remember my heart...how bright I used to shine

Struck me mid-morning, caused me to shake my head. It's been weeks since my furbaby passed, why am I not over all of this, why am I stuck in place, why am I not processing this and moving forward with new life things...

Then I went back to the entry.

It's been five days.



But, day or so back, I had the same feeling, so I decided to crawl back into the saddle and cover the 'Judge' Celestial Hammer from /Vae Victis\. Because I had a completely cracked idea and couldn't get it out of my head.



...which instantly failed to work, but then I remembered, I forgot to resize it. There's a resize menu.



WAIT PROBLEM.

Okay, plus side: it shrinks down REAL small. It's partially stuck in my hair on the left side (viewer's left), that's how small it goes. Down side: I cannot be Dinkie and show this off. Drat.



Time to go in a different direction. This is the hammer, rezzed out as is from the box, no changes.



LOOK AT THAT DETAIL. I'm dead serious--this is a shot without shadows employed, and I think only up to Advanced Lighting on Firestorm, because I'd been at a heavy-lag event and had clicked a lot of my usuals off? And it still has that much detail.



And here, Constant Reader, is where Em's brain fell out for a bit...but I got it back. This is not as complex as it looks. And again, makes this piece hugely variable to the end buyer.

So, everything's actually more self-explanatory than it looks--the 'screw' image pretty much just tints the screw, the thing I took for an eye at first, second row from the bottom, tints the wings, and the curlicues on the bottom do the ornate fine details. Lets you really play with themes--click down one row, you're done for that color, or mix and match, both work. Some from here, some from there? Knock yourself out, this'll let you do it.



A slightly different shot with stronger contrast to show you what the ornate little details really are.

I may throw up some of this run of originals on my Flickr, I may take an entirely new set--the goal was to get a Dinkie-sized hammer, and that was utter failure. But I did learn if I ever really want, I can reduce it to be a hairpin!

Not that I want to do that--this is glorious full-sized, even full-my-sized. Beautiful work, start to finish.

You can acquire this beauty for L$500 at the main store. It comes with a hud of poses, for photographs or just standing, and the hud itself can be turned off and on without detaching, which means you don't even need to lose your AO. This one has all the functionality.

Highly recommended, do go look.

we live in a world someone else imagined

Pinterest contacted me today...

Hi Emilly,

It was bold in the original, I just kept it.

We recently removed a Pin from your "Unhallows" board because it goes against our Community Guidelines on self-injury and harmful behavior.

And that was when my brain dropped out through my open jaw, because...I have two Hallowe'en boards. "Vintage Halloween" is the more retro board, with everything from print-outs to tutorials on crafting haunted items. "Unhallows" is the more purely horror board, the place for everything unnerving, disturbing, skin-crawling...probably more '-ing', and...how...is that going to hold up to a sudden ToS change??

We limit the distribution of or remove content that displays, rationalizes or encourages suicide, self-injury, eating disorders or substance abuse. This content impacts the community - it can be triggering, or reinforce harmful behavior. These rules apply to all Pins, including ones on your secret boards.

I have no secret boards.

Please take some time to go through your Pins and remove any that may conflict with our policies, or we may take further action against your account.

I've spent the morning in between making appointments and meeting appointments of my own in applying the broadest definitions possible, just in case. Bleeding from the mouth? Gone. Bleeding from the eyes? Probably okay, but...if it's a large amount, gone. ANYTHING to do with wrist ribbons, wrist stitches, wrist wounds, EVEN IF IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SUICIDAL IDEATION...gone. I'm not even a third of the way through yet.

I'm still debating just dumping every single image with visible wounds anywhere.

The thing that frustrates me about these strikes, though, the thing that has always frustrated me about these strikes...is they no longer tell me what they've struck down. They used to, a few years back--and that information is kind of key to figuring out whether I want to challenge the strike or not? Because easily 70% of everything on Pinterest, for everyone, is relinked material. There is a very high noise-to-signal ratio.

How do I know if what I linked is bad, if you won't show me what I linked? How do I learn from my mistake if you won't tell me what it was?

"Why are you still on Pinterest?" asked Neome. My love, I am starting to wonder myself. A few years back they also made linking anything on the site that wasn't just pure image (which you had to open as a new tab and link THAT URL only) impossible, because now, when anyone clicks one of the links of mine (and you may even see it if you click the two boards I linked above), it takes them to the page--and then immediately greys out the page and a full-screen popup tells you how easy it is to create an account. It's become worse than useless for passing information on in any direction save back to Pinterest.

Apparently Elliot Management owns the company now, which is odd, because as this article says, they're more known for "activism", and as their own website says:

The firm employs a multi-strategy trading approach that encompasses a broad range of strategies, including, without limitation: equity-oriented, private equity and private credit, distressed securities, non-distressed debt, hedge/arbitrage, real estate-related securities, commodities trading and portfolio volatility protection.

...Right.

Maybe it's time to batchfile everything in a 'save these links' file and just kill my account.

last night I cried about you, tonight I find I'm crying too

give me a drink 'cause I'm starting to think that I'm broken
got no confession but still my reflection provokes it
I hold the gavel and judgements unravel for who I've been...

(This is going to be a hard one. Feel free to skip past it if you're not in an equable place.)

feeling the weight of the all
medicating the turbulence

Studious observers of the blog will remember that, while things from beyond this blog's specific focii creep in from time to time, I try not to let it?

This one's...all RL.

the mask in the mirror is not getting clearer to comprehend
where do I begin?

This is Norma. She was between six and eight years old when we got her, and...there's a whole strange story behind this cat I can tell you, if you want, but my main point is...this is...this...was...our cat.

I'm at the waters edge
in my anxiousness
what does it mean
to be seen
without the need to defend--

left to myself in both sickness and health
I can't do it
skin deep interactions
distraction's the way to get through it--

Everything we've done has been with the goal of making sure she knows she's loved, she knows she can declare boundaries, she knows she can have nightmares and not fear getting hit. (I'll say this--from a hoarder house, and apparently a bad one, so yes, she was a cat with trauma.) Everything, to give her the will and the confidence to stand up for herself.

everyone tells me that I should be happy for where I've been
but selling and sharing the shell that I'm wearing is wearing thin
hoping to find and in time recognize my own reflection
where do I begin?

This was one of her normal sleep modes. Cuddling, 'talking' to us, wandering around...plonk into a soft thing. We worried at first, but it wasn't a neurological issue, she'd move after a bit. She just liked that forward head drop into soft.

never let anyone know that
underneath the surface
what a vulnerable, nervous child I am but--

And...this was the second to last shot of her, in the oxygen kennel, because she was unable to breathe on her own. She had wanted to show us she was okay, really, and had actually pushed to her feet, the first time since heart surgery...and got in the litterbox, trying to go...and...couldn't, because she hadn't eaten or drunk anything, even though it was nearby, for twenty hours. And she collapsed there, head hanging on the edge.

I'll see it again
at the water's edge
with no answers left
what does it mean
is it me
or just a stranger again...

She was suffering. She was not recovering. So...we made the decision to let her go, and..they gave her a mild sedative so she would breathe more slowly, and be able to be removed from oxygen. She was arranged on one of my partner's laps, wrapped up warm, while the vet tech explained that it would be just like going to sleep. She wouldn't feel anything, just sleepy.

We've been here before. We've developed a tendency of adopting older shelter cats, the ones most people look over, and unsurprisingly, a lot of these end up with problems. Some we've had for years. Xena, our cat before Norma, we had for...twenty-four months, until a savage bone cancer ate away half her skull and blinded her in one eye. There was no saving us; she was in whatever counts in cats for stage four.

The vet told us, when we asked if it was our fault, that there was literally no way to tell without access to an X-ray machine. Because she literally went from fine to "why is her skull spongy oh god" in seventy-two hours.

The tech inserted the needle in the arm tap for our cat, which was still on from surgery. Norma looked up at Ms. Neome, meowed once, and before the tech could even depress the needle...she was gone.

It was like...she'd been waiting to see at least one of us before she could go.

That was at...7:05 pm SLT, and...I think I need to wander off now. I don't know why I wrote this, and I'll probably regret it later, but...I just...I wanted to commemmorate, I suppose. Something of her strength. And how hard she fought not to give up.

We miss her so much.

(Song lyrics taken from The Classic Crime's The Water's Edge. Thank you, M, for sending it to me. And here's five things about grief no one really tells you, but that are true, nonetheless, for whatever help it gives.)

wake up and smell the coffee, is your cup half full or empty?

Yesterday, this forum discussion hit the airwaves in a couple in-world groups. Today, this notecard was sent out by Casper Warden:

Dear valued customer,

You are receiving this communication because you are a registered user of CasperTech services related to Second Life (CasperVend, CasperLet, or CasperSafe). We don't communicate like this very often, but we have some really exciting news to share!

CasperTech has provided various business-related services within Second Life for 13 years. Over that time, we have been proud to provide continuous service for tens of thousands of Second Life businesses, and have remained steadfast to our commitment to the merchants who depend on us.

Today we announce the next step in our journey. We are delighted to share that the Second Life portion of CasperTech is being acquired by Linden Research, Inc. Not only will this move ensure that all of our services will continue to operate without interruption into the foreseeable future, but it also opens up brand new opportunities to vastly improve the experience for our users.

You can expect to see the same great services that you know and love continue on, but with closer integration into the Second Life ecosystem – and as such, an even more reliable and convenient experience.

As part of this process, the entity that controls your data (the “data controller”) will change from CasperTech Ltd, a United Kingdom based company, to Linden Research, Inc, a company based in the United States. This means that the data we hold about you, and on your behalf, will transfer ownership and jurisdiction.

You have the right to object to your data being transferred to Linden Research, Inc, by requesting the deletion of your data prior to this transfer instead, if you wish. You can view information on the data that we hold on your behalf, and request deletion, using our GDPR tool: https://gdpr.casperdns.com. If you have difficulty with this tool for any reason, please email gdpr-legal@caspertech.co.uk with your request. In order to take effect before the transfer, deletion requests must be activated by 5pm UK time on Monday, 19th of September. Otherwise your data will be transferred to Linden Research, Inc, although you can still request that your data is deleted by them afterwards.

Information about how Linden Research, Inc protects personal data can be found at https://www.lindenlab.com/privacy.

We hope that you are as excited about this change as we are, and we thank you for your continued support as we all step boldly into the future together!

Sincerely Yours,

Casper Warden and the CasperTech Team

So what does this mean for Second Life, and those who use CasperTech products? I'm not sure yet. We'll have to see how it develops. But it is concerning, so I'll be watching for news.

when you get back on a Saturday night and your head is caving in

(Roleplay-ish)

She sat in a chair woven of birch branches and strands of lights, brooding. Her knees were tucked under her chin as she remembered earlier, the hours earlier, his lips on her skin, his firm embrace, his presence, after so, so long...and his words, murmuring that he could sense her hunger, he could tell how long it had been since she fed...



Briefly, she resented this, blinking in a rush of sudden emotion, before she paused, and truly thought that through. And...she sighed. Because, of course, why would someone so close to her heart not know her? How could she so foolishly dismiss the insight of the first one who'd ever inherited her gift, or curse, whatever it was in truth...and who knew the shape and flavor of that particular hunger, himself?



How, indeed.

She shook her head at herself, tongue clucking. She'd grown so accustomed to being the only one, arrogant, perhaps, with that hunger, red of eye and long of tooth, her constant companion. She'd grown used to its presence, always a few steps behind, always aware of the gnawing in her belly, the desire to grow her fangs and...just...bite.



But she also refused to just use people for fodder. And she'd gotten fairly good at ways to restrain the need--she'd grown quite fond of arsenic tea, and there was a certain extract made from Destroying Angels and manchineel, though it was difficult to produce. There was one other thing she could do in times of great duress, but...she preferred not to think about it.



She sighed again. Perhaps an apology was due him, for so mistakenly thinking she could simply turn aside his innate understanding, her own hunger, concentrating on his...but again, habit, custom, arrogance, she saw it now. She fed him and was, somewhat, fed herself; he fed her, and felt the same. It wasn't just the sweet red on the lips, it was the trail of entwining energy that came with it. That trail of energy, the cord that bound them together, reinforced with every touch, every kiss, every bite.



She wrinkled her nose. Yes. She definitely owned her love an apology. She went into the treehouse, hunting for her writing desk, a spare pen, and the Gearhaven seal to press into the envelope after. At least the garden was close to done...