Friday, May 18, 2012 from the flames

I've been dragging my feet getting back to Second Life.

I've been dying to sing, my set list is chosen my songs are down....but when it comes to logging in?  My heart sinks.  This break has thrown all sorts of growing pains at me.  I feel like I've done some pretty heavy evolving, but one thing I will never change is my loyalty.  I will never forget where I started, those people that had faith in me even when I didn't.  Those that gave me a chance.  The ones that came to my shows when I sucked.  I love them.

When I had my car accident in 2009 I tried SL because I was bed ridden and couldn't think of anything else to do.  I also thought it would help return dexterity to my right hand.  I love burlesque so naturally I ended up on the sim that was to become Viva La Glam.  When that sim split into two groups I supported both and remained neutral. 

When one group stabbed me in the back I didn't provide any but the scantest details related to my own life directly and no gossip.  What shocked me is that I was banned from Viva too.

It is true that in times of trial you learn who your friends are.  I have several true SL friends that have stood by me throughout all this upheaval. I value them as highly as I do the friends I see in RL.  They are the ones that make me want to sing, and they are the ones that "deserve me at my best."  But there is the odd folder or the errant subscribo message that reminds me of how amazing those first days were, surrounded by all those people that pushed me to succeed.

At the time I thought it was too good to be true. 

Now, it's time to begin, anew....

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

The Generation Time Forgot

I never thought I would be one of them.

You know.  Old.

They funny thing is, mine is the first generation that really isn't.   We are the first generation who's 40 looks and feels 20.  Our era is still the craziest. We came after X and before Y.  We were the first to really concentrate on living our dreams, because we were the first to have that kind of disposable time and the support system to allow it yet we still value self respect and have a solid work ethic.  We did things like read.  Books.  And we didn't have to run out and spend $300 on a gadget to do it.

We are the ones that ripped apart the social stigmas, that made gays cool and accepted exotic races.  We ripped apart useless stereotypes so the coming generations could rebuild something better.

The coming generation brought us slackers.

Instead of working to build onto this gap, they eschew work and accept the "its all good" marijuana mentality.  They assume that everything will be brought to them and find all work repugnant.  They are ignorant of everything.  They can commit to Where I live they refuse to shower or groom themselves in any way, wear clothes junkies have discarded and call it "hipster." Their music would suck except its starting to be mostly reworked 80s thank God so I can tolerate it.  They honestly have no concept of responsibility.  They scare me.

Yes, that is what started all this.  I had to go associate with actual people today and caught myself saying "Kids today SUCK!"

I know this is the fault of the parents but I honestly don't know how this happened. I never had kids, and I know parents tend to fall into that "I want to give you everything I never had" trap but please.  As a parent your job is to give your child  discipline, self respect, independence, intelligence (education), love and support, those things.  Not x-boxes.  Even I know that.  So wtf happened here?

These idiots are the people that will be taking care of us when we finally do get old.  Yikes.  I don't even want to think about it.  We are sure to be forgotten again.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

PSA: Beware the Crazy Weasel!

At various times in my life I've been bullied.  Whether RL or online it's always by the same people, and they always say and do the same things.  Usually it involves tagging with some derivative of "crazy" (or, in the deep south, "gay" which probably meant the same thing up in there) and wolf pack behavior. Too many of my friends are going through this, its time to stand on my table again.

I am so tired of boring crazy people calling us crazy.  Do they not realize how crazy they sound?  This isn't an "it takes one to know one" situation, this is an "Alcoholics Anonymous" situation.

What I mean is, I have escorted many of my friends to AA, because I do that.  What I have noticed without fail is that once there I am the subject of mass inquiry.

"Do you drink?"
"Well then you have a problem too."

No matter what I say, I have a problem too.  To an alcoholic everyone has a problem, apparently.  The difference with tedious crazy people, I think, is that they won't admit they are alcoholics.  Even when they are "just sitting around, reading 'Guns and Ammo,' masturbating in [their] own feces" as David Mills so delightfully put it.  I don't think they ever "just stop and go, "Wow! It is amazing how fucking crazy I really am!" They just point those icky fingers and say "It's you!"

( Halfway through writing this I realized I was singing "Let's Go Fly A Kite" and really enjoying it.  I don't know what that means but it seems relevant.  I suggest you do the same for this post's musical interlude.)

Thankfully this kind of garden variety crazy weasel is easy to spot once you know what to look for.  They are cowards that hide behind their computers with no understanding of respect or boundaries. They flourish in SL, for instance (but are known as "haters" elsewhere).  They travel in packs and are incapable of functioning alone.  Basically they are everything you aren't and they hate you for it...but first they will love you so very much - too much, too fast - trying to worm their way in and find a way to break this exciting, new butterfly's wings.  They can't have you change the status-quo or make them look bland standing next to you in their vacuum.  Note that they only attempt to desiccate the best and the brightest they think they can get their hands on ( if they are descending on you, smile). Sadly, like most lunatics, they can seem wildly creative.  Unfortunately its just not worth it to find out.

It is startling and painful the first time or two a normal, healthy person encounters the Crazy Weasel. Frankly we just aren't prepared for their illogical and vitriolic teacup tempests.  After that its handy to learn how to derender/delete in milliseconds.  Personally, it took longer than I like to admit to learn that I am not a butterfly, I'm a Phoenix and these aren't wings, they are jets of flame.

I'm like Kid Curry now.  I can eradicate a peanut from my world before you can say psyc--


Thursday, February 23, 2012

Rip Him To Shreds

So.  I had an admittedly great time last night doing something I would never publicly admit to: lampooning one of my ex-boyfriends.

Ok, no.  I did no public lampooning.  I just laughed heartily and publicly at the lampooning that was happening, er, nearby.  And I feel totally guilty about it.  I felt guilty about it at the time, which is moronic.  I mean, I feel bad because I live by the golden rule.  I can't bear accidentally hurting someone, much less doing it deliberately.  Considering the subject matter I should rejoice that I found someone witty enough to make coke come out my nose at my x's expense.  It's richly deserved.  Yet...I'm a damn pussy.

Seriously.  I can turn the concept of Karma in upon itself, can't I?  This is like anti-karma.  The not-doing inversely affects the negative impact of any pre-conceived ill-intentions.  Or something  (I'll give you a second to wrap your mind around that one).

Plus, I don't believe in guilt.  There is no room for it in my life.  I do nothing that I am ashamed of  = no guilt.  Hell, I don't even do anything I keep secret...though perhaps I could take another look at that (video) policy. I have always been my harshest critic and never fail to call a spade a spade.  Occasionally out of kindness I might give it a mercy upgrade or bless it with "love blindness" by allowing it to believe it's "hot" by not commenting.  Or by emphasizing the points that are actually good.  Or occasionally with a phrase similar to "You keep telling yourself that, Dear."

I'm careful overall when picking at a spade though, honestly. I mean I work hard to be "all this," - it doesn't mean I think I'm "all that."  I find it much more pleasant to allow others to blow my horn anyway...then suffer temporary Kathy Griffin deafness and ask them to repeat it.  Sure it requires almost excruciating patience at times but is inevitably worth it for so many reasons...(head toss).

All in all, however, I do actively work to diminish the bad (inside and out) and emphasize the good - but do I ever say I like my boobs a lot?  Or do I just mention them?  Its a subtle but important distinction.  Humility wrapped inside a boast tucked into generalization...ok I am waaaay too pretty to throw my brain around this hard in one blog post.  I need water...

...I'm just saying the key to being a great make-up artist is knowing bone structure.  Or embellishments are vital as long as they add to the original piece.  Or for the love of God keep your feet on the ground or gravity will give you a nice painful reality check when you least expect it.

Not that there's anything wrong with being in love with your own ass.  Just make sure its not on your shoulders.

Friday, February 17, 2012

My cup runneth over....

I have always believed that strength runs out.  There are times when I feel weaker than others.  Times when I feel the need to lean on other people.

The past few months have been the weakest I have ever survived.  The strange thing is....I did survive. And I'm changing into a much stronger, kinder person than I was before.

The new set of music I'm planning reflects that. It's going to be ... interesting.  We'll say that.  I'm having fun putting it all together.

A different fire.....

I'm sad that the lovers I cared for aren't with me now, but I'm finally starting to believe its their loss.  More importantly, I know now that I wont "run out" of strength, or of love.  Because I thought I didn't have any left but my heart still opened...I just took a little longer than usual.  That's not a bad thing!  The guy may have been a furry little mistake but the lessons learned will never be.  I'm just as grateful for the good memories as the sad ones. And I'm still standing. In amazing shoes and several sizes smaller no less!

He (and the other "hes") are the ones that have to live with themselves now.  I don't anymore.  I get to go back to my real life and hang with people I can relate to. I'm looking forward to it.  Just as soon as the bleeding stops.

It will stop any day now.