Image Stream - Darkling Girls

Kiss in the Dreamhouse
My first and only attempt at pseudo-Royo work. Ow. My hand hurt after this one.


Bottle THIS!


Andromeda

Zombies, Cabana Boys, and Sex Droids, oh my

TehMadScientist: What form would your heaven take, were you to choose?

Pooka: A big soft comfy squishy bed, lots of very sexy cabana boys all willing and eager to appease my every single whim, utterly pain free Pooka, nice temperate weather, not too hot, not too cold ...
Pooka: And being able to eat anything I want without it making me sick or fat. :D

TehMadScientist: Hmm.. (goes off to ponder how he can fit all of that into a UPS box .... "In pieces!" is heard in the distance)

Pooka: Cabana boys with removable parts. You know, that has a certain allure

TehMadScientist: Oh good. The other prototype I was going to test against were some form of zombie / conjured cabana boy look alike

Pooka: We can do without the zombies, although that would be nice for some target practice. I've got these new rounds for the Beretta that I haven't fired yet, you know

TehMadScientist: Oh? What form? Silver, gold? Osmium? Osmium would be hot against zombies.

Pooka: I don't know, Daddygod won't let me play with them, he just starts mumbling "MY precious" and gets all weird

TehMadScientist: Teflon coated osmium bullets with a suppressor = HAWTNESS. And my super-heavy bullet idea will be employed QUICKLY to get rid of these nasty sex-zombie prototypes. In hindsight, I don't quite get why I made them .. oh well.

Pooka: Well, it was a good idea in theory. I think. Or maybe you were sniffing the Soju a bit too much

TehMadScientist: Oh I see. The sheet with the 'pros' of the idea was on the table. The packing crate with the 'cons' is still downstairs on the forklift, and so I forgot about them. Eh. hindsight.

Pooka: Yeah. I mean, not having to worry about any number of communicative sexual diseases is nice. Unfortunately, the one contagious thing they DO have is sort of fatal.

TehMadScientist: well and the SMELL! I don't know about you, but I actually use my nose during recreational coitus, and the zombie's need something ALOT stronger than a shower to rid themselves of their funk

Pooka: And the tendency for body parts in action to sort of detach unpleasantly

TehMadScientist: bah, Gorilla glue fixed that part in the early trial runs.

Pooka: Yeah, but do you really want to dig it out?

TehMadScientist: the test zombies did have a nasty tendancy to get together, though. Should probably add that to the 'cons'..... here we go, section 5, paragraph 34, section 7, sub section 4: The dangers of decompsited organic material and forign substances

Pooka: Perhaps we just need to stick with willing and living participants for the frolicking cabana boy fest.

TehMadScientist: Microsoft word couldn't spell check the thing for me, it coughs and dies after breaking the 2 GB limit on doc size.

Pooka: Before it turns into the undead cabana boy feast. I mean, being eaten is one thing, but that gives it a really unpleasant little twist

TehMadScientist: Yes, I think so. Well, the sex-droids are behaving themselves well. Their batteries died. TehMadScientist: Want me to send them along? Assembly could be turned into a party game of sorts.

Pooka: Rechargable solar cells. Much better

TehMadScientist: especially the later ones, their bodies are fully modular

Pooka: Mix and match! Yes! Perfect! Upgrade city!

TehMadScientist: that, combined with the extensible learning algorithms I had to include to surmount certain ... difficulties ... make "pin the tail" MUCH more exciting! Is is a man-droid? A fem-bot? Why not both? How many arms does it need? How many do I need it to need? All these questions and more ... so many more ... DAMNED CRITICS! Always asking questions ...

Pooka: Both. Hmm, she-male sex droids. With multiple arms. This has much promise. Perfect partner for the couple that just can't decide what they want their third to be.

TehMadScientist: Yes, well ... Like I said, their batteries died. I'm taking the opportunity to finish some of the bug fixing that is apparently needed... I mean, those trials progressed well through the initial stages before even the slightest hint that something was amiss emerged...

Pooka: I'm tellin ya, rechargeable solar cells, wave of the future, you don't brownout entire cities when you turn the vibrator up to High

TehMadScientist: And it's not so much of a bug, really, just more of a needed feature control of sorts. Perhaps a questionaire built in for use at each start-up

Pooka: Passworded override system, yes? Voice recognition?

TehMadScientist: Erm, more like selectable comfort limits. Perhaps a dual layered system, yellow zone and red zone sensibilities. for those who don't mind certain surprises. Yes, I think I am onto something here!

Pooka: Learning mode to figure out that the red zone isn't off-limits, but needs to be built UP to.

TehMadScientist: OHHHH! Excellent as well! Hmm, a fourth black zone will need to be added

Pooka: I mean, there are certain places you just don't go without at LEAST some sort of warmup drill

TehMadScientist: green, yellow, red, nono's

Pooka: Indeed, absolutely. Cover those Absolutely No Way In Hell EVER bases

TehMadScientist: Commandeering livestock for ... uses ... I think will be hard-coded black. It will also be programmed to ignore the phrase "Think of the children!"
TehMadScientist: *shudders*

Pooka: There is now great fear in my heart. Excuse me while I cower under my desk

TehMadScientist: So lets see...We have the DIY droid toys ... some mandatory attendance plane tickets for some of your choice vic... sla.. erm .. servants? ... that will do ... and catering by Whole Foods grocers? TehMadScientist: I think that should round things out nicely.

Pooka: With Alton Brown to do the cooking

TehMadScientist: One more plane ticket, check. *pondering* Still, I wonder ... nono, it would never work...

Pooka: Never is such a harsh term

TehMadScientist: Well, the third series of prototype was more of a research venue

Pooka: Got to earn that grant money somehow

TehMadScientist: The information is still ... unsatisfactory. My data-mining tools have yet to recover any completely effective demon-summoning rituals, for the particular spectrum of species that I have selected

Pooka: Oh, well, Google.

TehMadScientist: Oh. duh. *runs off*

TehMadScientist: that's just returning erotic fiction to start with. Perhaps I need quotes around my string?

Pooka: That usually helps. You have to be very specific to weed out the trash, although at least now you got your porn

TehMadScientist: fascinating, according to this page I need to get together a more extensive list of reagents than I had first anticipated... ew. Some of them are yucky.

Pooka: Well, demon summoning isn't pretty

TehMadScientist: well that has been the problem. I have summoned MANY test subjects at this point, usually while waiting for the droids to recharge but they have all be very unsatisfactory, usually not even from the right genus, let alone the individual merits of a subject. Most have been entirely incompatible with human anatomy. Like the cactus demon. NOT COMPATIBLE.

Pooka: More research for true names required, perhaps some arcane literature with more information on the species you are attempting to acquire

TehMadScientist: perhaps. I should run off to the local library, they are always advertising how wide the range of books they have is.

Pooka: Just avoid the whole new age bookstore thing, they're useless, really, except in bad movies

TehMadScientist: Oh I know! That whole Blair Witch thing? ugh ... I actually got physically ill during that movie.

Pooka: Never watched it, mercifully

TehMadScientist: And then all the copycats afterwards! Freshman college students thinking they can all be witches now just because they butchered their roommates in a field at night.

Pooka: Though it does do wonders for bringing down the population of idiots. Has to make it easier on dorm housing too

TehMadScientist: Yeah, but I was a glorified janitor through college. Hence, where I found all the parts for the zombies.

Pooka: So what you're saying is they were already partially decomposed when you started. Maybe it would work better with fresher corpses

TehMadScientist: No, it really doesn't. Even if you get to them before the smell, the cold clamminess is still there. And those dumb hand warmer heat packs can only do so much.

Pooka: Right, I suspect the zombies are pretty much a dead end. (snicker)

TehMadScientist: No, I am going to call that line of research terminated.

Pooka: Deceased, even

TehMadScientist: Well, I'll just bury it with the other paperwork I never want to see again.

Pooka: I don't know, subjects like that have a way of returning to life when you least expect it

TehMadScientist: I hate when dead projects get reanimated, it's always embarassing to have to explain away your closet skeletons.

Pooka: .... we are so sick. *laughing*

Image Stream - BTRC

The following illustration images of my work were all used in BTRC gaming modules.


"Do you hear that?"


Shakedown


Cloudbusting

Critter Patrol

"Mama, Mama, you gotta come look, we've got an armadillo in the yard!"

Thing 1 and I look at each other in disbelief. Yeah, right.

"No, really, Mama, you gotta come see it!"

Sure enough, not only has Thing 2 spotted, but correctly identified an armadillo, having never seen a real one. A big one. A HUGE armadillo, and one that has in the space of about 24 hours, torn up a large portion of our backyard.

Awfully cute, really, for an armadillo, but that destructive little critter has got to go!

Our neighbor said she saw one about 6 months ago, but hasn't had a problem. Her yard looks perfect. Ours looks like a mortar range now. She suggested calling Animal Control to get a trap to remove him to somewhere a little more appropriate. I think we're going to do this. We've got enough erosion problems as it is without this little guy helping the damage along.

Probably could have just picked him up and moved him ourselves if we'd had gloves. He wasn't the slightest bit afraid of us, and I swear to God he SHRUGGED at me. The critter looked up from his hole at us, wrinkled his little face, twitched his ears, SHRUGGED, and went right back to digging.

A day in the life, man.

Image Stream - Deviation:Android

I'm going to start posting a few of these, various pieces of illustration work from the past. Blah blah, Copyright of, etc.


"Work is Hell"


Catch My Fall


Liya by Gaslight, from a slightly gothic cyberpunk tale.

In Search of the Lost Chord

I'd like to know where the words went. If you find them, please send them home with a nice note pinned to their lapel so that I might properly recognize them. I haven't seen them for so long that they've become strangers to me.

Part of my brain told me very early on that I was going to be a writer. That subversive element was encouraged by a handful of family members, gently molded and warped and coaxed into growth by those that believed in me. It was a thing that wanted to become so very real to me, and I've clutched desperately at clinging tendrils of coherent thought for as long as I can remember.

That part of my brain didn't listen to the other bits that decided to develop a debilitating neurological condition that is slowly eating away at not only my ability to think clearly, but to remember.

The words are nowhere to be found.

Yes, the words filling this post are words, but they aren't The Words, the elusive ones that remind me what it was that I wanted to do with my life. They aren't the words I've been searching for, you don't need to see our identification, move along.

I fear that my condition is growing worse, a stealthy intruder that only steals away the bits and pieces that you think you won't miss until one day you're looking for them, only to realize that they've simply vanished. Teri had a brief bout with my hysterics over it one afternoon when we were discussing the glories of her new DSL, and I suddenly discovered ... that I didn't know anything anymore.

I couldn't tell her what we were using, if it was a switch, or a router. I didn't KNOW anymore. I eventually had to ask DG, King of the Luddites, because I couldn't wrap my brain around simple concepts that I SHOULD have known.

I'm living a Jackie Chan movie, where everything new I attempt to learn and everything old that I struggle to remember is peppered with a loud chiding, "Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?"

No. I don't. And most of the time, I barely understand the words that are coming out of my own.

I'm not a particularly verbal person on an aural level. Conversation has never been particularly comfortable for me unless I'm surrounded by close friends. My stutter was beaten into submission years ago, but still chooses the worst possible times to reappear and torment me. The chemical reactions that link thought to word to speech don't connect properly, there's a short circuit in there that tangles even the clearest of thoughts until they come out jumbled and stammered. It isn't performance anxiety. I could make it through a script and belt out the lines without errors up on the stage. It's simple, normal, conversational speech that trips me up.

From thought to word to fingers, however, has generally remained constant. I type as swiftly as I can think up the words, my brain whipping along at violent speeds without my train of thought suddenly skipping over and taking Greyhound instead.

The words have left me. THE Words. In preparing a journal revue, I was horrified to discover so precious little of true substance to present. I could follow the slow seepage of coherent thought as I went through the years, seeing the words sliding away into some unknown place that I no longer seem to be able to access.

Where do the words go when they're cold? When they're lonely and scared, do they hide beneath the desk as I did when I was a child, with a blanket pinned down by books, reading in the near-dark by flashlight as I tried to ignore my parents screaming over the topic of the evening (usually "Where did we go wrong with that girl?" "It's all YOUR fault, you didn't ....")? Hiding in the sheets among the nest of pillows that only provide comfort and not protection from the harsh voices? Are they timid, like me?

Do they hunt for the sunshine like cats, languishing in puddles of light and waiting for someone to come along and stroke them? Are they out in the garden, drifting between the flowers and leaves and kissing the butterflies that pass them by? Have they sought the candlelight, dancing in the flames?

Where are the words? They're not in bottles of alcohol, or hiding under cigarette butts in the ashtray. They aren't littering the floorboards of the car, or hiding in the dirty dishes crowding the sink. I've looked there, I know.

Yes, these are words. But they are not THE Words.

I am searching for them, while my mind is still able to wrap around them, to caress and know them intimately, while I am still able to reach out and touch them and mold them into the shape that my thoughts desire.

If you find The Words, I beg you: Send them home.

Prevalence of Public Domain Thinking

Bleh.

Seriously. Last few days have been particularly unpleasant on a professional front. Lots of BS going on with several major players pulling copyright infringements, and of course the shit is rolling downhill and burying those that had made purchases. I'm lucky enough to have avoided all the products involved, but it's still making the whole scene really ugly. And like rats deserting a sinking ship, we're losing a lot of really good people that have had enough.

I've finally settled on being utterly disgusted with the whole mess.

If you park your car on a public street, does it become free for others who have not purchased the car to use?

When an artist's image is displayed in a public gallery, is it free for the taking?

So when you post an image/story on a public website, does it then become free for anyone to use?

Yes?

No. Absolutely, positively Not.

The concepts are very much the same. Being able to view something in a public place does not mean that it has become "Public Domain." It is not "free," and the copyright and ownership belong to the creator, just as the car parked on the street belongs to whoever owns the pink slip for it.

For many internet users, however, the concept is foreign. They feel they have the right to take and use (and in too many cases, claim as their own) a piece that has been publically displayed.

Education of the legalities is a start, but it isn't a catch-all solution.

Time after time, the arguments crop up. Copyright is established the moment any form of intellectual property is created. A determined thief will claim this is incorrect, and unless it is filled with the US Copyright Office, the item is free for the taking -- a misconception that often leads to legal battles.

A signature and copyright line are most often not enough. A thief with graphic tools will merely remove them, and you're back to square one. In this case, your best defense is maintaining working files for proof that the image in question is your own. Posting your images in a public gallery can help, for it gives you a time and date stamp to assist in proof of ownership.

Watermarks are another solution, but as controversial as the entire copyright issue is itself. They deter theft by rendering an image unusable without obvious marks that it belongs to someone else, but they also ruin the image for viewers as well. It takes a lot of effort for a thief to remove one, but is the volume of complaints worth it?

Digital watermarking services such as Digimarc have their own problems. The effort required to remove one from an image is staggeringly simple.

And despite proponents claims, the Digital Millenium Copyright Act is little help. ISPs and web hosts are learning ways around it so that they don't have to defend copyrights. They require that your personal information be added to the forms -- which will then be forwarded to the thief -- without any information on the offender in return. This is how Lycos/Angelfire works, from personal experience with them.

Think about that -- if someone has already stolen your work, do you REALLY want them having your complete home phone number and address?

Community watchdog groups are showing better successes. "Know thy neighbor" has proven invaluable in many cases. Users wander internet galleries, and by knowing their fellow artists, are able to easily recognize works that are being illegally distributed and showcased by others. Unfortunately, all it does is point out the offenders. The copyright holder still has to struggle with the offenders website to get the infringing works removed.

So where is the solution? Obviously, education on copyright myths and law is a start. Awareness of the problem and the determination to make a stand and do something about it will get further than sighing and letting it go. It's not an issue to be taken lightly.

There are no hard solutions, at least for the moment.

If it's not YOURS, don't take it. Didn't your mother teach you better than that?

Potential infringers are being sent the message that as long as they and the store can make a few quick bucks off someone else's work, all they'll get is a little slap on the hand and a red face when they're caught.

What's the current tally on Important People in the texturing zone that have been caught with infringments in the last few months?

What is that telling the community?

Trust? What's that?

I do commercial images on a regular basis. I get paid for this. I can't afford disasters like this, and neither can anyone else that recieves money for their work.

I'm now to the point that I won't use ANYONE's textures for anything. Texture packs that permit commercial works from them have been tossed out of my folders and into personal use only. I won't use anything in products that I didn't take the photograph of myself. I don't care if I was given permission to use them.

Purchasing? Oh, just forget it. I've spent some 80% of my store income right back into the store in the past. I can't remember the last time I bought anything because I can't risk it.

Your average consumer may not be paying attention to what is going on.

But I guarantee that the professionals, and the potential infringers sure as hell are.

The Right Thing needs to be done, and the only way that can happen if there is a consistent policy towards infringement that is KEPT, regardless of who the merchant might be.

I'm not taking sides. I don't know any of these people. I don't care how nice or generally honest and caring they are, or how rude or obnoxious they are, or how long they've been ... (insert any and all "I know this person and..." comments as required).

If you are getting paid for your images, and something within it is an infringement, YOU can be sued for its use. YOU can be held responsible for that inclusion. Your client can be sued. You will no longer get work from that client because they were sued. As the end user, YOU pay the penalties for the infraction of another.

It isn't a matter of how nice someone is, what their personal standing in a community might be. As an end user, if I cannot absolutely verify the origin of something, I cannot allow myself to use it, especially in a commercial venue.

Bottom line: As an artist, and a fellow merchant, I'm concerned as hell about the results.

Image Stream - The Dragons

That's My Tail!


I Don't Get It


Sometimes the Dragon Wins


Go 'way, I'm sleepin!

Ruminations of an Insomniac

Stray thoughts ahead. You were warned.

Why is the library or a bookstore so amazingly sexy? What is it about real paper, about the scent of the pages, the sound they make when turned or ruffled, that makes electronic media feel so flat?

I'm a book junkie, I admit it.

I have an intense predilection for hardbacks. They just feel so right, they read more comfortably: after all, you have no risk of bending the covers, they're easier to support during the process of devouring the book. Paperbacks are a weak and poor shadow of the reading pleasure, and yet my budget hardly allows me to buy hardcovers. The library makes a nearly acceptable substitute, and even though I won't own the books that way, there's always the joy of renewing what I've checked out previously.

Chronicles of the Lensmen: E.E."Doc" Smith. For hard sci-fi started in 1948, they still manage to hold my rapt attention, and I can see reflections of it in many more current works.

The bookcase purchased for my birthday is a black leviathan near my bed. A blank slate, shelves awaiting books, and the sides like a 2001 obelisk begging to be painted. Sorcha suggested silver knotwork, and I think it might just be the way I go unless there are other creative suggestions. The unrelieved BLACKNESS of it is so very formal, but it's crying out for More.

Of course, it's hardly a bookcase. That would be a misnomer of grand proportions. What it truly is, or rather has become, is a Dedicated Feline Napping Appliance. I've found cats happily sleeping on three of the deep shelves. I fear the bottom shelf lost forever to the four-legged interlopers.

Candle flames and lava lamps, the light of the laptop monitor, with old old X Files rumbling on the TV in the background as my only light. An oversized feline curled tightly against my leg as I type, purring like a motorboat and gently pawing at my leg for attention, then more insistently until I have to stop typing and adore him before the claws come out in a Demand For Attention NOW.

Rambling onwards. Uh-Oh Oreos. Uh-oh is right, the damned things are temptation enough for me, who isn't supposed to partake of the evils of refined sugar, but denying them is impossible. Damn you, DG. Now bring me more. Or better yet, cinnamon glazed almonds, which I have found a lovely online source for and will be begging to order quite soon, oh yes.

I want to kidnap my Trained Attack Wenches and run away for the weekend. Or a week. Just get away with the girls for a while. It doesn't matter if we do anything, if we just lie around, or if we pile into the car and aim for a random road trip. So what if it's more like "Thelma and Louise" meets "The Blues Brothers." We can do this. We must do this. I need the relief, I need my wenches, I need to get away and escape.

Am I escaping from something in particular, or just from myself? I don't think it matters. I'm pushing 40 with a stick now, I've lost all the horrible weight that dragged me down, and it's time I remembered how to live again.

Spent Saturday with my aunt and uncle. My aunt, sister to the Momster from Hell, and so totally different in every way possible. To know that she also has difficulties with the Momster was quite refreshing and comforting, to discover that I'm not the only one that thinks the woman is not only the poster child for Valium, but a dreadfully neurotic prude "in serious need of a good fuck," end quote. Endless wave pool, skinny dipping with my hippy relatives (who also pointed out the locations of all the N TX nudist colonies) in their indoor endless wave pool, or outdoors in the hot tub. This was the first time in many many years I've been able to spend time with them without the Momster around, and I think we were all a little nervous at first, wondering if we could just relax and be ourselves. It didn't take long to find many mutually compatible areas, and everyone relaxed and enjoyed themselves.

It wasn't a complete escape, but for a while it was another world.

A sound in the background, a guitar singing away, surprisingly melodic, to look up and see little tiny Thing 2 perched in a chair before the Wall of Guitars (including the ones signed by B.B. King and ... was it Eric Clapton, DG?), guitar in her arms. It was my 8 year old playing. DG got a few pics with his camera phone, but the Luddite has yet to figure out how to get them from the phone to anything else so they can be shared. My uncle also sent her home with two new sets of drumsticks. Yes, music runs deep in this family.

Some nights, I don't think there's enough Ambien in the world to still my mind and put me to sleep. I've been out of sleep aids for months, and for a chronic insomniac with 20 + years experience in the utter lack of sleep, I suppose it isn't so bad to go back to the dramatic cycles of sleeplessness, but damn what I wouldn't give for a night or two of perfectly normal sleep patterns. Such is my life, which at least I'm not sleeping through.

Found a vanilla scented candle that isn't disgusting. I didn't think they existed, and fake vanilla smells make me gag, all plasticy and unnatural. This is rather mellow with a whisper of cigar store vanilla pipe tobacco smoothness, instead of sharp and biting, and is missing the cloying sweetness of other vanilla attempts. I suppose I'm as pleased as I can be, but of course they were on dramatic clearance and will probably be impossible to find after this.

Damn Illuminations anyway. First they go and candle the Sacred Spaces candles that I utterly adored, then they discontinued my Tomato Vine candles, and now they've bloody well gone too far by pulling Every Single Illuminations Store out of the state of TX. You people are FIRED! The young Empress to Be is as displeased as her Mama. Bastards.

Wild Cherry Diet Pepsi is my friend, but the evil Pepsi company that does not provide said cold tasty beverage in a convenient 6 pack of BOTTLES instead of cans needs to be soundly thrashed. I don't do cans. I can TASTE the metal, and it's foul. And then there's the nose thing, which provides friends and family alike with a great deal of entertainment as Pooka comes away with a bruised schnoze because the Irish nose just isn't designed to be slugging any beverage out of a can.

You can all stop laughing now, thank you. I have stale pistachios, and I'm not afraid to use them.

Yep, I've got the 3 am blues.

Senile much?

You know you're getting old when ...

... you look at the date and go HUH, what? That can't be!

Only to discover, yes, the date is correct. Why is this relevant?

My birthday is tomorrow, and I totally had no frellin clue whatsoever.

Oy.

*headthunk*

Or maybe its just the fact that I haven't been to bed yet, even though my body passed out about 5 hours ago without the rest of me and my brain just refuses to shut down and accept that sleep is a relatively normal and necessary function of life unless you're a mutant freak with chronic insomnia like me, thus rendering the entire point moot.

Ooo, shiny!

Guilty Pleasures

I have a confession to make: I really adore David and Leigh Eddings. I know a lot can be a bit trite and formulaic, but their writing is charming and easy to read entertainment while still making the old brain cells work. But still, the Belgariad and Mallorean were fun reads, and then I discovered the Elenium and the Tamuli, and life was good (though the Belgariad and Mallorean were definitely more 'solid' reads, and there was a bit too much of the Deus Ex Machina in Elenium and Tamuli for my tastes. Mary Sues, anyone?)

I've just been charmed all over again.

Picked up The Redemption of Althalus at the library. I'm probably enjoying it far too much.

Well, come on, I needed something new to occupy my brain cells for a little while, especially a bit of fluff, after reading Stephen King's Dark Tower series. I was absolutely thrilled with it, and King hasn't held my attention that well since The Stand.

(Note: Anyone wanting to make a Pooka really really happy, her birthday is coming up fast and her "now pushing 40 with a stick" self would -really- like to own a copy of the entire Dark Tower series.)

Also in the Excellent Reads category: John Shirley's Eclipse "A Song Called Youth" series. Dark gritty cyberpunk with some post (and mid) apocalyptic flares.

Random Babble-0-tron

Thing 2 survived her tonsilectomy, the surgeon removing "extremely inflamed and enlarged tonsils", plus her adenoids. Her voice has changed, deeper, it's cute. Surprised at just how well this kid is doing. She was talking the same day, with only a little scratchiness. Next day she was playing as hard as ever. Only had to take the prescription pain meds three times, and only once was a crying session for pain. She's been sticking with regular ole kids Motrin since then, and doesn't need it often at all. Either she's amazingly resilient beyond what we already knew, or the procedure has come DAMN far in the last few years.

Finally saw "Batman Begins". There is approval, even if I missed half the movie because of Thing 2 babbling at me and squirming around. She loses points, she was bored. Oddly enough, I'm still unsure about Bale in the cowl, though he pulled all of it off well. A few minor "Huh?" episodes, but pleased for the most part. The script was highly refreshing after Revenge of the Sith, lemme tell ya, caught the appropriate dark humour of the comic well. No overdone CGI, the acting was solid enough, no camp, no Bat-nipples.

I'd been looking forward to "Land of the Dead," but now I'm unsure if it's going to be worth it. REALLY looking forward to "Undead" hitting the country, though. That has some serious promise. Read up on that one, and I wish it would hurry and hit the states. Grr.

Preview for "Sky High" looked utterly hysterical. Live action version of "The Incredibles", mixed with "PS 238." Probably going to have to see "Fantastic Four" as well, despite misgivings on that one.

Blackberry season is over, with two baggies full in the fridge awaiting a cobbler. Next year's harvest should be amazing. Black-eyed susans growing randomly wild in the yard are doing quite well. Bloody HOT, and the water situation is critical. August is going to be Hell at this rate.

Amusement -- hearing Thing 1 plunking out Rossini's "Overture from The Barber of Seville" on the keyboard earlier.

Stealing Back Tomorrow

Or stealing them back, anyway.

Ten years. A lot can happen in that time. Lots of close calls, not just the "almost" meetings that never happened, but life-threatening incidents that nearly took the tomorrows away. And I'm so very tired of losing chances and kissing tomorrows goodbye.

Ten years. That's how long he and I have been playing together, writing together, working together. It's how long we've been friends, and yet, we'd never met face to face.

Today, I stole one of those tomorrows back.

Pooka and the landshark, in the same place, at the same time. My partner at Deviation: Android, the brain behind Dax Knight, and Alex the Hunter, and Tarin. My partner in crime, the inspiration behind half the images I've created.

Surreal, how the moment drifts away already. Surreal while we were there, how perfectly normal it seemed. Ten years is a long time to get to know someone, and despite it being the first physical meeting, it was ... familiar, and thus quite surreal. Quite a few moments where neither of us had to say anything while Thing 2 and DG were going off on each other, just a Look that said everything. "You SEE what I have to live with?" Easy. Surreal.

Of course, surreal is also realizing just how tall 6'7" really is. I felt like a tiny little china doll sitting beside him. His hands are easily twice the size of mine if not more.

This time, I didn't lose "Tomorrow". I made it a Today instead.

Here's to another ten years, partner.

No dying, m'kay?

Numb

It's a human conceit, I guess, to go through life as if we have all the time in the world. "I'll do it tomorrow, we can do that next week, we'll always get another chance."

The thing is, tomorrow doesn't always come. Sometimes, that one chance is the only one we ever get. And all too often, we let tomorrows slip away from us, only to discover that we wake up one morning, and it's too late.

That's how I woke up today. With a phone call, telling me that time had escaped, tomorrow is gone, the chance is lost. That I had lost another friend. Sonya is gone.

Oh, Sonya. I remember us being pregnant together, sharing stories. Remember how Coryisms and Rabbit Tracks walked hand in hand for a while as our girls grew up. We were talking all the time when you were pregnant with Lukey. I remember sending you out of work and to sleep a few times during it when you were stressing and needed to walk away, me the eternal big sister. The absolute joy when we started playing with paint programs, and you discovered your penguins.

I still have the cyberpunk penguin icon you made for me. It's going into a permanent place in my list.

We always talked about tomorrow, or next week, or next month. Finally sitting together on the porch, the kids playing in the backyard. We were so -close-, so nearby, and yet that distance got in the way so many times, and we let it happen, because everyone has more tomorrows, right?

Right?

I want my tomorrows back. I want to do them over again, I want to push and us be able to do what now we never can. It's selfish, and I know it. I WANT TO BE ABLE TO SAY GOODBYE, DAMMIT!

I'm sorry for not being better, for not trying harder, for not making that physical meeting we always talked about happen.

Cory, Lukey ... your Mama was very special. She was a wonderful, intelligent, bubbly woman that I utterly adored. She could make anyone smile, even if they didn't feel like smiling. She wrote about you two all the time, you were her absolute pride and joy.

The words are gone now, numb is starting to sink in.

I just wish numb could banish the ache.

I miss you, Sonya.

The Good, The Bad, The Weird

Okay, mostly just the Weird.

• Having your own child look at you and shriek: "Mama, where did you GO?" or even more Weird, "Mama, um, you're HOT!"


• Your husband reaches out for your leg, and in your new skinny jeans, has to pat a bit before finding you inside them, inspiring another "Where did you go?"


• Putting on a ring that has been too small for years, only to have it fall off your finger. And then the next finger. And then the next.


• Ditto for shoes that were too snug that will now no longer remain on your feet.


• Trying on clothes that turn out to be comfortable, and not having a repeat of XXXs across the size tag.


• Realizing that not only are the XXXs all missing, but there's an M there instead.


• Your own doctor double-takes -- repeatedly -- before even coming close to recognize you.


• Same for friends. And family.


• .... yet you are recognized immediately by a Switch you haven't seen in months, who squeals like a schoolgirl that you've melted away. And then calls you a skinny bitch.


• ... being called a skinny bitch. O.o (Score!)


• Bending over to do gardening, having trouble standing up, and realizing you no longer have an ass for ballast against your chest. Gravity works.


• Having to learn how to sit down all over again. Pooka has a bony ass. Sitting down incorrectly -hurts-. (stop laughing, damn you, or I'll flop down in your lap and impale your thighs with my bony ass)


• Walking into an auditorium and realizing that except for the soccer moms that look like Kitiara and Evelynne, you're not only normal, but on the thin side of normal.


• Picking up a pair of jeans, and gaping in wonder that you can fit into something that looks that small, instead of gaping that "Oh my God, is my ass REALLY that big?"


• Looking at your reflection and realizing there's no longer any disgust at it. Then being able to grin. A lot.

Green thumb?

Hoo boy. The green thumb is waking up.

Got dragged out into the garden the other day to "supervise." Yeah, THAT didn't last long.

Already got gardening hands -- dirt under the nails, a few cuts and thorns. Yes, I know, Cairyn, I forgot to put my damn gloves on first, I know, I know.

My cannas all survived, even the one in the monster pot. I was thrilled to see all the new sprouts. Got rid of most of the dead canna growth from last year and cleaned those out. The chocolate mint in the canna pot survived. Maybe those cannas will bloom this year and I can figure out what they are. The growth is the deep burgandy leaves, striped with green and bronze, and with the bright bright green mint, it's just a lovely combination.

Spearmint was wilting off badly, got watered.

HOLY CRAP, I have strawberries! Fresh strawberries! Yum. I desperately need to weed the strawberry bed. Have strawberry babies growing in my canna bed, ack! Yes, the unknown cannas that were supposed to be Mme Butterfly survived, as well as all the cannas along the lower fence. Joy!

My blackberry plant, my single blackberry from last year is now, um, well, two or three plants. And COVERED WITH BLACKBERRIES! Time to get the mesh, I am NOT losing all these to the birds. I mean berries EVERYWHERE!

Blueberry survived and is blooming.

My butterfly bush has already tripled in size, and though there are no blooms yet, it's doing a lovely job covering that end of the flowerbed.

The star jasmine that I thought I lost has new leaves and is happily growing. Yay!

Lots of rosebuds already on the two bushes. Mmm. Lots of rosebuds starting to form in the front yard. The wisteria I planted has finally gotten some real size and has grown up the arbor like it was intended. I SO hope it blooms this year, that will be absolutely lovely.

Now I just need to get my butt in gear, get outside, get all the old dead stuff out of the pots and start seedlings. Managed to save enough of my chiles for seeds, so I should have more pepper plants -- yay!

SPRING SPRING SPRING SPRING!

Ahem.

Yes, it has begun.

Not dead yet

Hmm. An update thing.

Down to a size 12 now and shrinking. No idea how much I weigh, or how much I've lost. 28 to 12. Yeah.

Of course, there's a problem. Now you can see the damage done to me. You can see where the muscle has wasted away, where it's atrophied. I don't look thin, just frail.

Arthritis has been really bad. Flares have been bad. Stooopids have been bad. Had another seizure a while back, a really strange one, not like the others. Did -not- like the lingering after effects at all.

No gardening so far, and it's getting late to start. Been hurting too bad to even think about dragging myself out to do it.

Kids having growth spurts. Kids giving us more grey hairs.

Um. Not dead ... yet.

Oh, look, something like an update that doesn't involve me ranting. :D

Lost more weight. Not sure on poundage, but I'm definitely down to a 16 now. 18s are way too loose and baggy, and some 16s are even a little loose. If it's one of the W 16s, I've definitely got some extra room in them. Unfortunately, most of the 16 pants that I have are capris, or rather on the dressy side. Right,18s it is for now.

Need new bras, desperately. The band is so big now that I might as well not bother wearing one at all. NO, that is NOT an option for me. The girls need a sturdy boulder holder, thank you.

I'd made a decision that when I got the weight off, I was going back to the short bob in this icon. I did that today. Need to go back and lose another inch or two, but DG was protesting at the time, having gotten used to long hair on me again. Still going to fix it, though. And oh MAN, it feels GOOD to have my hair off. Looks so much better with it short, my hair is so fine and thin and straight that this actually gives it some lift.

AND losing the long straight hair makes me look a few years younger and like I lost even more weight. BONUS!

The Daddygod has introduced me to the fun of boy-cut underwear. Discovered today that I didn't even have the dreaded Palm Tree Underpants lurking in my undie drawer right before I took my shower. ACK. Well, the problem is, most of my underwear doesn't fit me anymore anyway (Yes, the Pooka desperately needs a shopping trip for clothing, especially essentials), and what did fit needs a washing.

So, DG, being the generous soul that he is (coughbullshitcough, he usually just goes commando these days and hasn't worn his man-panties in eons -- and I'm going to catch so much shit for man-panties but I don't CARE!), had me dig through his clean clothes basket and find a pair of his. Hmm. Well, they're damned comfortable. Not bad.

Boy-cuts are taking some adjusting, though I expect the female version of the boy-cut undies will be better. Now see, normally I'm a high-thigh cut bikini girl. No extra cloth anywhere, hips free. It's not the hips that are taking some adjusting, it's having all the extra undie material between the thighs that's feeling a little weird, but I know the female versions are cut a little different. I may just be a convert once I try them, and they're surprisingly CUTE on.

Insurance finally caved and decided I did indeed need Nexium (prevacid no longer worked right and I'd been on it for years, and tried everything else), and Mobic (Vioxx recalled, Celebrex and Bextra were both sulfa based and I was seriously allergic and besides they're going to recall them, too).

Feel a bit like a heathen here. My current favourite scent isn't a Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab mix, it's one that Nikki custom blended for me. It's a very Pooka smell, rather like spiced chocolate. Rich cocoa base, but not too sweet, a yummy dark bittersweet chocolate scent, with whispers of amber and sandalwood and something else I can't entirely pick out. Smells so good it makes ME want to do naughty things to myself.

Mope. Gotta road trip to Houston this weekend to do the family Christmas. Grandparents are reaching the point where any year might be our last together, so I have to endure the monster. Hoping to catch up with the Klash while we're down there, if she can take a break from packing shipping boxes to get soap out. :D With any luck, my monster will drive us crazy enough that it'll be a 48 hour trip.

So, SORCHA WENCH! Yoohoo, Sorcha -- aim for late Tuesday, maybe? Make sure we have your phone number before we go so we can give you a call and let you know if we're leaving late Monday or Tuesday morning to come home, if you're still planning on coming down and giving me my bestest gift of all -- a wench for X-Mas!

I play video games so I can AVOID people

This post may not be safe for your children, your mother, little blue-haired ladies, your boss or any cow-orkers, or anyone easily offended by open and blatantly vicious hostility.

Yes, I'm even going to cut this one. You have been warned.

A Modest Treatise on Human Behaviour, or: I play video games so I can AVOID people!!

Ahem.

Scenario: RPG game, open server, involves people. Mistake 1. I play video games to avoid dealing with people, who are on the whole angst-ridden soap opera sheep who'd rather type with one hand than do something like, oh, ACTUALLY PLAY THE FUCKING GAME.

Personality A: Pervatronic Cockmaster, ie, the Pussy Hopper. When you have a very single 36 year old geek who's only idea of a date is getting his hand drunk and then having to sneak up on it to masturbate because otherwise it would flee in terror from the slime dripping from him, who is such an absolute fucking cock that you could suck his forehead and he'd jizz out of the top of his head, that suddenly is given a position of power within a game, you might as well just write off any intellectual attempts at RP if you aren't willing to break out the kneepads and mouthwash and honey there isn't enough fucking bleach in the world to handle a stain like that. Ew. His entire attention span is focused on the newest and latest set of boobs to bound across his screen, thereby removing any and all interaction with the last set of breasts, particularly if she refuses to play along with his attempts to perfect the One Handed Method of Typing.

If he tells you the truth about anything, you'd never know it because by the time you figure out just how revoltingly slimy he is, you've been lied to so many times that you'd have to go outside and check the condition of the weather yourself to be able to believe it. An ego that the Great Wall of China couldn't contain, the entire world (or at least the server) MUST revolve around him, or he degenerates rapidly into ....

Personality B: The Drama Queen. (What's worse is that Personality A is also a B, and there are few things more abhorrent in this world than a degenerate slimeball who apparently at some point in his pathetic little life had aspirations of staring in the worst-written soap operas on TV, failed, and decided that he would turn the server into his own As NWN Turns.) "WHAT? I'm not the center of attention?? Someone else does something better than me? Someone else gets recognition? This cannot be!"

You start to roll your eyes when Pansie, UberQueen of Vanity, minces into a scene and promptly must throw everyone nearby into the center of his/her latest ill-contrived desperate plea for attention. Then you consider rolling their eyes, after carefully plucking them right out of their fucking skull with a spork. Then you just want to pluck your own eyes out so you don't have to see the further bullshit going on around you.

Personality C: The Psycho Hose Beast. Married, with children. Part of a long family tradition of anti-psychotic medication which they frequently neglect to take, thus resulting in some of the most Oscar winning (and ultimately WTF? mindless) performances to date. Cybers like a rabbit on speed, even so far as to take it out of game and into webcam arena -- while forbidding spouse to have any contact whatsoever with the opposite sex without spawning yet another Psycho Moment.

Anything you say can and will be used against you. Anything you do NOT say can and will be used against you. Anything they mystically perceive that you might be THINKING can and will be used against you. Just accept it, deal with, and pray that someone finds a way to write a killfile into the fucking game.

Personality D: Mr Absentee Ballot. Favourite phrase: AFK.

"Hey, let's go do this!" Great. Fabulous. Off we go on a ... AFK. Right. So, we'll just sit and watch all the spells and buffs expire, while we're in the middle of OH SHIT NOT ANOTHER FREAKIN CAVE TROLL ATTACK. "Did I miss anything?" Hey, fucking brain trust, do all of the corpses of the party you abandoned YET AGAIN tell you anything? No, probably not.

Loves to utter his signature phrase in the worst possible places. Spends so much time AFK you wonder why they fucking bother to sign on at all. The entirety of your playing session consists of maybe 20% action or RP, and 80% of Hurry Up and Wait.

Personality E: Captain Ooopsie. Fireball miss its mark? Again? For the fifth time? Bigby's Hand ... on a fellow party member instead of the nasty bad guy attacking? The Balor summoned without a Protection from Evil which is thus totally uncontrolled and hostile to everyone INCLUDING the caster? Chain lightning that zaps half the party? The SECOND chain lightning that gets the ones the first one missed?

A sure sign Captain Ooopsie has been there. That, or all the corpses of his friends that he leaves smouldering in his wake.

Personality F: Whiny Bitch, with a side of My Dick's Bigger than Yours. So's his mouth. Unfortunately, not his skill. Confrontational aggressive asshole with a big side order of Can't Follow Through and runs like a chickenshit coward when called on his bullshit. Always starts shit he's never about to finish. Prefers to pick on people he knows he can beat, and picks on those that are far more powerful ONLY in places where PvP is impossible and you can't turn the fucktard into a nice cock-shaped soot mark on the wall.

When you do finally catch Whiny Bitch in a PvP zone with a Put up or Shut up, he invariably loses, cries foul, degenerates into language his mother would slap him for if she walked into the room and caught him on the computer after his bedtime, screams that he'll have you banned for nuking him in a fight HE started, runs crying to the DMs that you're just a big poopy head, has NO concept of IC/OOC separation and thus harasses you the moment you sign on in private messages, calling you names and once again opening his fat fucking mouth because he's SO superior to you because he can get away with it in PMs because he's too far away for you to pour him a nice steaming mug of Shut the Fuck Up.

Personality G: Lonely Heart Club. Often has a smattering of Personality A, the Pervo. Will, within five minutes of meeting your character, declare undying love for said character. Within ten minutes, has shifted OOC to hurl himself bodily at your feet and grovel to be the sole object of your affection. BTW, Lonely Heart is married, and instead of logging out of the fucking game and turning off the computer to go fuck his wife who is probably wondering why she married the SOB in the first place, chooses to sex up his best friend in the world (his hand) while trying to get every single character that he has and every single character that you have together into eternal matrimony.

Avoid at all costs, as Lonely Heart turns into Obsessive Stalker and will pitifully leap to hump your leg the second you make the mistake of logging in. Also checks his buddy list frequently to see if you are logged on. Freaks out when you don't log in with a character connected to his, and immediately tries to attach himself to the next one.

Personality H: The Thieving Groupie. Fixates on a particular character, and emulates them to every degree possible. Got a neat story? Too bad, the Groupie will immediately glomp onto it and use it for themselves. Neat armour? The Groupie must have it. And will. A certain style of playing, or particular skills? Never fear, upon spotting them, the Groupie will immediately do everything in their power to make sure they have them too. Nothing is sacred, nothing is safe. The Groupie also glomps onto your RP partners, for if they are going to be YOU, they must also have EVERYTHING that you have and thus embark on their complete conquest by coming up with anything they possibly can to steal your partner away.

Personality I: Lying Cheating Whore. Goes very well with Personality A, as they fucking deserve each other. Will deliberately lie to players -- not characters, PLAYERS -- in order to make sure that they have every dick nearby, and still get away with it. This includes the dick/s they are currently chasing. Manages to run off good players on a regular basis once the lies are discovered. Character married? No big deal to the Whore. Why, she was even married .... the entire time she was chasing not only two single characters, but trying to steal the very married husband of her "best friend." Kills off said husband (who never existed on the server but only serves as a pity ploy to capture more dick) just to go for the few remaining men she hasn't managed to fuck.

Is also married behind the keyboard, to a man who is also online and in the game, but rarely if ever plays the character supposedly married to his because she'd far rather go play the Whore and continue to manipulate cock.

......

As those of you who are still with me have probably figured out, I can fill the entire fucking alphabet.

Any resembles of prior personalities to real people is absofuckinlutely intentional. None of the above personalities are made up in any way, much to my eternal dismay. Every one of these complete fucktards is completely real, and in truth worse than I've described.

Now ... really. Are there ANY QUESTIONS as to why I prefer solo RPGs?

I didn't think so.

Radio Silence?

Daddygod is forcing me to break radio silence and post.

I went to the doctor today for my required High Risk Category flu shot.

I have lost a total of 75 POUNDS, people. 75 pounds. The Amazing Shrinking Pooka!

I have gone from a 28/30 to a 16/18.

Even with my massive breasts, I am in an XL t-shirt without it looking just WRONG on me.

My blood pressure was Perfect.

The recalled Vioxx was replaced by Mobic, which I'm going to test out. All my scripts were refilled without even a blink, including her OFFERING me hydrocodone for the Very Bad Pain Days. Didn't even have to ask.

Going to try the little purple pill, switching to Nexium instead of Prevacid to try to help that pain, too. We'll see if insurance covers it, otherwise, I'm stuck with Prevacid.

Of course, my arm is already starting to throb. *sigh* But at least I shouldn't have to worry about pneumonia this year. Last year SUCKED. Christ, I went from thinking I was dying to praying I'd die and get it over with.

So. There's your update.

IE -- Not Dead Yet.