Part 3!

Letter 2, page 2:

God. Girl, you know I talked many times of my disapproval of married women who were not true to their marriage vows and said many times that I did not like what we were doing (this was all said before there was any wrong doing between us) but always you talked me into believing, in this case that we were some-what justified and you must admit that you did a lot of that talking before I gave in.

I told you my age and that I was sick and had been so for over a year, on that account and your youth (although you would not and did not tell me your age untill later) I was afraid we would not get along to-gether, I told you that i had very little money and classed myself as a bum and told you that I was none to good morally, but you told me to forget it, you seemed so affectionate and talked against every argument I put up about our not getting on together.

At all these meetings at the Park. you kept urging me to rent a house or go to Los Angeles. and rent a room so we could meet, or in other words, so we could go to bed. I was falling and I fell hard, Girl, I worshiped you, I could think of nothing else but you after the first few meetings.

You told about your "Pal" Mrs. Letha Y. how she and your Uncle. Mr. Charles E. were intimate, and that Letha was also intimate with Mr. Chas B. and gave me to understand that she would Step-out most any time with most anybody and offered to make me acquainted when she got back from her Eastern trip, but I said "No." Many times you have said, "Well, if you think I am bad you should know my 'Pal, Letha."

This is amazing. This whole affair just plays out for record all through this letter... if I had something like this from one of my ancestors a hundred years ago, I would frame it and hang it in the living room.

Part 2 of the Lela G. saga.

Lela? Via j/k_lolz.

I know you all have been waiting for this... the now infamous SECOND LETTER. I might have to post it in sections, since it's pretty long. Here's the first page, all funny punctuation and Random Capitals included.

Santa Monica, Calif.
June. 24-1923

Mrs. Lela G.

There is much that could be said regarding our first meetings and flirtation that took place at the shop where we first met, but I will skip that and start with our first meeting at the Park. One of the first things you said was that you were angry because I had not come into the Street Car the day before, as you were on your way home and I on my way to the Beach, some how that made a hit with me, It pleased me, yet I was sorry to think you felt hurt, your line of talk about your Husband's abuse of you and how hard you had worked most of your life, with everybody seemingly giving you the worst of it, worked on my sympathy and aroused in me an affection for you.

We met at the Park. several times in about as many days, you telling me over again about your husband, you called him a Son of a B---- and many other such names, you told me you did not love him and never could, you told of him coming back from the War. with a venereal disease and giving it to you and that you went first to one Doctor. then switching to Dr. H. you and Seth both going to him for treatments.

You wanted me to take you and run away from Home and I said, No I would not do that and advised you that if you could not get along with Seth to go to him and say so and tell him you were going to leave him and have an understanding with him, Although I did not know him I said with all his faults there must be some good in him as you had thought enough of him to marry him in the first place, and if you would talk to him he might straighten up and he and you get on nicely.

I talked so much against you leaving your home that finally you said, "Well, I am going to leave, and if not with you, it will be with someone else."

SUSPENSE.

This is why I love antique stores.

I was poking around an antique store last weekend -- the place was PACKED with stuff, some great, some not -- and I found a big cardboard box full of old papers. About half of it was newspapers and numismatist newsletters, but I persevered, searched the entire box -- and scored big.

I found three letters written by a guy called Elmer T., to a married woman with whom he was having an affair. As far as I can tell, all three were written after the affair took place, to serve as a record of events, for him, her, or possibly the lawyers (you'll see).

Anyhow, I can't resist sharing them. Here's letter number 1, that sets up Elmer's reason for writing and kept me in that antique store for hours looking for any other letters after it. (I typed this up exactly how it looks on this very old sheet of paper, hence all the errant periods and dashes -- although I am going to leave off full surnames in favour of initials, to protect identities and all, though it does seem kind of silly after almost a hundred years... does this sound like anyone's ancestors?)

June 24 -- 1923

Mrs. Lela G.

You have left me without any choice of action and driven me to this, for when a man is as square as I was with you and tried to give you as good advise as anyone could give and then a woman of your caliber, with the assistance of your friends, will run an undercurrent of rot against me to cause me grief and shame, that has shattered my mind and torn my very soul from my body, taken the last bit of foundation out from under me and left me nothing but jail and death to stare at, then it's time for retaliation.

I can stand lawful prosecution and jail better than I can unjust persecution from a Lustful Ingrate like you, I have begged, prayed and tried to hire you to have a talk with me but you would not listen.

The past ten (10) months I have paid for my sins with a torture of grief that only God. Almighty, knows and can understand, through the efforts of you and your friends the last five (5) months of the (10) you have added to my grief the wrath of man.

Wrath; that caused one of your friends to attempt Murder and succeed to the extent that I am left maimed and probably or eventually will cause my death,

You caused me to be followed and watched for weeks, also one of my friends was followed and molested, my statements will furnish you with what you were looking for and you can use them as you think best.

A short while back I would have let my soul burn in Hell for you but now it can burn in Hell against you, yet it shall not be fired with any untruthful statements from me, about you, for I will not give you that chance for consolement.

It's a nasty mess for others to read, but I used mostly words and expressions that were used and that flowed from your mouth as freely as from my own.

E. T.

WELL. Stay tuned for the next letter, which reads like a Savage Love column. Seriously.

500?! *faint*

I'm breaking up my survey posts to bring you all this tidbit of pure AWESOME.

"What would one color be without 499 others?

Introducing 500 Colored Pencils: the only set in the world that matches the span and wonder of human creativity.

Express whatever you dream, with beautiful visual precision.

Each pencil is its own story. A unique hue with an inventive name to inspire the far corners of your creativity.

Together, the colors suggest infinite possibilities."

Good question. Why just have *one* coloured pencil when it obviously needs 499 of its best buddies for optimal artsyness and sheer childlike shrieking happiness?

Social Designer is offering this monthly subscription program of coloured pencils. Over 20 months, you get 500 (!!) pencils delivered to your residence of choice (I would pick mine, but that's just me), in sets of 25 in a lovely graphic box.

What, you didn't believe me?

And the storage options you have for them are just as cool. They make your pencils into, like, art for your home, while you use them to just make MORE art for your home. My favourite is the Aurora frames, but the Colour Wave is pretty nifty too.



I'm definitely drooling over this rainbow of loveliness and creative potential, even though I've got a whole box of half-used Prismacolours. The PURPLES.

Lookit the PURPLES!!1!

It's a perfect gift of art for someone you love, like, or whose totally cool blog you're reading at this very second (Right? I'll draw you a picture with them! Any takers?).

Am I really that weird?

Here's a picture of a cute little turtle. RaNdOm!!1!

I'm in a creative writing class this semester and the first thing we've been talking about is good characterization. For the past two classes we've all been writing characterizations of ourselves, which is kind of fun in itself, but the teacher is so bent on us concentrating on our "weird" characteristics. Yes, I know everyone has odd little quirks and things, but the degree to which she's pushing this "You're so WEIRD! Be weird and PROUD!" thing on us just makes me think of the badly-dressed socially inept announcing how weird and "rAnDoM" they are. I mean, I'm all for embracing your quirks and knowing your strengths and weaknesses, but I think we're all old enough to begin doing that like adults. Right?

Anyway, we had to come up with a bunch of weird things about ourselves. These are mine!

• I seem to not like my food fully cooked. Every time I order a steak or a burger (or used to, anyway... veggie time!), it's as rare as I can have it. Eggs? Runny yolks. Fish? Sushi! And vegetables and fruits I like raw and crunchy with dressing. I suppose veggies aren't all that weird to like uncooked, but all the meat I've ever ordered? I think some of it was still alive.

• I don't want children. Luckily, Tom feels the same way! I have so many reasons for this it could be its own post.

• All my electronics have names. The laptop is Declan (the old one was Dmitri). The iPod is Benvolio. The D3000 is Caspian. My little sister did this too when we were little. Every time there were peaches in the kitchen, she would adopt one and name it Cynthia.

• In kindergarten one day, my teacher handed out bits of newspaper articles so all the kids could circle the capital letters and underline all the names and such. When I went home, I asked my mom what 'abortion' was. She called my teacher, frantic at where I learned that word. Guess I'd gotten the article on Planned Parenthood or something. Thus, my mom learned about my accelerated reading ability.

Anyone want to share weird things about themselves?

The cutest little cardinal sin ever.

I love sloths. They may just be my favourite animals ever.

Via MicroMacroMicro @ Flickr.

Via Jimmy Six Bellies @ Flickr.

Demonstrating the patented 'sloth cling'.

Did you know that sloths are one of the two animals that always look like they're smiling? Points if you know what the other one is!

Like I said in my last sloth-oriented post, I must cuddle one of these things sometime in my life. As odd as that sounds, there is a sloth rescue sanctuary -- A SLOTH RESCUE SANCTUARY -- where I might someday go to fulfill my dream.

I like how my favourite animals rhyme. Sloths and moths!

Opals for October.

Via Different Seasons Jewelry.

October's child is born for woe,
And life's vicissitudes must know,
But lay an opal on her breast,
And hope will lull those woes to rest.

It bothers me that a lot of times, while other months get to keep their natural stones, October's is replaced by man-made rose zircon (and December's turquoise is replaced by blue zircon) -- snoozefest! Opal is so much more beautiful. It's bizarrely underappreciated.

Opal trivia:

• Ancient Greeks believed that wearing opals granted the abilities of foresight and prophecy. Medieval Europeans thought that opals gave the wearer powers of invisibility. Some people today still believe in the magical properties of opals -- that they promote good eyesight, inner healing, and other mystical benefits.
  
• Black opals are the rarest kind. They are not actually black -- they just have a dark background, with blue, green, purple, or orange fire.
• Queen Victoria favoured opals in her jewellery.
• Opals were once believed to be bad luck, especially if one who was not born in October wore them.
• The Olympic Australis is the largest opal in the world. Although it remains uncut, it is valued at about $2 million.

Opals have always been my favourite stone (with emeralds a close second -- can't get enough of green!). I have an opal pendant that I love to wear, even though it is a man-made, and I used to have a pretty ring, until last year when my apartment was burgled and it was most maliciously pilfered from my jewellery box. I mean to expand my collection of these little lovelies soon -- as an October girl, it would be a shame not to!

Steampunk etiquette: you are what you wear?

As many of you may know, DragonCon just took place in Atlanta and all manner of reviews, photographs, and storytelling is popping up in nerdlike communities and forums all over the interwebs.

I came across a particular anecdote in one of the steampunk forums that for once made me do more than look wistfully at the photos, sigh, and wish I could have been there. The lady who posted this particular story had gone into a convention room and, finding that there were no more chairs available, became offended that none of the men in the room offered her his chair to sit in and bemoaned the lack of decent Victorian manners in the steampunk community.

Honestly, I was a bit surprised. The poster seemed to think that because we dress in Victorian style, we should behave with the accompanying Victorian mannerisms. This, I think, is pure nonsense, for the following reasons.

First of all, steampunk is obviously not Victorian reenacting. Hell, one of the common questions raised by steampunk newbies is "do I have to wear historically accurate clothing?", and the answer is invariably "what? of course not!" This is why we can have things like sexy airship pirates and mad scientists with time machines. These are some of the most iconic images of the style! Who will demand adherence to Victorian behaviour when the style itself doesn't demand adherence to historically accurate clothing? Or would one only expect such manners of people dressed as normal, proper Victorians, as opposed to crazy characters? Does that mean one needs to expect the sexy airship pirates to rob you blind, and then get offended when they don't behave according to their appearance?

Second, one cannot expect everyone to hold the same ideals, opinions, or standards, even within the same subculture. Where one person likes to dress up in a bustle and top hat on Halloween and for theme parties, another may wear an underclothes corset and have high tea on a daily basis, and yet another might just dress in long skirts and puffy blouses while living an otherwise completely 21st-century lifestyle. Just because one feels a particular way doesn't mean everyone else will -- or that they even have to, which I think is something everyone should take into consideration more often. The notion that men need to open doors for, walk on the road side of, and generally treat women like they're about to break has been discarded today by men and women alike -- it happens. Times change. And just because some of us like to dress up from another era doesn't mean we're not still living in the present day.

Thirdly, I think there is something of a shade of hypocrisy over someone who dresses anachronistically yet expects period manners of others. Steampunks mix Victorian styles with influences from many other eras, hence there exists steampulp, gaslight, clockpunk, etc. If one wants to hold steampunks to offering chairs to women, why not other mannerisms? Shall we insist that women must wear their corsets under their blouses (no self-respecting woman would have her undergarments displayed so inappropriately!) and grubby mechanics are not allowed to dine with characters of nobility? Of course not! But is it unreasonable of one to demand observance of particular customs while ignoring others, especially if one is insisting on holding to strict Victorian etiquette.

Also, the attitude that the poster took towards this subject quite put me off on its own. She said that because she was wearing a corset, long skirt, and heels, she should have been given special treatment because she was dressed in cumbersome clothing. In my opinion, if one's outfit for a convention (an event where one expects to stand in long lines, cram into panel rooms, sit on the floor, and be on one's feet for extended periods of time) is uncomfortable enough to the point where one feels like one should be entitled to displacing another person of their seat, one is wearing a poorly designed or planned outfit. Furthermore, despite the apparent seriousness of her plight, the poster declined to ask someone to volunteer their seat. Did she expect someone to read her mind? It was important enough to complain about on a forum, but not enough to quietly ask to borrow someone's chair?

To quote the poster, "if you want me to wear a corset, heels and a skirt again in the future, this sort of thing has got to change." The thing she ignored, however, is that no one has demanded that she dress in such a manner. She chose her own outfit, wore it of her own free will, and then became upset when no one catered to her when she decided she was uncomfortable. I also found it terribly amusing that the poster declared unless things change, she will start bringing her own chair to events where she would be similarly dressed. I don't know if this was jokingly suggested to close her post or not, but if the latter, I wonder if she would insist upon a male companion carrying said chair around for her because it isn't seemly for Victorian women to tote around anything heavier than a coin purse?

Finally, when it comes down to the line, honestly people, it's just clothing. Whether steampunk, Hollister-style prep, Lolita, scene, or any other style or subculture, the clothes one wears are no indication of the behaviour within, just like having a particular disposition does not automatically come with a dress code.

And to close, I feel like I should say that I am all for being considerate of others and not intentionally causing unnecessary trouble for people. But in this day and age when not everyone has the same set of appropriate social behaviours, and society itself does not hold everyone to the same obligations that it has in the past (and these obligations are even different across the nation), the best defense against feeling socially snubbed is to take care of yourself and not expect people to treat you as though they need to be looking out for you. They're not. They're taking care of themselves. And if that means you feel like you have to carry around your own chair for when your feet start to ache, so be it -- just don't come complaining to the internet when your chair-carrying arm gets tired. Or you could, y'know, not wear the uncomfortable shoes on convention day.