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The woman gazed at the ident-block on the door’s security panel with a nervous expression. She had passed any number of such panels on the way up to this office, but none of them had read:
Sherman, Ariel Chairwoman / CEO Fantasial Productions ILC
It felt strange to Taraia to be interviewed by the CEO of a corporation for a job … especially when the job was really an entrance-level position. Her college advisor had told her that Lady Ariel was peculiar in this way; she wanted to get a feel for new-hires outside of the production aspects of her theatre’s show and night club. Was it because, again according to her advisor, promotions came from within the corporation, and so she might have closer daily exposure with the Boss than at two or three removes …?
Zana stepped back into her apartment the next morning, thoroughly relaxed by the night’s activities … all of the night’s activities. It had been a stressful term so far, even for a cyborg; of course, graduate studies were always stressful, but psychology was tougher than most. And add into that my personal psychotherapy starts in two weeks, she thought as she moved into her bedroom to change out of her finery, into a casual unitard. God knows what little gremlins will turn up then! She had always considered herself well adjusted and mentally healthy. Who but God could guess what a qualified psychotherapist would find …? Then her lips quirked back in a mercurial change of mood. Although her career would be made, perhaps, as the author of the first case study on a ‘borg in the literature!
The small jest improved Zana’s mood; but she still felt the need for some encouragement, or at least a shoulder to cry on for a few picoseconds. Glancing again at the holographs on the mantel, she regretted not returning home to her parents’ house. Still, there were other ways of getting together with family … not as satisfyingly tactile, but they would do in a pinch …. She said to the room, “Computer, please call Ariel Sherman, home code, full holo.” She sat on her couch as the computer beeped.
Shortly, a full-body image of her mother, wearing a green casual outfit and a purple silk duster, appeared in the holoprojection field created by the comm program. “Hi, sweet one! What makes you call on this fine Saturday morning?”
I guess the “ruins” we’re standing in aren’t really all that old. But the sunlight is just raining down around us, and it makes a lovely place to look pretty in, and Diana joined me for this shoot. That makes the place even prettier.
Summer afternoon — summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.
Henry James
For Michiganders (yes, to us, that’s a word), Labor Day is the last day of summer. Most schools don’t begin before the Tuesday after Labor day (although there’s an annoying trend of school districts applying for waivers from the state law), and so we milk holiday time down to the last moment. (Then we surge back to our homes inside of one or two days, and drive each other crazy on the road.)
That’s real life. In Second Life, we can be on vacation up north … or down south … soaking up the sun until the cows come home, or the servers reset and lose the sim. I’m partying here, and doing it in a feathered dress by Brittany Golden, available right now at the Level event (see down in the list), along with a pair of shoes that were right beside it.
I like the look of this for the most part; like many feathered dresses, it’s flirty and fun. You’ll have several colors to choose from, from this sky blue to a black.
I love these sandals by Marchese. The colors of both the leather and the jewels are HUD controlled, so there’s plenty of options for you. But I really have a soft spot for the mid-height heels; I just love that shape!
We’ve been trying to cope with way too many projects here at the blog, and so a whole mess of events are closing under us without having found a chance to write anything up. From what the boss tells me, that’s something of a tradition at Around the Grid anyway, but it’s still frustrating.
Like this outfit, for instance. It’s available at the current Tres Chic … but today is the last day. I don’t know when it will be taken down, so you may have more time than I’m afraid of. I’d get there as soon as you see this, though; otherwise, you may have to wait a while before this “playsuit” appears in the creator’s store or on the Marketplace.
And it’s definitely a cool and breezy outfit! You can’t get much breezier without this one-piece hot-pant suit turning into a bikini. It’s fun to wear, and just made for wearing with boots, like the ones I have on from Phedora (not at Tres Chic, so you can get them at the main store). The hair also debuted at TS, from Vanity Hair, and the earrings are from Shanghai.
This is what the new house looks like from the land side. I had to temporarily derezz some of the trees in front to show it.
The weird thing about houses is that they almost always look like nothing is happening inside of them, even though they contain most of our lives. I wondered if that was sort of the point of architecture.
It is inhumane, in my opinion, to force people who have a genuine medical need for coffee to wait in line behind people who apparently view it as some kind of recreational activity.
Dave Barry
These days, it seems, you gotta have something else besides just the coffee — you need a great coffeehouse to serve the brew up. And not just the coffee, but the ever-essential pastries and sandwiches and juices. I suspect (based on my reading; I’m not that old) that anyone who hung out in a Sixties beatnik coffeehouse, and then was dropped into a modern Starbucks, would shriek in horror, and demand that they immediately go back to serving just coffee, right that instant (no, not instant coffee), or she would explain to them the absurdity of all human activity, and let them struggle with the existential shock.
Her heart is water, its own self its stay. It will be fog or cloud or haze, or frail Mists that wander after daylight pale. It will be all things: the sea’s salty spray White in the wind, cast fuming on a shore Stone-desolate; a river’s liquid song; A fountain wearing jewels for a throng Of dancing waves; a pool forevermore Quiet under leaves gold-rimmed, death-black; A sea-mirror; or, made of sweet love dreaming, A crystal well; a molten river gleaming Under hot sun, flame following its track; Falls rapids; wild water of storm and trouble; Or, being quit of love, a gay bubble.
Put on my green pump shoes And I boarded the plane Touched down in the land of my Dublin crew In the middle of the pouring rain Daniel O’Connell, won’t you look down over me Yeah, I got a first class ticket An’ I’m as green as a girl can be
Then I’m walking in Dublin Walking with James Joyce striding at my heels Walking in Dublin But do I really feel the way I feel?
I can tell you this, because I live just across the state, only maybe four counties away from the real-world Bay City — it don’t look this good right now. Freezing rain, snow, winds, and the temperature’s taking a plummet. It comes close to tempting me to take on Diana’s attitude about sunny skies. Not even the fur shrug I’ve got on would help much, and anyone who wears a mini in Michigan in January really should have their head examined.
Second Life® with Harper, Conan, Jem, Diana and Morgan
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