Aria E. Appleford
I Was Up And Running This Morning.
Had to get down to a Government Office first thing this morning and let me just say … when that happens you have to be up, shower and shaved and perfumed and coiffed well in advance of the opening hour. I have to say that when your government can’t figure out what time their offices open … it does not leave one with an overall sense of “she’ll be right” when it comes to …. I don’t know … matters of life and death???
I find myself wrestling with a couple of questions …. was it an individual faux pas or a group effort?? Is it that someone doesn’t know how to read, to tell time ….or maybe how to type or use the internet??? Perhaps it was an epic group fail … everyone got lost on their way to the office or they could not figure out, between the dozen of them or so, how to unlock the front door.
Maybe when a group of people work together long enough in a government office all their IQ’s are lowered to a very low and equally unresponsive quantity (or lack thereof of lack … lots of lack … thereof …).
What do you say when someone working in that office smiles at you, after you have waited outside with a mob of 230 of your newest friends on account of you are bonded by the fact you can all clearly read, tell, time, work the internet and drive …
Why Male Peacocks are More Peacockier.
I like nature. When you grow up on a farm with grandparental units they tend to relate all life to nature. It makes it much easier to have difficult conversations which I suppose you have to give them credit for broaching tough subjects …
It’s just a little hard to have the most important conversations of your teenages years all related to farm animal activities.
I owe my self-esteem to the fond regard my grandparents had for bovines.
Like the conversation before my wedding was all about “had I noticed that male animals have a much stronger sex drive?” I did not know how to break it to my grandmother that I had never really thought to observe the sexual appetites (or lack thereof) of dairy cows. It was doubly hard when we had regular visits from the AI guy (Artificial Insemination). Now there is a guy that held quite the title huh?? Good thing he wasn’t invited to the wedding because I only ever knew him as “the AI Guy” … might have been tense trying to intro him to the inlaws.
Anyway they also pointed out how the male of the species was often the “prettiest.” (Strange that they were not more accepting of Gays.) I was shown the roosters, the male birds, (they skipped cattle on this one) and of course peacocks.
Second Life Retrospective – Interviews from Past Members No.3 Bella Gutierrez.
I had originally thought I might not share this interview as Bella is still sometimes in SL. Had this been an anonymous posting I might have stuck with that decision. I am trying not to censor these in any way and as I thought about it, I find it interesting that she considers herself as having left SL. Her character that she played is clearly no longer at the table but she (the person behind the avatar) still checks in at times.
Recently the subject of people who leave, some even faking their RL death, or an illness, only to come back as some other avatar has come up. I find it interesting again, that people do that. Some are involved in scandal, some have other reasons, but to do so would mean they would most likely not be involved with the same people. I recently discovered someone I know, who has been away, has returned, removed all trace of her past “qualifications” and replaced them with new ones. Again, interesting. So here is Bella’s interview:
To Fur or Not to Fur. When Should One Fur?
I am completely against wearing fur.
I mean if you got it off of road kill, that is a different matter all together.
Maybe what they could do is have roadkill certification.
That is where you flag down 3 passerbys and have them certify that 300 foxes were accidentally hit by some car and are indeed dead and unsaveable and you are going to skin them and use the fur to make yourself a coat. Take lots of pictures.
Then you skin them and wave down three more passerbyers and have them certify that they saw exactly 300 skinned furs and 300 skinned bodies that the furs appeared to come from lying on the side of the road where they were accidentally hit by some car. Take lots of pictures.
Then you take them to a seamstress who makes you a fur coat and certifies the date she got the furs and that she had exactly 300 and she made them into a fur coat for you to wear. Take lots of pictures.
Then you carry all of that paperwork and the scrapbook you made from all the pictures, with you when you wear your fur coat and show them to ketchup wielding protestors before they throw the ketchup.
I Am Living Spring Vicariously Through My Fellow Canadians.
It is actually going into Winter here in Australia but I refuse to hand over my body clock which is still devoutly intune with Canada.
It’s True Nature Teaches Us So Very Much.
Yesterday I saw a posting about a “pet” bird. It is a bird that lives in the wild here in Australia which of course means that someone, somewhere decided they should fly it across the ocean, probably clip its wings and put it in a bird cage to spend its life … oh of course except for the times when it gets to sit on its owner shoulder for a treat. I am pretty sure bird pee their pants when that happens ( I mean if they had pants which is a distinct possibility for a “kept” bird these days.)
I know if I was a bird I would feel really honoured that I had been chosen to be company for a human being because I am pretty sure all birds hatch and look at their moms and dads and all the birds flying around them and start thinking, “ok, ya nice stuff but what I was really hoping for was a cage and a human. Who needs to fly?? Look at those cows … they are perfectly happy not flying … they have nice big truck chauffers that pick them up like a party wagon and drive them places that must be such fun …
The Beach A Fun Place to Go … Except Then You Have to Come Home.
I like going to the beach. I like being at the beach. I just don’t like coming home from the beach.
Mainly because the beach insists on coming with you and no matter how hard you try you carry the sand with you. I also don’t like how hot the sand gets and how much there is of it between you and the car when it is time to go home … with the hours that have passed between when you got there and when you leave to go home.
And the Australians all walk along like they have genetically modified feet that are not burning … it is either that or there is some ritual involved with the drinking of copious amounts of beer, carrying on like a porkchop, and salt water that will one day be in some spiritual acts of the ancient next to fire walking.
I also don’t like the way I scream when I walk back to the car or the way I run. I have become accustomed to running prettily with my avatar and it is kind of a let down to look like a complete tool in real life.
The only comfort is that I am so completely white and run so fast (at least in my mind) that I probably appear as just a blur or white light and most people think they just had some religious experience or something.
Vision … And Why Men Have None.
We have two little turtle doves that show up every morning and sit on the fence over the pool so they appear like a framed picture in the middle of the middle pane of our big bay window in the family room. They sit there cuddling, framed by the magnificent greenery and hills that are our back yard.
It is so romantic … kind of like this symbol of the love hubby and I share.
Kind like the avian representation of us like Mother Nature validating our love.
I mentioned how lovely it was to hubby.
He asked me what I meant.
I said, “Well they are like us, greeting each day, so in love, together, the centre of this life we have created here.” I was a bit surprised he did not see the beauty of the symbolism.
He replied, ” I don’t see how they are like us, neither one of us can fly, you hate bugs, and I am pretty sure we would never be able to sit on that fence like that.”
I forgot …
. . .he is a man …
. . . he saw 2 birds sitting on a fence …
. .
The Test.
I don’t think men get it. They just are not paying attention.
When a woman says something derogatory about themselves, it is not a statement of fact. Even if it is, it is not … do you understand? Women like to present little tests, to see if you really love them. Everything is about “do you really love me?” Don’t be trying to get away with saying things like “I really love you.” THAT is simple. Women want much more complex evidence.
What is more they prefer something that others see as well so that there are witnesses. Women need witnesses, why do you think we have girlfriends when we really hate each other and can’t stand anything we do??
So when a women says something like “I guess I am getting old/ugly/fat (add in anything here)” you must never ever ever answer anything that sounds like you are agreeing. You must never accidentally nod your head or grunt in a manner that implies agreement.
You must leap to your feet, vehemently deny that your beloved is anything but beautiful/perfect/looks so much younger than her years (add in anything here don’t worry about believability on account of none of this has anything to do with rationality)
And then you should give her money to go shopping or something.
Second Life Retrospective – Interviews From Past Members No.2 Anonymous Male.
