I don't know how many of you actually read these things, but I've now started an LLC. Which is in the process of becoming non profit.

Proceeds of sales at my etsy shop will be used to benefit local charities, children's hospitals, etc.

Please consider supporting us.

https://www.etsy.com/shop/JSFLLLC

I can do custom embroidered handkerchiefs, bracelets, etc. And I'm starting a cutie mark MLP collection as well. Thank you everyone!

So I'll be going to FA united. Not sure how many others will be going that I know from here or follow anyway. But if you are, look for the girl with the brown bunny ears and tail.

It's not been a good week for relationships, but it's Thursday. Which means Friday is soon. Which means I'll be able to get over all this soon and sleep my problems away like usual.

So anyway, I'm now officially set again. To go seek things out and whatnot. Hit me with your best shot.

It's probably silly of me to even wonder why certain people in my life try blithely to take advantage of my trust. But it is pretty sad to note that while they are confused at my coldness and anger, they still have yet to grasp the concept of respect for other people.

On the plus side, I find myself with plenty of free time again, and my mind almost painfully clear.

So I'd like to take a few minutes to express something that some people have clearly forgotten about me. I have human feelings. Real ones. Sometimes they get injured and there's nothing that can be done but to go to bed every night and keep getting out of bed in the morning to go for it all again.

Unlike rabid animals, I can control my feelings to a certain degree, and I don't randomly lash out at everyone because I've lost sight of who the enemy is. Like with most things, the enemy is ignorance, and I'm deeply interested in fighting that. So, if you ever find yourself in doubt, remember that I am human and I feel things as deeply as anyone else.

Maybe more so, because I'm self aware, and sentient enough to know when I'm being played for a fool, and being overlooked out of malice. Don't think you're going to be walking away from this without wincing.

Keep watching, see what happens.

Don't blink, you'll miss it.

I am on the search for someone who can do a fluffy bunny tail, ears, arm warmers, and leggings for my character. Only instead of the brown that I have, I'm looking for something in black, as I'm working on a berserk concept for my character.

I'm also trying to just find patterns that'll make it easier for me, as I'm considering sewing my own but have no experience sewing with furs, and am also considering making them the kind that lace up the back, corsetry style. Crazy talk? Maybe.

So I've had a lot of sex with a lot of different people of all ethnicities, genders, and so on and so forth. However a few weekends ago, I finally got around to crossing 'black guy' off my list.

Unfortunately at the time he was literally inside of me [painfully I might add], Whitney Houston was expiring in Los Angeles. Factoring in the time difference, it all lines up. Is there something to this or was it just a horrible irony/coincidence?

I'm moderately concerned that the next time I sleep with a black guy, some other black celebrity is going to die.

So I’m not sure why it bothers me so much that I’m cohabitating [not by choice] with a heterosexual, homophobic, judgmental person.

But it does, and there’s a part of me that feels bad I can’t just accept her intolerance and bigotry for the ignorance that it really represents. When she was expressing her disgust for Lesbian, Gay, and Supportive Sailors group we have on base, I was angry at once for her stance on the whole situation. Her view is essentially that because some gay groups bash Christians and there’s no ‘White Christian Support’ group, there should be no alternative lifestyle support group. I tried to keep my extremely volatile response to myself and mostly succeeded. She admitted that there is homophobia on this base but refuses to see how bad it is. To her, the leader of this support group calling for the people on this ship to stop ripping down their command sanctioned posters, is unnecessary and an example of how homosexuality is only possible because other people tolerate it.

It’s safe to say that I was not only furious with her for saying something like that, but also just outraged in general. Me being who I am, and because I’m suffering from a pathologically deep winter ennui, I decided to consider my feelings and journey inward. At least for a little bit. And the more I thought about it, the more I was sure that if I had been given the upbringing that my room mate had, I’d be like her. I would have the same perceptions. It’d be like looking into a twisted mirror and seeing myself laugh in the way that I sometimes laugh when I’m feeling self hatred and loathing. But on the other hand, it’s possible that she and I are separated by both our backgrounds, and the fact that I naturally seek to understand other people’s points of view.

She’s willing to stand firmly on the side of straight marriage only and Don’t ask don’t tell. Because the second the homosexuals in the Navy began to find their voice, and believe me, it wasn’t a loud obnoxious voice, it was just a, ‘Yes, I’m gay, is that a problem?’ voice, she freaked out. Maybe I’m just reading too much into her words and not thinking about ways I can learn to love and tolerate my bigoted room mate.

Or maybe I have a right to be angry and should resent her for the ignorant clueless bint that she is. It’s hard to say. Either way, I’m terrified by the thought of such a twisted reflection, and sad that I have to share the same space that she does.

There are very few people in this world that actually know me for who I am. There are some who believe they know me based on what they see of me. But those that merely look, and do not touch, have no true way of knowing.

Do they?

Or is it presumption, one of the greatest sins of mankind? I really couldn’t say, and for the most part, it’s disturbing. I can safely say that it’s true I overtly sexualise things, partially for a provoked response, partially to see what people act like when pushed head first out of their comfort zones. And then there’s parts of me that don’t like me that way and other parts that would rather be left completely alone to brood in solitude and quiet passivity. Self loathing is isolating in that way.

I try to strike a balance, but it’s tricky when you’re weighed down.

Yeah, I hate it when submissive exes suddenly realize that you really did just end it with them and try to be abusive and angry.

And say silly things in text messages even though you've already blocked them everywhere else and it's the one last venue they have to bother you with. It's like a caricature of reality, especially when they try to assert themselves again, even though you know their heart really isn't in it.

I have to brush kids like that off, because honita, I might be a bad bunny, but I'm not a mean one. At least not to the point of cruelty. I'll say no, but I won't then waste my time telling you all the reasons why you fell short of what I wanted in a mate and why you've gotten grow up. I'll just walk it out.

Swagger really.

I have nothing to be ashamed of no matter how hard they try.

So Raiha waited for her tengu to come for her, and in that time she was still a slave, still a menial laborer, forced to break her back daily and pour her sweat out upon the Earth.

And for what?

She kept at it, because to stop would mean death, and she promised her tengu that she would live to see him again. So she bore the whiplash, the cruel words thrown carelessly at her by liars, slanderers, and gossips, and took up her portion of labor in full. Like a fool, she tried to do her best, forgetting that what was asked of her was not her best, merely her free will. For the promises she'd made still lived within her heart. Unlike those around her, she had not yet surrendered her self awareness, nor her inner fire, and at night she still burned like a torch, as warm as a hearth. And those that knew her gathered close to her against the cold, and together they slept, as peaceful and quiet as the birds on the lake.

But some were repulsed by her fire, and because she was not yet broken, she knew how to use it against others. One such man had reached out for her when he shouldn't have, tried to touch her in anger and only been burned. While he waited for his hand to heal he plotted against her. There are those in the world who can't stand to see others endure things without losing their own true selves. They seek to break them, to bring them down to their own level of misery and stupidity. Such was this one. And with the indifference of others, he made his move.

Raiha was working late into the night, finishing a job that had to be done, and he came upon her with the whip he had taken from the overseer, who was happy to look elsewhere for a small fee. And he struck her across the back so hard she gasped for breath, dropping her load against the ground, collapsing to her knees. He struck again, and then again, while those that remained in the tunnel working late merely watched her fall. It wasn't that they were indifferent to her pain so much as they had been broken for so long by the lash, that they were incapable of protecting her.

When she was huddled and bleeding freely against the stone ground he stopped and spat on her face, the saliva running down her cheek and mingling with her blood. Then he turned and walked away. Once he was gone, the other slaves came to her, picked her up and took her to her pallet, wiping away her tears and blood, tending to her wounds.

As soon as they were healed, Raiha returned to work, her back a welter of fresh pink scars. She bent her back into her work, even though it sent arcs of pain through her body, taking up her portion so others wouldn't have to endure more than their fair share. And she worked again, her inner fire unquenched, merely dimmer, drawn to a small flicker from the pain she bore. Her enemy saw this, and his rage drove him once more to seek her out when she was isolated, working alone again. For although she feared to be alone, she knew that she mustn't avoid work, merely for the sake of assuaging her fears. For fears were the only thing she could use as a fulcrum for survival down in the deep earth, away from the moon, and the tengu that loved her.

And this time she heard him coming because she knew he was foolish enough to try the same attack twice. His persistence enraged her, as well as his pointless interest in her suffering. And these two thoughts drove her into a rage that kindled the fire in her heart to a blaze that could not be extinguished. Her senses went into overdrive, and her mind contracted to a pinpoint that saw only her enemy and how she would defeat him. This time, when he raised the whip, she heard the slither of the lash, and when he struck, she caught the tail crack across her forearm, and although it bled where it touched, she twisted her arm around it and grabbed the end of the lash.

Then she pulled, and her strength was such that he felt his feet skid across the stony ground, towards Raiha. He stared at her in shock, his eyes open in surprise, and saw her eyes for the first time. Bright black, with no iris, nor white, staring at him all unseeing, the berserk fire coursing through her entire body. Steam rose from her flesh, and out her open mouth, and he saw her fangs, her black tongue, and felt himself tremble.

She jerked the whip from his hand and tore it apart before his terrified face. And then she hauled her right arm back and struck him open handed across the face, her fingers talons, her nails sharp. Four diagonal lines of blood exploded from his face and right shoulder. He fell bleeding onto his side and his blood pooled on the ground. Raiha picked up her load and walked away from him, leaving footprints where she stepped in his blood.

They led upwards, back towards the light, where she knew her tengu was waiting.

____________________________

And this is how Raiha got the scars on her arms, and her back, and her pride back.

So aside from my inability to make a subject title vaguely verging on sane, I'm looking for commissions and doodles again.

If you have an actual financial need that requires my ...input, drop me a line and we'll work something out. I like supporting artists and pimping out my FA profile with pretty pictures done by real talent.

And yes, that means you.

Seeks place to find brown and black dyed or natural rabbit fur. If anyone knows a website or a supplier please let me know. And yes, it's probably slightly perverse that as an anthro bunny I'd wear bunny fur, but if it makes you feel better, if I was a rabbit that identified as an anthro human, I'd make myself a suit of human skin.

I swear I would!

....in fact I'd probably do it as a human, but I'm pretty sure there are laws about flaying corpses.

Need to find a fur suit maker who can whip up some cats paws for a friend. Know anyone? The person who wants them is loaded btw.

If you read this, than maybe you can walk me through how to get stuff into scraps, how to enable a Profile ID, and how to get rid of a sinus infection fast.

I was walking back to the place with the wifi to get on the Internet and answer the stack of notes, messages, and emails I had to get to when I felt something inside me that almost manifested as laughter. I held it in because I was passing the administrative building on base that houses our Commanding Officer, Executive Officer, and other officers of various importance. It’s very important to appear hardboiled and have military bearing when passing by there, very bad to be caught goofing off or enjoying life. So instead of giving in, I thought about what I was feeling and those thoughts coalesced into something that went like this.

Holy shit. I survived.

I saw someone who reminded me of Comron the other day; my monstrous ex boyfriend, walking with a male friend and I almost laughed in his face. I was going off base with my roommate, Ng, who despite her faults and totally voweless last name, is still a good person at heart and wants to do the right thing even when nobody is watching. I was in the company of a good person and I was going out to do things that were fun, not fun because they were illegal or risky, just fun. I’m no longer the service member that feels the need to live life riskily, sexily, dangerously, or in any kind of manner that requires a ‘y’ ending. I don’t to go out and feel compelled to drink with underage teenagers just because they want me to.

And I’m happy too. Happy because I survived June. July. August. September. And October right up until the point where I became alive again when Bran touched my heart in the right spot. And then I began to live again when I found out the truth, that my rapist was separated administratively because of what he’d done to me and to others too afraid to come forward like me. And all those liars who spread rumors about me and untruths and falsehoods, slanderous words, and the people who betrayed me as a friend by taking sides when they didn’t know there weren’t even any sides to take… Well they’re left holding the bag and looking stupid, because inside the bag is my cum-stained clothes and the scientific paperwork that proves what happened to me wasn’t consensual. Just a pair of plain black bikini bottoms and a blue tank top and a matching pair of boxers.

And I’m standing on the other side of the fence, free as a bird, laughing my ass off because I’m not only free, but now I can work for myself again. Charles Yu said that was the absolute definition of a free man. I can do what I want when I want how I want because I chose to be that way. I’m not mentally shackled by the things that aren’t true. So Comron, when he saw me looking healthy and happy, was defeated completely. The last time he saw me he told me I was a liar, a snitch, and a whore. He saw me in tears leaving the quarterdeck and having to choke down a thousand angry letters and words I wanted to spit in his face. This time, when he saw me he got a chance to see me for what I really am, and only a part of me is sad that I never got to tell him to his face what I was. I’m whole, and happy, and healthy, and disease free. No unwanted pregnancy, no unwanted bacteria or viruses, and no lies to keep up appearances. Instead I can just tell the truth.

I’m a woman who is getting marred December 18th to a man that honors me as much as I honor him. He lets me have my freedom in exchange for me letting him have his. And we will be happy and are happy to be doing the right thing, regardless of what the rest of the world will see it as. Comron you monster, you betraying bastard, you blithering fuckwit, can’t you see what you’ve done? You left me in the lurch and then left me again as a friend and tried to get back at me through a friend more loyal to me than you’ll ever understand. You became the one looking for friends that weren’t going to give you herpes and tell you how much you sucked at fucking them.

I became the one who has friends, who has love, and who has life. Real life. Legal life. And while you stand on the other side of the wall with Lurch, where everyone has an agenda or has a ‘game’ to play, you’ll have to stew and be miserable knowing that I actually won. Because I knew there wasn’t a game in the first place that could’ve been lost or won in the traditional sense.
I’m over here on the side where reality reigns. Where people get kicked out of the Navy for rape, indirectly, but still kicked out. Where people who tell the truth sometimes get a little bit of their own back. And baby, I got it back. I got it back so good, I can rub it in your face for the rest of my natural life knowing that it’s all mine. Nobody can take this victory from me because nobody can unmake what happened to me and nobody can undo the things that happened in my mind between June and now. I saw counselors, took medication, and went to therapy. And I prevailed because I wanted to be stronger than you, and every other lying betraying bastard that said I was a stupid whore who was making shit up to get attention. Sure I spent almost six months in pure fucking misery and confusion and could barely function enough to pass for normal, but I fucking functioned didn’t I.
Now one of you is pregnant in Norfolk with some guy’s baby and full of shit about the whole situation and will probably go nowhere with your career and it’s funny because you’ve got ‘Honor Courage and Commitment’ tattooed on your body but you don’t even know what those words mean. How could you? You’re fucking 12.

Another one of you is fat and failing your PFAs and in FEP because you’re a disgusting fatbody who won’t stop eating frosting for lunch because they’re ‘nothing to eat’ on ‘base’ anywhere. Never mind the fact that I can eat at the galley three times a day, and go from 138 to 130 by eating salads and getting off my ass more than I absolutely have to.

And the third one is still here but he’s not my enemy, so much as he’s an honored friend. He’s working and studying hard, and doing the right thing and he’s going to make it with me. Both of us. Penguin fucking or not.

Enjoy that image you have of me walking in the cold wind and laughing with my rabbit ears on. My little Chinese room mate laughing next to me, even though she only comes up to my shoulder.

I’m free, and I’m fucking blissed out on how blessed my existence is now that I’m no longer like you, beholden to you, or trapped by you.

http://www.etsy.com/listing/8812914.....ip?ref=pr_shop

So I'm bored out of my bloody skull, and sitting on a pile of skeins of embroidery threads in every color of the magical delicious skittle rainbow. Seriously. I also have a box full of wood beads, jade beads, mini beads, big beads, and magic beads. [or so I hear].

Anyway I'm happy to fingerweave you a custom bracelet, choker, or anklet in whichever pattern you'd like with whatever colors for a small fee.

Bracelets are: $5
Anklets: $6 [depending on how big your ankle is]
Choker/Necklace/Collar: $8

Granted the more complicated your commission becomes, i.e. you want to include beads at a certain point or have them interspersed in your pattern, the more eyestrain I accrue but I'm willing to do my best for money!

Shipping would be about a dollar considering the cost of postage, an envelope, and a piece of paper that may or may not include a free [crappy] sketch of you, a loved one, a pet, a chibi, a dog, a plane, a bear, a lamp, or any other random object I happen to lay my eyes on.

Can you tell I'm bored? Idle fingers are the devil's playthings after all. You can send me a note or go through etsy either way. Don't be afraid, this time if you use paypal, you probably won't get an angry message from them.

Also, I think I'll need a banner. Know anyone?

So here I am in Illinois in the time right before Tiefster Winter, because it's not even a hard freeze yet. It's only been below freezing with no snowfall. But hey there's plenty of time for the wind to blow and a white Christmas to come destroy the environment I've been existing in.

On the other hand I am working, happy, and getting out of debt.

No worries, ever.

So. Something kinda funny but kinda scary happened while I was looking at a shitty laptop screen at 4 am trying to make wedding vows that didn't suck. It didn't help that I was listening to Anemia/Tool.



I have discovered I'm not allowed to write my own vows for my handfasting wedding early in the morning...

....Because they end up looking like this:

Handfasting: nondenominational, non neopagan other wordy shit no priest necessary

Cleric: Join hands. Somber face. No horns! NO SITH ROBES! GACK

"I give you my hand in marriage."

"And I give you mine."

"I vow to honor, cherish, and respect you always."

"I vow to _should probably ask him what he's vowing_"

Red cord

Cleric: [to witnesses]

If any of you also vow to something or other help protect honor etc, help them on their journey, join them. something or other blah blah blah tie their hands up cause bondage is supar grr rar red is nice.

No no words; obey love harmony romance "true love" strengthen sacred

Where go rings?

pendants for some other less public time.


Flowers throw in air yay happy bubbles and then FOOD FOOD FOOD FOOD MIMOSAS FIRE FOOD FOOD FOOD!

I keep dreaming the same place in my dreams, hoping some day it'll be real.

I see a cafe, Vietnamese, with great drinks and quick snacks, where the old Round Table Pizza used to be on the intersection corner of my childhood. Where there was pizza and a convenience store, the cafe, and another area for just drinks and a bar. I've seen this place several times now, and I can see the whitewashed walls, the old men playing tiles and dominoes in the corner. I can taste the citrus sweetness of my guava tamarind soda and hear the frycooks in the back shouting to each other in that glorious mix of Vietnamese, Chinese, and Cebuano I know so well.

They ask me if I want to play cards, young men with hair slicked back and fast motorcycles out front. I just smile and shake my head, because it's my dream, and I have places to go after I drink down this delicious soda. My skirt brushes my calves and my smile is pretty. In this dream I am powerful, and nobody tries to leer at me.

The courtyard area is no longer garish orange brick and mortar. It's white tile, with a waterfall and a koi pond that trails like a stream down to the street. And when I walk by it the fish leap and preen at me, hoping for a handful of cheerios. But my hands are full of my purse and drink so I have to say goodbye to them without any handouts. I wish this dream was mine, and that this cafe was real. And that later in the dream, when I go back to the houses where I'm needed, there is a dark room. With a deep soft futon, and tatami mats, for me to lay my head, and rest with just the sound of water, and a koto to keep me company.

Is in my mouth, it's in my words.
It's burning in my heart,
It's a terrible scar and a furious rage,
That burns and it stings and it won't abate.

I just want to be happy and clean again
But I'm not, I'm upset.

I'm slowly shredding myself,
Without raising a single hand.
Seven spots on my chest,
Over my left breast,
Killing me above my heart.

Nobody minds and nobody saw.
Nobody cares and nobody sees.

It won't go away,
The pain in my mouth can be found
In the killing power of my voice.

Not sure how to feel at all about finding out that my best friend I've had here in Chicago was making out with one of my very good personal friends that I was sort of involved with. In fact, my feelings are somewhat beyond mixed. Perhaps diced, frapped, blended. And other settings on blenders. Because it's not like there was any true bond severed, except perhaps now I can't trust him. Or her.

"First, there is desire. Then, passion. Then, suspicion. Jealousy. Anger. Betrayal. When love is for the highest bidder, there can be no trust. Without trust, there can be no love. Jealousy, yes, jealousy will drive you mad."

In this case I just feel like the Narcoleptic Argentinian, telling a story I feel strangely removed from. Not only did I sever myself from my mate that I really did care for until I found himself trying to exploit me, but I then found my friends dallying without my presence. Not that I discourage friendship, but I felt as though they'd simply been waiting for me to not be there. I didn't even have any suspicions until now. How long have they been waiting? Anger, a little yes, that they waited a full week to tell me. Betrayal, not so much, but I'm still upset. And the highest bidder here is simply availability I suppose, which is just as bad. No trust, and I never loved, but I did care. And I'm not jealous enough to go mad.

But I am jealous enough to simply back out quietly.

The mad dash home was one so interesting and full of coincidence for me I figured I'd write about it:


Flight 2325 at 10:20 to Midway Airport.
Departed house at 8:35, wrong direction on 101S for 7.4 miles, U-turn, 101N
Arrived at San Jose International at 9:41
Got through TSA Checkpoint by 10:02
Boarding Call at 10:05
Takeoff at 10:25

Margin for error: 15 minutes

Land at precisely 16:21
CTA Orange Line to the Loop departed at 16:35
TA Orange Line arrived at Quincy St. at 17:20

DETOUR!
Dunkin Dounuts Chocolate Glazed Dounut and Tall iced Coffee. Cost: $3.25

Arrived at Ogilvie Transportation Center at 17:30
Bought 10 pack of tickets from zone G to A. Cost: $25.50, reduced military rate.
Downstairs to French Market for baguette with butter and bottled water. Cost: $3.53
Arrived at Track 1 for 17:43 train to Waukegan
17:44 Train Departed

Margin for error: 5 minutes

Departed 17:43 train at Lake Forest.
Boarded 18:00 train to Great Lakes.

Margin for error: 10 minutes

Two miles from Great Lakes Station to USS Halsey, time traveled, 15 minutes.
Arrived at USS Halsey at 19:22

Total Travel Time: 8:35-19:22
Miles Walked: 6
Number of bags: 2
Minds Lost in Transit: 1

Sadly my reference sheet artist for commissions was sadly unable to complete. Fortunately she managed to give me a full refund [which is nice].

So now I have to find a new artist who is willing to do this for me. If you know an artist who rocks or someone who is interested, please let me know. Because I am seriously floundering here.