Friday, October 13, 2017

What poor posture

Over the years, I have been accused of being male for many reasons. One that amuses me the most is because Sugar, the character's avatar has large breasts. Men make large breasts and women small ones, I was informed. Therefore, I am male.

No. Sugar has large breasts, yes. But, Sugar's breasts are not the maximum breast size in the character creator. Men often pick the largest breasts they can. I can pick guys because they have a stick thin avatar with an enormous chest. Sugar's fit her body. I took the time to play with the character creator and move my avatar up from stick with a horrific haircut to balanced looking, attractive woman.

But the posture. I noticed a new background on someones icon. Well... new to me. It was rather bright which caught my eye after years of dark backgrounds, with dark lighting, or just people angling their avatar to have the biggest breasts possible. That is if they put any energy into it at all.

This made me look at the character creator again. It looks as if poses have changed some. You can see more of the avatar. I also learned Walking in Stations was put down. Oh well.

That is how I entered into the exploration of new backgrounds and discovered that my avatar has terrible posture.  The poses have always been weirdly awkward. Who shoves their shoulder above their jawbone that way? But now, with more of the avatar viable, the horrid posture was startling.


After going through the poses and wondering if the implants in her spine gives her some unknown flexibility, I found that the neutral pose wasn't so bad. Her neck thou... just...

Maybe I'm not supposed to look at these things.

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

Join my corp!

Such was the demand on twitter. I actually leaned back and blinked a bit.

Really? Wow. What a nice feeling. Sure, it was from a delusional person that liked me and forgot what a ninny I am. Also, my utter disconnect with my previous skills. It was still a nice feeling. And, without the CSM thing hanging over me again, I rediscovered what it is like to be sure an offer was about myself.

I do hate that suspicion that I developed. It made me shy away from any type of title in the final dredges of the CSM. That point where I walked away from Sniff, sent Sugar off to a little edge system and gave up undocking or playing. I curled up in my chain and sighed. How was I to tell who wanted me and who wanted the title? I'd had many, many offers that started with, "Come join corp X, we want a CSM in our corp." It was quite a sucky time and left me isolated when I had the most attention.

To channel Elsa again:

"The snow glows white on the mountain tonight
Not a footprint to be seen.
A kingdom of isolation,
and it looks like I'm the Queen."

Unfortunately, such situations leave scars. If you don't work scar tissue, it becomes stiff and painful. Such is much of the Sugar Kyle bit of me. 

One of my biggest problems with joining a corp is that I cannot shut up. The behavior of my corpmates matters. I'm unable to fall very far off of my moral high horse. 

So why don't I go to Eve Uni and Signal Cartel?

Rules. Oh rules. So useful. So important. They drive me bonkers. You see, I am a rule follower. If I went to them I'd have to do what they say. But I don't want to, so I don't. I love Mynxee and I'd looovveee to go to Signal but the credo... I'm don't want to follow it. But even as I type that I wonder if I don't or if I'm just allowing my own stubbornness to control me. I don't want to PvP ether. Of course war decs make other ventures hard.

Hmm.

Time to end the post early and think.

Tuesday, October 10, 2017

Sekrits

"Don’t let them in
Don’t let them see
Be the good girl you always have to be
Conceal
Don’t feel
Don’t let them know…"

The lyrics to 'Let it Go' are rather potent. Beyond the song and dance of Disney, they are remarkably flexible. Add that they are sung by an ice queen and it is quite a marvelous tune.

While hanging out for the sake of hanging out in Eve Uni Chat (yes, I'm still there. Wallflower forever!) skill points came up. Someone was pleased about their skill tree. I'm still unfamiliar with the new layouts so I had to ask what tree they meant. They posted their top notice that shows how complete you are in certain skill trees.

There have been some bitterness in this blog when it comes to the changes in skill points. I understand that things had to change. In some ways I don't resent the changes. Lack of resentment does not mean I like the changes. Think of it as when they changed the green skittles in a regular pack of original skittles from lime to apple. There was no need for it. It isn't original. Yet, a whole generation doesn't know that lime skittles once sat in that package. I'm still bitter but I'll eat skittles and leave the green ones behind.

But secrets. When he posted his skill list he made sure to neatly crop it. I was reminded of neat cropping. Don't let people see systems. Don't let them see chat windows. Don't let them see chat tabs. Don't share hangar contents. Dont... hide... conceal... 

So, I responded with this:


At first I was going to crop my skills. Then I asked myself what was I hiding? I expanded it to include Sugar's pretty little skull and pondered it. Automatically, years of habit had me hiding the information about her. 

"To continue to let Elsa speak for me:
It’s funny how some distance
Makes everything seem small
And the fears that once controlled me
Can’t get to me at all!"

I'm not quite as carefree as I'd like to be in this. I realize that the habits and fears and the hiding and embarrassment were still there. This is something I'd like to excise. It is something I have to if I ever want to do more then skim the edges of the game again.

I have never been ashamed of what I was and what I am. This very blog began because I couldn't find anyone struggling as they started Eve. Everyone was a bad ass and I wondered that I was the only idiot that couldn't figure out how to move their ship in space. I started writing to share what I was, because I do not believe there is shame in ignorance that you are trying to conquer.

I learned to hide my flaws. "Oh, you don't have level 5 in that?" No.. no I don't. I've been playing for six months, how can I have level 5 yet? "Oh you can't fit this? Fly that?" The sneers, for they where sneers and put downs, made me sensitive. I learned to show the edges and the pieces or not show them at all. Even today, I refuse to share ship fits because to share a fit is to face inevitable tear down and ridicule. 

I hate it. I really, really hate it. I hate hiding everything. I hate avoiding things. I understand why. There is to much enjoyment in this game when it comes to hiding and finding people. There is to much of Eve wrapped around the mythos of those that have destroyed from inside. I understand it.

I hate it still.

If there is ever to be any part of me playing Eve with any enjoyment, this has to go. If may mean someone hunts me down. If so, they are welcome to do it. I am not that interesting. If I am that interesting to someone, it will be a compliment. And, I'm filthy rich. I passed 100 billion in assets a long time ago. I may not be on the levels of the ultra wealthy, but no one is going to case me to weep for lack of Jaguars or Sleipners in my hangars.

"Let it go, let it go
Can’t hold it back anymore
Let it go, let it go
Turn away and slam the door!
I don’t care what they’re going to say.."

I've always cared. I'm not the person that is not harmed by words. I wish I was. I'm not. I'll never be. But, I can stop caring about the people that say those nasty words. As I've drifted away from Eve and stopped needing to speak in such as way as to communicate to anyone, not just that wanted to hear, I got back my ability to flap my wings. Sadly, no wings but I can make due with what I have.

"It’s time to see
What I can do
To test the limits and break through
No right, no wrong
No rules for me
I’m free!"

Maybe. We may see. No promises just yet.

Monday, October 9, 2017

Someone fire the ship cleaners

My golden pod is not golden.

Back when I was neck deep in Eve, I was one of the first to jab myself in the butt with a syringe full of pod-be-gold. I received a lovely permanent ... gold - I guess - plating. I liked it. Sleek and sparkling, it glittered in the starlight. However, today, when I decided to strip from my ship and admire the glittering reflection of my pod, I noticed that its butt was a bit... well... pewter.


It must be the angle.


Nope. My butt had gone pewter at some point. In a dark, dried part of my brain, a memory shuddered and flaked off. I picked it up and through the crumbled edges saw something about ship washes. I shook the memory but nothing fell out. The faint echo of proposals tickled my memory, but not enough for me to know how to wash my ship.

The simplest thing to do was ask. With a question asked and an answer received, I was now the proud finder of ship washing. Eventually. It took me a few minutes.


I hit the wash button and my pod looks exactly the same.

Welp.