So it’s done

Relatively speaking that is. There is always something to be done, or a place that can be changed. Tweaked. There’s always a thing that you think should be switched around or redone however….

With all of that being said….

The sim is “done”.

The build is open for business, and for your viewing pleasure. There’s a lot to this particular build and it isn’t going to really change much anytime soon. There’s a bit of story, lore and history to it.

It’s really magnificent in my opinion. I love it. I know it isn’t the easiest for shopping. I also know there are a lot of changes to it that will make some shoppers wince. Vendors and things… spaced apart, sections all over but damn…. Sometimes flying through. Or finding a really pretty little spot to overlook the waterfalls. The spots that lead up and out on those massive stairs with beauty just swallowing you up whole and immersing you in a different world.

This is part of my world. The world I wanted to share. It is a crossroads sort of build. It isn’t here nor there. It isn’t above ground but it isn’t entirely below ground either.

Caves, and dark spots with mushrooms glowing, crystals shimmering all the while magic carpets of ivy and grass bring color into a world that could be dark but isn’t. The sun shining down over the top of the world that has been created. Trees, bushes and butterflies. Massive waterfalls to the depths below while cliffs rise from the ground.

This isn’t just a store and it never will be again. It’s something more, it’s a safe place. A place of healing, a place of solitude and serenity.

I hope you will share it. I want people to just come, I want them to come even if they never spend a single solitary linden. I want people to experience it and enjoy it. That’s what this life is all about and if people find in it what I did. If people can use it as a crossroads within their life to find the light as they struggle to come out of the darkness……

Well then…..

Then there are no real words to express what I’m thinking or feeling.

Come visit. Wander the misty pools that glimmer and breathe.

Welcome to the Roawenwood.

Teleport to the Sim


Building of a temple…

Obviously lately I am feeling like a story teller. Really though this isn’t all that different from where I began or who I am anyhow. I’ve always liked to tell stories.

To entertain, to talk. Sometimes I talk too much which would surprise some of you since I’ve become so very quiet too.

I am working on so many things at the moment that my plate isn’t just full, it’s overflowing. A lot of really good things too both in world and in the real world. It’s been an amazing summer so far even though there was a hitch with the spring. It never wanted to end. A LOT of rain. My backyard is more like a swampy pond area than a backyard this year but it’s been good.

When I am in world I can be found working mostly and I’ve been in more lately than in recent history. I’ve found my footing I think. Where I want to be and who I want to be. Finally.

Instead of worrying about if my store build is going to be this or that or will be good for shopping. Worrying who it will annoy if I make it how I like, or what kind of business I might get… I would get obsessive about these little pieces. The little details, over thinking every little thing. Not letting the artist shine, not putting to rest the less important things.

So I’m building my temple.

I’m going to share it with you all. One of my big shares. Some of you will recognize parts of it when you come after it is complete. It has it’s own history already. It’s own lore if you will.

Stories, legends and myths surrounding what it is, and it is glorious for that. A build with feeling, life, and sentiment. I couldn’t let it go, and I don’t think it was meant to be let go. Not yet.

A tiny bubble in the online world kept but modified. I have been thinking about releasing all the lore and stories as part of the re-opening process or just in general.

It seems like a fine way to begin the celebration that is my 13 years in Second Life and you’re all invited. I may not throw really big parties but I am celebrating and I am going to be doing a lot of little things I think to commemorate this milestone throughout the course of the rest of this year.

I get to say I’m a teenager again!

I was hell the first time around, wonder what’s in store this time.

Much love and talk to you soon.


Did you know….

That Roawenwood started out in a garage sale?

Way back in 2006-2007 one of the ways that people made a little bit of spending cash was the garage/yard sales. You could have a small little spot usually costing nothing where you could rezz a couple things.

I rented from Anshe Chung. She was THE name for rentals. She was essentially the land baron that owned it all and one of the perks was they had a garage sale for its residents, if you rented from her you could put out stuff in this sand box sort of thing. Anywhere. Just… drop it.

It was a huge mess with a ton of really bad builds but it was where I started oh so long ago. I was so nervous… Putting myself out there, creating. There was another one I frequented to put out a build or two owned by a private citizen.

I would find them, and put out little pieces. My very first ones were sun bathing towels with a few animations in them, a sun lounger with an umbrella. Though the term animation is used loosely. They were usually poses. Stiff and unyielding… at the time very hard to find, and IF you found actual animations that moved you moved heaven and earth to get them because damnit, they weren’t really available. The sun lounger did pretty good actually.

It was a simpler time, kind of. Most of the time people didn’t ask for much. And once a week or so the garage sale would be wiped clean, all the prims returned and I’d have to go back. Lay it out again, and wait to see what would happen. Trying to find a little spot in the sand.

Of course… it wasn’t Roawenwood then, and we are still a little bit away from where I actually had a “store” or land for it but that is how it all began.


The Weaver

Good evening, good morning, or whatever it is you are experiencing at this particular moment.

You know when I write these announcements, store things and little blurbs one of the things I hear from people time and time again is that they enjoy them because it just feels like I’m talking to them. Like two old friends sitting down to share a cup of coffee in the morning. Nothing special, but it feels familiar and comfortable even though we really don’t know each other and don’t really converse outside of these little things I ramble on about with you. I approach my store and my life much like this everywhere. I share and give and show people who I am often. It isn’t all just business though that is far too often the case.

Today, sit with me at my table and pour yourself a cup of coffee or hot chocolate if you prefer as I reminisce wrapping your hands around the warm mug so that you can sip, listening quietly as I give into the desire to share with you. Fair warning… writing can be at times part of my healing process, *laughs softly*

This past weekend my grandmother died. She was 86 years old and one hell of a crazy person. A mixture of cruelty and genius depending on what side you knew of her. Right after Thanksgiving we found out she had been in the hospital, and the morning of the 27th we found out she was on a downward spiral and in ICU. It wouldn’t be long we were told, they were just trying to keep her comfortable.

We made plans to go to see her, driving the 3 hours to pick up my mother to take her to the hospital so we could visit even though my grandmother had said to not come.  As we pulled into the parking lot of the hospital around 2 pm I received a text that she had passed. Stunned I blurted it out shocked and then felt something like panic raising not sure what to do and my mother just gasped as I had very unceremoniously announced that my grandmother might be gone already.  Luckily my husband swept in and took charge calmly. We went inside and asked to see her or what room she might be in. The instant look of compassion on all of the nurses at the station cementing what we already had been told they gently asked if anyone had talked to us yet.  She was still in her room and we were allowed to go in. A few family members were there and there was my grandmother in her bed propped up as if she was napping head turned to the side, sheet tucked up close to her shoulders.

Turning back to look at my husband tears gathering I could see the pain in his eyes as he took on some blame for not getting us there sooner telling me more with that look than any words might have expressed I struggled, swallowing trying to get around the lump in my throat as my mother began to cry.  Walking towards the bed I looked down at her wanting to touch her but afraid to. Her hair was almost pure white her face peaceful but for all intent looking as if she might wake any moment. Hesitantly reaching out I touched the side of her face stroking back along her hairline smoothing her hair for a moment my lips quivering… quietly caressing her face.

While the sadness crept in at the loss of this woman whom had meant more to me than I had realized, with all that she had done, and all that she had taught me I whispered softly to her, “Thank you….. thank you for all you did.“ And then finally as my hand moved from her hair to her forearm running from her wrist to her elbow, “I love you.”

Pulling back my hand to rest it upon the rail after a few moments at the side of the bed I looked down at her silently, studying her. Taking in each crevice and wrinkle knowing it would be the last I saw her. Stepping back my mother sitting nearby the priest came to pray over her while I held my mother letting her lean on me as she cried and my husband quietly stepping behind me to rest his hand on my shoulder.  Before we left after sitting a bit my mother unable to stay any longer I had to step back to the bed to reach out a final time afraid to leave just yet… and while sadness was there and is still at times overwhelming me quickly before I realize it whenever I think I will be ok I am so very grateful to have had those moments. There isn’t to be a funeral, or wake. A service at some point but I got to have something I didn’t think I would ever have.  I got to say good bye in one of the most intimate ways I can imagine. No I didn’t get to her before she passed but I got to say thank you, I got to tell her I love her, and I got to get that final memory before she was taken from us.

It made me very reflective on the woman she was and over the past week I have remembered more and more from my life and of her. Reliving things, smiling about them and in some ways settled.

Why have I shared all of this to you? People who barely know me and what does it have to do with my store or the item I made? How trivial it might seem but it isn’t… not to me. If you’ve gotten this far you will know soon enough why.

My grandmother was an amazingly creative woman. She did pottery, glass etching, made jewelry and did leatherworking. The rugs throughout her house were braided by her and her children when they were young. She made her own clothes, adored quilting, loved to arrange flowers, garden, and cook. She was a phenomenal cook and the smells as she actually cooked things on the wood stove were amazing.  She taught me to sew, to crochet, tried to teach me to knit, and all sorts of things.  I learned my love for antiques from her, for finding hidden treasures, and even some of my giving nature.

What you see in my store is very much influenced by things I created, learned or did growing up around my grandparents. From splitting wood, taking care of the farm, to sewing, to…. Weaving.

She had a weaving studio… and these great big floor looms. They were so big and I remember spending time in her studio the fire burning in the stove while I carded wool or spun yarn as she sat at her bench. The shuttle moving back and forth her feet working the pedals beneath. This week I closed my eyes and could hear the loom in my head as I relived those moments and I just had to try to do something. The spools of thread, the shelves, the loom…. Something in me needed to do make it and as I worked the model and it came to life I could feel the catch in my throat.

I had intended on releasing something different and I still will but this round… I wanted to do something for my grandmother. So while I know it is only a model in a 3d world and one that needs some tweaking and fixes even, *laughs* I wanted to share it with you for a few moments.


You can go see it here:  WE <3 ROLE PLAY

Thank you for reminiscing with me, for sharing with me and I’ll do a normal store blurb in a different post because not everyone wants to read my lengthy stories but if you have, sincerely thank you. I hope you are well and remember those small moments, they really are the ones that matter the most.


Pulse – a personal note

The past couple of weeks have run by in a blur for me for a variety of reasons.  Real life, Second life, a lot of various influences all combining to at times make me feel like I am not sure if I am coming or going.

Sometimes I share these things, little journeying moments that I go through, in fact I sometimes overshare and I suppose this might be one of those times but it feels appropriate.

The shooting that happened in Orlando.

Someone asked me recently if I’d share my thoughts on some of my realizations after the shooting because I had mentioned that I had been emotional over it, and it got me to want to write about it.  So here it is.

It has been weighing heavily on my mind and within me ever since I heard the first few news pieces on it.  The horror of it, the idea of it, the magnitude of the whole situation really all taking up my thoughts, one person inflicting so much fear and agony so quickly… just one person, I almost couldn’t make sense of it. That part really floored me and at first I felt almost numb while I read or saw or conversed about it. Since I am really not used to feeling this way I quietly tried to figure out what was going on even within me.

I don’t think I talked about it at first because I felt awkward doing so. I sincerely wasn’t looking to be the band wagon jumping sort considering most of the time I am rather soft spoken and very private about my real life or things going on in it. It isn’t for any real reason except that I have been online for a very very long time. Twenty years. In those twenty years I have encountered more than enough reasons to keep my thoughts or feelings or real life details to myself. Sharing some things with very few friends or acquaintances and over the years it is very easy to become very silent. When you start out wearing your heart on your sleeve or believing a lot of the things that happen on the internet you come away very bruised, battered and burned. You learn to pick and choose your battles, and you learn to also quietly observe so you can protect those scarred parts of you.

So now it is very hard for most people to really see the inner workings of the person that I am, and I think that goes for everyone.

I have always known I wasn’t straight, I knew for a long time I was at least bisexual and if you really want to be nit picky you could classify me as pansexual.  I can very literally have feelings for, deep relationships with and whatever else you like to imagine with just about anyone. It hasn’t always been easy, being in relationships with someone other than a man… getting those looks, odd sneers and judging comments about it.  Even from my mother, I remember listening to her once tell me a story as she looked me in the eye about how disgusted she was when she visited NYC and saw two women holding hands.  Just holding hands… the sneer, the revulsion, her look really burned into my memory because I hadn’t come out or told her anything and at that point I felt a deep deep rejection, and fear to ever really be honest with her about myself.  For a long time I’ve been in a relationship with a man so I’ve been fairly safe from all of that because it appears ‘normal’ as far as relationships go.

Unless you get to know us… then you know we’re far from normal but I don’t think that is where I’m going with this.  I never went through a thing where I felt like something was wrong with me but I did have a hard time coming to terms with my feelings and how I could be. I was told once I was blessed; it was a gift to be able to love freely, without constraints or judgment.  That I could understand people and relationships differently than most could, that I see things differently, that I shouldn’t take that for granted or to feel like something was wrong with me because of it. Sometimes it feels like a curse, not only can I be rejected or hurt by one group of people, I can be by just about everyone.

I felt fear but I really didn’t know fear until my son.

My son is gay.  Very much so, no really mistaking it, he has a rather strong feminine streak as well.  He tried to fit in, tried to appear straight… at one point he told us he was bi-sexual… we let him go through his journey and what he needed to do. He dated one girl, that was the only one and then he somehow came to terms with who he was and said yes… I’m gay.  He was part of groups, and had a large group of friends all very accepting, welcoming, and supportive. I am so thankful he had that because he also has the most golden of hearts that you can imagine. I adore my son; he is a well-mannered, loving, giving, saint of a soul that has always tried so hard. Not always conventionally or where you could see it but just is. He grew up to be a really good man.  One that I am proud of.

The first time I felt fear, real fear when it came to my son and his sexuality was when he was in high school. As part of a group activity they were having a Christmas party.  Some of them were going to dress in drag and some were going to dress up for this pageant they were doing after school.  Unbeknownst to me my son had decided to change at school into a woman’s outfit to wear all day on a dare from some of his friends.  He was dressing up as a naughty Mrs. Claus type thing.  So yea, it was a short skirt, fishnets… whole nine yards, blonde wig, make up, heels… hey kid had some guts because he actually did it but seriously if I had a daughter who wanted to dress that way for school I would have told her to march her ass back to her room right this instant too… so he changed at school and didn’t let mom or dad know what he was doing.  He ruffled some feathers looking like this; some of the guys had a real issue with it.  Since technically my son wasn’t breaking dress code the school hadn’t made him change during the day.  He took some flak for it but what he didn’t know was that some of them were planning on following him after school since he was a walker and…. Well…. hurt him.

Someone, a student, heard the guys talking about it.  Heard them planning and alerted school authorities about it, I don’t know who that student was but I am thankful that they did and not just look the other way or not get involved.  They pulled my son into the offices, told him what was going on which shocked and scared him, got a hold of us and my husband came home early while the school made sure he was transported home by one of the teachers after the event so he wouldn’t be walking.

Since it was right before school vacation and there was only a day left before they broke it was decided he wouldn’t go to school on Friday so that things could simmer down over the span of the vacation.  I don’t know if those boys were ever talked to or had to deal with anything because they didn’t actually get to do anything but it sucked.  It just plain sucked and when my son went back to school I was terrified for weeks every time he walked out the door to go back and forth to school.  I still get scared, knowing there are some very insecure people that hurt other people for no real reason except for who they can love or how they dress.  I am always afraid of that day where I could get a phone call because my son is who he is and can’t really hide that.  He shouldn’t have to either, no one should have to.

The shooting at Pulse hit home for me for those very personal reasons. I read about the mother who got a text from her son as he huddled in the bathroom telling her to call 911, that the shooter was coming and one of the last ones he said he was going to die. I placed myself in that moment realizing that it could have been my son in that bathroom and what it would be like to have my phone, powerless, receiving those texts as he tells me he loves me, knowing his fear and my own if I had been in that position.

Looking over the victims list many of them the same age as my son or even younger.

I read this:

Realizing that I could identify with a lot of it as a parent, as a woman, as someone who had been through some of these things throughout my life and having hoped or wished nothing like this would ever really happen and feeling a lot of what she was feeling.

And I cried.

These things shouldn’t happen.  But they do.

As much as I wish I could take away all the pain that these people feel or have felt or the things that I’ve had to experience I will always hope for a better way even though there is that part of me deep down that is afraid that it will never really change, that we should hide.  There will be a level of acceptance and I guess we have to keep going forward, to not let those doubts or fears keep us from who we are or supporting those we love or letting ourselves love who we love.

I wish there was more that I could do, I don’t like feeling powerless so I do what I can…

There is a fund for those families and people affected by the shooting, and in world this week there is an event where the proceeds are going directly to it.

I got involved not just because it is the right thing to do but because I had to… for that mother who received those texts, for the people who huddled in the bathroom or at the club trying to hide or escape, for the family of the mom and son who were there celebrating together and died, for everyone effected.    But I also got involved for me… I realized that I was affected by this and had more at stake here than I had at first realized or given much thought to prior to this. Just pause a moment please… our lives go by so quickly, they really do and as you get older it goes by faster and faster.

And so ends my sharing, I feel at a loss as how to end this…

To not pollute this post too awful much with business I’m going to do what I did with the opening of my store, this more personal post will stand alone… the one describing the event to raise money and the item(s) that are there will be in another.

If you’ve read this far, thank you I think…. Does it make sense to write all this out and leave it for whoever passes by? I don’t know.  Self serving?  Perhaps…  does it have much to do with my business, absolutely not but I have always found some level of healing by sharing this sort of thing so I suppose I have written this so I can heal and maybe not let that part deep down inside of me that believes nothing will really ever change win.