Names of pride .... and shame. So many to show more? or to hide behind? I don't know the answer. I suspect there isn't one, that is to say, one single answer. And as Gertrude Stein is often quoted, "That's the answer." *smiles*

There is a cautionary tale in this about choosing a user name, that is, a name to refer to the creator, as the name of a character, especially when considering publication out side of this intimate and immediate forum ... yet that is a rant for another time.

I think what bothers me is a feeling of ... another world, another person, another ... life perhaps? And I can't handle the one I have >.< No, just that it feels like hiding. Now it is certainly true that there are things in my favorites list that my grandmother does NOT need to see ... but then she wouldn't be looking either. I am, by nature, a fairly private person anyway, but this ... feels like privacy becomes shame. And shame is fiercer and more soul-draining control than even fear ....

Not that much changes, at least in any obvious way. I have been scribbling "Muttering Mutt" in my notebook as if it means something, though. At any rate, call me what you like, "just don't call me late for dinner," as my father would say.







...but my name is Jesse.

It caught. Fire. For the first time in a long time a character actually caught fire in her story and ran. Hard.

And, strangely enough, it was porn. I think some bits of it may have enough other redeeming literary qualities to qualify as "explicit erotica" and the REALLY rough stuff is written for specific and private audiences. She is broken, darkened, ... and beautiful. Most will never see the glaring light of broad publication, and I am perfectly fine with that. Still, it is good to feel something creative. Perhaps there is enough dead wood cleared for something to grow.

Well, it has been ... oh good grief, I'm not even going to look at how long it's been since I've posted anything here. Been doing some writing, but mostly therapy scribbles and RP responses. Although I do have a couple of RP partners that are very stimulating to work with, because i have to write clearly, evocatively, and pretty nearly constantly to keep up with them :)

Odd then, to have picked up a few new watchers lately. *waves* A couple, I believe, stumbled over my FA homepage in my Second Life profile. Since that is where I spend most of my online time when I am too whatever to be writing or otherwise avoiding the world, that is not entirely surprising. At any rate, be welcome, but you may have to dust the furniture before you sit down :p

Also, having one of those virtual identity crisis things again. *sigh* I ... will never be what I was. I will get used to that eventually.

Onward.

So yeah. Logged in and .... sweet Mother of Dog ... three thousand submissions to view going back to .... I didn't even look. I Nuked the Bastard.

I have had this discussion with a few folk on here before. I am ... scared of missing something some gem that will somehow make everything better. I will always be so, i suppose, so the trick is dealing with it.

Shame there is no "Nuke" button on my filing cabinet. I am a mutt, a pack-rat and a hoarder of such insanity that I don't know why I saved so much of this stuff. I'm sure i thought it would be USEFUL. *sigh* I also know that it does no ever loving good if I can't FIND it.

*crawls back into the files*

Salutations and Celebrations.

Heard back from University of Missouri. I have officially been accepted into the Library Science Graduate Program. I have an official student number and everything *grin*

Now, of course, the real work can begin. Paying for classes, of course, though i can do one course at a time and its not that bad, and the course work itself to look forward to -- not to mention the mountain of related offices to visit or e-mail, "i"s to dot and "t"s to cross Still it is a great comfort and joy that beginning something working on improving and growing and not simply maintaining.

Anyway, excited.

Well, now, that's not SO horrible. Instant results for multiple choice sections of GRE general test not bad. As long as I didn't completely suck on the written sections I should be okay. After they are scored by actual people I should have full scores in two to three weeks. Then I'm just waiting on a couple reference letters and a decision from MU- Columbia. *crosses paws*

Not getting much else done around here. Been pretty crazy, but I am hoping that with the kids back in school that days will settle into more of a regular rhythm. Not that there will be enough time. There never is. Hoping to get back into a creative habit though. Finding that this may mean expanding into different creative pursuits; time will tell. That and I discover, to my shock, that it is almost Sept 1 and I have given NO thought to my Halloween outfit, although there is a potentially striking character that has been wandering around in my head. I shall have to write her and see what she looks like. >0.~<

... also 3600 new messages, cripes.

Blocking spammers on Twitter. Blocking applications on Facebook. For technology that is supposed to be about communication, I seem to spend a great deal of my time blocking communication. *sigh*

Feeling better than I have in a while. Thanks to all who have been sending supportive notes my way here. This is why I keep coming back. Some pleasant reconnections with my past lately, and it is possible in this social networking to be "friends" with an exponential number of people in a very short amount of time, so say nothing of the folks getting back in contact with me that I, quite frankly, didn't really miss when we fell out of touch in the first place. There is a place for that kind of wide-networking, but it is not a place I want to be, even if a certain amount may be necessary in this day and age.

Doing some writing, though most of my brain is involved in studying for a better than average GRE score next month. I used to be able to do "high end of average" on standard tests on natural talent, but this one is going to be work.

In other news, some of you may not have known, and it came as something of a shock to me at first as well, that I am a selfish bastard. Not all the time, and I do try not to involve people not directly related but the fact remains I do not have what it takes to put others first all the time. Thanking my lucky stars that the twins were five years old when I met them, as the next three years will be harrowing enough without needing five more. Not going to be pretty, of course, but I suppose I can live with that.

Eternally Learning,
Tippy DeVil

I have always had a fascination with masks, literal and figurative. I collect them and, like most of my collections, the collecting is tinged with mania and compulsion. I am also aware that my own life echoes this as well. I collect names -- Jesse, Jess-Roger, Joner Boner (please don't ask), Simon, J. Lynn, Tippy, Moonsinger -- and that's not even the explosion of names and personalities that I have used since I ran afoul of internet roleplay or the voices in my imagination that belong to the OTHER characters that exist in these various worlds.
There is no one voice that is me, it seems, but a complicated host of contradictions. Human, in other words, with all the "what the hell" that self-awareness tends to bring. I am ... okay with that. As I have written elsewhere, "The personality is shattered, but the colors are pretty." The next part of the journey is to MAKE SOMETHING out of it.
Yes, I am shouting at myself as I type that. A mask then, of stained glass, mirror, and shards of ceramic, over a papiermache base of pages from Shakespeare, Erma Bombeck, and The Anarchist's Cookbook. *mutters* simplify, simplify, simplify . . . .

The possibility of getting lost, of spending so much time in such a whirl of different faces in different places is hard on me ... the friends on facebook that knew me in high school -- the ones who have walked my spiritual path with me -- the Lodge brothers who have taught me so much -- all of the shades and shapes of "Furries," "anipals," etc. -- and all of these things in a world where any future employer, insurer, or banker is apt to Google any of the above names and find ... oh Dear Diety. *head in hands*

Pulling back. Cleaning out. My virtual life as well as my literal one.

it is a measure of my broken concentration that I am cross posting not from my LiveJournal, but my Twitter *shakes head* however, there are some folks on here that might appreciate this so I share :)

Wow. You'd think SJ Tucker was hiding in my closet . . . "The Girl with the Lion's Tail" http://bit.ly/15Ge9b

There comes a point in a person's life when the light of inspiration shines forth upon them like the early morning sun burning through the bleary grayish haze of overindulgence and the purpose of a lifetime's wandering is made clear. This is not such a point.

I am not going to cross post the entire "how I am doing" update from LJ. If you care, I refer you to http://tippydevil.livejournal.com/ .

I will add here a few notes regarding my creativity, or, more specifically, lack of same. Worn to a nub lately, partly from the side effects of my own procrastination and partly by my desire to MAKE EVERYONE HAPPY DAMN IT. . . . . Er, sorry, don't know what came over me. At any rate, I have been simply exhausted and have been finding it difficult to care about very much lately. Some part of me is frankly horrified by this turn of events, and that part is slowly digging her way out of the hole, but it has been slow going and, if it is going to be a lasting change, i realize it will continue to be slow going. I have no wish to bore anyone who has been kind enough to read this far with more detail, but suffice to say many activities need to be pruned in the coming days, and a few habits ripped out by the roots.

Spring cleaning. In other words "all the crap I've been putting off because I told myself it was too cold." This has been an interesting and educational session, not least because of the things I keep finding, including a refrigerator magnet that says "Those of you that keep a neat desk do not know the joy of finding something you thought lost forever." XP

It has also been interesting because I have come across a great many projects that fell by the wayside for one reason or another. In college I had ideas of being an "artist" in the full beret-wearing, quotation-mark-having glory of the word, inspired by the tactile installations of great textile artists . . . life, of course, is what happens when you are making other plans. However, I do think that there are possibilities now, though smaller in scale, but no less personally worthwhile. It also occurs to me, with the magic of Ebay and more craft oriented sites such as Etsy, it might be possible for me to find an audience for such creations without needing to run the craft fair or convention circut while i have family and "real job" commitments.

Time will tell, I suppose, but first things first. I have too much accumulated junk to think of doing ANYTHING creative at the moment. I find that I am too scattered to get much of anything actually DONE. It is all still on the circut (writing, craft, family, personal growth, etc.) but the merry-go-round must go slower . . . it all comes around in time.

Well, not much going on here. I am officially in danger of drowning in my junk, so some SERIOUS cleaning, organizing, thrift shop donating is going on. However, I have been listening to various music on last.fm and discovering some interesting stuff by just just following the "if you like X, you might like Y" trail. Especially for a lover of words and stories such as myself . . .

Mineral Rights by Leslie Fish
The story of Star Trek's “The Devil in the Dark” from the Horta’s point of view.

I would also like to share Acts of Creation that illustrates one reason why i bother to keep spitting on this grindstone of creativity . . I also notice that one of the rules for music on the internet seems to be "if it exists, a parody will be made"

Kathy Mar also sings a wonderful song that i think i am just going to point to every time somebody asks about my faith -- "The Word of God"

Actually, if you have a taste for fantasy and/or folk ("filk") I would recommend anything by Kathy Mar, but especially Velveteen, with a special shout out to  vixyyfox . . thank you, Vixyy, for reminding me that fur can be Real

well . . . i have been spening some time in front of my computer and have gotten my back submissions down to one page. Found some real gems , so I'm glad i didin't just nuke the lot, but i am afraid the cold medicine has probably not made for very understandable commenting :P Most of what i have left is various writings and prompt submissions, so it will take some time, and i may need to wait until i feel better. Pictures i can handle, but my command of the language goes kltpzyxm.

There is nothing new to see here. I am just putting this up here, more for me and to refer a few hardy folks who have been reading my stories and get confused in the middle, since they are neither posted nor written in anything like a chronological order. I am putting this here to keep track of some loose chronology, and I will eventually add hot-links to direct folk to the various Passgate stories and (when I get more written) I will add the order of the Manacle stories as well :)

P.S. There are a few listings here that are not actually posted yet, but are stalled in some stage . . . I post them here for my own reference :)

Chronicles of Passgate

Secrets at the Golden Horse [rough start posted -- will be replaced when it is filled out]

Relics of the Queen [stalled]
One Night at the Molten Dragon
The Chapel of Castle Blackwood
Notes in Golden Vulpish
The Duel [in progress]
A Friend to Keep Me Warm

--Edits to follow-- ^.^

A friend e-mailed this to me and I was absolutely floored. It is a web site featuring the work of an incredibly talented (and patient!) artist in Idaho who makes carvings and sculpture entirely from naturally found materials.

http://www.whereartmeetstheheart.co.....arpenter.shtml

The bears are made from woven pine needles!!

well, wish i could brag about how much i got written, but i actually spent more time reading . . . easier to mash into time spent in waiting rooms and coffee breaks. Spent too much computer time goofing off . .

/me hangs head

*sigh* i finally got caught up enough that the "nuke submissions" button stopped tempting me :P

/me is stubborn

and the metaphor of the day award goes too . . .

The old black rum's gotta hold on me like a dog wrapped 'round my leg.
The Old Black Rum by Great Big Sea on Celt-Rock-Radio

Q: Who or what was your biggest influence in deciding to become a writer? (or illustrator)

A: I always wanted to be a writer, but Alan Moore’s work and help inspired me to write comics. In some ways the biggest influence on me writing was Punk. There was the idea that you could do something by simply doing it.

Q: What inspired you to write your latest book (or illustrate it)

A: It didn’t exist, and I wanted my daughters to be able to read it.
(from Bloomsbury.com interview with Neil Gaiman *here* )


Not much else to share, I guess, just liked the doing something "by simply doing it" . . . might inspire me to get off my ass and do something . . . and the reason for creation . . . a mountain was climbed because it was there and creation inspired because it wasn't.

for any of you not in the range of  rubinredpanda 's journal, I want to pass this along as well . . . a segment from Garfield's Nine Lives that I haven't seen in a few years . . .

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Ge2BhXU5Co

beautiful *sniff* just beautiful . . . .

So anyway, I'm driving home from work this morning, and I heard a shocking (to me) story on the Marketplace Morning report. Of course, this was mashed in between the morning wince at oil prices and the daily shudder at food price forecasts, so I may be a little jaded and/or tense, but whatever.

The introduction mentioned a nice summer day, hanging out in the grass and watching the clouds going by, and noticing that some of them looked like the Nike® swish or the "Golden Arches." Then they broke the news. The last place it was possible to look in an even vaguely civilized area and not be advertised to has been breached. Logo shaped floating artificial clouds. "Flogos" (flying logos) :P

Found more info in this article: http://www.exhibitoronline.com/news.....p?counter=6138

According to the company website ( http://www.flogos.net/FAQ.html ) they are a biodegradable extruded foam formed with a mixture of helium and oxygen that make them float at customizable heights above the ground. Some part of me applauds the ingenuity, of course, but good grief, leave me some place in creation without a billboard, please.

taken from  Leasara 's journal

Please leave a one-word comment that you think best describes me. It can only be one word.

No more.

Then copy & paste this in your journal so that I may leave a word about you.

(or not)

There is a theory which states that if ever anyone discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable.

There is another theory which states that this has already happened.

--Douglas Adams

nothing to see here, just one of those days . . .

Hmmmm, A theme song huh? I don't know, varies from day to day. Well anyway how I'm actually feeling varies a great deal. A libra seeks balance, but that doesn't mean it comes easy . .

mentioned in  takewalker 's journal and wouldn't take much time for me or be too much to clutter up your inbox . . . . *grin*

---
1. Pick a song lyric that you believe describes you best. DONT WRITE THE ENTIRE SONG.
2. Do write the artist name down - so that if anyone wants to download it, they can find it!
3. Tags many or as little people as you'd like! But at least tag one! :P This is such a short meme, you can spare the time! Or everyone can do this if they want!

Now I'm thinkin' of the things he said.
We're walkin' toward the grave.
And I haven't lived a life like his
But I still got one more day.

Now you could say it's only flesh and bone
The life that's in your hands
But I like to think it's something more
Like the sunshine on the land.

Sunshine on the Land by David Wilcox (on The Nightshift Watchman)

----
and no I'm not "tagging" anyone, radio collar or otherwise, but feel free . . . .

The following was written in my personal journal in response to  poetigress 's Thursday Prompt "snowed in". I had the intention of using it as a start for a short story or essay, but never got any farther. Time gets away from me sometimes. Anyway, I will share what I have because the Prompt is a worthwhile exercise, and a good place to start at any rate . . .

---

It was a cold winter morning in northwestern Nebraska. So far north that some of the snow in the front yard had been in South Dakota only a few miles ago. Against one of the strings of buttes that rise from the plain where real trees finally break the grassy monotony of the Great Plains there is a farmhouse, built when my Grandparents were married, and added onto as family and running water warranted. By the time this snow falls, Grandma and Grandpa have moved to "town" and my parents, my brother and I call it home.

Chores were done, because cattle get hungry every morning, but school had been called off. Mrs. Wolvington couldn't get her car out of her driveway and notified the school board that school would not be in session on this snow drifted day. It didn't take long, of course, since the four members of the school board are among the parents of the half-dozen families enrolled in Sheridan County Rural District 69. So now, as long as some cow is not called to give birth in a creek in this ground blizzard, the day stretches out in front of us in icy boredom.

We can only play so many board games, and finally father is asleep in the recliner, mother is reading in her chair, and my brother is upstairs listening to one stereo while taking apart another. I was feeling sort of sad (I didn't know what "depressed" meant yet) and sitting by the dining room window when I saw some movement outside the window. At first I thought something was wrong with Grandpa's old dog. She came with the place because they didn't want to move her and she was not a young dog any longer. I was worried about her. I was astonished to discover that she was not only fine, but doing very well indeed.

She was, if you ask any kennel club in the world, a mutt. But she did have some very thick fur in her history somewhere and that sort of curled tail of a Husky or Malamute. This fluffy dog, who might have been as old as ten or twelve by then, was not only traveling across the snow but playing in it. She leapt the short drifts and plowed through the soft snow of the deeper ones. Then she would bury her head in a drift before throwing snow up into the air and trying to catch the pieces in her mouth.

In the spring her thick shedding fur would practically drift in the front yard, and even after shedding her winter coat we would shave her belly so she wouldn't overheat. Now, however, she is in her element as she is in no other season. On a morning that is cold enough to freeze the snot in my human nose, this dog is not just existing, but playing.

That was Tippy, whose name I chose for the "me" that is my own creation. Time and distance instill more to this memory, or more honestly, this story woven of threads and scraps of memory, than I thought at the time. Some echo of this one who plays in a world too harsh and cold stays with me still.