spammers and self-reflection

This is impressive, sweeping, and nearly brought me to tears.

"'To thine own self be true.' Not sure how to do that? Make sure your actions back up your words. Manifest yourself through the things you say (no matter who you're saying them to) and the choices you make. Your actions prove your words to be true or false. If you can't be honest with yourself, how can you be honest with anybody else?" (Aisha Zamin)

There's truth in that. Nobody ever said we couldn't lie to ourselves, but we don't have to make it habitual.

Speaking of which...what have we learned from this latest exercise in self-indulgence?

Getting involved with people sucks. No, that's not it.

Trusting people sucks. That's not it, either.

Pretty boys are dangerous. Pish, that goes without saying.

People can be really stupid. Well, who doesn't know that?

I'll let you know when I figure it out. All I know is my gullibility meter is still way up there, and after all this time, it really shouldn't be.

Okay, okay, I might get the headpat thing now.

Meanwhile, in email hilarity...

Hello, I am John White of the U.S Army force

Of course you are. Do go on.

and one of the Commanding officers of the U.S Central Command here in Syria.

Am I wrong? Didn't the US pull out of Syria?

Please I urgently need you to help me safeguard the amount of money I have here in my possession which is worth the sum of eleven million five hundred thousand US Dollars (11.5 Million).

But of course you do. Interestingly, his email account is based off of eircom.net, which is an Irish email service. Running not a bad deal at the moment--thirty Euros a month gets you a full-access email account and hosting for a webpage. Such a deal.

I came across this mega cash while on the operation, as we were on the massive attack against the ISIS terrorist group

*cackles* "The massive attack". Suuuure.

and has made a private investigation and found out the money was left by the runaway terrorists so I decided to keep the money in my possession, but minding how horrible and risky it is here in this military camp, I deemed it necessary to look out for a trusted fellow whom would assist me in safeguarding the cash until I get out of this horrible zone.

Oh, honey. If you're looking for a guy you have come to the wrong place.

It was on this effect that I started search here online for an honest person whom I can trust to help me safeguard the cash and I came across your mail address and I want to know if you are willing to help me do this.

Short answer: no. Longer answer: Hell no, die on fire. But more pertinent, I'm now wondering which company sold a list to spammers that included my email address.

I want you to know that I am willing to offer you 35%-Percent of the total amount if you do help me safeguard this money and get it out of here Syria.

So generous. Gosh, thirty-five percent percent sounds like a lot. Also note "and get it out of here Syria". This is either a non-native English speaker, which with the name "John White" is somewhat surprising, or a spammer who's just really stupid.

I will email you the details on how I plan of moving the cash out of this place as soon as I receive your response

You'll be waiting a very long time.

Please get back to me ASAP

Not a chance in hell.

Thanks,

For nothing,

John White

I'll give him points for not being an African prince, but seriously, dude. Does this ever work on people?

an ounce of peace is all I want for you; will you never call again?

Here again. Every time. Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, but after this many burning wrecks ablaze? It feels too consistent to be casual, too fateful to be fancy, and...at some point, one must sit at the mirror and recognize the source of the problem.

And...I wish there was a simple explanation, I wish I had a facile description, neatly boxed and bowed. I wish I had an etched map to show you the constellations that led to this, the shoals that drew us in to crash at the shore. I wish for so many things.



But mostly, mostly, I wish I had that time I was told I had. The promised two weeks turned to two days and I was not prepared, I was not prepared for what was to come.

And I wish, I wish more than anything, I could explain what we both got wrong. Because it took both of our hands on the rudder to steer us here. This rocky landing was not accidental.

And we both forgot the rules, and lest that sound innocuous, they were rules clearly explained to both of us, to which we both agreed. We are both in the wrong. It is not just you, it is not just me, it is both of us leaving the path for the wild woods.

Never leave the path.



But the most frustrating thing, the thing that claws at my soul and pries open my eyes in hours indigo is--I am fighting, so hard, so very hard, not to fall back on old patterns. So hard to maintain necessary distance, and give us both time to recover. It is past pattern and it is born talent to make any situation worse. Because I am so, so very good at being kerosene for any fire. It is a gift.

I never wanted this, but it doesn't matter. I never wanted you hurt, but here we are. I want to rail at you for not thinking, for being laissez-faire with both our hearts and minds, but...I'd be screaming at myself, as well. Because I knew, even if I decided to ignore it. I knew and did it anyway. I knew, and justified bending the rules, then breaking them, because of the injustice of circumstance.

And you knew too. And you encouraged me anyway, because it got you what you wanted. Because it was easier. Because you had no respect for the rest of my life. Because because because, and again--it no longer matters. We cannot go back, we don't know if we can go forward, so we are stuck here.



Frozen in place. Relearning how to breathe without being locked up tight. Trying to dissolve that core of tension, resinous and thick, poured down my throat, the gelled frustration that locks my words behind clenched teeth and makes my hands shake.

I still have no words but pallid reassurances that yes, at some point, I will be willing to talk. That yes, I would like to accept friendship if it's what can be offered. That yes, I do want to see you again...at some point. Some point not now, when I can see you and not want...everything we had.

And yes, of course I miss you. I miss the conversations, I miss the heady discoveries day by day. I miss the sensations you were so very good at bringing me, of course I miss that. Gods, I miss that.



But no, that will never happen again. And if that means I cannot see you, cannot stand in your presence, even holding you at arms' length...then that is what it will take. I am untrustworthy around you. That is the galling, inescapable truth, painted across my consciousness. I cannot escape this truth. I cannot, will not, deny that I have failed to this extent, that I am this unwilling to control myself, that I would rather not think and just feel and vaguely hope there will be no consequences.

The consequences are here. They are dire, and they hurt, and I will be changed by both the knowledge and the pain of separation, but...that is what we are left with. This is where we are. The rocky shore, the splintered shale rocks to cut our feet, the stairs up the cliff that break and send us tumbling back down to the broken spaces, again and again. This...is all...we have left.

And it will hurt us, either way--traveling alone, finding the far distance, or trying to determine what path is safe together. When all I want to do is collapse on the shore, and weep until I have no breath left. That is mindless self-indulgence I can't afford.

And oh, I wish. And oh, I want. And oh, I hoped. And none of it mattered. None of it does matter, and I will not gainsay the one who brought us here. who forced the separation, because that way lies doubt I do not possess and mistrust I do not feel. But the almosts...the nearly-weres...those are haunting me.

Last night I dreamed I was in a large, dark house. Murmurings from voices, words I could not make out, drifted to my ears from distant rooms, but I wasn't looking for company. I was searching, room by room, drawer by drawer, cabinet to closet to cupboard, over and over. Searching for something I never found.

It doesn't take a genius to translate the meaning. There's no subtext. I suppose I should be grateful that it was frustrated searching over the feeling of your fingers on my skin, but I would have felt distress for either. And I know with great surety those dreams are coming, because my brain is a rebel, and those will bring me to very melancholy dawns.



And none of it matters. The decisions are made, the statues are toppled, the glass is shattered. We are now in the ebb of destruction, and all that remains are deciding which pieces to pick up, and which ones to leave behind.

And I wish. I wish. One more day, one more hour, one more minute, one more kiss...but wishes gain me nothing. I cannot live in should anymore, I cannot survive on unfair and not right. I cannot live...wanting what we had back again.

But I can live without you. Because I must. Because I have to. Because there is no other choice. Because my choices were made for me, but I was the one who made it clear those choices had to be made.



And I will learn to breathe again. And I will find the path again. And I will make my peace with things, because I have no other choice. And I will hope you don't hate me, in time, but if that's all you have to give, it's no more than I deserve. And I'm sorry.

I am so...sorry. But sorrier still that it's not just my ignorance. More sorry than I can express that you failed when you were given every opportunity to succeed. I will be sorry for that for a very, very long time.

And the train's on fire again. Maybe it never stopped. Maybe there were always embers burning, always seeds of destruction, in everything I've done. Maybe there was never hope in the first place. Maybe it was destined to go wrong from the beginning. And maybe, just maybe, you never understood the last time we argued, what we were even arguing about. Maybe for you it's always been about the push, the press, the rules that apply to everyone else but you. Maybe there was only ever lip service paid to respect, and understanding, and desire for more closeness.

Maybe he was wrong to allow you back. Maybe I was wrong to reach for more. Maybe you were wrong for seeing the opportunity to exploit, and never considering what it would mean down the road. So many maybes circling offshore, preventing departure.



Well, I'm not leaving. If this shocking turn of events is to teach me anything, it's that I know who supports me. I know where my compass points. I know how to get home, and I know who is waiting there when I go. Without judgment, without fear, with embracing understanding, and...yes, I would crawl through broken glass for that, I would walk through fire for that, I would give you up for that. At the end of all the days, that is my truth, and I will not walk away.

So, you're welcome to talk to me. You're welcome to ask me to explain, and I will do what I can. You're welcome to be a part of my life, in whatever limited fashion remains, as long as you understand I will not violate the bans. You're even welcome to be angry at me, to be hurt, to not understand, to rage. Those are all understandable.



But don't expect me to change the decision. Don't expect me to argue against it. Don't expect anything but acceptance that it has to be. Because I will not live in what if or if only. I will not second-guess what protects me, or who.

It will not happen.

And now, I can try to leave the shore.

(Pictures taken on the Sea of Greenhaven,the Vernian Lighthouse on the Blake Sea, Sea Breeze, the Chapel by the Sea, Las Islas and the Valium Sea.)

there's something less about her

hey man
I don't wanna hear about love no more
I don't wanna talk about how I feel
I don't really wanna be me no more

Me neither.

dress down now I look a little too
boy next door
maybe I should try to find a downtown [wh*re]
that'll make me look hardcore
I need you to tell me what to stand for

I know what I stand for. I just don't know if I want to keep standing.



I've been looking for something
something I've never seen
we're all looking for something
something to be

Still looking, sure, but...wary, so wary, now, on the other side of this.

hey man
play another one of those heartbreak songs
tell another story how things go wrong
and they never get back
my pain is a platinum stack
take that [sh*t] back



you don't wanna be me when it all goes wrong
you don't wanna see me with the houselights on
I'm a little too headstrong
stand tall
I don't wanna get walked on

Walked on, no. Walked with? Sure. Understood? That may be a reach.

I can't stand what I'm starting to be
I can't stand the people that I'm starting to need

It's less...can't stand, more can't stop getting frustrated by. Less fear of what I'm becoming, more fear of what I'm giving up. Less dislike and more....struggling to cope.



there's so much now
that can go wrong
and I don't need nobody

Well. That's inaccurate.



trying to help it along
it's the same old song
everybody says you've been away too long
everybody wanna tell you what went wrong
wanna make you like an icon

I've never been a good role model. In any world, I'm the living bad example. I have always been what people look to, to tell them what not to do.

That's not going to change...



'til you believe that they're right
I don't wanna hear about love no more
I don't wanna talk about how I feel
I don't really wanna be me no more

Kind of stuck here, though. How does one get away from oneself?

If I find out, I'll let you know.



you don't wanna be me when it all goes wrong
you don't wanna see me with the houselights on
I'm a little too headstrong
we're all looking for something
something to be

Who isn't?



hey man
play another one of those heartbreak songs...

everybody wanna tell you what went wrong

I don't want to admit that I already know.

wanna make you like an icon

Fat chance of that.

'til you believe that they're right--



At least I'm in no danger of that. I'd have to believe I'm a good judge of character to believe other people are right. Especially if they're the ones relying on me. Really, answer's in the question there, innit? Can't rely on the unreliable.

No wonder we're here again.

(Pictures taken at Craigh Na Dun, Fort Stygian, the Junkyard, Silent Town and After the Fall. Song by Rob Thomas, "Something to Be".)

she tried her best and now she can't win it

all my friends say "when you gon' play?"
I'm always too busy, I don't need to stay up late
but I change my mind when I see your face
'cause I trust you

It's here. We're here. Void stars, it's...there was no time. There was so much less time than I thought.



now it's on like Revlon, middle of the night
gimme just a minute, man, I'm higher than a kite
and I can't come down, but I know I'll be all right
Because I trust you

I...trust. The trust has not left. The trust is firm. There is still a fixed star to my wand'ring bark. That has not changed.

Everything else has.



when you say "hey, come on,"
I know I really, really want to
I trust you

That's never been the problem.



when I stay, I know I really ought to go
but then I trust you

And that, I should never have done. I knew better, but I pushed it aside. I knew the rules, but I didn't want to think about them. The backlash started before we ever got here.



I trust you
I trust you

The backlash was still a slow, persistent hum from the last time this misunderstanding flared.



Why are we here again? I did want to know, do...want to know. But...now it no longer matters. There's no going back, no rethinking, we are now on the far shore. Oceans of misunderstanding between us. There's no ship bound for home.



when you say "hey, come on"
I know I will because I trust you
I trust you

Now nothing matters.

I like to think that I am reasonable
but I can't tell you why I'm down on the floor
I check my hair, but I don't know what it's for
I know tomorrow that I'll trust you some more

Now I start crawling across broken glass. Glass I shattered. Glass I watched others shatter. Doesn't matter, it's still in my way.



when you say "hey, come on,"
I know I really, really want to
I trust you

And it's the only way out. At least it's on brand.

when I stay, I know I really ought to go
but then I trust you
I trust you
I trust you
I trust you

Maybe I do need a keeper, just so I won't get more cracks across the glaze. Though I have so many at this point, it's hard to discern my original pattern anyway.



I keep on making bad decisions cause I

I just have to keep going.

I keep on drinking what you're giving cause I

I just have to keep going.

I keep on making bad decisions cause I


I just have to keep going.

I keep on drinking what you're giving cause I--

I have to get out of here.

(Pictures taken at Death Row's mainstore (South), POST's mainstore, After the Fall, DarkRadiance and Little Bat's mainstore. Song is "Trust You by Rob Thomas.)

she has trouble acting normal when she's nervous

take me, I'm alive
Never was a girl with a wicked mind
But everything looks better
When the sun goes down



I can already see the changes in me. I couldn't stand staying human, had to change, had to, whether I was needed at work or not.

I had everything
opportunities for eternity
and I could belong to the night
your eyes, your eyes
I can see in your eyes...
your eyes



But that doesn't get me very far.

you make me wanna die
I'll never be good enough
you make me wanna die

Eventually, I have to reconfigure. Can't keep putting that off.



and everything you love will burn up in the light
every time I look inside your eyes
you make me wanna die

I don't want to be on fire again. Can I not be on fire again? What do I have to do not to be on fire again?



taste me, drink my soul
show me all the things that I shouldn't know
and there's a blue moon on the rise



I am...frozen in place. The air is very heavy. Moving is so hard. These things will come back, movement will come back, air will come back, but right now I'm in the grip of dread. And dread has a very specific weight.

I had everything
opportunities for eternity
and I could belong to the night...



So easy to slip away. So easy to give in. Neko girls don't have human concerns. Bunnies don't care about emotional pain. Clockwork singers only want their gears to keep moving.

you make me wanna die
I'll never be good enough
you make me wanna die

But I can only hide for so long. Eventually, I have to come up for air. And this air burns.

and everything you love will burn up in the light
every time I look inside your eyes
you make me wanna die



Decision is approaching. It's not the decision I want. I already know. And I am pushing at all the edges, to fend it off.

every time I look inside your eyes
I'm burning in the light
every time I look inside your eyes
I'm burning in the light
every time I look inside your eyes
You make me wanna die



That's not the solution either. But I so badly want...not...to have to carry this weight, as well. Why are we here?

Again, damn it?

(Photos taken on The Mist, and the note there is, adult capture/prey sim, so be careful if visiting, Lost Islands, witchlands, Quiddity, and slight warning there, adult, RLV-enabled AND Lovecraftian, take your chances, and Pandemonium, also adult. And demonic. Song is, of course, "Make Me Wanna Die" by The Pretty Reckless.)

and she walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the land

run away, run away if you can't speak
turn a page on a world that you don't need
wide awake and you're scared that you won't come down now

I'm not foolish enough, or arrogant enough, to be blithe about this, no. I'm very, very scared, and worried, and I see this could go so pear-shaped, so fast...



didn't I tell you you were gonna break down?
didn't I warn you, didn't I warn you?
better take it easy, try to find a way out
better start believing in yourself

[23:00] Emilly Orr: Damn it, [Exx]. Why are we here again?
[23:00] Emilly Orr: And I really want the answer to that not to be "Because Em's an idiot about men", because....there's too much truth to that.

Maybe there always was.

we build it up, we tear it down
we leave our pieces on the ground
we see no end, we don't know how



I have two weeks to figure out how to save things. Two weeks to figure out how to make it work. Two weeks of not being able to breathe through smoke and fire.

we are lost and we're falling
(hold onto me)
you're all I have, all I have
(hold onto me)

It doesn't seem like enough time.



now and then there's a light in the darkness
feel around till you find where your heart went
there's a weight in the air but you can't see why, why

It's all the time I have. It's all the time I've been given.

didn't I tell you you were gonna break down?
didn't I want you, everybody wants you
tell me what you're needing, give into your bleeding
never any feeling for yourself

It's not going to be enough time.



we build it up, we tear it down
we leave our pieces on the ground
we see no end, we don't know how

And we may already be lost.

We are lost and we're falling

I don't want to be lost. I don't want there to be no way out.



we build it up, we tear it down
we leave our pieces on the ground
we see no end, we don't know how...

And I already know, I panic when I'm cornered.

didn't I tell you you were gonna break down?
didn't I warn you, didn't I warn you?
better take it easy, try to find a way out
better start believing in yourself

I already know I make extremely bad decisions when I panic. And my decisions were already making some uneasy to begin with.

you're all I have, all I have
can you hold onto me?
can you hold onto me?

Or, put another way, can I hold onto...what I'm not even sure I have in the first place?

run away, run away if you can't speak...



I can speak. I just have no idea what to say.

(Pictures taken on Finian's Dream, which is a lovely Celtic sim, and The Nothing. Note of caution on that last one: it is pretty, but it's also adult land and heavily femdomme, so take that into consideration. Lyrics taken from Rob Thomas' "Pieces". Which I'm pairing back to back a great deal with "Someday", also by Rob Thomas. Because reasons.)

but somewhere here in between the city walls of dying dreams

Ooof. There's a disturbing list of sexual predators making the rounds, being collated by Josh Simons, and it seems to feature an incredibly high number of streamers and gamers.

This is extremely painful to read through, but it goes into more of the accusations. We're just at the forefront of this, so more information will be coming, but it's already a daunting amount of names to winnow through. I highly recommend if anyone finds a name of a Twitch streamer or a YouTube lets-player that they follow, at the least, Google them. Find out if there's any basis. Find out if it's become a he-said-she-said issue--not that that changes the accusations, exactly, but there is a difference between someone contesting something that's been said, and someone apologizing for something.

There's at least one name on the list that's causing some mild personal pain, but it does explain this video. At the time I first saw that, I was watching YouTube through Chromecast in the living room, where I have very little access to any video's description. So I really had no idea why Cryaotic was suddenly part of the call and response of abusers.

Now I know. It's very disheartening.

One of the things he says in the description is that nothing "physical" happened between him and anyone under-aged--and, I mean, okay, that's good, but that's also him acknowledging virtual involvement. Which rings some dire bells for me personally--I've never interacted with him, that's not what I mean, but one of my loves in the past...I'd been involved with him for two years, and one day one of his friends ported in with a breezy "Hey, dude, happy 18th!", and my heart hit the floor.

Because I can count. I knew when we became a couple. And I knew we became a couple before his birthday two years back, significantly before. So I was dating someone that effectively, in my mind, I considered a child. That was not a good day.

But. As scarring as that incident was, as paranoid as it made me, I was unaware. Cry, from everything I've been able to discover, was aware. That's an important difference.

I'm now unsubscribed from him on YouTube, but that entire situation is playing large on Twitter also, because there are a great many people who knew abusers on the list, and they're getting attacked because how could they not have known? Why didn't they warn anyone? Why didn't they care about the damage their friends were causing?

And I think the best answer to that comes from writer Seanan McGuire in a thread of tweets. She's speaking mainly of writers, but this also applies to any serial abuser. I'll be reprinting some of them here:

As we're discussing harassers in SF/F yet again, we're getting the aftershock wave of "how did SHE not KNOW?!" which always follows on, usually aimed at women who are shaped like me. (June 21, 2020)

And part of the answer is that all abusers have a type. Maybe that type is someone you consider hot, maybe not. Maybe it's a point in their career, an emotional state, whatever. And for whatever reason, some of us missed the mark.

(This is neither a mark we were aiming at nor anything to be ashamed of. It's just that some people--most often men, but some people--walk around painting targets on anyone they find attractive, and they skipped over us. We were fat, or mouthy, or too well-connected.)

And no, not every abuser is a secret genius. But the ones who last long enough to trigger whisper networks, who can build a career before they fuck up in public or on camera...they're canny, even if they're not clever. They know how to not get caught.

Several abusers have used me and @infamousfiddler as cover, because if the mouthy bisexual feminists like them, they can't be bad men, right? And we're fat frumpy girls with weird hair, so clearly they're not shallow predators! Right? Right?

...wrong.

We didn't know because they never indulged in those behaviors while we were around. They were clever enough to be careful. And because we were known to be friends of theirs, no one came to us when the whispers were brewing. We only get looped in AFTER the explosion.

No one deserves to be harassed or treated like a vending machine for sex, ever, for any reason. I have a good friend who is smart--brilliant, even--and gorgeous enough to be a little annoying. She dances pole. She glues googly eyes to her butt and spins them to amuse people.

Her Instagram is a wasteland of [a**holes] assuming that because her butt can see them, they have the right to demand she post pictures with less clothing, or send nudes, or sit on their faces. And they don't.

No one has a right to demand anything of her that she doesn't freely give. She's lucky in that she's not in a genre-adjacent job, so when she does cosplay at things like SDCC, she doesn't have to worry that telling a creep to fuck off will hurt her job.

For predatory dudes seeking camouflage, surrounding yourself with women where you know that the snap judgement of anyone who sees you will be "see? He has female friends he doesn't want to [f*ck]!" is a cheap and easy way to get it.

So I guess I don't have a conclusion here, beyond "he can be predatory when you're not in the room; him being good to you doesn't make him good" and "some predators don't [sh*t] where they eat, we really don't always know."

And a pertinent reply from zuyadragon:

how did she not know? easy. she wasn't his preferred type of target so he treated her well.

And, uh...there's this.

See, I know, I know, with absolute surety, there are good men out there. I've met many of them. I know several. They exist. But I think that's why episodes like this are so disheartening--when we think it's been long enough that culture would have caught a clue as to why using this sort of influence is so very wrong...only to be proven wrong again. And again.

Because while it's still wrong, it's one thing to point to a Weinstein and say, well, that's bad, but that was his generation. It was wrong, but they were raised that way. But--pointing at a 30-something gamer? A 20-something gamer? Who we think at least was raised to believe women were people if nothing else?

It's hard to take. And it's harder not to say things like "No man can be trusted", or "they're all like this", because...that's no more true than that all women want is a stern hand and babies. People are people, individual, distinct, different.

And, very often, disappointing.

you think I'm weak, I think you're wrong

“There is a greater darkness than the one we fight. It is the darkness of the soul that has lost its way. The war we fight is not against powers and principalities; it is against chaos and despair. Greater than the death of flesh is the death of hope, the death of dreams. Against this peril we can never surrender. The future is all around us, waiting, in moments of transition, to be born in moments of revelation. No one knows the shape of that future or where it will take us. We know only that it is always born in pain.”
~J. Michael Stravinski (said by Andreas Katsoulas, G'Kar's monologue from the Book of G'quan)

And, as a random aside...

[12:21] Lxxxxx Mxxxxxxx is officially going to the Special Hell.

Well, if it helps, you won't be alone.



Let's talk a little bit about F.E.A.R. That stands for Face Everything and Recover, and according to their destination blurb:

F.E.A.R stands for Face Everything and Recover. The region was created while experiencing some anxiety and used to resist that. It is a calming photogenic place with nature for relaxation, but also creative elements inside two houses for fun and aesthetics. There are several freebies in the big house for having some fun. More information about this region is at this link.

I've been to a great many 'psychological support' sims, for lack of a better word. And some of them are very calming places to wander, but almost all of them feel...somewhat sterile. Like zen gardens--pretty, but heavy on the artifice, the meditative organization aspect. This one? Doesn't have that feel, at least to me.



Some large part of this is mesh--as designers learned more about mesh, and designing/working within those restrictions and advantages, landscapers in general have been able to make much more organic forms. And texture artists have really stepped up their game. I can't ignore that I likely wouldn't have seen a sim like this back in 2009.



But stepping onto the dock past the beam-in point, and taking my first look around, it felt very much like standing in a living, thriving space. Nothing grabbed the eye as feeling strongly symmetrical, or cartoonish. It all looked, and felt...natural. That in itself can put us in a more relaxed mindset from go.



Do keep in mind that some of the furnishings have adult options, but it's a moderate sim. I'm fairly sure they don't want avatars rushing over and jumping on some of the sex sets for naked time. But I also know well that some of the sets with the best cuddles sometimes aren't PG pieces. We work with what we have.



If nothing else, this sim is a very good place to wander. There are scattered connected bridges, footpaths, piers, at least one rope swing, and a lot of places to sit and reflect, or cuddle, or simply rest. There are two homes I saw, and since freebies and toys were mentioned, I'm sure they can be found in one of those structures. But we could do far worse than taking some time, watching the rapids in the river, and engaging in some self-calming breathing exercises. If only for that, this sim is a success.

if I fall along the way, pick me up and dust me off

It's an odd thing, relationships. Over the course of the life, I've wanted to be in them, I've wanted to be out of them, I've wanted to improve, or mend, or break apart the ones I have. But I don't think I've ever thought, even to myself, I am looking for a love. It's always something I've fallen into, something that happens almost by accident, or something I actively resist because I just don't need the complication. Because if nothing else, relationships are that--vastly complicated, complex, and emotional things.



I said as much to a dear friend yesterday--that while I love new relationship energy, and I love when the relationship leaves that flushed, first intensity and mellows into ongoing care, I actively resist the actual falling. Part of it is, I think people are far too casual about saying they love each other, but I also know that's only a surface excuse. There is something in me that is almost...how do I phrase this...angry about the falling in love. Everything from how dare you disrupt things to I don't need this right now to...every emotion in between. I think also, a lot of it is I rarely know, once I have fallen in love, whether or not I should raise that with anyone, because...there's a bit of do they know, do they love me back, are they going to refuse me if I tell them, but there's also a fair amount of why would they fall in love with me? Hello, low self-esteem.



Some of it's made easier, at least on the grid, because few of my exes still log into SL. The vampire, the incubus, the occultist, the neko, the opportunist...they've all either fallen by the wayside or changed to alts I don't know. I'm still here. I'm still standing in the pixel space, trying to figure myself, and it, out. And while there are some I would potentially enjoy contacting again, there's not a single one that I would take back. Some because the breakups were just so savage; some because...we lost the feel of each other long before we stopped dating.



But I am enough addicted to nostalgia that I reflect, often. Where are they now? What are they doing? Have they changed? Does it matter? The idealist in me wants to know if they're happy, now, lo these many years later; the pessimist just wants to know if they learned anything from the loss. Not that I think I'm that much of a catch; far from it. I'm far more likely to be damage instead of desire, and I well know it.



But I do wonder. Less 'Do they ever think of me?', more--'What did they learn from me?' Did they learn anything? Did I change them? Because even if it's just in small ways that only I recognize, every love I've ever had has changed me. Some for better, some for worse, but always, always, there is change.



ALways, there's change anyway. Change is inevitable. Change happens whether we will or no, whether we fight it, or give in. I fight change a lot; the change I'm fighting never cares. Change is its own unstoppable process. Perhaps that's why it's feared by so many--because change, like death, is always out there, waiting. The inevitability of alteration; the inevitability of excision; the inevitability of abandon. In this, it truly doesn't matter what road we're on, all roads go through the woods.



My road is somewhere different. Far past time to bring the train to shore. Now we'll see how we fare without saltwater erosion and the weight of water eternally pressing. Of course, this does mean the train might catch fire again, but...I'm used to that, too.