there's a second voice inside my head, it tells me shut up and trust this (part II)

(Continued from part I.)

We pick up where we left off, just starting the presentation.

[16:33] Wordsmith Jarvinen: Welcome to the presentation gala for the inaugural Gearhaven Endowment for the Arts, Sciences, Magick, and Metaverse Culture Prize for Steampunk Preservation. Thank you all for coming.

[16:34] Wordsmith Jarvinen: The Gearhaven Endowment for the Arts, Sciences, Magick and Metaverse Culture recognizes that interactive (and occasionally immersive) creation of speculative scenarios are vitally important to diversity of thought and experience.
[16:34] Lightweaver Balan listens
[16:34] Wordsmith Jarvinen: The goal of the endowment is to promote highly interactive and immersive roleplay across the Multiverse, with an emphasis on Steampunk, Dieselpunk, and Sci-Fi communities.
[16:35] Wordsmith Jarvinen: In 2006 Desmond Shang bought the first Caledon Sim. In 3 months that expanded to 5 Sims. Since then the Steamlands in Second Life have expanded to dozens of Sims.
[16:35] Wordsmith Jarvinen: Over the years, hundreds of people have put in thousands of hours creating the glory that are the collective Steamlands of SL.
[16:36] Wordsmith Jarvinen: And there have been some quite amazing creations.

So many of the wonders listed in that link, by the way? They're gone now. Speaking of things vanishing.

[16:36] Wordsmith Jarvinen: In their 15 years on the grid, Duke and Duchess Hiro-Shatner Orr have seen many of these sims rise to glory only to disappear back beneath the waves.
[16:36] Edward Pearse: Wow, they're old

Gosh, thank you, Edward. :p

[16:37] Violet Scrivener (violetscrivener) grins!
[16:37] Lightweaver Balan: indeed
[16:37] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner): laughs
[16:37] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst) mutters, "SOOOO OLD."
[16:37] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr) snerks
[16:37] Wordsmith Jarvinen: There are many reasons a sim or build may be lost, one of which is lack of funds to pay the tier.
[16:37] Wordsmith Jarvinen: To address this, the Duke and Duchess have instituted the Gearhaven Prize for Steampunk Preservation. Recipients receive a one-time payout of 25,000 lindens.
[16:38] Wordsmith Jarvinen: Two recipients have been chosen to receive the first Gearhaven Prize. Both have made significant contributions to Steamlands Culture. The first recipient is Michael Macbeth and his Tesla Theatre.
[16:38] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr) creaks helpfully
[16:38] Michael Macbeth (michaelneff.macbeth) bows respectfully
[16:38] Wordsmith Jarvinen: Opened 15 May 2018 in Victoria City, Caledon, the Tesla Theatre and Lounge hosts live stage productions of plays, musicals and ballets; live musician; and DJ led dances. The beautifully ornate two story edifice is an homage to Nikolai Tesla.
[16:38] Lightweaver Balan: yay
[16:38] Wordsmith Jarvinen: I'd like to invite Michael to come up and talk a little bit about the Theatre, the obstacles he has faced, and his future plans. Michael?
[16:39] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner) claps
[16:39] Bain Finch (bainfinch): ♪♫~ ღ♥ღ Applause ღ♥ღ~♫♪
[16:39] Violet Scrivener (violetscrivener) claps
[16:39] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): ☆(`'·.¸(`'·.¸ * ¸.·'´)¸.·'´)☆
[16:39] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): •.¸¸.·` APPLAUSE!! ´·.¸¸.•
[16:39] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): ☆(¸.·'´(¸.·'´ * `'·.¸)`'·.¸)☆

I know, I know, I've hated gestures all these years, but...someone gave me this and...it's pretty, it makes a clapping noise, it has mild crowd sounds, and it's slaved to F1. I get it.

[16:39] Panza Finch (panza.eilde): ♪♫~ ღ♥ღ Applause ღ♥ღ~♫♪

[16:39] Michael Macbeth (michaelneff.macbeth): Thank you Chancellor, Your Graces, distinguished colleagues one and all.

I've always sort of handwaved off the level of respect for being a Duchess. I know I'm only one because I married a Duke. But...honestly, this? Helping to pull this off? Knowing we're going to move forward with it? It's honestly the first thing I've been a part of where I actually think I might be starting to earn that 'Your Grace' title.

[16:40] Michael Macbeth (michaelneff.macbeth): in 2009 I had been a theatre teacher in community colleges and high schools and produced or directed nearly a hundred plays.
[16:41] Michael Macbeth (michaelneff.macbeth): I heard in Second Life, you could make a replica of your theatre and use it to map out your RL stage pieces. But I quickly learned it was much, much more.
[16:42] Michael Macbeth (michaelneff.macbeth): I am really quite blessed I think- I get to make theatre shows, or revues, work with people from around the world, and put on amazing shows and spectacles, with the fun steam and dieselpunk flair which I have always enjoyed.
[16:42] ღ Vivian Song ღ (vivianasong): nods
[16:43] Michael Macbeth (michaelneff.macbeth): This year will bring another major production as well as some live performances and DJ'd dances, with DJs such as Duchess Gabrielle Riel, and many others.
[16:43] Michael Macbeth (michaelneff.macbeth): This isn't about making money, it's about making art, making a difference in peoplke's lives. Being the conscience of the people, and the mirror of their own conscience.

That, right there. Don't get me wrong, financing helps, absolutely, but--the goal has to go beyond just the acquisition of coin. Especially with theatre, which is the closest of any art form to reflecting who we are back at us, so we can better understand.

[16:44] ღ Vivian Song ღ (vivianasong): smiles
[16:44] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner) smiles
[16:44] Gʀɨʍօɨʀɛ (grimoire.hexem): Hear, hear.
[16:44] Michael Macbeth (michaelneff.macbeth): I am very very grateful for this award and entreat you all, at your leisure to see the Tesla, and let me know what you might like to see performed.

And while I never doubted the second of the first two awards should go to Marshall Ortega, I hadn't heard of Mr. Macbeth's efforts before we looked into him and his theatre. I am so glad, and grateful, we chose to honor him as well.

[16:44] Bain Finch (bainfinch): cheers for the community builders

Always. And that's the point of this award, really.

[16:44] Michael Macbeth (michaelneff.macbeth): Thank you all.
[16:44] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner) claps
[16:44] Violet Scrivener (violetscrivener) applauds
[16:44] Panza Finch (panza.eilde): ♪♫~ ღ♥ღ Applause ღ♥ღ~♫♪
[16:44] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst): hurrah!
[16:44] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): ☆(`'·.¸(`'·.¸ * ¸.·'´)¸.·'´)☆
[16:44] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): •.¸¸.·` APPLAUSE!! ´·.¸¸.•
[16:44] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): ☆(¸.·'´(¸.·'´ * `'·.¸)`'·.¸)☆
[16:44] Lightweaver Balan: **********Applause!!**********
[16:44] Circle2 Claven claps
[16:44] Lightweaver Balan: **********Applause!!**********
[16:44] ღ Vivian Song ღ (vivianasong): claps
[16:44] Saazerac (saazerac.atheria) applauds enthusiastically
[16:45] Edward Pearse: ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
[16:45] Edward Pearse: ☆ -~*APPLAUSE*~-☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
[16:45] Edward Pearse: ☆-~*AWESOME*~-☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
[16:45] Edward Pearse: ☆☆~~-WoOoOoOoHoOoOoOo-~~☆☆
[16:45] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr) grins
[16:45] RoseDrop Rust: Huzzah!

And I'm pretty sure those in the audience saw Mr. Macbeth's passion and spirit, too. That counts for a great deal.

[16:45] Wordsmith Jarvinen: Thank you Michael. The second award goes to Fuzzball Ortega and Steelhead Bay. Fuzz, please come up and tell us about the history of Steelhead Bay and your future plans.
[16:45] Wordsmith Jarvinen: For those who haven't been there, it's an enchanting region with Victorian houses and shops, attractive plants, a lighthouse, a pirate ship, an observatory, and an airship.
Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): jumps up and offers a steelhead
[16:45] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): Hoooo!
[16:45] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr) laughs
[16:45] Violet Scrivener (violetscrivener) grins
[16:46] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): As is tradition!
[16:46] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner) laughs
[16:47] Fuzzball Ortega: Didn't work on a speech, my apologies, but I am used to being behind a podium
[16:47] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Quite all right.

Except he'd turned partially away from the crowd, facing a side wall. Seemed odd. I didn't figure out why until Justine uploaded her pictures of the event.

[16:48] Fuzzball Ortega: I came onto the Grid back in 2006, for those who remember Darien Mason, he and I were acquainted in other Aethernet circles, and that's where I found out about SL. He had described it as Sims On Acid, and I was intrigued
[16:48] RoseDrop Rust: heh
[16:48] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner): laughs
[16:49] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Well, that's true enough.
[16:49] Gʀɨʍօɨʀɛ (grimoire.hexem): interesting description yet not inaccurate...
[16:49] Bain Finch (bainfinch): lol
[16:49] Violet Scrivener (violetscrivener): Fleeb, indeed.
[16:49] Fuzzball Ortega: After arriving to the welcome area, he teleported me to the original Steelhead City, and that was where I stayed.

And this angle showed me what he'd been looking at, and..pure serendipity, really. In the rushed madness of getting maps back up, I hadn't bothered to do more than just make sure maps were up and visible, but...the wall Marshall Ortega's facing? Is the one that has the early map of Steelhead on it. He wasn't facing away from the crowd--he was remembering Steelhead's beginnings. There's something...so touching about that.

[16:49] Panza Finch (panza.eilde) wistfully wishes that Genie was here...
[16:50] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr) nods.
[16:50] Fuzzball Ortega: A few years back, sadly, TotalLunar Eclipse was not able to make tier on the Steelhead regions, and they were shut down

It was a heart strike for many, both residents who lived there, and for Lunar, and for a great many residents of the grid, that loss left a hole in their lives.

[16:50] Edward Pearse: Yeah I guessed it was going to be THAT photo

Because of course it was. Honestly, I was surprised I'd still held onto it.

[16:50] Bain Finch (bainfinch): it's a great picture
[16:50] Fuzzball Ortega: For awhile, I wandered The Grid, even visited areas on the Mainland.
[16:50] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): It is...a picture. :p
[16:52] Fuzzball Ortega: I even made my home in Caledon for awhile. However, it wasn't quite Steelhead. So, around 2017, I thought Steelhead was gone long enough, and purchased Steelhead Bay.
[16:52] Bain Finch (bainfinch): :-)
[16:52] Bain Finch (bainfinch): that long ago?!?!

I know. Feels like just last year, doesn't it?

[16:52] Fuzzball Ortega: It has been a real struggle. I'm not a builder nor a terraformer. For awhile, I kept saying, "I'm not The Elf, but I'm trying my damnedest"

Having now terraformed most of two sims? I have mad respect for the difficulty levels involved.

[16:53] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Mmhmm.
[16:53] Dharma Bum (improvateur): Persistence furthers...
[16:53] Michael Macbeth (michaelneff.macbeth) nods, totally relating
[16:54] Fuzzball Ortega: I did have some help along the way. But it's been a real struggle what with August 2019 thru November 2020 of being unemployed.
[16:54] Edward Pearse: Yeah I hear that one
[16:54] Dharma Bum (improvateur): ouch

Hard not to. That's relevant to so many right now.

[16:54] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr) nods.
[16:54] Michael Macbeth (michaelneff.macbeth) nods
[16:54] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): But perserverance and commitment.
[16:54] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): we love our fuzzy
[16:54] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner): Thanks for keeping it going
[16:55] Fuzzball Ortega: Several charitable individuals helped me keep Steelhead Bay afloat, even The Lindens were extremely helpful, some of you long time folks may remember my "Love Letters To The Lindens" in the past (the letters included some choice words for them to fix stuff)
[16:55] Violet Scrivener (violetscrivener) grins
[16:56] Edward Pearse: *snerks*
[16:56] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr) nods, grinning
[16:57] Fuzzball Ortega: So, now, my goal is to get more visitors to Bay. To bring back the town meetings. It may or may not get to the same level as the Steelhead of Old, but I'm a Steelheader, it's my home. And I'm going to continue to do my best to share that Steelhead Spirit.
[16:57] Fuzzball Ortega: Thank you.
[16:57] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst): yay!
[16:57] Lightweaver Balan: **********Applause!!**********
[16:57] Violet Scrivener (violetscrivener) applauds!
[16:57] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): ☆(`'·.¸(`'·.¸ * ¸.·'´)¸.·'´)☆
[16:57] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): •.¸¸.·` APPLAUSE!! ´·.¸¸.•
[16:57] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): ☆(¸.·'´(¸.·'´ * `'·.¸)`'·.¸)☆
[16:57] Edward Pearse: ☆ -~*APPLAUSE*~-☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
[16:57] Edward Pearse: ☆-~*AWESOME*~-☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
[16:57] Edward Pearse: ☆☆~~-WoOoOoOoHoOoOoOo-~~☆☆
[16:57] Edward Pearse: ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
[16:57] Lightweaver Balan: **********Applause!!**********
[16:57] RoseDrop Rust: here here
[16:57] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner) claps
[16:57] Dharma Bum (improvateur): Bravo!
[16:57] Bain Finch (bainfinch): Huzzah!
[16:57] Circle2 Claven applause
[16:57] Bain Finch (bainfinch): ♪♫~ ღ♥ღ Applause ღ♥ღ~♫♪
[16:57] Michael Macbeth (michaelneff.macbeth) claps
[16:57] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner): yea!!!
[16:57] Panza Finch (panza.eilde): ♪♫~ ღ♥ღ Applause ღ♥ღ~♫♪
[16:57] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst) grins happily
[16:57] Saazerac (saazerac.atheria) claps and claps

I left this bit in, because yeah, the applause really DID go on for some time, and it had gone on a while for Mr. Macbeth. Sometimes we never adequately see how much we're respected, until that respect is shown.

[16:57] Fuzzball Ortega: And that was a VERY old picture, Emilly.
[16:58] Wordsmith Jarvinen: Thank you, Fuzzball.
[16:58] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Yes, yes it was. :D
[16:58] Edward Pearse: With this endowment Fuzz can get a skin made after 2010? *grins*
[16:58] Panza Finch (panza.eilde): At least it wasn't The Hair.
[16:58] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst): ouch
[16:58] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Oh, stop.
[16:58] Bain Finch (bainfinch): lol
[16:58] Fuzzball Ortega: Steelhead first, Fuzzball makeover second
[16:58] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Good to know your people still respect you, Fuzz. :D
[16:58] Wordsmith Jarvinen: The Gearhaven Prize will be awarded quarterly.
[16:59] Wordsmith Jarvinen: You can get more information about the Endowment and nominations for the Prize by clicking on the easel in the foyer.

Eventually, we'll make something more permanent to live there, but you know, even that felt appropriate--that I'd nipped over to our parcel in Steelhead to nab the easel with the information in it for the gala.

[16:59] Panza Finch (panza.eilde): Good man with simple tastes.
[16:59] Wordsmith Jarvinen: In the meantime, please enjoy your time here at Gearhaven, there are food and drinks in the kitchen to your left and out in the garden, and DJ Violet Scrivener will be providing the music for dancing!
[16:59] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst): hurrah!
[16:59] Violet Scrivener (violetscrivener) grins again
[16:59] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Actually, Justine asked me to move the food and drinks to the kitchen FROM the garden, so....

And most of us ended up dancing in the garden anyway, but no one seemed to mind.

[16:59] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner): thank you Chancellor
[16:59] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst): and thank you so much, Word, for being our MC today!
[17:00] Violet Scrivener (violetscrivener) applauds!
[17:00] Panza Finch (panza.eilde): ♪♫~ ღ♥ღ Applause ღ♥ღ~♫♪
[17:00] Bain Finch (bainfinch): ♪♫~ ღ♥ღ Applause ღ♥ღ~♫♪
[17:00] Wordsmith Jarvinen: That's why it says "in the kitchen to your left"
[17:00] Wordsmith Jarvinen: A special thank you to the following people for providing historical photos and documentation:
[17:00] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst): ah. hee!
[17:00] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr) grins
[17:00] Wordsmith Jarvinen: Edward Pearse
[17:00] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner): and congratulations to Mr. Macbeth and Marshall Fuzzball...
[17:00] Michael Macbeth (michaelneff.macbeth): Thank you.
[17:00] Panza Finch (panza.eilde): here here
[17:00] Wordsmith Jarvinen: Give Edward a clap since he's here
[17:00] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): ☆(`'·.¸(`'·.¸ * ¸.·'´)¸.·'´)☆
[17:00] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): •.¸¸.·` APPLAUSE!! ´·.¸¸.•
[17:00] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): ☆(¸.·'´(¸.·'´ * `'·.¸)`'·.¸)☆
[17:00] Fuzzball Ortega: Thank you
[17:00] Wordsmith Jarvinen: Lady Aeval-Leigh
[17:00] Fuzzball Ortega: Hoooo!
[17:00] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst): yay, edward!
[17:00] Bain Finch (bainfinch): ♪♫~ ღ♥ღ Applause ღ♥ღ~♫♪
[17:00] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner): Claos
[17:00] Panza Finch (panza.eilde): ♪♫~ ღ♥ღ Applause ღ♥ღ~♫♪
[17:00] Bain Finch (bainfinch): ♪♫~ ღ♥ღ Applause ღ♥ღ~♫♪
[17:00] Bain Finch (bainfinch): *•.¸'*•.¸ ♥ ¸.•*´¸.•*
[17:00] Bain Finch (bainfinch): .•*♥¨`•BRAVO!!•¨`♥*•.
[17:00] Bain Finch (bainfinch): .•*`¸.•*´ ♥ `*•.¸`*•.¸
[17:00] Bain Finch (bainfinch): ♪♫~ ღ♥ღ Applause ღ♥ღ~♫♪
[17:00] Wordsmith Jarvinen: Kamilah Hauptman
[17:01] Wordsmith Jarvinen: And my pleasure to be able to announce today. Thank you

I won't lie, we had asked another presenter, who turned out to be unable to make it, but Mr. Jarvinen did so well. And we are beyond grateful to the Lyonesse, Lady Aeval, and Sir Edward Pearse, who went well above and beyond making sure we had access to historical maps from several sims in the steamlands, as well as other documents that helped put things into perspective.

[17:01] Bain Finch (bainfinch): said in a million times. Not the prims, it's the people that make communities in SL
[17:01] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Absolutely.

It is. And really, that's the point of the award, and in fact, the Gearhaven Foundation in the first place. To support and encourage those fostering connections between people, as much as those who have grand dreams and visions.

[17:01] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst) smiles brightly! "let's turn over the stream to Ms Violet and have some fun!"
[17:02] Dharma Bum (improvateur): Welll said
[17:02] Wordsmith Jarvinen: People and the attitude to cooperate and create
[17:02] Gʀɨʍօɨʀɛ (grimoire.hexem) goes to enable sound...
[17:02] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr) smiles
[17:02] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Gentlemen, do remember to take your trophies home with you.
[17:02] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): Hoooo!
[17:02] Violet Scrivener (violetscrivener): The garden is set up for the dancing .. and the weather looks like it will be agreeable. Also shadowy in places.
[17:03] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): fuzzy! fuzzy! fuzzy! fuzzy!
[17:03] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): True.
[17:03] Gʀɨʍօɨʀɛ (grimoire.hexem): I do like shadowy places...

Indeed so. And we danced the rest of the night.

There were so many ways this could have gone wrong. There were so many ways it nearly did, from the sim having to be clawed back from the void by the Lindens, down to returning everything we'd set out for the gala, resulting in the move back to the old sim, which then needed to be decorated nearly from scratch because I'd been removing things as I transferred them over to Gearhaven Prime. But somehow, through sheer stubborn intransigence in some cases, we managed to get past every obstacle thrown in our way. And in the end, we got what we wanted--an event that was not about us, the organizers, but that brought more attention to our recipients. Who deeply deserve every iota of that spotlight.

And that was the end goal. That, I sincerely hope, will be the goal every quarter with the awards. We will be looking for future nominees, and we already have some names that helpful folks have tossed into the hat. Anyone can nominate someone they believe is worthy of consideration, after all, and we will consider anyone nominated. And it will get less intense from here, to be sure, but I'm hoping it will stay this meaningful.

there's a second voice inside my head, it tells me shut up and trust this (part I)

(This one, like the dinner party, is also going to be non-anonymized, but because this was an awards ceremony, and the recipients deserve the lauds.)

After spending most of the day frantically planting things in the garden for the gala, interrupted for script questions, building separate things, and moving furniture, I got a wailed IM and ported back to the main house.

[16:02] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst): i'm sure we tested these.
[16:02] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst): and yet, here we are.
[16:02] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): I am very confused

Apparently I had had Justine laboriously set out--in two different iterations of Steamopolis, no less!--forty Dali chairs. That could not be sat upon. WHY.

[16:02] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Do we need to replace them
[16:03] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst): i think so.
[16:03] Panza Finch (panza.eilde): LOL
[16:03] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): THIS DAY
[16:03] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): I need eighteen ounces of gin, and all we have is the bottle of neurotoxic whiskey that I'm not allowed to drink!
[16:03] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst): THIS DAY

You do not know how many times I thought of getting up and getting a shot, but...I had promised people I loved, and someone I once loved, that I wouldn't drink any more past the one shot necessary for the worship bargain. Go figure, they got concerned when the left side of my body went numb. For six hours.

The sensation came back, come on now...

[16:05] Bain Finch (bainfinch): sitting is highly over rated
[16:06] Panza Finch (panza.eilde): I think I'll stand.

There were other guests that chose to, so while we did set out workable chairs, at least the Finches were not alone.

[16:11] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): All right, I'm leaving this in your capable hands, Countess, I'm going to go see what I can rescue from the kitchen bundle
[16:11] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr) grabs the drink tray on her way in
[16:11] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner): we had chairs that looked good...
[16:11] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner): but had an issue
[16:11] ΩღLina RodexღΩ (shannon.warden): i saw them i really did like them
[16:11] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner): so we are setting up new chairs...sorry

Meanwhile, I was in the kitchen, gutting things out of the bundle of conjoined prims that had gotten returned on accident from Gearhaven Prime. We had both adults and urchins, so it couldn't just be alcohol. The caterers had set out deviled eggs and bread next to the coffee urn, so I just started rezzing out trays on a table nearby--rum, gin, tea, I think hot chocolate...and then threw my hands up and put the two trolleys we'd gotten from KittyCat's Creations for work out, on either side of her Cthulhu drinks stand...and it wasn't until I was leaving the kitchen that I realized I was putting out the Cthulhu drinks stand.

For guests.

Measure of stress, I suppose.

[16:12] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner): Mr. Macbeth...thanks for coming...
[16:12] Michael Macbeth (michaelneff.macbeth): You have a spectacular home!
[16:12] Gʀɨʍօɨʀɛ (grimoire.hexem) looks for a corner to darken...
[16:12] Michael Macbeth (michaelneff.macbeth): Truly
[16:12] Violet Scrivener (violetscrivener) shivers involuntarily
[16:12] Lightweaver Balan: wow someone lives here?
[16:13] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner): a few of us do...
[16:13] Lightweaver Balan: good heavens
[16:13] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner): we are in the process of moving to different sim...

I'm not including this to brag. It's just...Steamopolis started off as impossibly huge and complicated, and yes, awe-inspiring, but...at this point? It's where we live. And I was actually confused when people started reacting as if it was...well, what it was. Strange how we get used to things.

[16:16] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): We actually have several dark corners here! This room just has more light.
[16:16] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr) reads back.
[16:16] ΩღLina RodexღΩ (shannon.warden): well i did open the door
[16:16] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Do I need to move some of the maps?
[16:16] ΩღLina RodexღΩ (shannon.warden): come in silly
[16:16] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner): no the maps are perfect
[16:16] Michael Macbeth (michaelneff.macbeth): *Tips hat and heads for the bar trolley*
[16:17] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Oh, all right.
[16:17] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): OH!

Because I'd just remembered.

[16:17] Violet Scrivener (violetscrivener) quietly sips from a battered silver flask
[16:17] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Because I didn't think this through: A WARNING. Because I'm in no fit state to pick things up. Avoid the gear table with the wee cephalopod if you're not in an...experimental?...state of mind.
[16:18] Violet Scrivener (violetscrivener): I thought it was a cake stand.
[16:18] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Some of the drinks are fine, most are eldritch, so....take your chances.
[16:18] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner): i'll dip into them later...
[16:19] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr) laughs
[16:19] ΩღLina RodexღΩ (shannon.warden): come on in
[16:19] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst) looks up, "what have i missed?"
[16:20] Violet Scrivener (violetscrivener) passes Lady Justine her flask

I should have grabbed something, but I was in the numb aftermath of the second day of panic. People told me later I looked very composed.

[16:20] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr) clicks the stream on, considers changing it, thinks today that might mean something explodes, and leaves it.
[16:21] Edward Pearse: Should we run the stream?
[16:21] Michael Macbeth (michaelneff.macbeth) waves to Grim
[16:21] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner): Your Grace, Duke Argylle thank you for coming
[16:21] Gʀɨʍօɨʀɛ (grimoire.hexem): Hello good sir.
[16:21] Gʀɨʍօɨʀɛ (grimoire.hexem): Been a while.
[16:21] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst) takes a heavy swig from violet's flask and hands it back. "THANK YOU."
[16:21] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst): ok.
[16:21] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Oh, we can, though I didn't invite you to the group to do that
[16:21] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr) waves at Edward
[16:21] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): I can, though!

I truly felt at this point that I was just clinging to the edge of something, expecting the something to explode, or dissolve, or...something unpleasant.

[16:21] Violet Scrivener (violetscrivener) accepts the flask and winks to Lady J
[16:22] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst): is violet flying?
[16:22] Violet Scrivener (violetscrivener): Sadly, my typist is twitchy.
[16:22] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Not...to me?
[16:22] Violet Scrivener (violetscrivener): So not officially.
[16:22] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Trust me, I resemble that remark.
[16:22] Panza Finch (panza.eilde): I tried one of those green drinks....quite refreshing.

Did someone put out absinthe? If not, we should lay in a supply for the next gala.

[16:22] Violet Scrivener (violetscrivener): hee
[16:23] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): And, considering the potential of all ages, we do have tea in the kitchen as well.

I sat and breathed for a bit as chat swirled around me.

[16:27] Fuzzball Ortega: Hello
[16:27] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Hello!
[16:27] ΩღLina RodexღΩ (shannon.warden): your good to go come on in they are inside
[16:27] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Oh, good, you're both here now!
[16:27] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst): yay!
[16:27] Edward Pearse: Hey Fuzz
[16:27] Hiro Shatner-Orr (hiro.shatner): welcome!

Thank all the gods, they'd both made it. I relaxed fractionally.

[16:27] Panza Finch (panza.eilde) smiles as Fuzz arrives.
[16:28] Bain Finch (bainfinch): greetings
[16:28] Panza Finch (panza.eilde): Hullo Fuzz.
[16:28] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Also, brace yourself, Fuzz, i found a TRULY terrifying picture from The Olde Days of Steelhead. It's in the slideshow.
[16:28] Saazerac (saazerac.atheria) smiles and absorbs the scene "Hello all"
[16:28] Violet Scrivener (violetscrivener): Hello!
[16:28] Lightweaver Balan: better if the scene absorbs you
[16:29] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): No, no, did that yesterday, the entire sim absorbed me, thank you, but enough of that.

The bad crash. The bad, bad crash.

[16:30] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr) looks up at the song.

It was "Little Red Corvette", and I guess I'd become fixated enough on making things as non-adult as possible, I was now twitching at the music.

[16:30] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Right, maybe enough streaming for now.
[16:30] ღ Vivian Song ღ (vivianasong): Awww, love this song!
[16:30] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst): please find a seat, we'll be getting started momentarily!
[16:30] ღ Vivian Song ღ (vivianasong): wow, RIP Prince, you little eccentric oddball. WE love you!
[16:31] Gʀɨʍօɨʀɛ (grimoire.hexem): You know I don't sit, Justine.
[16:31] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Oh, I do too, but--we were sort of making the swerve away from adult matters for today?
[16:31] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst) amends her previous statement. "everyone but Grim."
[16:31] Gʀɨʍօɨʀɛ (grimoire.hexem): yes, good.
[16:32] Justine (justinejohndory.amethyst) nods at Wordsmith, whispering, "i think we're ready."

(Credit to our attaché, Countess JustineJohndory Amethyst, for this shot.)

And we began.

(Continued in part II.)

I'm gonna chase it, I know, I know, I know

PRESS RELEASE 10 February 2021:

The Gearhaven Endowment for the Arts, Sciences, Magick and Metaverse Culture is pleased to Announce the first recipients of the Gearhaven Prize for Steampunk Preservation in Second Life.

Our two recipients for the first quarter of 2021 are:

Recipient: Michael Macbeth (michaelneff.macbeth)
Project: The Tesla Theatre in Caledon Victoria City

Mr. Macbeth's attempts to foster community and participation by encouraging avatars to share the same experience, together, is laudable on its own. But he's also trying to create a community of theatre owners, to schedule events together, pass show lists back and forth, and encourage each others' group members to attend community showings. Especially now, this is vital, and worthy of preservation.

Recipient: Fuzzball Ortega
Project: Steelhead Bay

I'm not sure I need to go into why Fuzzball's efforts to preserve Steelhead, that quirky mix of Western American steampunk, mad science, clockwork creations and magic, are worth supporting, but for anyone who doesn't know, Steelhead started out very long ago on the grid, owned by another avatar entirely, and over the years, it not only changed hands, but grew in size. There was an unfortunate accident of timing that prevented the sims from being paid up on tier, and one by one, they all went away.

This, not to put too fine a point on it, crushed some people.

But Fuzzball had a dream. And he made that dream a reality. And had we been around, we would have supported him that very first year, for the sheer enormity of the effort to bring it back. But we're here now, so we're doing it now.

Each recipient receives L$25,000 to use towards preservation and improvement of their projects.

A formal gala will be announced soon for the official presentations of the awards.

We applaud and congratulate our two winners and wish them all success for the future of their projects.

For information on future awards contact Justine.Johndory Amethyst by IM or Notecard or visit the Duchy of Gearhaven in Second Life.

tombstone hand and a graveyard mine

Well, this is upsetting.

ello, friends.

At 8:00 am on Monday, May 15, 2017, I received a Cease and Desist letter from legal counsel representing [Exxxxx Dxxxxxxxxxx and Akimeta Ltd. This letter demands that I cease all use of Ozimals intellectual property.

I don’t personally agree with this claim, but I do not have the means to fight this in court, therefore I have no choice but to comply.

As of the morning of Wednesday, May 17, 2017, my products and their associated games will cease to function.

This means:
All databases supporting the bunnies and Pufflings will be offline.
Support, both inworld and through the ticket portal, will cease.
All Ozimals inworld groups will be closed.
Pufflings will cease to function.
Any bunny who is Everlasting will continue to function, as he or she does now: without cost.
Any bunny who is not Everlasting will be unable to eat and will hibernate within 72 hours.

This really [fxxking] sucks, and I’m sorry. It was never my intention for the time we’ve all spent with the bunnies and the Pufflings to end like this. I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of the support this community has given me over the last seven years. I wish there was more I could say.

Malkavyn Eldritch

In the meantime, there's coverage of Steelhead Bay by the SL Newser, and by New World Notes. I'm proud that Gearhaven has their small mooring station there to support the cause. May Steelhead Bay thrive.

what are you waiting for?

New month, more tales of abandonment....eventually I'll work this blog back into my daily round of coffee, collation and SLife.

In the meantime...Steelhead is coming back? Well...sort of. It will only be one sim to start, and won't be for a few months. But it sounds promising.

In a similar vein of nostalgic return, Armada Breakaway may be returning...not under the same ownership, and I can't say much more than that currently, as it's not being openly advertised. But there is a builder--who never saw or experienced the original set of sims--working on bringing the writings of China Miéville back to the grid. And from what I've seen so far, it feels, startlingly, like the Armada build already. I wish him the greatest of luck and hope to see more as it develops.

who are these skeletons with guns, taking aim?

we made ourselves a home out of our dreams
brought with us this love now bittersweet
maybe I could say now that I always thought of you
how you run to walk with me, your whole life through

What is it, old home week? Not only did I run into someone I haven't seen since my earliest days in Steelhead, but in trying to track down a picture for the last entry or so, I dug very far back into the archives for this very blog.

and I know we go deeper than skin, but what lies within
it's still deeper than we know

And while I didn't find an image suitable to use, I did find a veritable surplus of other images. Names and places I'd forgotten, people I still remember, people I wish I didn't. And now I'm asking yet again, what is it with me and demons? Is it just that prototypical 'bad boy' thing? Am I that plebian and afflicted? Mayhap so, because obviously I haven't learned a damned thing.

and for all this pantomime
you should see the state I'm in
I couldn't heal myself with time alone
I have you tattooed on my skin

Page after page, entry after entry. Face after face. Years between the self of then and the self of now, and I'm wondering how much I've actually grown in the interim, how far I've actually moved my now away from my then. I kept examining their images, as if searching these frozen bits of time misplaced would actually teach me anything new.

this house is full of stories we both told
these rooms, their very stage where they'd unfold
these walls, they whisper secrets and memories thereof
but this door no longer leads us to their love

And I kept wondering...well, no, not with everyone, the vampire princeling can go swallow toads for all of me, but...with some of the others, I kept feeling a touch or two of...I don't even know. Faded former emotion, not yet swept up and tossed away? Shreds of affection, long neglected, that somehow missed being recycled? Regret?

yeah, I know we go deeper than skin, but what lies within
is still deeper than we know

Regret. Is it regret? Is that really what I felt, looking at my distant past, and pondering? Do I regret...well, no, foolish question, I am built of regret, formed of it, I have so many regrets I could fill a lake and have regret left over to coat the shores. I know this. I've made a great many mistakes in my life, and not a small number have been mistakes that, once made, led to others in turn.

all I ever wanted was to hold you
what can I do now to make things new?
I ain't trying to write you into a song
'Cause you're too sacred and I would feel wrong

Perhaps it's not regret I'm feeling, looking at these faces. Perhaps it's that touch of melancholy about what might have been. Had things worked out, after all. Had I not tried to make a home in a sim that imploded before spiking all the trees and building skyscrapers. Or had I not thought I could rely on someone who never spoke in truths, only in the language of roleplay for all our interactions...before utterly disappearing from the grid. I don't even remember his name now to see if he's still on SL at this late date.

but when irony life holds,
I was finally ready to meet you half way
You turned and walked away...

Or had I not been thrown aside for an outfit...

But then, these were demons; perhaps they were only sent to bedevil me, not to join with my heart and stay by my side. Maybe it was never in the nature of any demonic creature to do that. And maybe that is that sense of regret I feel, that I ever let any demon close enough to believe.

Maybe that was the lesson I needed to learn in the first place. And in the aftermath, to stay away from anyone with haunted horns and a yearning for the dark side...

(Song lyrics adapted from Poets of the Fall's Skin.)

how strong must I become so that no one will be hurt?

"An unperson can’t tell about beatings, rape, torture and murder, if she does, she will not be believed."

Why do I bring this up? Some years back--so long back I won't even bother digging up any extant links that may still exist--there was some debate on virtual rape. Is it rape, the respondents asked, if it's not physical and in the flesh?

The rational answer to this, of course, is no. If one can log off the net, if one can port out of the setting, then one cannot be raped--or, by extension, tortured, beaten or murdered. In a sense, it's all consensual violent acts on the grid; one can always get away. Even if it's only by virtue of pulling the computer's cord to disconnect everything.

And that's all well and good--and that's actually a truthful position--but I spoke (from personal experience) on those occasions when the lines blur. Sure, I said, we may be able to leave any particular roleplay, but by the same extension if we are living in that moment, if we are caught up in the emotions of the rp--we may forget we have these options. We may forget we can just type out You know what? This is stupid. No. I'm gone.

And go.

With that in mind, Lillie Yifu has a thought-provoking entry on her journal, about the Lindens' subsidization of rape clubs. At first glance, this seems beyond outlandish. Especially with the arrival of Zindra, and the Labs' insistence on "cleaning up" the grid for business, educational and commercial ventures--why would they ever protect a virtual 'rape room'?

But LL is doing more than that, in that [its] policy enforcement is clearly intended to mainstream rape. LL does not enforce its rules against rape parcels almost at all. Despite personal knowledge of them by LL employees, despite repeated reports, despite flagrant violation of its own rules.

How is this possible? It's not the first time Miss Yifu's mentioned it.

But--as has been pointed out innumerable times before--business clients (the market the Labs desperately want to get into) don't care about furs, vampires, ageplay, BDSM, or forced sex. They really, really don't. What business clients do care about is platform stability. Platform security. Knowing that the company one does business with isn't open to hacking for passwords or credit cards (and the Labs have been hacked, notably, twice).

Compared to what life's like on the grid now (severe lag, crashing, inventory issues, widespread sim issues, scripting burdens, server strain, and gridwide breakdown), what's a little bump and tickle between victim and oppressor?

(Btw: the "BnB Forced Sex RP" sim doesn't appear to be there, because they have cleverly changed their name to BnB Forced Sex Roleplay ( still on Mature land). Cheeky devils. I suspect people who weren't able to follow that stunning renaming on their part will have to content themselves going to Stolen Innocence, Brigadom Market, Pirate Cove's Orgy in Forest, or SlutLand. Unless they want to not violate LL's stated rules--not that the Labs seem to care--and actually do Adult things on Adult land. Good thing the Lindens are cracking down on 'rape rooms', I feel so much safer...)

The Living in the Metaverse blog takes on content theft, protests against the Lindens, and November 5th. I pretty much agree with their perspective--it didn't do a hell of a lot of good, and the Lindens didn't notice. As expected. As noted in the comments, at least one respondent planned a major sale that day, never knowing!

So much for 'getting the word out'.

Also from over a year back on the same blog, how to avoid drama:

Stay firm. If that means to be rude or impolite… well life is rough sometimes. If you have to stop answering IM's, avoiding some places, muting people… do it. There is no "just one more time" excuse. Make a clean cut. Now. Go live happily.

That's something I still find extraordinarily hard to do, but you know what? Maybe it's time to toughen up. Mute those I need to. I already shrug off sim bans--honestly, they only get in my way if there's something I want in there, and that so rarely happens. And in the case of that one chain of sims I just keep my virtual rear clear of--hey, it makes everyone happier. And I finally realized "everyone" now includes me.

Maybe muting isn't so bad, all things considered. After all, it could be worse. And it has been.

and anyway I've got no place to go

This terrifies me. Just literally, makes my soul quail in abject writhing terror. I'm not kidding.

I used to dance with Summer Seale, I never thought she was capable of such skin-crawling dread-inducing madness in prim form.

First night in Second Life? Man, I just wandered around and walked places, and worried about the duck walk. This guy invades skyscrapers and walks through walls.

Speaking of Dr. Who--sorta--this is a brief glimpse of some twisted alternate-reality paradise. Where there are lots of sharp things skittering in the bushes.

Who play drums.

On synthesizers.

If you're a fan of the show's music, go listen. Everything you'll hear there is downloadable.

Credit goes to Edward, who can't remember where he found it, and thought it was me. But since it's not, then someone else has to take the credit for telling him.

DeepThink moves on. I could make some comment here about "rats" and "sinking ship", but it might be considered tacky.

And I have to find time to go see this exhibit.

So, where are we on the state of things? Lady Pearse, Christine McAllister, is leaving Steelhead. I should ask why. Things in Babbage are still haywire--I think Miss Burton's trial just tied up, no idea what the verdict was, whether for or against Dr. Obolensky.

Caledon now has no non-Mature sims, a direct result of the idiocy of the Labs in not only forming Ursula in the first place, but changing the definitions of words they already had in place.

And I still haven't finished the dress for Kira-Kira, and there's only a month and a half left of SLRFL in the first place, and in the second...well, is there a rock under the rock I'm currently hiding under? Because that'd be good, yeah.

My only excuse is that I kept finishing a design, and then pushing it aside as possible offensive/triggering/tacky, or just plain thinking it wasn't good enough, flat out.

Here's the thing. I'm not the greatest clothing designer. I do okay, but most of the things I design I end up wearing, and the more I learn, the closer I come to throwing out the old designs anyway. I'm proud of a few things--I want to redesign the alphabet block texture set, but I like the way it came out. I'm very proud of the bloodcell dress and the house slippers. (I'm insanely proud of the house slippers, I do admit.)

Everything else? I think it's mad hubris I'm offering it for sale in the first place.

The other large problem is my design sense. I do have one, it's just...deeply odd. I make clockwork puns, for--! I mean, really! My one claim to fame, barring just being my own strange surreal self, is making clockwork citrus. And when I got into clothing design? I made dresses out of rust textures. I got involved with major splatter. I'm still happier if the frock has major damage, or blood splashed liberally, or sun-burnt patches...I'm working on a set of patchwork strips for a skirt, and I may never sell it, because it's just too odd.

And, not the least of everything, is...while I adore the Victorian and Edwardian eras, and have adored wearing medieval clear down to flapper-era attire...I don't design Victorian well. There are those that do--Hatpins to Silver Rose, M'Lady Designs to Silent Sparrow--but I've always felt subversive, at best, and flagrantly in violation, at worst, even showing my designs in Caledon. And you're far more likely to catch me in Bare Rose or Pixeldolls, depending.

But. I have a new source for textures, those I don't make on my own, and she does incredible, incredible work. (Visit Twisted Thorn Textures if you want to see what she does up close--and the sim's just fun to wander in.) I'm learning more on what goes where and how it goes there and what it does once it's there, and this is no bad thing.

And I've done a lot of research, on shading, on shaping, on what dress silhouettes were, year to year. It may take a while to entirely filter through, from thought to frock, but it will.

And late or not, part of the RFL or not, I am putting this dress out, if I have to put it out gratis--because I wasn't making it for personal gain, anyway.

This will be the last Kartiny release. Come June or July, I'm reinventing. I want to take a stab at actually developing a business logo, a business plan, and just about everything is going to be taken down. I'll see what's left, and see if I want to be a dabbler in textures, or a dabbler in prims, or...turn the entire store over to Fawkes and move on.

I'll know, in time. I'm watching the section of me that's watching me decide. I've nearly decided on a new business name, after all.

sleep, sugar, let your dreams flood in

Hear your heartbeat
Beat a frantic pace
And it's not even seven AM

You're feeling the rush
of anguish settling
You cannot help showing them in

She walks again, moves through the world, the lady that was lost in kitten dreams. I see, I notice, I think it's a precursor of good things, but I admit I watch the world warily, these days, when I watch at all.



(December 2008, the signs to sell Rivula go up. Home and more than home, for my staggered starting footsteps on the grid. It was one of many signs of change to come.)

So hurry up then
Or you'll fall behind and
They will take control of you

And you need to heal
The hurt behind your eyes
Fickle words crowding your mind

I am back to feeling spiderlike, the dreamer in the web, tugging on strings tied to secrets. I never sell, I never barter, everyone's entitled to things they don't want the world to see. But all information is valid. And more information helps me fit the pieces together.



(Part of an initial photo session featuring an outfit I still haven't released yet, due to difficulties with the flexi skirt--but mostly I thought afterwards that 'sad mime' really wasn't the best way to present the combo...)

So
Sleep, sugar, let your dreams flood in,
Like waves of sweet fire
You're safe within
Sleep, sweetie, let your floods come rushing in,
And carry you over to a new morning

The puzzle of any community is in its people. Caledon no less than any other, real or imagined. The trick of Caledon is that it's so interwoven, such a complex weave--truly closer to a tartan than a web. Tug on one strand it might weave tighter, or it might slip free of the weave entirely, making the structure in that place more fragile than it was.

Best not to tug at all, but...knowing. Discovering. Sometimes, just a little pull, just a bit, thin thread of possibility between thumb and forefinger...Sometimes, it's difficult to know when to stop.



(Sometimes the poetry slams get out of hand. This one, held in the satellite consulate in Kittiwickshire, featured poems honoring Caledon and growth. When word went around that Miss Qlippothic Project's poem on Caledon had not been heard, I tracked down my copy and read it aloud. I was then covered head to toe in pies and Bibles. They liked it a great deal.)

Try as you might
You try to give it up
Seems to be holding on fast

Its hand in your hand
A shadow over you
A beggar for soul in your face

Every step is a new discovery, every pause is a moment to breathe, to walk away from nearly-forgotten wreckage. Old lovers who last year were bitter and acrimonious this year call me dear. New lovers...well, there's been a paucity of those, at late, because I rest content with what I have. Contentment is new for me, still inspiring some slight unease of mind--but slowly I begin to relax, readjust, reclaim those parts of me that never saw the dawn before now.



(Clockwerk contemplating height requirements for world takeover.)

Still it don't matter
If you won't listen
If you won't let it follow you

Sometimes I forget I'm not the only one healing. It's easy to be selfish and view my pain as the only pain; but others around me, near and far, grieve too. Every heart breaks at some point; not every heart heals correctly. So it has to be broken again; maybe the second time it will heal properly.

I watch the signs of heartbreak, feeling spider in the web, and sometimes I can help. Sometimes I can't. Not everything's about me.



(Fawkes Allen's dreaming sun, thirty-eight prims of he-was-bored-one-night. I get bored and I find new forms to change into. He gets bored and he creates universes.)

You just need to heal
Make good all your lies
Move on and don't look behind

We walk, and our steps drag. We walk, curled in on ourselves from old and new pain. We walk until we're used to hunching, afraid of the next blow to come.

It's harder still to stand up, clean-limbed and exposed, and not flinch from the next imagined blow. Reclaiming is also about strengthening, remembering who we were before the shatter, and reshaping who we are now. We don't have to live in pain, in fear, if we don't want to. We don't have to hold the hurts of all our bitter yesterdays closer than children.

Let them go. Let them all go. Walk away; we don't need them. We can't use them. We are walking forward, to new love and new pain, new understanding, and the end of the time of trial...or at least, this time of trial. There will always be others.



(Another image from the poetry slam, this one from Winterfell Absinthe and der Hut des Jaegers, the usual home of the Thursday event. The tangle of Bibles and woodgrain is an avatar entirely comprised of guns. Only man I'd ever met who could cover an entire crowd, no matter which way he was facing.)

So
Sleep, sugar, let your dreams flood in,
Like waves of sweet fire
You're safe within
Sleep, sweetie, let your floods come rushing in,
And carry you over to a new morning



(I don't even remember where this is now, but this was taken on one of the odd Yule hunts...the green poseball is a sit pose, in one of the loops, but inside was a cuddle bed.

(...At least, I hope it was a cuddle bed.)

Day after day
Fickle visions
Messing with your head
Fickle, vicious

Fretting over the past does one thing, very well: it traps us there, held more fast by the chains we create than any shackles ever made in the world. We are our pasts, just as we are our futures, that never changes; but we can choose which past we reflect to the world. And we must never forget, any of us, all of us--it's never too late to change our pasts. The mirror looks both ways.



(Part of the floor of Miss Allegory Malaprop's store, Schadenfreude, in Starlust--aka the veves marking of Erzulie, voudon goddess of love, pain, beauty and beauty's loss, and the battlefield of the heart.)

Sleeping in your bed
Messing with your head
Fickle visions
Fickle, vicious

And the one thing we cannot do, must not do, must never do--is stop listening to our own heart, wounded, battered, bleeding, hurting. Caution, it counsels us, caution, wariness, it teaches us to pull back from passion's burning: all this we must listen to, embrace, understand, before we can leave our pain behind. We understand, we listen, we begin to believe there are better ways of relating than hiding behind our wounded hearts--or even worse, hiding our hearts behind armor.

The fist shelters us from harm, we think at first. But the open hand held out is the greater risk, always.

Take the risk.



(Captured during the candy-cane hunt in Malkavyn Eldritch and Candy Cerveau's marvelous Magic of Oz sim--in the light side of Oz, even--these two idiots gesturespamming with large, oddly-colored, misshapen--well, you get the idea, from the "censored" bars.)

Sleep, sugar, let your dreams flood in,
Like waves of sweet fire
You're safe within
Sleep, sweetie, let your floods come rushing in,
And carry you over to a new morning...

Take the risk. Whether the world feeds us glass shards or gold dust, take the risk. If you hear nothing else, hear this: take the risk. Because the longer we hide, the deeper we go inside. When we can no longer see ourselves, just the shadow of all our armored protections, from shoulder crenellations to the barbs between our lips...we've lost more than the chance at future love.

We've lost ourselves.

Don't lose. Take the risk. Take the step. And walk. Friends, enemies, and everyone in between, walk.



(Found yet again during some winter hunt, this one between several Japanese sims: a moon, pure and perfect, hanging in midair; with a port post sticking out of it next to a tree and a flower. Very Little Prince. We took the port and found ourselves inexplicably in the moon, on a small platform with chrome rails. And with no other way out seen, we began to explore, where, at the very bottom, we found this lone visitor counter.

(Let's hope they've had more visitors since.)

Lastly, things I never wanted to know were on the grid, part 72: "Low-rise" jeans take on a new meaning:



Um. Just a thought, but really...once they're this low? They're really tall legwarmers. Or footless tights that have fallen down.

I mean, not to be crude, but if the model wasn't completely bare of all nether fur? This would really be eye-catching. And not in a good way.

Still, if you want a pair of your own, I feel obligated to tell you to repair off for Sassy Kitty Designs. They run currently between sixty and one hundred and twenty Lindens. By all means, have fun.

(Lyrics taken from Poets of the Fall, their song "Sleep".)

a fortune in feelings, but some day you'll pay

Miss Kirstenlee Cinquetti is getting lauds for her S16 viewer over on New World Notes. Here's the problem: her blog is missing. Which means all the rave reviews of "SL's best viewer"? Don't mean a thing, at this point.

Thanks to a friend who captured it before it went away, I'll be playing with it over the next week or so, but still...if it doesn't come back, it's pretty pointless.

Pursuant to this entry, I've had a lot of interest and comment behind the scenes. And I feel--now having been provided with a transcript of the event as it occurred--I must retract earlier statements.

I quote:

"To wit, the recent banning from Steelhead of a woman who described sexual acts in graphic detail on the public chat, and then demanded residents lick her feet."

Again, without using names--though the guilty party, and those who observed her actions, will clearly know to whom I refer--the woman in question did not, actually, describe sexual acts in public chat. While this had been what was described from sources, according to the transcript I've now been given, this is not what happened.

What happened, in my opinion, is far more tacky, and quite possibly worse. Follow:

1. For some reason known only to the gods, this particular individual tries to entice several people to smell her feet. Fetish? Playful behavior of some kind? We do not know. But this proceeded towards:

2. Offers by at least one person to coat her foot in other (food-based, not what you might be thinking!) substances; her acceptance of such, and the first hints of a reaction from members of the chat (nausea and confusion, mainly).

3. Offers to a married man to lick her feet; refusal by said married man; married man's spouse telling her to back off; her ignoring said offer completely.

That last bit, to me, is the most important thing that happened. Whether you weigh in on the side of chat confusion (the wife's retort was lost in cross-chatter, this individual missed it by sheer mischance, not deliberate malice) or not, to me, at least, certain things are sacrosanct. And the rules are simple and inviolable.

If one wishes to play with someone, and they are partnered with someone else, and that person objects--game over. This goes for everything from close personal intimacies all the way up to flirting: if the spouse is present, one must, must take one's cues from that spouse, as much as from the object of interest. And when the spouse steps up and says all right, that's enough, back off--and one does not listen--well, then, you get what you get and you've earned it.

I do realize there is a perceived disconnect where the world is concerned. Because we are not creatures purely of the grid, we make alliances in and out of world. In world, if our partners also play, they may play as wife or husband to us, as close friend, as brother in at least one case I know, as cousin in one other case--the possibilities are endless, and on occasion, endlessly disturbing.

The one thing, however, that I do know is--if someone is partnered in world, that partner has some say over their partner's actions. And that is doubly true if the partner in world is also the partner out of it.

Play with those ties at your peril, always; as the woman under discussion found out.

Are you feeling tired? Run down? Strogg LeStrogg can help...sort of.

And if you can ignore the spelling errors, and the bafflingly long "Leeroy Jenkins" segment...the rest of it is hysterical. Fully one hundred ways to die--many of them surreal and insane--using Garry's Mod.

Finally, How Not to Be Seen--Halo style.

do you care what I believe, or that I wear a heart upon my sleeve

I don't know if I want to be the one who states that the degradation of personal manners in Caledon is spreading; perhaps it's part and parcel of new people finding out about Second Life as a whole, who have no concept of comportment, personal responsibility, and what not to say in public.

To wit, the recent banning from Steelhead of a woman who described sexual acts in graphic detail on the public chat, and then demanded residents lick her feet.

Aberrant behavior? I would definitely agree. Singular? No, and this is where I venture briefly into the former waters of propriety and discipline: because this has happened before, and obviously, by this incident, it will happen again.

Perhaps a refresher course on netiquette is needed, more than anything else.

First, remember, we're all in this together. Second Life draws in people from everywhere, all levels of experience, education, interest and intelligence. This means strong friendships can form with people one would never otherwise encounter; but by the same extension, if we are not physically there (gathering at a dance, a discussion group, a poetry reading, for tea), there's not the same sense of contact. It's easier to be rude; easier to get (and stay) upset; easier to dismiss the words read as only words.

Very few people are exempt from this disconnection, and believe me, I am not leaving myself out. I have fallen prey to it just as often; it's common, it happens.

This also goes double for the additional point of choosing one's words with great care. This does not mean don't have fun, don't jest, don't play--but remember, all we have to go on are our words. If those words are easily understood and arranged in such a way to create what we intend to send with them: wonderful. If they are read by the other person as an accusatory mass of vitriol, or are viewed by someone else, as shockingly obscene, then there is definitely something wrong with those word choices. Think before you type is an excellent guideline.

For good or ill, we will be judged on the quality of our writing. Online, our words are our blood and bone, our muscle, our structure. Existing purely on net abbreviations, misspelled words, shorthand and other net conventions is somewhat akin to showing up in public with pieces missing. Also remember: for the most part, if people we interact with didn't enjoy reading and the written word, they wouldn't be there--but also, for some reason, Second Life (and the net in general) attract many non-readers who then confuse others greatly. Try to be clear when speaking; it will minimize confusion all around.

More than that, we're back to choosing our words with care, but in the arena of proper grammar, spelling and the like, it goes even farther. Even those gentles who may not spell well, who may send out lower-case phrases and sentence fragments (I am not immune to this myself) should know there's a vast difference between not spelling well, and not bothering. An example:

ok i get it

versus

o i c

The first fragment is all lower-case, there are abbreviations, there is no punctuation--but it's clear, it's concise, it's understandable. The bottom fragment demonstrates one is unlettered completely as well as profoundly uncaring to improve.

Typos? Misspellings we didn't catch? Wrong window syndrome? We've all done it; people like CoyoteAngel Dimsum make it a running joke (which, on occasion, still makes me giggle like a five-year-old). But no one is immune; it happens.

There is still a difference between that, or genuinely not being able to spell (dyslexia, for example, which makes reading, writing and typing a challenge), and not caring how one spells, because "it's no big deal" or "everyone spells like this". Believe me, "everyone" does not spell like this; and nearly everyone appreciates some effort being made on trying to communicate, over indifference in all communication.

Bob Crispin once said, Treat every post as though you were sending a copy to your boss, your minister, and your worst enemy. While that mostly--and justifiably--applies to email, it's good to keep in mind while speaking in world. If every word we say, we know is echoed to our employers, our counselors, and those who wish us ill...how would we phrase things? Would we rephrase them? Would we self-censor, or accept all our words as valid for that moment?

I'm not trying to encourage anyone to stop talking; everyone has that right. Just to keep in mind that what we say may not be understood how we mean it; and that we are, not always, speaking to the most favorable audience.

I am who I am; even with consideration of what I type, at times I deliberately choose inflammatory modes of speaking. Sometimes this is done for effect; sometimes I am simply consumed by hurt and outrage and, in that moment, I type what occurs to me. On reflection, these are not always my shining moments. I admit this; I accept this.

We are who we are; fair and flawed, bright and dark. All we can do, in the end, is try to do better. Nothing stops us from doing better, after all, but ourselves. We are our greatest challenge; we do more to get (and stay) in our own way than anyone we may meet.

When will there be more Strindberg & Helium? I miss them.

we left them in the alehouse, we drank them clean away

This continues from yesterday's entry; if you haven't read it, I encourage scrolling down before reading the call-and-response noted here. But I felt the replies to that entry deserved to be answered at greater length.

Darien Mason said "Note that the people you mentioned are moving to other Victorian/Steampunk sims. I see that as a sign of Caledon's success. Our sensibilities are exported to other lands as they become part of a greater community. They may pay rent elsewhere, but we're sure to see them at another Caledon Ball."

Dr. Mason: I do see it as a mark of Caledon's success that people, having seen what Caledon is, realize they can share their own vision of times past with the world. Just as Caledon was built by watching Winterfell, so too, Steelhead's expansion, New Toulouse, New Babbage, the Land of Lincoln, the sims comprising Silent's Folly, depicting the Carolina low country of the 1860's...so many others...these are good, and valued, and precisely what historical devotees need to fight to retain.

And never let me gainsay those who have come in and embraced Caledon with their whole heart, fought to keep new traditions and old alive, those who fell in love with one sim or the land entire; I would even say, those who struggle to fit in, but come short on occasion; yearn to, and eventually learn--these gentles are just as valued as those who effortlessly synchronize with the culture as it exists.

I have to believe this, in a sense; I'm one of those. I struggle against modernisms, against more familiarity than is needed; I fret occasionally over my wardrobe, and the precise line between "quasi-Victorian Lolita dress" (which truly, in Victorian times, would be styles of clothing restricted to children alone) and ankle-revealing "slutwear" (to be fair, I actually have a folder in my modern clothing section called that; but I think I can be forgiven, as it used to be work togs).

But I still think there is a dividing line between someone who struggles to adapt to the culture, wishes to--and someone who makes little attempt, and seems not to notice the lack. And I see far, far too many of the latter these days.

Icterus Dagger said: "Although many of us have this ill conceived idea that all rules are for ill, one can't have an influx of people such as Caledon has had (along with its land holdings) and not have some mechanism for enforcing the underlying theme. When you are smaller, you can self regulate; when you are larger, you need help. Perhaps some of us became swamped and unable to handle the load?"

Mr. Dagger: Some did feel overwhelmed, I know that. Some sought to help where they could (the various sims on the grid that donated corners near their transport hubs, that soon became full to bursting with newcomer clothing options, housing options, in some cases, far and away beyond the bins in Victoria City). Others pulled back in complete frustration. This left the rest of us stranded midway between wanting to guide, and wanting to walk away in sheer incomprehension.

Perhaps the greatest number of us chose the wrong option--namely, "We'll just let them be, they'll figure things out sooner or later." They have failed, in many cases, to do this; they have foregone gentle nudges towards correct behavior; and, in a few cases, seem not to care in the slightest. I find myself baffled as to how to proceed, and left unsure that there is any workable solution at this point.

Mr. Dagger continues: "I have seen lapses in language and custom, in politness and tolerance such as I never expected to see, both in the group chat and in person."

And you know, that is the most frightening loss to me in all of this--it's bad enough in what is, essentially, private missives (even though Caledon group chat goes out to far, far more people than ever speak over its aetherwaves, it is essentially kept separate from "main" chat, as we walk through Caledon proper), but to meet these same blunt discourtesies when we are standing not a meter back from the avatar in question...it is disquieting in the least.

To a certain extent I am inured to rudeness on the mainland; the first parcel of land I ever owned in Second Life, I ended up selling at a drastically reduced rate simply because I was excruciatingly tired of coming home to my next-parcel neighbor shooting me in the face. Bear traps, cages, griefers, sim bombs, purportedly adult males overweeningly proud of their exposed privates; I expect these things, these are--dare I say it--fairly routine events.

When I face similar events in Caledon, I find myself curiously unprepared. Were they just wanderers from the outside, that would be one thing, but that in some cases, our own citizens are exhibiting similar behavior...I admit, it does still retain the capacity to shock.

Rhianon Jameson said: "I think it's inevitable that as the number of sims grows, there will be some "drift" from the original theme. It's impossible to corral 800 residents the way one can with a few dozen."

Perhaps the real issue is that Caledon is like most other formed societies: members within them (the SCA springs unerringly to mind; whereas information on the various themes and behaviors expected can be found in many places, for the most part, newcomers are simply dropped into the culture at events and expected to sink or swim on their own merits) will advise, guide, and counsel, but in general, will stand back and let each individual choose their own best way to learn and respond.

There is good and bad in this. Good, in that gentle subversion of the expected 'norm' (on the grid, that would be the mainland) is a good thing; bad, in that perhaps there should be more to things. Perhaps each new resident package needs to contain a list of things To Do (and Not To Do) in Caledon; or a general outline of the period. Reading notes. Something.

Miss Jameson once more: "I agree with Miss Orr that the brain drain is a potential problem. Although there are a great many residents, a much smaller fraction do a large share of the heavy lifting - interesting builds, social events, and so on."

I do agree, actually. I did not originally perceive that as part of the problem (I rather naïvely assumed that more land in Caledon simply meant more members of genteel society to fill that land). And I am still not entirely of the opinion that we're falling downhill, on fire, after having been dipped liberally in organic acid.

Still, it must be said that, while I agree with Dr. Mason's point on Caledonian departure to other themed sims being oddly supportive of continuation of the dream...it still must be affirmed that it is Caledonian departure. And, even with Winterfell Anodyne being once more, that odd mix of dark Victorian/Cthonic demi-history...the rest of Winterfell, by and large, is medieval in theme and like to remain so, retaining sims like Anodyne, Laudanum and Absinthe as 'buffer zones' between the "old" (Winterfell interior) and the "new" (Caledon and other Victorian or themed sims).

How best to fix this? That, I truly can't say. Because I have fought long and hard off the grid, in other societies entirely, to bring in more involvement when only a few shouldered the burden of many; and I failed drastically and completely. I no longer believe that individuals, left to their own devices, can recognize and alter their behavior--if they do not perceive it as wrong.

So...what, then? Try to install the Victorian sense of shame? I don't think that will work (at least long-term), either--as morbidly amusing, for a time, as it might be to 'socially shun' those who persist in uncouth expression. There simply may be no good solution, considering the high numbers of avatars involved.

Edward Pearse stated: The most disheartening thing for me though is the loss of "manners". I don't force people to use titles, though I use them myself, but it's the over familiarity that makes ISC read like a Desperate and Dateless IRC channel sometimes. People posting up that they're now single, or commentaries involving semi-naked men you have shackled in your dungeon should be kept to intimates, not plastered all over for the world to see.

My precise point, Edward. I think I was subconsciously aware of the deterioration of polite society at, sadly, the time I joined Caledon as a parcel owner (which means I, like Miss Jameson stated, may be considered part of the problem, as a new resident). But the night it was brought forcibly and irrevocably home for me was the night a "gentleman" (quotes intended) of Caledon took to task, in harsh and uncompromising language, both the reputation and the source of financing of a lady of his acquaintance--who had every reason, before that night, to expect to be treated as a lady by the majority of Caledon.

And since that night, there has been continual erosion, so much so that at this point it is no longer a shallow grade to the shore, but a sheer cliff drop-off we approach at speed.

Sir Edward continues: "An ex-Caledonian recently trumpeted her reasons for leaving Caledon. Her parting shot was that she was not now or ever a Victorian. My own thought was (after some unpolite ones about not wanting the door to hit her on the way out) was if you don't like Victoriana, then why on earth come and live in a steampunk community?"

This, perhaps, is my other goal, in bringing this to discussion's light: why move to a community one shares nothing in common with; in fact, perhaps actively dislikes in terms of dress, comportment, architectural design, et al; why would someone want to inflict that on themselves? Why would one want to live in a place where (even if we are, to some extent, all playing "dress-up") a certain social reserve is not only expected, but encouraged; where titles and peerage are respected; where we try to honor the history we make, as well as the history we pattern ourselves, our businesses, and our behavior upon, as best we can?

The motto of Caledon remains: Tolerans, Civilis, Innovus, Laganum. These are not just words to be dismissed. Caledon should inspire us to be more tolerant, of ourselves and each other; to be civil, even in uncivil times; to create, to imagine, to invent; to feast and to make merry.

What virtue does Caledon retain, that becomes, perhaps has become, Intolerant; Uncivil; Unimaginative? What is the value of continuing if we have lost all shreds of what has banded our dissimilar selves together, behind such diverse and lovely goals?

That, that, is what I do not want to see Caledon lose. And that, I very much fear, we are steadily progressing towards.

I am open to any suggestions, from friends and enemies alike--or, at least, to those that don't suggest we give in and become Real World: Caledon.

hope for anything but light

(We have always had ways to communicate.)

Circling around each other, widening circles, elliptical orbits. We have ways.

Whether we want them or not, whether we listen or not. Things are said, information is exchanged, we communicate.

Now for the first time, I'm not sure of what I'm hearing. And I wonder, is it due to recent transitions, or extended absence? Have I finally lost that small subtle gift of knowing that one's heart, even at a distance from mine?

I went to Steelhead for the Consulate staff meeting. Ash Mason is the newly elected Wulfenbach Liaison to Steeltopia. I believe he was also made an honorary Jager. Might have something to do with being a construct.

(Communication, by word, by inference, weaving between the speeches and silence. Ribbon of truth, ribbon of doubt. Which face is real, or all they all false?)

I was invited back for the Wulfenbach celebration dance on Friday, later this month, and for the Wulfenbach Consulate anniversary, Saturday, later still. I had nothing near the 20th at the time, but Radio Riel seems to have lost many hosts of late. I had to pick up more shifts. Now, I'm booked.

(Is it what I wanted, though? Not to go, or to have good reason not to go? Or does it just rely on lack of staff? Is it forethought or simple ill luck?)

Last night I danced at Novem. I'm told they changed ownership, that the woman who founded the tavern was evicted from the premises. This bothers me, because that means I finally got to see it, after it's no longer in her hands.

(Side glances. Side comments. View through a tarnished mirror, over the shoulder and down. What is real? What is imagined? What isn't my imagination?)

Today I'm told to make a change. And it's not even one I disagree with, on the surface. But it took incredible courage to make that change. I was literally shaking with emotion afterwards. All from the click of a button.

Reaving. Parting. Dissolution, even. All these things.

(Maybe we are still communicating. Maybe we're just not saying anything the other one wants to hear....)

on the turning away

Many odd thoughts crawl through one's head when one is hanging from a noose.



Or, well, if said one is me...I would imagine the normal soul would not be thinking much of anything, but I just had a bit of difficulty getting a good amount of oxygen for a while.

It gave more than enough time for reflection, however, on home, and what home means, and how much of our lives center around the search for home, the loss of home, home's return.

Home is where the heart is.

Home, home on the range.

Home is where, when you go there, they have to take you in.



My bout of hanging over, I started wandering the empty, littered halls of the abandoned hospital. Wreckage of a downed plane burned outside; and the eternal drone of a young woman's voice reassuring the dearth of survivors to remain calm was...not exactly comforting. It brought me again to thoughts of home, to how we make homes, how we live in them.

Home. It's a good word. A comforting word. Even folks who have bad home associations still fall into the social yearning for the good home. This is why haunted houses are so disorienting...Stephen King may have put it best during a speech from Rose Red:

"Houses are alive. This is something we know. News from our nerve endings. If we're quiet...if we listen...we can hear houses breathe. Sometimes in the depth of night, we hear them groan. It's as if they're having bad dreams.

"A good house cradles and comforts. A bad one fills us with instinctive unease. Bad houses hate our warmth, our humanness. That blind hate of our humanity is what we mean by the word 'haunted'."

In this sense, houses, homes, are more than just their prims and textures, more than the labor to build them, the effort to furnish and detail. Homes are our social face, in a sense. The face we choose to show to the world, even if we, ourselves, cannot be seen.

In this sense, home, then, is the truest indication of who, and what, we are.



My footfalls sounded, hushed and wary, down the stairwell as I descended from light to dark. The lights here were dimmer, greener, and the overpowering stench hit me before the reality became clear--the basement had become an improvised morgue. Here were the survivors.

I stepped in for a closer look and realized what I'd taken for patches of shadow were the shambling horrors the survivors had become. I was surrounded before I could think to react, sustaining three bites as I fought my way free.

It wasn't my idea of home. But maybe to a zombie...

"A house is a place of shelter. It's the body we put on over our bodies. As our bodies grow old, so do our houses. As our bodies may sicken, so do our houses sicken.

"And what of madness? If mad people live within, doesn't this creep into the rooms...and walls and corridors? The very boards? Don't we sometimes sense that madness reaching out to us? Isn't that a large part of what we mean when we say...a place is unquiet, festered up with spirits?

"We say 'haunted'...but we mean the house has gone insane.

All of this came about because I was invited to attend a combined rez day party for both the Davies sisters, Tanarian and Myfanwy, and also (one of) my erstwhile employers, and Vice-Consul to the Europan Consulate, Frau Annechen Lowey. It was held at Miss Tanarian's dance pavilion in Steelhead Harborside. And I will admit freely, I had more than a few qualms about attending.

Oh, I've been unbanned for weeks, now, if not months, there's nothing but my own ethics that keeps me from the set of sims that Steelhead is blossoming into. Even so, I felt as if I was invading, as if my very presence would be seen as intrusive. Injurious. Damaging.

At the height of the party--for which I have no pictures, alas, because I was concentrating so very hard on not being a nuisance in any way--we had several dogs underfoot, getting into everything, from Irish wolfhounds nearly larger than I was, to small little Corgis with pink collars. And it struck me that here was life, bright vibrant life, and it was a wonderful sight to behold, and be near for those few hours I spent...but that it would not be part of my life, anymore.

One would think being gone from a sim for over a year, and being banned from that sim for nearly half that time, would more than have convinced me, but...I'm a slow learner.



Tonight Brigadoon appeared again, and it just brought more contemplation on home, on what home means, on what our search for home means. Caledon Brigadoon, like any of the Caledon sims, is a mix of mostly residential with some commercial concerns, but it has one distinct difference: it has the ancient village of Brigadoon, which appears every twenty-eight days, for a rough period of three hours, and then vanishes into the mists again, to wait out its time in the between spaces.



Tonight it appeared during Brigadoon's brightly sunny day, which made the perpetual tully fog and eventual fading in sections even more odd, because they were magical feats accompanied by bright sun and blue skies. It was still, as with the first time I was there, a glorious thing to see. And the series of thatched-roofed, lath-chinked cottages contributed to that feeling of...Home, safe and sound, home, comforts of, home, where we long to be...

Heraclitus said, Nothing endures but change. I've always found that to be true. Thomas Wolfe titled a book on the subject--"You Can't Go Home Again". I believe that's true, too. You can never go home again, not to what it was, because home's changed, and you have also. That has to be accepted, and that's just part of the life lived.

But sometimes...if you're very, very lucky...you can visit on occasion. Just to reassure yourself that home is still there.

It's something.

it's just another ordinary miracle today

It's not that usual when everything is beautiful
It's just another ordinary miracle today

The Bashful Peacock held a Prom. The theme was May Flowers, and for some reason, I was actually worried about attire. I perused the offerings of several Caledonian and non-Caledonian designers, before making my decision--bright cheerful colors for the Early Bird version, elegant monochrome for the evening--and then it was down to shoes and accessories.

Black pearls I had by happy accident, but what to wear with the pink satin dress? And the longer time went on, the more I decided I didn't particularly favor the bodice.

The sky knows when it's time to snow
You don't need to teach a seed to grow
It's just another ordinary miracle today

I ended up over at Adam & Eve's, looking over Damen's incredible shoes, so when Wonder Girl called to deliver me the JLU emergency signal--with any luck, to help with future mass-griefing accidents at Rivula and elsewhere--I thought nothing of bringing her in.

She agreed with me; the bodice had to go. But replace it with what? I searched frantically through my inventory, trying to find something that would properly pair with pink watered silk.

Life is like a gift, they say
Wrapped up for you every day
Open up and find a way
To give some of your own

I finally decided to make my own, and to hell with the consequences.



To the first Bashful Peacock Prom, I wore the flex skirt and the underskirt from Victoria V's, and the glitch pants; I threw together the bodice, gloves, sash and jacket (with its large ametrine cabochon to hold it closed), and the stockings, and slipped into a pair of Damen's Volar pumps, which were surprisingly easy to dance in.

Isn't it remarkable?
Like every time a raindrop falls
It's just another ordinary miracle today

Her Grace the DJ-ing Duchess had a ball pulling together the set list; music from Proms from the twenties to the nineties, and beyond. And we happily danced, rejoicing in spring, and dance, and friendship.

Birds in winter have their fling
And always make it home by spring
It's just another ordinary miracle today

Then I fell off the grid for a bit, clawed my way back in, and reported to the Marzipan Teahouse, for beautifully vintage tunes provided by Lady Soliel Snook.



It was the epitome of teahouse dances, once some technical difficulties had been resolved; elegant surroundings, polite dancing, and a small horde of women discussing hats and haberdashery.

As an interesting complement, Miss Reghan Straaf attended, and her timing was perfect--I had just passed out landmarks to Hatpins, her establishment in Caledon Downs, to four of the women there, and--as I was again wearing green--rummaged for and threw on the emerald Lady Persephone hat she'd tinted for me, a Herculean effort that she pulled off seemingly effortlessly.

She's so talented.

When you wake up every day
Please don't throw your dreams away
Hold them close to your heart
'Cause we are all a part
Of the ordinary miracle

Then it was another quick-change and into the monochrome of leopard spots, white and black silk, scattered with dark embroidered blooms. Simple (granted, 1940's vamps) black shoes, black stockings, and the aforementioned black pearls completed the look, and off I went to meet with Mr. Gilbert Sapwood to host the evening Prom at the Peacock.

I wish I had pictures of the second event. So many people came. It was nothing short of phenomenal. We relived past proms and touched on future joys, discussed the music, love and celebration, tossed the storyteller supreme offbeat requests which he capably and joyously played for us--it went, in a word, stunningly.

Ordinary miracle
Do you want to see a miracle?

For both events, the Prom committee had created a raised, tinted glass floor, over blooming tulips and wildflowers, and it was like dancing on air. There was a bit of a trick to figure it out, but once accomplished, it seemed the perfect thing.

It seems so exceptional
Things just work out after all
It's just another ordinary miracle today

Mayor Littleblackduck Lindsay showed up in very small squirrel form, and to be honest, watching him rotate around the dancefloor chanting "WHEEE" was half the joy of attending. But by and large, it managed to be the best of times, without all the traditional Prom agony.

I think we're more than looking forward to doing this again.

The sun comes up and shines so bright
It disappears again at night
It's just another ordinary miracle today



I'd like to leave you with a bit of nostalgia on my own. It seems impossible, but this was an image taken from my introduction to Caledonian society, at the Guvnah's Ball, January 2007.

I was nervous and wary and somewhat scared, everything I wasn't for the Bashful Peacock Ball. I'd heard tales of the prim and proper Caledonians, and, being that I was just another working girl from Steelhead--and that meant literally--I had no idea what my reception would be.

I'd even panicked on appearing in my traditional neko form, and decided to go human--again, out of nerves and fear.

It's just another ordinary miracle today

I shouldn't have worried. I spent a lovely bit of the evening talking to Lady Amber, and Miss Cornelia Rothschild; danced with Edward Pearse, who'd invited me (and what a transition that's been, hasn't it? From Edward Pearse, bachelor and tailor, to his Grace Lord Argylle, Sir Edward Pearse, happily successful and happily married); shared a spin with Miss Qlippothic Projects; and, for the most part, managed to subdue enough nerves to have a very pleasant evening indeed.

Is it Caledon that's changed, or just me? While there are still staid and prim regions, for the most part my social set in Caledon (when I'm not holed up in some small studio building, and never did I think I'd understand enough about building to craft clothes and scattered ephemera for a living) comprises gentles from all walks of life, all social levels, united by two driving principles: invention, and amusement. Dark Victorians, steampunk souls, DJs and dilettantes, artists and architects, tailors and tiny ecoterrorists.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Ordinary miracles indeed.

(Lyrics are from Sarah McLachlan's Ordinary Miracle.)