Busy busy. Not that you can see most of it.
You can see some of it though. First off, the pictures of me
section has been expanded with a new photoshoot, and I've finally put up some of the fanart I've received. Getting fanart is always nifty, and maybe this will encourage more (hint, hint). Oh yeah, since I'm finally caving to posting some more of my photoshoots, I guess that makes me an "internet model" now. So you should buy me stuff
off my wishlist and I'll get pictures of me in/with it.
No, not really, I kid. Well, I mean I would get pictures and all anyway, but I don't expect anyone to ever buy me anything off any of them. I only have them at all since I give my relatives my amazon list, in the hopes I won't get socks, white socks, that don't fit, for Christmas. So far its not been all that horribly successful, but most of them are unwired (which is such a foreign concept!), so it is somewhat futile.
Second order of business, is that there is, indeed, at long last, another fairy
! Yeah, I know you were holding your breath over there, you're looking quite the unhealthy shade of blue. And with how long its been, you smell rather bad too. I think I might be able to finish the series in some semblance of on time this time. Er, don't hold your breath on that one either though.
The eyes are an utter mess, and I'm terribly unmotivated to get them sorted enough to update it. So you'll have to wait on that. One of these days I suppose I'll just cave and automate it, even though I like having the extra layer of control (for instance, I can crop and resize and reformat when people send me things that cannot go on the web. You might be surprised, or then again, you might not, but I do get quite a bit that needs at least some work). And related? I'm sucking on the email lately, I've switched the contact link here to something I check more regularly, if the desire should arise (and no, I don't expect it to).
As for the subject of the last time you heard from me- I'm dealing, mostly. I still miss him terribly.
At 1:04am this morning, my baby boy passed away.
He was purring- no sound, but still the smallest of vibrations (how he loved to purr! He would purr so loudly you could hear him across the room) until the shuddering at the end. Dad and I were with him, as he spit out the vile gunk that killed him.
Like his sister before him, we put him in a file box with a towel in the bottom. Picking him up and seeing his head loll back... But he just looks like he's sleeping in there.
He had a good 15 years with me, he's been my baby bear since I was 11. He was happy.
His mother was my grandmother's cat, a beatiful grey tabby siamese mix, Snowflake (she had the most unique markings, and beautiful blue eyes). Mum found Storm, Felina, and him in a closet when cleaning out my grandmother's house, little balls of fluff smaller than their mother's head, when they're still all round and not really cat-shaped. Storm was a long haired grey tabby and ended up with almost mismatched eyes- one eye mostly green with a bit of brown, the other more brown and less green. Felina was also long haired, cream-white, with pastel pink little ears and nose, mint green eyes. And Boo, grey and white tabby with these incredible sparkling green eyes. The three of them grew into absolutely gorgeous cats. None of them got the Siamese eyes, but they all got the voice- not the bitchiness, they were all fantastically sweet cats, but talkative. Mum was worried about Boo, he wasn't very affectionate, more the standoffish sterotype of a cat that people who don't have cats think about.
She came back from the desert with them (we were going to find homes for them- which is always the story, and never the practice), and Boo met me- and stopped being standoffish. I had a cat at the time who didn't want to deal with them, Ariel, so the four of them were limited to my parent's bedroom suite. We learned not to leave windows open far enough they could get into them- the four of them popped the screen and ended up outside, on the first floor, rather confused. Eventually they were big enough their mother really didn't want to deal with them (they were still trying to nurse, and they were bigger than she was!), and she went to my grandfather. Ari got cancer and had surgery and limped around in a cast for a bit, and passed away when I was in eighth grade. The Kittens (as they were dubbed- if they would have worn them I think my mother might have actually gotten them the leather jackets with that on the back) got the run out of house.
They used to lounge around in sinks- the boys (18 and 14 pounds, not small cats) would take one together, and Felina would take the other herself (a 9 pound ball of white fluff).
Boo moved into my room, and refused to let Felina sleep in there, which was alright with me, because she was a little hellion to sleep with. She would decide she wanted attention when everyone was dead asleep, and stomp all over everyone, cat, dog, and human, to get what she wanted. She also regularly picked fights with the boys and the dogs (who weren't much larger than she was at least), to prove that while she might be the "little one" and "the girl" she was still tougher than all of them. And they all let her win, because none of them were interested in fighting. Boo would occasionally sport a dueling scar on his nose from her. She jumped into the bathtub once, full of suds, and didn't realize there was water in there, and she was not a happy little girl. 'Lina was somewhat Daddy's Little Girl- nevermind dad always said he didn't like cats (with the exception of, you know, every single cat we've ever lived with).
Storm was Momma's Boy, a great big boy (he could stand up and put his paws on my shoulders) who was the quintessential gentle giant. He could open doors- thankfully he had enough fur between his toes he couldn't get the traction to turn them all the time so he mostly gave up on it. I used to put up a model train in the living room for the holidays, and he would sit on the sofa and just watch the train go round, and under where he was sitting. Boo brought in a mouse once to give me (they were all indoor cats, none of them were particularly mousers, Felina brought in a live mouse and left it on the stairs after getting my attention with her yowly voice, it skittered off but she didn't care since she'd already shown me what she'd done), and they caught him at it in the kitchen- he dropped it and it skittered under the cupboards. Storm just watched it when it came out, interested, but nothing he wanted to actually bother with (we later had a rather amusing bit where we tried to catch the mouse on the curtains with a pot, and finally had to get a spiffy nokill mousetrap because it ate all the bait out of the rest). He licked plastic bags obsessively. He would pick things up in his paws and inspect him.
Boo was my pudding. He made me get a bigger bed because he used to stretch out across the bed, leaving me about an inch on each side (once the bed was larger, he didn't lounge like that, so I think it was all a plot on his part to get a bigger bed). He liked using pillows under his head. He also liked water, and many was the time he would show up with his head splattered with water, and wet little paws. Toilet seats had to be put down in the house, not because he would drink out of them, but because he'd play with the water. When you got up in the middle of the night, you had to play the water game with him- let water drip out of the faucet so he could bat at it and drip it while falling. He'd follow me around the house like a shadow. When I came back from Japan I was on an upside down schedule- he had to know everything that everyone was doing all the time, so he didn't sleep for days- finally he passed out sitting in with me. When I went away to Vassar, he moped and didn't move around- he sat around and he ate, and he gained a bit of a tummy, which he mostly lost after I was back, when I went away to Edinburgh mum kept him with her all the time and tried to keep him interested in stuff. He got a lot more mellow as he got older- when he was younger he didn't want to deal with any people other than the three of us, but later on as long as I was around he'd put up with just about anything from anyone. He would serranade us in the car, meowing all the way loudly, and making himself hoarse (he didn't travel much until his siblings were gone- Storm got horribly horribly carsick and even visits to the vet were next to impossible). I stopped burning candles because of him- without bothering to look he jumped up on a dresser, and singed his fur. He had this kinky little tail that was never straight, and he was always curling around in funny ways.
For 15 beautiful years with my beautiful boy, it was worth it. Even the bit at the end. 15 years wasn't enough, but I was so incredibly lucky to have him in my life.
Goodbye baby boy. I love you.
Yeah, I'm Not Dead. Still working on things, as usual. And now for something completely different...
The short form: Gothcon was supposed to be a charitable event, people donated services or took pay cuts, there were even suggestions to ask employers to sponsor your trip to the event as a charitable pursuit. Money was stated as donated to the charities, though the math made no sense (archive.org
has the proof). Then the company who donated the website was audited and needed reciepts and proof and such- and the organizer was nowhere to be found. Since then we keep getting different stories about what happened to the money. Just make the truth public, whatever it may be, is all I ask.
I've been lax on finishing things- very lax. But I am working on stuff. Recent drawings and such can be found at my deviant art account
, though I haven't put anything there in a little bit, especially with C9. I have, however, finally finished something- I have a page for my time at C9
. Its not integrated here yet, but at least it is up.
Also, I have a daily task
for you. Click it every day, it costs you nothing, and you help feed rescued animals in shelters or sanctuaries.