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Sometimes...sometimes when I am looking through my Deviant art notifications from certain DAZ 3d/Poser/3D art groups, I feel so...so very discouraged.
There is nothing wrong with nude art, in my opinion. That's not the problem. The problem I see is the MULTITUDE of exploitative renders featuring women being in various states of...distress, either suggesting rape, or out right sexual assault being rendered and passed off as "BDSM/Kink/Fetish art." Some of it--anyway--others write these LOVELY little "stories" for these delightful renders and it's 100% clear there is no safe word, no consenting, nothing consensual at all.
And then there's the 540334023 images of over blown tits and ass. Or nudes. Or bikinis. And out of those 3232392039023 images I might see TWO images actually tastefully portraying homosexuality, non gender conformity, or trans representation that isn't outright porn or even art directly for women (be they straight or not) and I remind myself that, those are the good ones.
I'm not sure where I was going with this. Just--it's disheartening. I think it really detracts from some of beautiful, breath-taking, artistic, emotive nudes I have seen buried in out-right porn and some days I wonder if it's worth continuing.
Then I remember I ain't doing this for them. The whole point of me starting to learn 3d art was to make the art FOR ME that *I* wanted to see.
Just hafta keep reminding myself of that last part. Over and over and over and over and over again.
-- about the heat.
See, I knew, and I know, how hot it gets in Florida in the area I live in, during summer. And summer can start, really, anytime after Feb. here. The winters...oh the winters are SO NICE. The winter's here remind me of constant spring/summer in canada. Zero to low humidity, 70ish to middling 70's degrees. Windy or gentle windy days and it's so nice. Night times can drop to the 60's and occasionally 50's and below where in I actually MIGHT need to toss an extra blanket on the bed because I've had all the windows in the house wide open with that breeze blowing through.
But then...but then summer comes. And it's not a gentle thing, either. You get no foreplay and no warning. Just one day you wake up and your weather app / favorite weather website tells you it's 87 with humidity over 60% and you are literally covered in a fine sheen of gross sweat, EVERYWHERE, within five seconds of leaving the house. The breeze is completely gone and the humid heat just drones and drones on you.
It really doesn't help that I am fat, too. This kind of heat doesn't encourage me to actually go out and DO ANYTHING.
Today is a summer day. The humidity is oppressing. I went outside earlier this morning to enjoy my coffee and watch the birds and all I could do was sit and sweat and moan dramatically.
I have to go grocery shopping soon and I JUS DUN WANNNNNNAAAAA. Yes, I am just going to a car. From the ac in the car, to an AC cooled farmer's market type grocery store, back to car, back to home...But there's something about Florida's humidity that is just OPPRESSIVE AF in the summer that literally hoover-sucks all will to move, breathe, and be when you are in it for any small amount of time.
So I am sitting here writing and complaining and bitchin' and moanin' about it instead of getting off my ass and going out into it because I am 3 and having a temper tantrum and I just DUN WANNA ADULT TODAY NOOOOOO. :(
Okay, now that I have suitably frightened the shit out of those who are squeamish or not willing to read and or discuss anything that has to do with monthly lady business...
I have a period cat.
Mel, you ask, what the hell is a period cat? And I'll say: I'm so glad you asked. LET ME TELL YOU.
Usually, women are much smarter about their periods than I, on the whole. I didn't get into actually trying to track my monthly RED WEDDING until a few YEARS ago--when I realized that HOLY GOD SOME SMART MOFOS made TRACKING APPS! I COULD GET WARNED BEFORE THE DESTROYER CAME TO TOWN! Or at the very least, since my period is about as predictable as I am--a general consensus of when and where I should be ready to shut down and feel like I am dying for a week so I can plan and prepare.
I'm not sure when it happened. And it took me a long time to clue in. But--here's the thing: we have five cats. The oldest, and crankiest, and craziest is named Flora. Flora is a tiny little black cat who the Vets she goes to--to my CONSTANT delight (I love it), have sweetly nicknamed her SATAN KITTY. We think Flora is half siamese. She has that very, very, very distinctive siamese nose and triangle head--but is all black (or all very deep brown in direct sunlight.) She is a very nutty, bitey, scratchy, hissy loveable cat. Not all cats are super affectionate love bugs, and we at Casa De Pence are ok with that. Hell, Shawn owned a cat before we got married--and had her years after--that hid 18 hours of the day behind the bed and only came out to let us pet her, use the litter box, eat, and hide again.
Flora is particular. She WANTS your attention and affection, yes. But only how SHE wants it. And the secret is: she never tells us how. Somedays you can pet her head and scritch the side of her face for hours until she turns into a liquid. Some days she allows you to pet her for EXACTLY 4.5 pets and then she freaks out and wants to devour your soul. That's just how she is.
But for the last few years, she's taken, to what I thought was randomly, sleeping directly on my pillow a few nights out of the month. Sometimes its just one night. Sometimes it's two-three. And when she does, she will LITERALLY take up the entire pillow by loafing smack dab in the middle leaving me no room but a corner to either nuzzle her forepaws, or have her ass warm the top of my head. And she WON'T budge.
After she has done this catly duty, she won't be seen on the bed again for another month-ish.
And recently I realized that she has been doing this, on the dot, 1-3 days before I get my period.
Literally, if she is on my pillow, I don't even have to look at my period tracker app anymore because if I see her on my pillow I know THE STORMS A'COMIN'.
Some people use the calendar. Some people use a tracker. Some people don't use anything. Me? I get a period cat.
Allllright, sweet, look at me already almost forgetting to write here.
It's not that I actually lead an exciting life however let me promise you that. I think I am the queen of, "no thank you I will stay home and clean my house / watch netflix / rp /not be social."
I've also been bad at doing some render / 3d art work and I need to fix that or at least, try soon.
p.s. This weekend marks about 4 weeks of eating healthy. We're giving the last hurrah to alchy-hol until my birthday and also going to quit smoking.
How's this week treating you?
( Click Here to let me explain badly how to cook this )
So today, everyone in my house is Boo boo kitty fuck. Husband? Boo boo kitty fuck. Quaker parrot? Boo Boo Kitty Fuck. Everyone of the five cats? All Boo boo kitty fucks.
No, I don't know why. No, I can't explain why I like it or find it hilarious. Just go with it.
It's been 85 years.
No, no it hasn't, but it feels like it. As I said in my NEW NEW JUST EDITED BRAND NEW sticky that I think the last time I did any journaling that was remotely consistent was back in 2014. Social media, man. Social media. It got me. Also, LJ just kept fucking up so badly that I started to find my friends list more and more inactive that I had to dodge tumbleweeds every time I went to look at my friends entries.
Also, well--most of them had already meandered over to either the Face of the Book, or my favorite--google plus.
Also, also, go me--I discovered Tumblr. And although Tumblr has a huge list of weirdness and faults, I really adored it there because if you got the right followers and followed the right people, your dash turned out to be fucking hilarity, fan crack, hot fan pics, and everything in between. Though my personal Tumblr's been sorta forgotten now because I DISCOVERED RP THERE.
I can't wrap my brain around the amount of changed since 2014. We had four cats--adopted a fifth named Mr. Chubblepenny. Mr. Chubble penny ended up very sick and passing away in my arms. (Cheerful, I know.) We have five birds, too--but Chicken and Nibblet both passed away very suddenly.
Then last year we got yet, again, our fifth cat--Miss Tinkletonne, Tinkles for short and she was our first Tortie kitten and HO BOY WE WERE NOT PREPARED FOR TORTIE 'TUDE AND THE ENERGY. But she was, and still is, the sweetest too. So every time she fucks shit up off the edge of something, I can't help but awwww. She's almost a year and she is still the TINIEST cat. Her head is smaller than my fist and her peets (paw feets) are no bigger than my thumb. ....oh god she has me SO WRAPPED.
Uhh--lesse! My husband went from having to go into work, to getting to work from home!!!! I happily proclaim that I get to have my Therapy Husband with me at all times now.
Also, I've been "changing my lifestyle," (we don't say diet in this house or else we turn into slavering fatties with huge cravings and eat anything that moves.) Lots of veggies, lots of lighter protein, lots of lower fat, NO WHITE THINGS. AKA: no white pasta, no white rice, no white flour (and no bread of any kind.) No sugar (except for naturally occurring in veggies and fruits), lotsa organic shifts, lotsa chickpeas an' chicken and spinach and just green shit in general. It's good. My sugars have been steady at 140 when before they were 200ishness. Which makes it SO WEIRD because like, my body has been so used to higher sugars that it's now like ??????? WHAT DO WE DO THE SUGARS ARE LOWER FREAK OUT! PANIC! BEHAVE LIKE YOU ARE HYPERGLYCEMIA and I check my blood sugars and are like, "No, dude. Chill. We aren't. This is what normal's like."
ALSO HI PEOPLE WHO JUST ADDED ME I literally do not know who you are because it has been ten centuries and don't recognize user names. Say hi? Tell me who you are?
Anywayyyyy, I think this entry is a hot mess, like myself, but a good attempt at getting back into the swing of things. WOOO.
Life is difficult, for everyone. We each struggle day-to-day with our issues and problems. We have bills. We have loss. We have joy. We have love, we have each other, or we have just ourselves to lean on. Financially, it’s tight for a lot of people I know and love. They’re struggling to come up with mortgage payments, car payments and groceries.
Imagine, however, this: you’ve always struggled. Your whole entire life has been a struggle. A struggle to get out of a place that poisons you. Away from a situation that may have broken you. Imagine the strength and the self-will, the pride it takes and breaks—to get out on your own and find your way. Imagine that, now you have a loved one. You have a child. You have a friend that offers you a home to rent and while things were never, ever perfect—you think, “Finally. A step in the right direction. I can do this.”
And then imagine everything that could go wrong, does go wrong.
PLEASE CLICK THIS LINK (SAFE FOR WORK/COMPUTERS) TO READ THE REST OF THIS ENTRY & PLEASE SHARE IF YOU CAN. THANK YOU!
And so, I have made up my mind.
I can't cure this. I can't do anything to help the family where I am. I can't comfort them so far away.
But there is something I can do. There is something YOU can do to hasten the dream that someday childhood cancer will be a myth: https://www.stbaldricks.org
( This fuckery is long so I put it behind this cut )
~~Hug someone you don't normally hug (but are comfortable in doing.)
~~Remind someone that you love them by doing something small but recognizable.
~~Donate cans of pet food, used but clean towels, blankets, kitty litter, dog/cat toys, garbage bags to your local no-kill shelter and or rescue-er.
~~If you get a pet or are looking for one around this time, DON'T SHOP. ADOPT!
~~Send me a birthday selfie on July 2nd of you wearing something pink.
~~Anything, anything at all from this wish list: http://amzn.com/w/21CLMEYFWS8ZM
In an effort to make a better game stream and be able to play more games, I am faced with the reality that my computerybits are starting to age. With the newest $1000 dolla dolla septic bill, all plans at upgrading are put off indefinitely. Now I DON'T expect anyone to actually buy any of this. Really. But you know I am putting it out there because I can dream and dreams are like sparkle-farting unicorns: you just never know.
~~Graphics card upgrade
~~Stand alone mic with pop shield (for streams)
~~Processor upgrade: for better games, better graphics, better game streams
~~Additional RAM, for recording gaming and to become more powerful than any fart-sparkling unicorn ever.
~~Digital Downloads/Collectors edition/Computer games
~~All of these can be found in my Mels Computery Daydream wish list here: http://amzn.com/w/2O40DYJ6C785W
So there you have it. These are the things I dream. (Other than riding across the sky on a pink glitter carpet shoving shinies in peoples eyes.)
There is always a light.
Right beside your favorite rocking chair in the middle of my mind,
cluttered like your favorite table.
You filled your table with nail-file swords and lip-gloss unicorns,
nail polish knights that came to life because
these were 'big girl,' things.
And as I lay back,
your arm a pillow for my dreams, the rocking chair's sway
making the light a bobbing lantern carried in the night--
I thought I could be like this forever.
The first time I saw the needle I marveled.
How this plastic numbered vial with metal entered your body
to save you everyday, as if it were some soul-resurrecting insulin god
come down to touch its gloried warrior on the battle field filled with
test strips. Jabs. Alcohol wipes.
I laughed when they made you test on an orange.
There was light streaming from the hospital door when we left.
It made the curls of your hair into angel halos.
The first time I came home and you weren't there, my father played it off.
A chance to relax, he said.
We'll have fun and visit her as much as we can.
Just keep the house clean.
When you came home you spoke of sugar-comas as if you were shopping for new shoes.
How the EMT's with you began shaking you and calling your name.
How you said it felt like you were at the bottom of a lake, seeing their faces
wavering through distant light.
The last picture I have of you
staring blankly ahead, above you.
Your skin reminds me of jellyfish beached; there's no color.
I am afraid of your arms.
I am startled by your legs.
The coffee cup in your hand has more substance in the entire picture than you do,
it looks more real than the woman laying prone.
I don't know who she is.
I don't know how to keep looking at this picture.
Dad asked me to write something for your funeral.
As if asking a daughter to pen something quick for her dead mother could ever be easy.
As if a single word could erase the fact that I won't be paying out my asshole for flowers sent from one country to the next and not even care because I love you, and,
that's what daughters do.
As if a single speech represented all the mistakes I made, shooting us into the past where a picture of you, laying blue-lipped and grey shell-skinned didn't send me into a panic attack that kept me up for three days straight.
I never wrote anything. I never wrote anything good enough.
He said he read something of mine, anyway.
He said there were over one hundred people who packed into a church made centuries ago to handle no more than fifty to hear him speak.
To remember you.
He said you would have loved what I wrote.
And I remember.
There is always a light.
Hello Santa's elves and Scrooge's humbugs.
This year, like every year--I would like to send you cards. I have a card-address-sharing post up already with screened comments for leaving your address or an email for you to contact me. You can find thaaaaaaaaaaat heeeeeeeere:
MELS CHRISTMOOOOS CARD TIEM YAY
Next up, I've done a few bits of shopping on the Amazon wishlists of friends we could afford to give to so far. I'm trying to stagger it out this year.
If you have an amazon.com wishlist (with your list profiles filled out, otherwise I can't send you anything) PLEASE feel free to share with me your wishlists!
And for those curious, here is mine IT HAS A LOT OF STUFF SORRY OKAY ITS A LIST OF WISHES I DON'T EXPECT ANYTHING <33 MELS CHRISTMOOOOS AMAZON WISHLIST
( http://amzn.com/w/21CLMEYFWS8ZM )
MERRY CHRISTMOOOOOS DREAMWIDTH & LIVE JOURNAL!
Hello Dreamwidth & Livejournal!
Every year, I try and send out a real, old-fashioned christmas card with some sort of scribbly message and christmas greetings on it and send it out to anyone who would like them. Because a)Snail mail is awesome. 2.) Nobody should go through life without getting sparkly christmas cards!
So this year, if you would like a Christmas card from yours truly, please reply to this post ( All comments are screened and will remain screened so only I can see them) with your address--or message me via Dreamwidth or LiveJournal so I can write you a messy note in a twinkly card of Melmass cheer!
If you would rather note comment or not send a PM via DW or LJ, you can also send me your address via email: email@example.com
I know that some of you are a little side-eyeballing the Christmas stuff that seems to come earlier and earlier this year; and I know I am contributing. But usually I get a great response to these (which makes it awesome), and I like starting this early so I can make sure I get everyone!
In November, I begin listening to Christmas songs, because I love Christmas. It's the one holiday in the year I feel like I can do things for people who might really need them. I send cards, I write notes in them, I hand tinsel and watch, enchanted by the way the lights are reflected and become glowing in each piece.
I hum Christmas carols well after and into January. I put my tree up as soon as I can.
To me, my thankfulness for having what I do, the friends I do, my family now translates into the spirit of thanksgiving AND Christmas well.
But there is a small cloud across the moon of my holidays.
My mother died on December 11th. As October passes, this quiet feeling of missing a giant limb from my heart begins and grows.
I have a difficult time not crying during some Christmas songs.
"I'll be home for Christmas," wrecks me.
Remembering my family as I was a little girl around my grandmother's tree--and I feel that strange prick at the back of my eyes and the heat-burn of tears down the middle of my throat into my chest. I see beautiful lights, and feel sorrow mingle with each twinkling of them.
It's a hard balance. I will laugh and be enthusiastic and wear my silly hats. I will talk about gift giving and share amazon wish lists and send cards. I will smile.
But I will do it all without my mother. With the distinct, inescapable fact that she is dead. That there's no return from that. That there's no way for me to show her the tree, the house, our new cats. That there's no way she will ever see Disney's Christmas celebration. That, she's dead. There's no coming back from that. I can't call her to apologize for the things I have done. I can't tell her I am sorry I didn't take her last hospitalization seriously and didn't press to speak to her, maybe just one time.
That I didn't have one last Christmas with her.
So my stomach churns, but I smile crooked, a mix of sadness and hope when I hear a carol and see the decorations already out in the store.
My husband waits patiently for any tears. My cats know something is off already.
Christmas these last few years has become such a reflection of everything I have, had, and should have learned to keep. It has turned into a beautiful sorrow that I embrace willingly every year.
Because I'd have it no other way.