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I was never like the human girls. Never like the ones I see, parading around on the dance floor in their skimpiest attire; showing off their larger breasts, longer legs, rounder hips. Sometimes when I see their bodies and think of my own it makes me feel like a child by comparison. Ten times their age and feeling like a child!
And it’s never as though I wanted my own body to change to match theirs. Oh, sure, a little less in the ear department perhaps; but now that I’m in my three-teens I feel like I’ve really grown into myself. It’s not that my body has changed, it’s that I have changed. I like being a pale wispy slight of a thing. I like my small breasts and hips, my little backside, my slim arms and legs. Deep down the envy was not of the body itself; it was the attention the body received.
Human girls have men on a string. Plural. They wear a strap and a cupcake wrapper and move on the dance floor and know they can have any man in the room do whatever she asks him to. I guess, deep down, I always hoped some man would look at my body in that way; the way it is, the way it has been for a century. To just want me for what I am, what I look like.
It felt really really good to hear that from someone I never expected would say it.
More years does not make one more secure, that much I know. I’m no less in need of an ego boost than anyone else on this big blue-and-green rock. That it was unexpected made it that much sweeter.
Thank you.
Just a bunch of pictures of stuff I’ve been up to lately or otherwise have pictures of…
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Come and join us today at one of our favorite venues, Nancy Blake’s Pub in modern-day West of Ireland, as we help out Project Children. Bring your friends and your generous nature, and let’s see if we can get $2500L into their donation bins in an hour’s time!
I’ve sublet a portion above my parcel to a newcomer, a tall Irish fellow named Liam. He has red hair with black tips and a Celtic cross tattooed across his back and eyes that he keeps hidden behind dark spectacles (but PJ tells me are green). He has a lyrical accent. Surely I would not throw him out of bed for eating messy barbecue, ha ha. He has insisted on absolute privacy for his living quarters–well and good, I can accommodate that. As a result I don’t see him altogether often and I can’t help wondering what’s going on up there. But I have no reason to suspect that he’s doing anything illegal. He tells me he’s a mercenary of some sort, but I find that curious considering I almost never see him armed.
Still, he pays his rent on time and that’s just about all that matters to me.
((OOC note: is SL name is IFBfund Scribe; he calls himself “Liam” for RP purposes.))
I don’t have a whole lot else to talk about. Still busy, still broke, still gossipping when there’s stuff to gossip about.
Oh, Halloweenfest schedule updated.
So my rant from yesterday got a bit of attention, and even a link to it. Boy what you lovely folks must think of me, lol…
Fact is, in SL-land, I’m polite and easygoing and helpful and patient. Ask anyone (except my ex, his opinion is biased). And part of the reason for that is that I save the–well, the stuff you saw yesterday–for the blog. It was very cathartic for me to get it out in words, and now I can be my usual sweet-dispositioned self. And the sim I live in is not nearly so bitchy or mean-spirited as my words in my blog were yesterday. It’s just that we have very very few hard and fast rules, “no public displays of slavery” chief among them; and when strangers come in and flaunt that, or choose to ignore it, or don’t even think to see if it exists here, it really really pisses me off. (“Ya think?” said the reader…)
So, please, don’t judge my sim based on my words from yesterday. Form whatever opinions you wish of me personally, of course. You will anyway. But if you stick around you might see that yesterday was an exceptionally rare single moment in my day to day life, first or Second.
I am SO super pissed right now. Following is nothing shy of a full-scale rant. It’s my blog, I can, I will. If you don’t like it, don’t read it.
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I have been remiss in planning our town’s Halloweenfest. It will occur on the day itself, October 31st, and we hope to have several different things going on through the day. We were hoping to include a fishing cruise in Tookwater Bay, but 7seas has been screwy for me ever since the update so we’ll see.
Tentative Schedule (subject to change – edited 10/24):
All day:
- Trick-or-treats. Explore all around the sim to find goodies from our local merchants!
- Hayride Tour. Take a tour of Northfarthing and neighboring Tookwater in a horse-drawn hay wagon, and learn a bit about the local history and populace.
- Haunted Castle MAYBE. Must talk to tennant of said.
12 Noon:
Free-for-all Tourney at the arena next to Angels & Daemons. Bring what you got; no holds barred. Prizes furnished courtesy of Lord DonPaul Cale.
1 PM – 3 PM:
Costume Party, modern dance music. Location: Yard behind Living the Dream, central Northfarthing. All ages welcome with the understanding that this is a Mature sim and things might be heard or seen that you might not have been ready for. Adults are asked to be on their best behavior; save the debauchery for the one at 7PM 
.
5-6 PM:
Scary stories at the Public Library. Stories to be read via Voice chat by Shandon Loring and Archimides Skytower; two wonderful storytellers with wonderful voices. Refreshments will also be served.
6 PM:
Cat Agus Cu live at the Green Dragon Inn. Come enjoy live Irish and Scottish folk music from Northfarthing’s local minstrels.
7 – 9 PM:
Costume Party at the Green Dragon Inn. Oldies/Classic Rock. Exotic dancers, male and female (No “full monty” per town ordinance; only “mostly monty”). Prizes for best male and female costume courtesy of Lord DonPaul Cale and local merchants. No kid avatars will be permitted. Kid avatars will be kicked. Griefers will be kicked and beaten.
9 PM:
Fireworks show over the Castle! A dramatic close to a fun day. Music from “Nightmare Before Christmas” and other classic movies. Fireworks courtesy of Shandon Loring; talk to him for all your particle pyrotechnic needs.
Click for larger image.
Here’s DonPaul and me having a few at the Higher Friar, a bar hidden within the labyrinthine recesses of the Abbey of St. Christopher. I’m having my first apple martini and he’s having a copper tankard of Auld DonPaul Vademecum Very Dark Swill (long story…). It’s in copper because the stuff is corrosive.
Sometimes when I have time to be alone with my thoughts–against all my best intentions–I sit in my favorite tree and watch the changing leaves, and I let my thoughts wander.
Of course lately they wander South Somewhere. I whisper his name, his True Name, and I ask him to tell me how he is, where he is, anything. Today I felt a sudden sting of pain in my ribs, which made me nearly fall out of the tree.
“Please,” I try to say to him. “Please, tell me what’s going on.” I never know if he can hear me or when he can. I can never see a thing. I don’t know if he’s still blindfolded or if he just is refusing to let me look. I don’t always know what’s from him or what’s my own imagination. Some cold, musty cell somewhere; exhausted, in pain, and still fighting to keep it from me. He thinks he’s protecting me by doing this, I know. Doesn’t he understand that I’d rather bear the pain with him than not know what he’s enduring? Than to have him hide from me? Doesn’t he trust me?
That doesn’t even make sense for me to say. But for ten years, at very least, I’ve had the dreams. I’ve had him whisper to me that he’s coming, that there’s hope…and now he’s so silent all the time.
His captors are doing their job well; they’re succeeding in torturing me.
Ugh, we’re in for a rough autumn. Some of the Royal tax collectors say that Archimides owes a sizeable portion of tax from a couple years ago. We both think it’s untrue but what can one do against the Crown? So we reluctantly sent most of our savings their way, just to get them off our backs.
I solemnly cleared away the smith equipment and put it into storage–tears stinging my eyes all the while as I did–to put the space up for rent. We need to sublet, to recoup some of the losses we’ve had, to assure we’ll be all right this winter. Well, I mean, one way or another we’ll be all right, if it means getting a smaller place and closing the shop; but to get through this winter and still have a source of income, we need, well, more income. So, next door to Living the Dream sits a 63 sq. meter shopfront with a studio room upstairs. I’ll rent it to almost anyone.
Almost.
Meanwhile I await word from Piggy or from my satyr.
A rough autumn indeed.
