Being sentimental.

A friend and a former coworker of mine once had to go through her wardrobe to get rid of some of her clothes. I was asked to help because I wouldn’t have an sentimental point on view, but provide objectivity (also, it was a nice way to score some of her clothing for myself because we were about the same build and height). The pile that was going to charity by donation grew quite large and I ended up with her favorite top that she couldn’t use much more after her body had changed since she had become a mother. I’m wearing that top right now. It reminds me of her and the fact that even if it wasn’t bought with me in mind, it went to me after it was worn, loved and given freely. Yeah. I might not have been sentimental when we made her hard choices, but I am now. And I don’t mind because it’s a good feeling.

An actress once said: “I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking her to love her.” I don’t know who that boy is. I don’t even know if that boy is a boy. But I know that I am that girl.

Acceptance.

“I've learned since then that no matter what a pony has done in the past, they have the capacity to change. They have the ability to better themselves and deserve the right to do so. Not allowing a pony to move beyond their past means they will forever be defined by it. Refusing them the chance to improve robs them of their ability to become more than what they were.

I've also learned that no matter what a pony is on the outside, great potential lies inside them. Assuming a pony is a certain way based solely on a label is ignorant and cowardly. It imprisons that pony inside the boundaries of that label. They can never live up to their potential because they are never given the chance.

In the end, I guess I learned that love and tolerance should always win out over hatred and prejudice. Not everypony is trustworthy but everypony deserves the chance to earn trust. Knee-jerk reactions and reflex persecution can destroy something precious before you ever realize just how special it was.”

 

...

This was written in a fan-fic about MLP. I’ll not give away the story, but if you wish to read it, it’s here. It’s the second fan-fic concerning MLP I’ve read so far and I’m quite happy with it. This is the first. Warning; both contains ponies in situations not appropriate for foals to read.

As the US have made a great stride in the right direction, I’ve come to grow fond of a character in Sense8 that at some point I think might be me. Well, similar to me, I mean. What I’ll become. What I hope to become. And that being that person will make me as happy as I can imagine now.

Let's put a smile on that face!

Yes, I’m fully aware that this might sound creepy and uncomfortable for some, but I still mean it. It fills me up with sunshine all the while glee springs across my face, beaming out to the world in a look that screams “I’m happy and I want to share it with you” – instant joyfulness in a glance. Yay! Happy-happy-happy!

Now, the way you actually say it makes all the difference – as proven when Joey Tribbiani makes “grandma’s chicken salad” sounds just a little too dirty for his friends comfort – the voice can be a powerful tool. Well, duh, you’re thinking, and you’re probably right in doing so, because knowing something is easy but sometimes it’s JUST a little bit trickier to actually do it. Hence, the smile – you’ve got the Joker and Pinkie Pie using the same theme, but at oh so very different results. And that’s what makes it all so fun – you’ve got lots to work with when it comes to smiling. So yeah, I smile. I like to smile. I enjoy smiling. Now, this is the place I could recite facts about how it makes the body healthier and the world a better place, but I’m not going to do that. I’m merely going to SMILE!

And the best part of it is than then you’re least expecting it, it sneaks across your lips and goes straight to your eyes, just because something random goodness fell into your lap when you tried to remain serious and was slightly tired and hadn’t slept well during the night. Complications may arise, but the smile will still be there when you’re all gloom and doom – gleam, gleam, gleam.

Also, I need new shorts. Short shorts. Like, really short shorts. Like, mini skirt length short shorts, tight, possible with the option of having stockings underneath… yeah, I’m going to need some new shorts now. Blue, jeans, fit. Yes, I’ve got great legs, but I’m not trying to flaunt them – not much, anyway – I mean, who doesn’t have some kind of issues they’d rather not talk about in public?

There’s going to be a larp. A very special larpthat a dear friend of mine will host (I’m the co-host, nothing more), raising some rather uncomfortable questions about life, death and existence. It’s not going to be mush smiling done at that particular last supper, that’s for sure, but it’s going to be another kind of fun.

Sometimes, we all need to be shown a little kindness.

So, there was a wedding last weekend. I spotted what most likely was the bride, late at night, walking past with one guy behind her – the groom, I assume – carrying her dress trailing. Now, the funny thing was that there was two or three other guys – also in suits, dressed for the wedding, I imagine – was, well, not singing, but loudly humming, an anthem. You’d guess it’s the Here Comes the Bride – such a beautiful work of Richard Wagner, by the way -  but it was in fact the Imperial March. Oddly as it may sound, it didn’t fit terribly bad. Now, having heard the anthem before I was able to even see the bride, I’m not really sure what I expected – but I know for sure, it wasn’t that.

And now all I can think about is that if I’m getting married I want the band to play the Imperial March at my wedding.

How to end this particular sprout of positive attitude? Here!

Yay?

Oh, I love my job, I love my job!

Yes, I do. Today (it was today when I wrote this), we had a group of Americans, all what I presume are decedents of outbound immigrants from what I for clarification will describe as “my” country, arriving. Half of them seniors, some of them not seniors just yet, all with a joyful attitude, joking, smiling and being general excited to be here. At least a dozen of them, all quite nice to deal with – in the end, I lost count on how many compliments I had gotten for my wonderful service and King’s English by the end of the shift. Simply put, you just have to appreciate that kind of day.

Guess I’d make a good protocol droid.

And now over to something completely different.

My health issues and my doctor’s continued puzzlement about the subject as well as my mental state does not change the fact that I am capable of enjoying myself when I can. Having now made numerous new relations – several whom I now consider very friendly and quite enjoyable – as well as being able to write and create stories – alone or with others – and do the multiple characters I always end up with in games have made me reaffirm my belief that BoR still is the place for me to be.

Yay.

Having one of these characters described as someone I shall not mention here have made it impossible for me to un-see the connection. However, no matter the similarities they share, I’m making a point of NOT having them merged in my mind and keeping them as two different personas. As they represent two completely unique and very far, far apart universes what should under NO CIRCUMSTANCES be joined against the… whatever common enemy they might or might not have.

I’m also continuing the Force Diary, now with the intention of regular updates. We’ll see how long that lasts.

So, the friendly neighbors have won again, this time with a top third score ever. Must admit, not heard the song.

Also, making a change here. Unexpected one, too. Can you spot it? Yay if you can, yay if you don’t.

Now, other than rambling on about my current projects and interests, I’m going to leave you a little riddle.
Thy skin is soft,

Thy lips are cold,

Butter and milk,

May you drown in the acid lake that no longer resembles a coast.

Pour the poor flour of life into the flag and set the sail to rule 34.

Asset, baby.