster of separation, and we both hurt, and I at least pine for what was, what will not be again.
[23:57] Mxxxxxxx Bxxxxxx: I am sorry he is doing this to you.
[23:59] Emilly Orr: It's who he is.
[23:59] Emilly Orr: At least he went past the seven days. I suppose that's something.
I suppose it is. For what little value that holds, for whatever reason, he did wait. It's something that is not negative, that I can carefully stack with all the other things about him that are not negative, that I did like, that I did, perhaps, even love...and then carefully move those into storage, where they can no longer harm me.

Sunday, August 7, 2016

when what's real becomes just another source of hurt

Silence stretches. Endless expanse of quiet, solemn silence, far too much space for thoughts and self-recrimination. But quiet. It has been quiet.

The first day was full of dread, nerves strung taut like wires awaiting unpleasant vibration. Sleep was broken, unsettled, the fragments of remembered dreams all about plans that went awry, connections that were missed resulting in breakage of bones, hearts, cities.

But when the second day passed with no contact either, breathing was easier. And each day that spooled on became another small balm on the wounded spirit, until, close to the end of the seven-day unspoken limit I'd set myself, I thought perhaps, he'd learned. He'd grown. Enough to give me the space I needed.

Enough to perhaps, begin a conversation again.




Today, looking through my friendslist idly, thinking about other things entirely, I noticed something. He wasn't on the list anymore.

At some point over the past few days, he had unfriended me. That I hadn't noticed was not that I'd discarded him, or moved on callously and coldly; it was because even looking
for his name on the friendslist made my heart ache. I had chosen to take the space, the silence, breathe through old and new issues, and not make more trouble for myself in the process.

But he'd left. He hadn't been respecting my need for space. He hadn't been waiting until I spoke again, giving me the space I'd asked for. No, he'd left in a fit of pique, thinking that lashing out in this way would make me run back to his side and beg to be refriended.

It was all a ruse. It was just another manipulative attempt, in a string of other manipulations. It was the purest example of
exactly why those closest to me wanted him gone in the first place.

Maybe I needed just such an example. Maybe it finally hurts too much to ever reach out to him again.

Saturday, July 30, 2016

it took the death of hope to let you go

I have been painted as wrong by others before. This is not new for me. I have been painted as cold, deceitful, ruinous to hearts and reputations, uncaring, insensitive...the list goes on, I'm sure, for those I've hurt in the past.

This also is not new for me.



What may be new...what may be very new...is feeling both the villain and the victim of the piece.

That...that, I think, is very new, and I'm still unsure of how to react.


All that I know for sure is that I cannot react as I did before--I cannot pull away, hide in the hills, shut down all forms of all communication and stay, frozen and still, until there are no thoughts to think that are not dead and dust. I owe too many for too much, and I am part of the world again. I like being part of the world again. I want to stay a part of it, acting within it, learning and growing and changing with its seasons.

So I cannot pull away. But the victim in me wants to hide, and lick her wounds, and heal in privacy; the villainess in me wants to build a tower, and climb to the top, and cast lightnings to the distant ground. Neither are the reactions I want to have; neither are the reactions I need to have.

And neither are the actions I need to take.

For now, I wait and see, wait for answers, wait for prophecy to tell me where I will be next. My path is clear; that I don't want to take my first steps on it is only my hesitancy talking, my wounded heart begging to hold back. Nothing is final until it's final, and...these days, not even then.



But some actions, once taken,
are irrevocable. I want to be very sure, this time, before taking them. No more takebacks. No more hesitation. It's not up to me, after all. And all I have to do is watch for ashes on the wind, or wait for the roses to bloom. No more questions, then. Just answers.

And actions.


And my Hair Fair coverage sucked this year. I think I'm done with trying to feature every single hair seen, it's just not working anymore.

Friday, July 15, 2016

where there is desire there is gonna be a flame

Ah, Hair Fair, how I love and hate you...

So the demo packs are pretty much coming in no sort of order, so I'm just unpacking as I go. This run: Tableau Vivant, adoness, [bade], Rowne Salon, little bones, and [NANI].

So this is Carrie from Tableau Vivant:



It's...I've never been fond of top-knot styles, but for one, it's not bad.

This is Charlotte, a two-part braided style, shown in blonde:



This does seem a little odd with the sloping up towards the back.

And this is Miranda, shown in black and blue from the Color Fades hud:



Windy day hair? You're covered. Short, spunky, fun hair? Also covered.

Next up, adoness, with Astrild. Strangely, the color on the hair is deep red, but the colors for the shaved hairbases included were only black, brown and white. (Though they do say the hairbases are tintable?)



Cleto came in brown:



And Iphito in blonde:



Is this going to be the year of the fauxhawk?

[bade] is a male hair salon, natch, but I'm trying 'em anyway. And the first one would go well for unisex: this is Clint in the bright ginger carrot tone:



Reminds me a bit of Helena Stringer's designs, but simpler.

Jamie's also pretty good as a unisex. I'm showing it in a deep cherry with some shine:



I like how glossy the hair texture is.

Ronald also works as a short, choppy unisex style. I decided to show it off in silver-grey with roots:



In fact, Samuel is the only one that really doesn't work as well for girls, too:



Then Rowne Salon with their three styles. This is Leila, in a shade from the Light Brunettes hud:



There's a little gapping on the scalp with the demo; again, I'm hoping it was just the lack of an included alpha layer.

This is Skylar in a shade from the Dark Brunettes hud:



And this is Yasmine, dyed from the Reds hud:



Then we have little bones, who sent along a video preview which is stunning in two separate ways: first, how far we've come in terms of representing models and runway shows in Second Life, which is pretty amazing, and second--these are professional models, I'd assume, and none of them have an ankle lock so that their feet don't look broken?!?

Anyway, my only problem with the video, really, was they didn't identify the hair shown. Rats.

So here's Babe, tinted from the Chromatic color hud:



And Babylon, tinted from the Dip Dyes and Fades hud (apparently the bright pink section is their version of a demo):



This is Pose, dyed with the Melange hud, and I learned something when trying it on:



Note eye pastie. Part of the occlusion box, or the in-built alpha layer, or something, blocks out part of the mesh dress. This is VERY BAD, little bones, VERY VERY BAD. Emi not like. Emi not want. Emi--as well as any other female--cannot wear on G sims, which Emi does visit shopping from time to time!

And finally Zelda, which you get two pictures of:



because the first picture looks normal, save for some scalp showing, because little bones doesn't believe in including alpha layers...but THEN:



THIS HAPPENS. The same damn alpha occlusion hiding part of the dress! Please, little bones, for the love of all gods, FIX YER DAMN HAIR. This is ridiculous.

And I can't remember what dye set I used on Zelda. But the bobby pins come in five different shades, so...that's kind of cool, at least?

Last, [NANI], with Nini in blonde:



And Sophie in bright lavender:



Lita is not shown, because I can't find where the picture went. Not off to the best start this year.

(The usual end rundown: I'm in my Maitreya Lara mesh body, with Noellia skin [cleavage/red brows] from 7 Deadly Skins, lips from the Holiday Gloss pack from SN@TCH, eyes from Inkheart, they're Janus in Heaven, and the dress--when it shows up--was from Soulglitter. I think it may have been a group gift.

(My Windlight settings are Canimod.)


Friday, July 8, 2016

I don't know what to believe in, you don't know who I am



Silence lifted last night. Still not sure if it's a good thing. I know if silence descends again, it won't lift, for any reason.

Or so I tell myself...

Is my heart too tender to hold the line? Am I too gullible to keep from getting sucked back in? Was it unintentional? I thought it was my choice...was it? Confusion doesn't help me, but it seems to be all I have.

So...I guess I wait and see. Wait for the next wave to come in, and see if it sweeps me far from shore, or back to land. We'll...see.

Thursday, July 7, 2016

calling me, calling me, as you fade to black



Stasis. That breathless sensation of waiting. For the other shoe to drop. For contact to resume. To be sure contact will never resume. Waiting to see if I've become another chapter in the ongoing legend, instead of my own person, with my own flaws and reasons.

Stasis. Waiting. The fearful dread, watching the horizon. Watching the skies. Planes or pianos, what will it be this time?

Stasis. Clinging to what is, trying to release what was, and waiting to see what will be. Dark anticipation, hopeful cynicism, eventual reaching for recovery. Finding all the pins beneath the skin, learning which ones to pull out and which to leave in. The waiting. The waiting. The horrid waiting.


Monday, July 4, 2016

but still you wake and know the truth: no one's there



"Just because you miss someone, that doesn't mean you need them back. Missing is just a part of moving on."
~Mitch Cuento



Sunday, July 3, 2016

and it doesn't seem to me we're each others' better side



Some actions we cannot take back.
Some things we cannot fix.
Some things we cannot unsay, or undo.

I'm sorry.


Friday, July 1, 2016

so I learned to listen through silence



(I still don't have the words, so I make bad art. Full version's up on deviantArt, not that it's any better.)

Thursday, June 30, 2016

eyes wide shut, unopened



And I cannot speak, I cannot speak, there are no words to say...

...and...that's really where we stand. I'm not even sure there's a reasonable summation. So...I suppose I won't keep you posted?

Eventually.

Or not.

Monday, June 27, 2016

we'd move from the shadows of the wall

Precise cuts. Deliberate wounding. Never arm someone with the weapons to use against you, it's a rule. But I've never been able to function that way.



There was contention. I felt there was an argument to come. And I pushed. Knowing the likely outcome, I pushed. And then...

"Goodbye."




I've never had a rational relationship to that word. I can hear it if I know it means for right now. I can hear it if it's just leavetaking, temporary, no sense of permanence.

I cannot deal with it if I think it relates to an ending. Because it becomes permanence in that moment, for me.




I'm too literal. It's been a fault for a while. But I'd also passed out heavy arms, precision rounds, scattered mines to deploy in my wake. I wasn't the one who armed them. That was never my choice.





Over. It's over. It's over. And I hadn't figured out what it was in the first place...

Saturday, June 18, 2016

what is joy in league with sorrow?

Doing some housekeeping, as long as I'm updating the colors and the theme. Absinthe as a post tag is now gone; it's been replaced by a general Winterfell tag if something in the entry just refers to Winterfell Absinthe, or, in the case of the one post mentioning Mere Henriot's Elixir, a new Kickstarter tag. (For it was originally a Kickstarter project when that tea debuted.)

I also discovered I had some spelling errors! So now contemplation as a tag is all spelled correctly, as well as frustration. (Apparently I had one version with two i's. Why?)

Crafts is now gone; I lumped it under crafting. Clothing and cats are now gone, too; there was only one entry each to them, anyway.

Obviously there's more work to be done, and I'll get to it when I have time, but...it's a start.