I can't change it, if you don't have the will deep inside

Defeat awkwardness! And a perfect way to do so, at that.

Also apparently the Vampire Hunt is lining up vendors, currently, for an October debut, but...they don't exactly say what they're looking for, just show a coffin on the hunt art.

I suppose one could drop a notecard to Mm. Manna Dyden, requesting further information....

Desperation Andromeda, in response to external pressures, and the internal decisions of staff and venue owners, has decided to rate itself Adult--and suddenly, as of last night. This means if one isn't rated Adult--as in, one can no longer wander in Zindra, the Adult continent--one cannot get in to play.

What does this mean for the crew and passengers of the Doomed ship, and the Necronom VI station? Probably more freedom, without moral autocrats looking over their shoulder. I'm pretty sure neither Sveid Heidenstam or Oni Horan really wanted to change their search terms; I mean, seriously, what would Necronom VI be if tentacle rape didn't turn 'em up?

(And do keep in mind; some of the videos--especially on the Necronom VI blog--fall defiantly into NSFW. Just so you know.)

In the meantime, I am slowly settling back into access. It's very odd. I walk around Morgaine, staring at things in vague bemusement. I stare at my face, wondering when I stopped looking like me, or if I always looked like that, and it's only now that I feel changed, altered.

Are these things different? Is it just me?

It is home and not-home, at this point; there's no distinct dissatisfaction, more...disconnection. Maybe that's at the heart of everything, this pause between breaths just went on far too long.

I still haven't set all my groups to send notices again. Though I did host one gig (and that, oddly and wonderfully enough, did feel like coming home, or at least to some favored place I liked very much before, and am happy to find again), the profits went directly into rent instead of my usual mix of a third upload fees, a third photographs, a third poses or whatever odd gadget wanders across my senses. I stood on Morgaine's grassy shore and perused the new neighbor's dwelling, out in the bay, and looked up at the dinosaur guarding our parcel while I was gone.

The dinosaur's probably out of place, but then, I'm not paying him to be there. That I leave to Mr. Allen, who'll likely return to the death ra--the, err, ah, other security arrangements for the place, as soon as things settle back in.

Maybe I'll try the entirely unexpected and actually put a house up. Shocking.

But still, things just feel...off, somehow. And the more I think on it, the more I think it's me. Which means, I'll either settle back in, and go on with things...or, if the sense of oddity, of disconnection, persists, wonder why I'm still in town.

The problem yet remains--there's no other game to go to. Blue Mars is out of my tech specs, and I don't want to trade down to an MMO from SL. It just wouldn't be the same.

Still, there's this vague sense of...discomfort? Disapproval? In me. That I can't quite fully explain yet.

Still, I am back. And disconnected, discomfited, or not, it's good to be home.

...I think.