I'm losing yet another fragment of my memories of you

The last petals of May to fall through storm and lashing wind. This very late night, this very early morning, I wondered where I'd been in Mays before.

I went and found out.

May 23rd, 2007:

Girl in the aether, figuring it all out for the second time. Made life choices for another life, and remain fairly happy with them, but here...it's been all about dizzy love and desperate passions and delirious dancing. And frocks. Good gods, we cannot leave out the frocks.

May 24th, 2008:

back to contemplating safe spaces again
defining safety
defining protection
I leave my gates open
I plant poppies next to the gate
but I want to wrap barbed wire around the stems

May 24th, 2009:

There are things in my past, in any world, that I regret. I have made the amends I could. Now it is time to stand strong and look forward, not back. That, too, after all, is "guarding and treasuring" myself. And all of us, at least once, should try to do that. After all, we are precious and our time is finite, here. It is not ego nor is it self-delusion to decide to treat ourselves better.

If we know great care, then we can give back great care. If we know pain and fear, we are only able to give back pain and fear. The simplest of equations is this: we are the emotions we surround ourselves with.

May 23rd, 2010:

It's lucky I hate to be taken seriously
I think my ego would fall right through the cracks in the floor
If I couldn't count on men to slap my ass anymore
I know my destiny's such, that I'm all stocking and curl
So everybody thinks that I'm a fucking suicide girl...

Emilie Autumn, for all that our lives are wildly different things, speaks to me these days more and more. And those who know me know why I laugh that this is the song of the moment, and has been for the past couple of days...but even it is relevant in its own dark way. Whatever it is that compels people to me, sometimes to the detriment of their health and mine, in so many ways...remains mysterious and I do not treat it with reverence in the least. I treat it as an impediment, for so it's proven in the past.

And a short retrospective it was, wasn't it? Thank you for coming. Please leave a little something in the box by the exit.

But one last thing--where would we be without vintage advertising? So here's a representation of my sales pitch from December of 2009:

Finally, you may have noticed a new addition to the sidebar. Yes, it's from Amazon; yes, ordering things from there will give me some small store credits that will add up, at some point, to an Amazon gift card, in which case I can likely go in and find cool stuph and get it sent to my house.

Yep, that's it, that's the sales pitch. I'll try to keep new items rotating in and out; if you see something you want, consider ordering through the link, rather than Amazon direct; but it all goes to Amazon, eventually.

About once a month, I figure I'll mention it; likely even less pressure than this one, which was very nearly comatose with the lack of selling frenzy.

You're welcome. :)

I do try to keep a handle on what's in there; at this point I've abandoned the concept of appealing to the general public so most of what you'll see are things I want. Sociologically, this becomes somewhat fascinating, because really, the biggest two things I see when I sit and watch the slideshow? Ornate cake pans and Asian horror. How's that for cross interests?

Anyway, same thing. Order through them, if you like; no big deal. I have all of three dollars in credit earned last Christmas. At this rate I can afford a....well...let me think on that, I'll get back to you.

But hey, I'm not in this to make money. Some money, maybe, I won't lie about that. And if anyone out there feels like hiring me to rant professionally, do let me know.

Otherwise, I do okay. And the Amazon thing becomes just a slideshow of the cool stuph I've tracked down on Amazon, a handy little reminder service for later.

And with that...G'night. Or good morning. Or whatever the time is in your part of the world, reading this.