Not really an update post. I'll get to one of those soon, I promise. Nashville peeps, Rachel and I will be in Nashville tonight and tomorrow during the day to get the rest of our stuff from David. There's a bit of drama going on. If anybody is free tonight to help stuff boxes, or even more importantly, tomorrow to help load the truck... HEY RUBE!!! Call me 256-656-6047.
Well, we're here now and we love it. We're staying with friends until we find a place and get settled. I do not have access to my comcast email, so if anyone needs to get in touch with me, do it here or email me at arcadian13_2000 at yahoo dot com.
I should hear from the new job today to find out when I actually start. blackrose_eris, I finished your dress and it's shipping today. jola, Your red dress is on schedule for patterning today.
Nashville peeps, I love and miss you already. I'm looking forward to seeing you at Beltaine! (HINT, HINT)
You can also reach me at 256-656-6047, which is the new phone number in Huntsville.
Running back and forth to and from Huntsville several times a week. Just a quick sighting bow to let y'all know I'm still alive.
I miss you all. I can't wait to get settled and have time to be online with you again. If I've missed anything really important, post me a link to it in the comments here. There's so much that's been posted it would take me two more weeks just to catch up.
1870's polonaise in quilter's cotton patterned with teapots pattern trimmed with gathered lace and burgundy french gimp. Skirt in wrinklease cotton trimmed with ruffle of teapots.
Okay, because I was feeling low, I hit Youtube this morning with something specific in mind. Many thanks to batchix for reminding me that youtube can be used to find anything, even vintage Carol Burnett.
Be sure to watch for one of my two personal favorite Tim Conway moments showcased at 4 minutes 45 seconds.
Did you ever have a project that you just did not want to do? I have the skills, I know how to do it. It's new, but not complicated, and I just do not want to do it.
Normally when I procrastinate it's because I want to be doing something else, or I'm intimidated by the project at hand. I'm not intimidated, just not inspired. I don't want to.
I want to write or go outside with the kidlet and play or a million other things besides finish this one project.
Stabbity. Grrr.
EDIT: Project is half finished. They are gorgeous, I just don't like them, lol. I'll post pics soon. I AM a little iffy on the sizing of this pattern. I've never used it before and I always get nervous about sizing, since with most pattern companies it's totally random even from what they have on their measurement charts. They never post it as it actually is, dammit.
Oh well. If client doesn't like them, I'll buy them back and sell them on ebay for twice what she paid, lol.
Yes, if all my friends jumped off a bridge, I WOULD jump off a bridge...
Me at DeviantArt Someone alread had my usual username, so I used my DoA username. I also added some pics of some work other than Victorian. Need to add these to my website for purchase...
My new site! Not much beyond a price list and a few pics, but I'm adding pics and functions to it as I go.
Thus far, it's the suck. But, it doesn't crash every five seconds, so, I'll go with it for now. I know jack about web design, so I'm using their templates. I find it rather cumbersome, but it will do for the moment.
Up to my elbows in patterned cotton and red satin and lace, lace, lace. My writing is coming along exquisitely. I have commissions on the board and some in house to finish and time enough for them all.
BTW, if you've been wanting something, I still have a few openings before C13. Another few weeks like this last one and I won't be able to promise pre-Convergence delivery. So, now is the time.
The sun has returned, and with it, my energy. Avast thou unfinished projects! Your days are numbered!!!
I always have hat envy when I see her pics. Several fine hats are on my list to buy, since I can nevet find time to make them myself.
Baby Got Hat
Oh, my, god. Becky, look at her hat. It is so big. She looks like, one of those re-enactors. But, y'know, who understands those SCA guys? They only talk to her, because she looks like a total Victorian, 'kay? I mean, her hat, is just so big. I can't believe it's just so round, it's like, out there, I mean - gross. Look! it's just so ... Titanic era!
I like big hats and I can not lie You other brothas can't deny That when a girl walks in with an itty bitty veil And a round brim in your face You get sprung, 'cause you know its your fetish you notice that hat was coquettish it matches the outfit she's wearing I'm hooked and I can't stop staring Oh baby, I wanna get wit'cha And take your picture My homeboys tried to warn me But that hat you got makes me feel so horny
I'm tired of magazines Sayin' little hats are the thing Take the average man and ask him that She gotta pack much hat So, fellas! (Yeah!) Fellas! (Yeah!) Has your girlfriend got a hat? (Hell yeah!) Tell 'em to wear it! (Wear it!) Wear it! (Wear it!) Wear that touring hat!! Baby got hat!
I like 'em round, and big And when I'm throwin' a gig I just can't help myself, I'm actin' like an animal Now here's my scandal I wanna get you home And ugh, dress you up, ugh, ugh I ain't talkin' bout Fedoras 'Cause tiny brims are made for boys I want 'em real big and flouncy So find that double plume Mix-a-Lot's in trouble Beggin' for a piece of that bobble So I'm lookin' at rock videos Knock-kneeded bimbos walkin' like hoes You can have them bimbos I'll keep my women like Queen Victoria
Baby got hat! Yeah, baby ... when it comes to females, Cosmo ain't got nothin' to do with class. mini cloche? Ha ha, no i'll pass.
Some brothers wanna play that "hard" role And tell you that the horsehair ain't gold So they toss it and leave it And I pull up quick to retrieve it So Cosmo says you're retro? Well I say "fuck no"! 'Cause your hat is huge and your curves are kickin' And I'm thinkin' bout stickin' To the minimalist dames in the magazines: You ain't it, Miss Thing! Give me a bonnet, and I'm on it Some knucklehead tried to dis 'Cause his girls are on my list He had game but he chose to hit 'em And I pull up quick to get wit 'em So ladies, if the brim is round, And you want a triple X throw down, Dial 1-900-MIXALOT And kick them nasty thoughts Baby got hat!
With the increase of activity by me in my writing journal, I expect some confusion in the coming days. If I should accidentally comment in one of y'alls journals in the wrong mask, pray forgive me. I toyed with the idea of keeping it a filter rather than a separate journal, but just wasn't satisfied with it. I need the artificial separation for my head.
For those on this journal who were following the NaNo novel, it's updates will be posted in landofannwn. I have two more chapters beyond what was done here and I expect to finish it eventually.
Today I applied to metric assloads more jobs in Huntsville. Sunday I raided the classifieds and applied for 17 jobs online as well as emailing resumes like mad. I am desperately crossing my fingers that something will come through soon as mamawolfe's health continues to degenerate. Between the mousing and the mold...
I am full of fears about the future. I am full of longing for change. I am full of potential. I am full of old failures.
I am haunted by what is. I am haunted by the shadow of what may be. I am haunted by the sweet and horrible memories of what was. I am haunted by what I have not yet done.
What is my course now, drifting, fogged? I strain for some distant sound of the horn to call me to the hunt, the chase.
Only silence answers. The horn waits on me, and I cannot find the scent.
I am full of strength, unused, unsung, unmeasured. I am full of need, unmet, unfed, untended. I am full of bile, rage, dissatisfaction. I am full of hope, teasing, tantalized, tortured.
I am haunted by my father's ghost. I am haunted by my plan's corpse. I am haunted by the words in my head. I am haunted by the rattle in my lover's lungs.
Where to cast? Where to move? The desire so strong, adrenal, primitive. Jump! Fly! Flee! But where, how, when? Soon? Please?
Who guides the Captain of her own destiny? Charts I have in surfeit. But where do I sail?
Polonaise Jacket and ruffled walking skirt. 100% cotton, strawberry patterned, raschel lace (yards and yards of it, hand pleated), black french gimp, black cotton skirt.
So, here's the deal. zagzagael wants to start a writing community by writers for writers that's flist based rather than an actual lj community. The idea, as I understand it, is to create either a journal just for writing, or filters in your current journal just for writing, and then friend it/them with other writers journals/filters for the same.
I'm all about the groove on that, so, I'm re-awakening my writing journal, landofannwn for that purpose. That way we can give and receive feedback in comments from other writers, as well as setting up some prompt based writing and dialogue about the act of writing. I'm thinking it'll be fanfic and original fic friendly, me.
Frankly, the very idea makes my creative naughty bits hard.
Advance warning, much of what I write is erotic, even when it's not outright sexual, but I do post warnings when that's the case. I also use lj cuts religiously.
She's also created a BJD writing community, bjd_30minfic, which will offer 30 minute prompts and dialogue about writing, presumably about dolls and dolling.
So, PIMPITY, PIMP, PIMP!!!
Come all you writing folk, even if you're not prolific, and help us revive and replenish the celestial fire in our souls.
Blessings on gypsy_raihana for posting this. Blessings on George Takei for doing it in the first place. Nothing takes the sting out of insult so much as when the insulter is made foolish. As Voltaire said; "Lord, make my enemies ridiculous."
I've been following kalischild's journal and as usual, he has me thinking. And no, smartass, it doesn't hurt... exactly.
What is romance? What is love? The concepts are so buried in bullshit and drama and idealized poetry they are made almost meaningless by overuse.
I once told Rachel that real love was only having enough peanut butter for one person, and somehow managing to feed two people anyway. Would you give up everything you ever had for a chance at everything you ever wanted? When tilting at windmills, is the pain of being dashed to the ground worth the ecstasy of being thrown into the heavens?
The concept of basing marriage on love is a new one. It was really first introduced by the Victorians, and even they only did it rarely, and then in the lower classes. Prior to that marriage was based on common needs and survival, the improvement of one's station and material position. Even the poor arranged marriages around securing better futures for themselves and their posterity. Then everything changed, and suddenly there must be no marriage but love was there. Was this radical and dangerous idea brought into reality by suffrage? By the death of the Nobility caste system? By birth control?
Sex became important as more than procreation and suddenly, within two or three generations everything is a big, red, February hallmark card with a white lace chaser.
I am not trying to be cynical, for truly, I do believe in a love that even time has to lie down and be still for. I believe in bonds of love so strong that nothing can sever them, not war, famine, betrayal, not even death. I believe in devotion so pure that even celestial fire pales and cools before it. I have faith in a love so incandescent it maddens poets, tears down boundaries, dares all in the face of certain doom, and triumphs, even if only for a shining moment.
When I am sane, I do believe in happily ever after, provided that everyone works at it, because it hell-sure doesn't happen on it's own. But that kind of love, the kind that burns so hot and clean, can it last? Does it consume it's own fuel, as the poets short lives indicate? Or can it sustain even as it consumes?
It certainly doesn't pay bills or balance a check book. How could it? It is lost in sonnets and great quests and stitching someone's hair ribbon into the flesh of your breast over your heart.
I believe that love can be the warm glow that sustains domestic bliss. Almost more a deepening of friendship, which flares up occasionally into fire, but mostly lives as warm, reliable coals. I think that kind of love is grand, and I wish good things for them as have it. I don't, but I see it, and it sustains them in strength, even if they get on each other's nerves once in a while.
But I also believe that love can be a dark obsession, filled with angst and heat, burning with the junkie's chemical fire until nothing matters but the love, the heat, the hunger, the burn. Just a quick spike and you live in Elysia. Just a little pain and you can be together forever in a single moment of divine insanity. It can be the flashfire that immolates souls, leaving them "prey for the carrion birds" as the goddess sings. That is a love that consumes and destroys even as it creates, and what it creates is in the side effect, the detritus, the scraps of poetry and music left behind in the sagging flat by the rapidly cooling corpses. It rarely sustains as both lover and loved are eaten from within by the acidic roil of their own shared passion. Old Mother Hubbard's cupboard is bare, so she cuts off a finger and gives her beloved dog that instead, after all, it doesn't matter, she has nine more, right?
Sadly, though, I fear that the second is the love most people seek. It's certainly the one that Harlequin sells, lol. Our society is taught that the passionate love is the only love, and frankly some people just aren't built for it, can't handle it. It takes a special soul to burn like that and not fall because the opposition to ecstasy is despair... or worse, apathy. And no one can sustain that love unless it's built on truth rather than perception. Otherwise, it's all Byron, all poetry, all sonnets and no substance, and so there is nothing there to sustain with.
We spend so much time hiding our natures from those we want to have love us that by the time we trust them enough to show them our belly fat, we don't know them any more than they know us. People love each others masks because that's all they've been shown and then they complain that their lover doesn't really know them. People hide for fear of not being loved, and then lie awake in the night, secure in the hellish knowledge that they are NOT loved for themselves, because their lover doesn't know that self.
Broken and stupid to sin against love in the name of love. Not that my opinion on the subject is humble.
So, hail to the warriors, the poets, the sages. Hail to the bloody few who wear their true faces and seek love anyway. Hail to the scarred, the ugly, the self-destructive, who let all of that show rather than pretending to be Barbie. Hail to the true in love, the steadfast, the loyal, who ride the storms of life's outrageous fortune to bring back gems of love to their homebound companions. Hail to the lovers, keeping troth, marching ever onward, remaining hand in hand, even if their grips are sometimes stained with crimson proof of the scratches caused by misunderstanding, fear, and doubt.
And hail to the hopeful, the blood stained, the brave few, who know the task is impossible, the dream unattainable, the star unreachable, and still mount up and charge, lance at ready, toward the windmills on the horizon, ever staying true to the idea that somewhere, somehow, just beyond that rise, there are giants, and maybe, just maybe, this will finally be one.
I am a dreamer with calloused hands, and there is blood under my nails, mine and other peoples. My journey will continue until the day I die and beyond, but I will never lie down and give up, I will never let love die, I will sustain, even if I have no fuel to give the burn but the bones in my head.
And I shall find giants, and I shall be one, and I shall inspire and frighten and empower. I shall feed two people on one person's portion of peanut butter. I kind of needed to lose weight anyway.
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
sappho413's journal
busy as hell...
Grrrr!
busy
excited![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
impatient
thoughtful