Hey, folks. Here's another journal from my friend  Technic.

He's looking to get out from where he is, and is looking for folks around the Milwaukee region to lend a hand of some form. If any of you can do so, please contact him.

Here's a link to his journal on the matter:

http://www.furaffinity.net/journal/1499951/

Thanks, all.

Aye, I must disagree with the outlook held specifically on this site and indeed on some other notable web sites that Second Life avatars, whether heavily-customized "stock" avatars or pure one-off never-before-seen ultra-custom ones, aren't art.

For the latter, the answer is obvious: it's a one-of-a-kind deal, made within the limitations of a non-photo-realistic program not designed to take seventy-five bajillion hours doing some hyper-realistic rendering that would make the executives at Pixar blush. That it comes out looking as good as it does is in and of itself simply amazing. We'll not get into the countless hours spent making sure that each part matches a client's personal preferences to the last detail. While this site may find that art, plenty of others do not, mostly because of the rendering limitations of the Second Life client.

As for the former, while not as work-intensive to a single designer, the effort most less financially-well-off folks on SL go through to take a stock, non-custom av, one of which at a minimum hundreds, more likely thousands, of which are sold, and alter, tweak, modify, clothe, jury-rig, etc. until it is bashed, sometimes well and sometimes roughly, into the shape and look of ones' dreams is in and of itself worthy of note. Add unto this the expenditure of real-life money, often in a decent though not insane quantity ($20 to $50), and a LOT of shopping around (in many cases more so than occurs with a one-off custom design), makes these items works of art in and of themselves.

Whether one has "more" or "less" merit artistically when compared to one another is a matter of highly-subjective judgment, but nonetheless, for a program where the limitations seem nearly-crippling, to have created a unique one-off avatar or to have modded an avatar into something it might not originally be is a matter worthy of pride, regardless of origins, and yes, artistic credit.

To those who read this and choose to without thought nor experience disagree, I suggest that you at least make a solid effort to make one of similar quality (as opposed to the anybody-can-do-it slap-dash anything onto itself in a jumble) and if you find yourself spending so little time that it is effortless, then I will respectfully say that you've either lied about doing the work.

To compress this whole long shebang into something a little less tl;dr, SL Av making is art, in ALL forms.

Update on the last markedly painful journal:

The attack of the nastiness has thank the gods subsided.

The hospital was remarkably stingy with the colchicine, but nonetheless, the use of one small tablet there and three prednisone plus some ibuprofen for the pain has done the trick: the attack is down to just a small amount of swelling and redness and irritation, and according to the hospital should be gone by tomorrow or the day after. I hope so.

The hospital, as always, recommended me to the clinic, but that, until my health insurance is re-applied-for, is a no-go. Elsewise, the clinic expects $200 up front, followed by additional cash for anything more than being looked at, payable on the spot. NOT something I have the option for if I want to have a roof over my head (something, my friends, that this slightly aged vixen wishes to keep, thank you very much. Thus, until things get settled insurance-wise, New York Hospital of Queens will have to wait, thank them very much, yes indeed.

Gods, while I adore the assistance of modern medicine, I also admit that the prices for it reek worse than a rancid sewer left open to the air and stagnant in a hot sun for three days straight.

Well, that's the update, folks, and I deeply apologize if any were worried overmuch.

With love to all of you,
Mika

Let's see... Today's one of those bad days you feel coming from miles away and yet you just can't duck it and have to resolve yourself to getting steamrolled by it.

First thing in the morning (and it's still in that time frame as I write this) and I wake to gout in my left foot's big toe's joint.

I can describe gout in one word: PAIN. Yes, PAIN. In capital neon letters fifty miles high bordered in high-intensity lighting and a number of sparkly fireworks.

For those who don't know, gout, also known as gouty arthritis, is a buildup of uric acid at the joints or tendon. The result is intense, insane PAIN at said joint.

The next step for me this morning is to go to the hospital and end up with them prescribing colchicine, this tiny little (and thankfully cheap-as-hell) pill that will give me a day of Montezuma's Revenge. For those of you not familiar with the term, it means I'll spend the day moving at odd irregular intervals between my work seat and the porcelain throne. You take colchicine until you stop this behavior. By that time, the uric acid will be out of your system.

So yeah, this BEGINS my day. To quote the old song, "I see a bad moon rising." This fox is NOT happy.

Alright, folks,

I really don't tend to do these kinds of things, but I've got a friend in desperate need of help for himself and his family. He and his mother are about to be evicted by some hostile slumlord idiot and dare I say asshole who is after them for a made-up request for over $2,200 in back rent and supposedly-unpaid water bills. From what I've been told, the SOB even has an attorney on his side before this stuff was given over, and it seems to be a common thing for the fellow.

His mother and he pretty much feel its' useless to fight this, and are desperately looking for a new place to stay, most likely for the short term. If anyone can offer aid in the way of shelter and a roof over my friend's head for a while, it'd be appreciated greatly by them and me. Elsewise the pair are looking at a homeless shelter.

Anyone in the vicinity of Milwaukee, Wisconsin or its' general region, I'm appealing to you folks to help a friend of seven years, someone whom I know to be a good person. If not yourselves, then network, get someone you know who's willing to aid these good folks.

Contact : Technic: (If that didn't work, I'll try  Technic )

Please provide any aid you can to him. He's a real close friend and a good person who doesn't deserve the crap he's crawling through.

To all with love,
Mika

Well, looks like November has thus far been a record-breaker for me writing journals. Usually I'm a three-journal-a-year kind of person, and here I've outdone that in one single month.

Well, on to the subject of the journal. I'm not one who has a lot of money to throw around, thus I almost never get to crow about spending any of it (plus I'm one of those folk where the expenditure of $10 makes my wallet sting and $20 makes it cry out in agony, this thanks to my usual monetary situation). despite this, I dug deep and finally, after six years and change, purchased myself a modern wide-screen monitor.

In this case, specifically an Acer P205h, this 20" widescreen thing of a monitor. It BARELY fits in the tiny area I use for my computing. Nonetheless, she's a thing of beauty, replacing my former 17" 4:3 aspect ratio monitor.

The scary thing is that the monitor and ALL its' attendant gear, including foam, box, cabling (multiple types), driver disk, and manual weigh, combined, less than my 17" monitor did WITHOUT its' stand and associated gear. How the tech does march onward, yes indeed.

Maybe sometime soon I can think of a few other purchases for this slowly-shaping-up rig. ^_^

Well, that's it for now. Not terribly significant, but like I mentioned, ANY expenditure over the $20 range is for me a notable occasion.

Well, as I loathe leaving things on a low note, I figure I should mention my recovery.

My Sunday journal of abject misery gave way into a Monday of a generally off-put feeling and slight tummy-upset. I spent most of the day faintly queasy and not at all myself.

That all changed in what is for me the strangest turn-around I have experienced in my life.

Between the hours of 7 PM and 9 PM Eastern Standard Time, the feeling simply faded, bit by bit yet noticeably. I wasn't TOO sure, though. Nonetheless, my roomies offered me some of the leftovers from the BBQ ribs and chicken they had lunched upon. It had to go, and by Tuesday morn it was going in the garbage.

Figuring that anything I wasted would end up in the garbage anyway, I set myself out something I conceived would be generally good to pick at for a few hours: a huge chunk of chicken, indeed nearly half a bird, and two rather hefty BBQ ribs.

I heated this up in the microwave at approximately 10 PM. Sitting down to nosh, for a short time I lost myself to the flavor, which felt incredibly intense and delicious after nearly three days of naught but water. When I looked up, it was 10:15, and every single thing on my plate had vanished.

Yes, vanished. All that remained were bones and some inedible gristle.

Now, I am NOT a swift eater, mind you. Indeed, I am usually the first to sit and the last to stand at any given meal. Thus, this came as a surprise to me, having eaten what in the best of health I would normally consider a good 45 minute meal in 15 minutes. What shocked me still more was my tummy still grumbled for more. I did sate this on another two ribs, though of smaller size, leaving little to be thrown away in the morn.

Aside from shock at my sheer rapaciousness, I am thankfully now sure of my health, for I couldn't be ill with THAT form of monster appetite.

I still think my mini-foxes must have raided my food when I blinked, but Kumi tells me no. I think she also blames me for not sharing...

So, for once good news.

I think I've also exceeded my Journal Quota for the year. I'm not normally this chattery.

Happy Thanksgiving to all. May it find you and your families well.

Yours,
Mika Kyubi
Kitsune-at-Large

From one crappy journal to the next, my life seems to have decided "Miss Kyubi, you've had one too many breaks. Here's the payback."

My roommates had gone through a bout of sick, so of course to complet it I just HAD to get the sickness.

It began Friday night with a fever and severe chills, and quickly proceeded to me losing my lunch and dinner. Thrice. This was followed by a continuous nausea, one where if I dared to let myself doze or sleep I would wake up gasping trying not to heave again.

Thus proceeded the night and into today. Somewhere in there, the fever broke and the nausea abated partially, only to be replaced by the need to hustle my nine-tailed derriere into the bathroom post haste.

Which is where it stands now. Still sick, still occasionally hustling into the bathroom, and generally feeling blah.

At least ONE good thing has happened: once again I can put down small amounts of water without them returning via the wrong way. Small but important consolation as it prevents me from reaching dehydration.

I hope this passes by tomorrow, I really do.

My lovely dental visit and its' aftermath of pain, suffering, and glimpse of Hell was followed, quite nicely, on late Sunday night / early Monday morning by me finally running out of my much-belabored asthma medicine. This necessitated a trip to the ER yet again. I wish it could be said to be pleasant, but sadly, it was not.

It began with me being shunted, gasping wheezing and panting, between the main triage area (which was overcrowded), the ambulance triage (which was even more crowded), and the Urgent Care triage (which was less crowded but filled with indifferent people).

I had entered gasping at 11 AM, and was still unentered into the system, let along relieved, by 1:30 PM. By this time, I wasn't able to think straight, my last dose of ibuprofen, a massive 800mg dose, had worn off and my abused jaw was reminding me of that, and I was watching the wall panels do a pretty swim to the left.

Finally, at long last, I was given the requisite four treatments of Albuterol Sulfate and Iputropium Bromide, each of which ate a solid half hour. Then I had to wait to be gone over, and for them to get me an emergency inhaler, something they successfully managed in only another half-hour. Upon my release from this place, my first action (other than BREATHING, of course) was to hunt down the nearest food and EAT, for I hadn't had anything to eat since some soup on Sunday night around 6 PM.

I shall spare all and sundry the details of a harrowing Tuesday, for it was by no means as filled with epic FAIL as my weekend.

Until next time,
Mika Kyubi
Kitsune-at-Large

No, not the video game, which would have been infinitely more pleasant, this despite the fact that I have all the skill in a first-person shooter of a spastic, brain-damaged Valium-sedated fox kit who'se been given a healthy dose of LSD for the first time.

No, I mean DOOM, as in the end of things, and the pain, agony, horror, and general unpleasantness that comes thereafter.

This started, as many things painful do, with a trip to the dentist for a toothache. Sadly, my health insurance has lapsed. Thus, no coverage. THAT situation you can blame on the United States Postal Service apparently hiring a letter carrier who cannot read nor write the English language beyond the barest minimum needed to understand numbers, coupled with my equally illiterate-in-English (this despite living here for 30 years) upstairs neighbors / landlords. Due to this, they delayed me getting notice for re-certification for a slight bit more than a month.

Insurance companies do NOT like sick people, and chronic asthma counts as sick. It cuts into profits, and generally gives their accountants a bad day. This, plus lateness, is NOT a good thing. Thus, I have been unceremoniously informed that I shall have health insurance when they good and well feel like it, paperwork being in order be damned.

This, thusly, placed me in the hospital Emergency Room dental unit on Thursday morning with not a single shred of coverage. To the hospital, this means that there is one allowable sure-fire cure-all for a toothache, and apparently the ONLY one they are permitted to perform. That's right, no matter how salvageable the tooth is, the answer is "Rip it out!". Thursday, though, isn't a day for oral surgery, and thus I had a respite until the next day, Friday, November 6th. What I was told was that I should go home, dose up on painkillers until loopy, and return on the morrow. Which I promptly did.

The second visit was, of course, more anxiety-laden then the first, because this time I had walked in with the sure knowledge firmly held within my mind that I was about to subject myself to great pain. I couldn't have imagined at that moment how absolutely right I was on that estimation.

After a somewhat cursory numbing of the right side of my lower jaw, an attempt which took an amazing three full needles full of Novacaine, I was subjected to a half-hour or so of twisting, yanking, wiggling, pulling, digging, and the like. Somewhere in there, I discovered to my great displeasure, that the nerve was NOT fully anaesthetized. This resulted in the use of yet another needle of Novacaine, this time directly into the nerve shaft. To say this hurt would be akin to comparing the surface of the sun to a nice warm lay-down-in-it sunbeam. I've been in agony before, but few times has it had me scream so loud that the Pediatric division down the hall had to close its' door and send in a representative to see if one of their children had wandered in to be mauled. No, it was merely me, the almost forty year old Kitsune, screaming at the top of her prodigious and quite-functional lungs (this despite chronic asthma).

After this agonizing half-hour, the tooth finally came free with a sucking pop that would have made George Romero reach for the blue barf bags. This was promptly followed by the dentist wiping sweat from her brow and exclaiming to me "Miss Kyubi, you gave me QUITE the workout!", followed by her holding up this bloodied abused molar triumphantly. I swear at this moment that it was one of those scenes where you half-expect lightning to come down and strike the tooth to transform this woman into some form of super-dentist, yelling out "I have the TOOTH!" to all and sundry.

Sadly, the reality and method of New York's lovely health care system kicked in a few seconds later. You see, here in New York, it is customary for dentists (they SAY required by law, though I sincerely doubt this) to dispose of the tooth as a biohazard, allowing the patient or others naught but a cursory look (must not touch it, no, not allowed!) before it is removed into a light-tight one-way box that were it in science fiction would then emit a bright light and a puff of smoke. Personally, I call it destruction of evidence should there be a case of wrong-doing. I'm also reasonably sure that this treatment is NOT afforded to those with adequate insurance. From there, it's on to a mouthful of gauze you're told to bite on for the next half hour to stop the bleeding.

That's right, no stitches, no after-the-fact painkiller, nothing. Just yank, pop, drop, and you get the unceremonious boot out the door, to make room for someone better-suited to pay for their next Porsche or Ferrari.

Thusly, I went home with my face still half-numb from Novacaine, under orders to find the most powerful painkiller I can and take it BEFORE the anaesthetic wears off, chomping down on a bloody piece of gauze, with a nearly two centimeter deep hole in my gum.

The pain hit me about an hour or two later, leaving me feeling like I had gone three rounds with Mike Tyson, all of which was aimed at using my muzzle as a target to practice his left hook, followed by a similar bout with a freshly-resurrected Muhammad Ali. Drugging down didn't remove the pain, nor even numb it seriously. Instead, it succeeded in taking the edge off, turning it from unbearably excruciating to merely excruciating.

Thus followed on two days where my body went through what amounts to a slow, crawling state of shock, replete with chills, sweats, listlessness, inability to focus (then again, that sometimes seems to be my usual state, so I'm not so sure there), and, of course, liberal and free doses of pain washing over me like the tides and waves on the beaches of Hawaii. Sadly, it was not anywhere near as pleasant as said aforementioned location. Instead, it closely resembled a unique and small slice of the Christian Hell, specifically crafted for my amusement.

The rest shall follow...

Alright, so someone tagged me. Just as an FYI, I don't subscribe to passing things off that I know annoy 95% of my friends, so the buck (doe, or whatever) stops here.

Aaaanywho:

1) Post these rules
2) Post 8 true things about yourself
3) At the end you must tag 8 people and post their icons
4) Go to their page and send them a message saying you tagged them
5) NO TAG-BACKS

I am ignoring Rule 3, 4, and 5.

1) I am something of an old fogey, even at just under 40 years of age, and often I gripe about the youth in the fandom.

2) I am (as if it was not obvious) a dyed-in-the-wool hard sci-fi fan. Give me something with consistent physics any day and I'm in love. Better still if it's transhuman/posthuman in its' nature.

3) I loathe, utterly and totally LOATHE cauliflower, even its' smell can sometimes nauseate me.

4) I live a boring day-to-day life. It makes me seem unsociable, since I have virtually nothing happening in my life to speak about, and little extra or of interest from others to add, also (as my close friends ALSO live boring, hum-drum lives).

5) I treat my online personae (yes, plural, as I have many) as RPG characters. Many though not all of them even have write-ups in a few applicable systems.

6) Though I love technology and would like to be up on the newest stuff, my personal machine is now over 5 years' out of date and in desperate need of an upgrade, something I'm only now getting into a financial position to do. So much for the Kyubi bucking the general trend...

7) IRL I have VERY few close, personal friends, and those I have are almost as insular as myself.

8) I have a mild addiction to trying to produce all my characters as avatars on SL, usually through modding existing avatars. It's perhaps one of the only two things that keeps me on that rather annoying virtual chat-room. (That's right, folks. Not a game, a virtual-reality chat room, no matter WHAT the ruling group there tries to foist it off as.)

Well, there you go. No, there's nothing juicy in it, since I really am about as juicy as a piece of old leather left in the Sahara for a few decades.

If someone VOLUNTARILY wants to pick this up and run with it, go ahead.

Yours,
Mika

Oh, and Janus? I'm dragging your femme-self shopping for this, you DO know that, yes? Or maybe worse: a looong tea ceremony. See how you handle an hour or more of stillness and propriety whilst being monumentally female! *waves her tails menacingly at.*

Reposted from Crux

 matinus matinus is being kicked out of his house by his religious parents who've found certain furry material on his computer. He is in Delaware, so if you know any furs from there or if you'd be willing to help, please, talk to the guy. No one deserves the situation he's going through.

Please don't use this journal to bring up religious stuff. I'm looking to get this guy some help, not to start up a debate. If you know you can't help the guy directly, please just copy and paste this journal in your own to get the word out.

---

This is reposted from Crux's journal on the same. Please reply there if possible.

Hello again folks. I wish I could say that a lot has happened in six months, but I would say that 95% of my real life can be described as wash-rinse-repeat ad infinitum. No shock that, admittedly.

The news I do have is this: in August I attended FA United. It was pleasant, small, though as I am not one who knows a lot of people, nor places herself squarely in their path, I usually don't get invited to events (not to mention I'm so damn sedate as to be downright boring at such). Thusly, for me, it was a short, pleasant, exceedingly quiet affair hampered most notably by my lack of money.

Then there's this month, September. As usual, nothing of great import except the passage of my 38th birthday on the 21st. Yet another year older, yet another year feeling every inch my age times ten, and yet another day that passed with nothing of note happening.

On slightly better news, I can say I'm pleased to note that after a nine-year dry spell of barely being able to stand putting pencil to paper, I've once again, haltingly, stumblingly, begun to put pencil to paper and sketch again. Mayhap this year it'll come back far enough to keep my interest and enthusiasm. It's like starting over from scratch. No skills left. I can only pray and work at seeing if I can bring it back up.

Well, that's it for this quiet Kitsune. As the New York City Police here like to say: "Nothing to see folks. Move along! Move along!"

Ciao,
Mika

Hey, folks. I just wanted to thank all the people who've been so kind as to watch me, comment on any of my works, and fave those which have been faved.

I know that oft-times I tend to write "form-letter" thanks to people for favoriting or watching me, and I want to make it clear that despite being done in said manner, the thanks therein is heartfelt and true.

Once again, folks, many many thanks.

Yours all in much appreciation and love,
Mika Kyubi
Kitsune-at-Large

Just a heads-up to all fellow gamers, past or present.

As of this morning, E. Gary Gygax, the father of the RPG, passed on at his home in Lake Geneva Wisconsin. He was 69.

He will be missed by those of us who played games, and remembered by all as the man who began the gaming industry, without which the idea of role-playing would have been far different, if not nonexistent.

Rest in eternal peace, Gary. You will be fondly remembered.

--Mika

Hello, folks. Please pardon the ramblings of a slightly confuzzled Kitsune here.

Now, I don't know if anyone else has run across this, or been troubled by it, but I have:

I have a fairly large stable of characters, from Mika (who is a front for me, though is patently at the same time NOT me) up to several others, not all of which I want associated directly with Mika.

Nonetheless, these are characters, not me.

I recently pointed out to someone that my character is patently not me. This elicited a response of "But... Wha? Then, how the heck can I possibly TRUST anything you say? Or you?!"

I don't know about you folks, but this terribly disturbed me.

Is it so impossible in the fandom to separate the concept of character from the player? Is it so necessary that people must of needs assume automatically that a character MUST automatically be a fursona (ie. "me with fur")?

I am, at heart, a gamer, one who predates console RPG's by something like 10 years or so. I've played all sorts of tabletop dice-and-paper role playing games. I've played ones with lots of rules, no rules, a few rules, and all in between. My characters are, in the end, altered, changed reflections of me, and, like a fun-house mirror, don't necessarily reflect the true me.
Like an actress on screen for a film, or on television, or a character in a book, the person behind the makeup and the mask, behind the fur and the laughter, is NOT the character seen on-screen any more than television or movies are real.

At the same time, if someone asks me a question out of character (OOC), I'll give them my honest, real-life, true-to-me answer, no acting.

I'd thought I'd made this abundantly clear, as all of my descriptions include a warning that the character and player are different people. Yet, still, I get shocked, stunned responses when people find this out.

I just do not get it. Is this concept of fursona so inextricably linked in the fandom that to deviate from it seems unthinkable to folk? Is there something I'm not seeing? Because if there is, I'd like to hear about it.

I've been told by some that I should not be, indeed in two cases MUST not be human, or enjoy my IRL status of being such. I don't know about anyone else, but I find that almost as equally disturbing, if not more so.

I am quite pleased with being human in real life, and I enjoy that status immensely, thanks. I do NOT identify myself 100% with the lovely (if insanely over-busty) anthropomorphic vixen with nine tails and much magic that is Mika.

I'd love to hear what folk have on this matter, to hear what they think, what they philosophize. I think understanding here is important to me as a lover of this fandom o the whole.

Thank you all for listening to these markedly confused ramblings.

Yours all in respect,
Mika Kyubi
Kitsune-at-Large

Taken from the journal of  dusty

The following passage is from a sermon by John Hagee of the Cornerstone Church in San Antonia.

Something to think about……

I want you to close your eyes and picture in your mind the soldier at Valley Forge, as he holds his musket in his bloody hands. He stands barefoot in the snow, starved from the lack of food, wounded from months of battle and emotionally scarred from the eternity away from his family surrounded by nothing but death and carnage of war. He stands though with fire in his eyes and victory on his breath He looks at us now in anger and disgust and tells us this….

I gave you a birthright of freedom born in the Constitution and now your children graduate too illiterate to read it.

I fought in the snow barefoot to give you the freedom to vote and you stay at home because it rains!

I left my family destitute to give you the freedom of speech and you remain silent on critical issues, because it might be bad for business.

I orphaned my children to give you a government to serve you and it has stolen democracy from the people.

It's the solider, not the reporter who gives you the freedom of the press.

It's the solider, not the poet who gives you the freedom of speech.

It's the soldier, not the campus organizer who allows you to demonstrate.

It's the solider, who salutes the flag, serves the flag, whose coffin is draped with the flag that allows the protester to burn the flag.

When you read this, please stop for a moment and say a pray for our U.S. military in Iraq AND all around the world.

Hooah to every soldier, sailor and pilot and every other service member that served, serving now, and will continue to serve.

Ganked from Kivwolf, just because. ^_^


1. give me your number?
2. let me hug you anytime I wanted to?
3. let me kiss you?
4. watch a movie with me...even a really sappy one?
5. let me take you out to dinner?
6. drive me somewhere/anywhere?
7. take a shower with me?
8. have a fling with me?
9. listen to me if I called you crying even if you were out with all of your friends?
10. buy me a drink if i didn't have money?
11. take me home for the night?
12. let me sleep in your bed?
13. sing karaoke w/ me?
14. sit in the doctors office with me because I didn't want to go alone?
15. re-post this for me to answer your questions?
16. come pick me up at 3am because my car ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere?
17. Do you think i'm cute or hot?
18. Do you like my style?
19. Do you think I'm funny?
20. cry if I died?
21. dance with me?
22. sing happy birthday to me?
23. take advantage of me if I was drunk?
24. strip for me?

Hello, all.

To those who actually pay any attention to my semi-coherent ramblings and highly-infrequent postings of art, I would like to pose a question:

I have several stories, almost all are in an unfinished state, and range in quality somewhat wildly, as most were written no small amount of time ago.

I was wondering if any of those who read these journals of mine would be interested in seeing these ramblings. I cannot promise them to be terribly great, but I admit I do attempt to be coherent in them. ^_^

I would appreciate some idea as to whether there is an interest before I waste this site's bandwidth with my ramblings.

I also make open to those who are interested and do read them to both ask questions, and to, if they should so desire and feel interested, even add on to them. I am not one to hold them so dear as to consider them a closed set.

With many thanks,
Mika Kyubi
Kitsune-at-Large

I'm sorry to my friends who are watching this, but by the gods I need to get this off my all-to-ample chest.

Warning, rant ahead.

<Rant>
Apparently it's not enough to be a well-motivated character. Nowadays it seems you have to be damaged goods (or perhaps gods-awful busted-ass goods) to be a good character. Utterly disfunctional in anything resembling normal society, estranged and isolated from parents and family (if not outright rejected, hated, betrayed, used, etc. by them)...

These aren't intriguing possible-heroes, these are basket cases waiting to go ape-shit.

Everything from total emotionlessness and viewing EVERYONE from the predator-prey attitude (you are either a tool for me to use to my benefit, someone to be avoided, or someone whom must be eliminated as a roadblock to my ambition or convenience) to total raving lunacy.

Y'know, I used to enjoy an old patriotic slogan that said "Lead, Follow, or Get Out Of The Way!". Nowadays it seems to be "Lead, Follow, or DIE!"

Ye frelling bloody-minded gods and all the Yama Kings in their nine-million hells, what in the hell is WRONG with the world?

I swear it, I really, honest to the gods do NOT understand WHY so many people are broken like this, and I don't by the gods understand WHY they must inflict it upon others and REVEL in it! Blessed sweet Inari and all her Messengers, am I and a few of my friends the ONLY gods-forsaken NORMAL people on this PLANET?!

Reading several sites and looking through characters there... It just makes me damn weary as hell to see it all the frelling TIME. It also hurts, too. Here I am desperately trying to aid all my friends, to keep them on an even keel, and the world pelts and bombards me with this insane frelling BLAST after BLAST of people who can't seem to be aided, who are in pits of despair and are, simply borked and broken in ways I just for the life of me don't understand.

The damn worst part of it is that most of these folk openly state from the start "This isn't a CHARACTER, this is ME given animal form. It's how I am."

What the FRAK, people?! Is every single person out there bloody BORKED?! More importantly, can it damn-well be FIXED?! And what by all the Gods are we DOING about it?!

I'm going to the Shrine tomorrow. I think I will leave my offering and pray a long, long time to Inari. It's a damn frelling rare thing I truly feel in my heart it's time to put faith in the gods, even my chosen one, but I just feel like I need to this time.
</Rant>

Rant mode off

Again, my apologies. I needed to let this stink out before it festers inside me.

10 things every fur should know (and I wish they did), and their flip sides.

**********

10. Spending the money you got from a commission should generally be avoided until you've at least started on it.

9. Your ego should not be proportional to the square of your art skills.

8. Similarly, your level of general assholishness shouldn't increase with your level of art skill.

7. The fact that you have a skill which people will wait in line for is your good fortune and shouldn't be abused.

6. Working on multiple personal projects while customers wait for what they paid for is just as rude when it comes to furry art as it is in a retail store.

5. When someone pre-pays for art, their money is their deposit, and your good reputation is yours. If you decide not to do their commission, not only are you a thief, but they have every right to let everyone know that.

4. It's OK to make friends with someone who isn't "as good" of an artist as you, or an artist at all--hopefully there's more going on in your life than making and receiving drawings (or at least you can speak about more).

3. Ignoring thoughtful feedback from a no-name art appreciator while responding to mindless feedback from a big-name artist makes you an elitist jerk.

2. When it's already been paid for, six hours for a good drawing is great time, six days is average time, six weeks is bad time, six months is unacceptable.

1. Your drawing skills are no more or less impressive than other skills, such as writing, music, programming, or other skilled creative expression. The only reason you're "better" than most other people is because you perpetuate the view that none of those other skills are worth the years of refinement and practice that go into them. Don't fool yourself into thinking that everyone around you who doesn't draw is skilled only in masturbation.


on the other hand...


10. Yes, artists deserve the "ridiculous" prices they charge. Consider the fact that your average pic takes about four hours from sketch to final coloring: if you pay $40 that's $10 an hour. So no, $10 is not an appropriate price for a full-color, full length drawing.

9. Just because they draw pr0n doesn't mean they'll draw your pr0n.

8. Bitching at an artist every hour until they do your commission is not a good way to motivate them.

7. Just because she's submissive doesn't mean she wants to submit to you. Just because she's domme doesn't mean she wants you as a pet.

6. It's OK to live and let live. The fact that they don't share your interest doesn't make them a bad person. Pushing your interests on them makes you a jerk.

5. Chatting with someone for five minutes does not mean they love you, nor does it make them your friend, your mate, your buddy, nor even a casual acquaintance.

4. Believing you're actually a dragon in a human body is fine. Thinking this makes you so much better than everyone else out there makes you a narcissistic jerk.

3. It's spelled HUMAN. H-U-M-A-N. If you use "Hyoomon" in serious conversation, you are either a Ferengi or a moron.

2. Buying a commission from an artist does not entitle you to cybor or picz. Buying a book from Barnes and Nobel doesn't entitle you to a free bj from the author.

1. When in doubt, remember Winston Churchill: "A fanatic is someone who can't change his mind and won't change the subject."



*****


Ganked from Alvin-earthworm's and JessicaElwood's journals and agreed on for 95% of it. Edited slightly for grammar and one comment.

I think this will happily kill some time...

Swiped from Fluffball : fluffball: and edited accordingly.

English
[ ] You drink a lot of tea. (used to, but not anymore - and if I do, it's green tea).
[ ] You know what a brolly is.
[ ] Deal or No Deal has taken over your life. (stupidest show ever! Sorry to any fans out there).
[ ] You wanted Ben to win X Factor.
[X] You use the word "bugger" or the phrase "bloody hell."
[X] Fish and Chips are yummy.
[ ] You can eat a Full English Breakfast.
[ ] You dislike emos almost as much as you dislike chavs.
[ ] Its football...not soccer.
Total = 2

Australian
[ ] You wear flip flops all year.
[ ] You call flip flops thongs not flip flops.
[X] You love a backyard barbie.
[X] You know a barbie is not a doll. (well, Barbie is a doll, just not in all cases).
[X] You love the beach.
[X] Sometimes you swear without realizing.
[ ] You're a sports fanatic.
[ ] You are tanned. (please - I burn! XP Damned pigmentation). XP
[ ] You're a bit of a bogan.
[ ] You have an australian something
Total = 4

Italian
[ ] The Sopranos is a great show.
[ ] Your last name ends in a vowel.
[ ] Your grandmother makes her own sauces.
[X] You know how a real meatball tastes.
[ ] You know Italian songs.
[ ] You have dark hair and dark eye color.
[ ] You speak some italian.
[ ] You are under 5'10''
[X] You know what an italian horn is
[X]Pizza/spaghetti is the best food in the world!!!
[X] You talk with your hands.
Total = 4

Spanish
[ ] You say member instead of remember.
[X] You speak Spanish or some. (Living in NYC, you pick up a few words, all of them bad.)
[X] You like tacos.
[ ] YoU TyPe lIkE ThIs On Da CoMpUtEr.(Fuck no! Spelling errors are understandable - but that? Urgh!)
[ ] You are dark skinned.
[X] You know what a Puta is.
[ ] You talk fast occasionally.
[ ] You have had highlights or have dyed your hair.
[ ] You know what platanos are.
Total = 3

Russian
[ ] You say villian as: Vee-lon.
[ ] You get short tempered.
[ ] You know of somebody named Natasha.
[X] You get cold easily.
[ ] Rain is fun for you.
[ ] You get into contests all the time.
[ ] You can easily make do with the cold weather. (growing up in the North, one has to be accustomed to the cold).
Total = 1

Irish
[ ] You think beer is the best.
[X] You have a bad temper. (Oh, dear GODS and how. Takes forever to get going, but may all the gods help the target afterward).
[ ] Your last name starts with a Mc, Murph, O', Fitz or ends with a ley, on, un, an, in, ry, ly, y.
[ ] You have blue or green eyes. (does hazel count? It's sort of green - but not quite).
[X] You like the color green.
[X] You have been to a st. pattys day party.
[ ] You have a family member from Ireland.
[ ] You have blond hair.
[ ] You have/had freckles.(lots of them - though I think it's because my mother is a redhead - though she isn't irish).
[ ] Your family get togethers always include drinking and singing.
Total = 3

African American
[ ]You say nigga/nukka casually
[ ] You have nappy hair.
[X] You like rap. (Only the oldest of it...).
[X] You know how to shoot a gun (Gods do I love it IRL!).
[ ] You think President George W. Bush is racist. (no, he's just an idiot).
[X] You like chicken. (Only when it's off the bone or in some other unrecognizable form...)
[X] You like watermelon.
[ ] You can dance.
[ ] You can 'sing' gospel.
Total = 4

Asian
[ ] You have slanty/small eyes.
[X] You like rice a lot.
[ ] You are good at math.
[ ] You have played the piano.
[ ] You have family from Asia.
[ ] You laugh sometimes covering your mouth.
[ ] Most people think you're Chinese.
[X] You call hurricanes typhoons.
[ ] You go to Baulko.
Total = 2

German
[ ] You like bread.
[X] You think German Chocolate is good.
[ ] You Speak some German.
[ ] You know what Schnitzel is.
[ ] You hate it when stupid people call you a Nazi.
[X] You went to Pre-school.
[ ] You're over 5'2
Total = 2

Canadian
[ ] You like/play/played hockey.
[ ] You love beer.
[X] You say eh.
[ ] You know what poutine is. (God, yes! A thousand times, yes!)
[ ] You speak some French.
[ ] You love Tim Horton's. (I miss my Timmy's Fruit Explosion muffins and double double coffee).
[ ] At one point you lived in a farm house. (grew up in one).
[ ] You watch/watched Degrassi. (as much as it shames me, I was once a Wheel's fangirl).
Total = 1

American
[ ] You hate foreigners. (love 'em, actually).
[ ] You hate non - Christians. (only the ones who try to cram their religion down my throat).
[X] You're lazy.
[ ] You are not cultured.
[ ] You hate abortion.
[X] But love the death penalty. (there are a lot of criminals so vile that they have no reason to be leeching off my money!)
[ ] You don't read.
[ ] You shop at Wal-mart.
[ ] You think this survey is rather biased.
Total = 2


Hrmm, Italian, Australian, and African-American? How amazingly unlike how I am, physically. Astonishing, hrmm?

Well, looks like luck of the draw finally hit this quiet, unpresupposing Kitsune. So, I suppose I shall go with it!

"The 1st player of this "game" starts with the topic "6 weird habits/things/hates about yourself" and people who get tagged MUST write a journal about their 6 weird habits/things/hates as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment that says "you are tagged" on their User Page comments and tell them to read yours."

1. Weird Habit: I tend to chatter to myself a fair shake, mostly what sounds like pointless technobabble. If only people could see what's in my HEAD!

2. Weird Habit: I can and do often mouth lyrics to songs to myself when listening.

3. Hate: The fact that I utterly, totally cannot dance ot save a life. I have been favorably compared, on my better days, to a spastic monkey undergoing an grand-mal epileptic seizure while trying to walk backwards and connected to a randomly-misfiring electrostim machine.

4. Thing: I have been told repeatedly that my likings for color combinations can and do nauseate normal folk. You'd have to see it to believe it. Me? I think they look fine.

5. Hate: The fact I am often far too passive and unassertive. I word things SO diplomatically that it sounds oft-times like I can't take a stand on something, even when to ME the statement seemed perfectly clear as to a stance.

6. Hate: Being alone. Period.

There, now that this little bit of self-confession is over, let me see whom to pass the evilness on to...

I choose:
 crux
 Dktorzi
 fatfoxlower
 iPoke
 Pira
 Rhennessa

So, there you all go, if anyone is even slightly interested.

Yours in all health,
Mika Kyubi
Kitsune-at-Large

Sitting here in my little fox den tonight, sick as can be. Right about now, my tails are wilted-looking and I feel like total crud. I've got myself a sore throat, fever, aching head and bones, a cough, and a light-grade fever, and it's killing my lungs. I'm hoping and praying that I'll be fine in the morning without having to go to the damn hospital. Ah well. Either way, I'm still happy, though, as yet another lovely picture was done for me by the incomparable and incredibly nice CaptainQ. Thusly, I am pleased greatly.

Well, chose to respond to the meme that's been going around asking how well you know another person. Specifically, in this case I answered it for the amazing Kamicheetah
http://www.furaffinity.net/user/kamicheetah
and may hopefully recieve some reply. Outside of that, nothing to report.