a potato, but like, a really pretty potato

Thank you to frausorge for the wonderful Secret Santa package!

sephystabbity — Thu, 29 Dec 2022 05:43:40 GMT

I got home from the usual holiday shuffle from aunt to aunt today to find a package in my PO box so apologies for the few days delay, but a huge HUGE thank you to frausorge for the wonderful Secret Santa package and thank you as well to the wonderfully industrious ikel89 for organizing this exchange every year!

First of all, I took a picture of the box itself because literally every single thing inside was wrapped. This is a commitment to the bit that I can only admire and be awed by, not emulate.

All of the packages laid out altogether, just to drive in the amount of effort and care that went into this. Really, I'm so touched, thank you so much.

After unwrapping them all, let me lay them out in some sense of category.

Firstly, the books. I'm interested to read the top two which are short story collections, while the bottom is an utterly beautiful art collection from San Francisco's Panama-Pacific International Expo, which I've already devoured because I just can't help myself when it comes to artbooks.

Next up in my accessories I'd mentioned only that I don't really accessorize but I'm forever losing my black hairbands that I use to keep my hair away from my face, so I laughed when I unwrapped this package to find the exact kinds i use 😂😂😂

Next up, I mentioned I like going biking, and frausorge included something in the package that made me begin to suspect mind-reading is going on here, because it is a clip on light, and my lights had actually died out so I was planning to get a new set after the snows clear out in the new year, so this will do nicely. and the lights are seriously bright which is really nice because it actually is quiet dark even in summer months when i set out for work in the mornings, so bright lights are quite necessary.

There were truly a COLOSSAL amount of snacks in the package like really after i took them out, i'm not sure how i can fit them all back into the box, some arcane packing engineering was involved here. to begin with peppermint candy and sherbet wheels jelly candy. the peppermint candy tastes like peppermint candy, which is all that any respectable peppermint candy should taste like. the sherbert wheels are not as sweet as usual jelly, they have a bit of a tartness to them, and i like that actually.

Next up I've grouped the box of cookie snacks here, so they might seem small in the picture, but know that each of these boxes are like twice the size of my hand, and HEFTY. The first box (top left) is butterzeug butter cookies in fun shapes, they're really the perfect balance of flavour for me to have with tea (more on that later). The next two boxes/packs are both gingerbread cookies with the former being just a bit harder on the tongue than the latter, which actually makes for a nice experience to swap them one by one when eating. However, once again I will be levying mind-reading accusations here, for you see, the first gingerbread cookie appears like clockwork at the local fancy people grocery store every december and every december i trot out to that grocery store specifically for this cookie, so it was a pleasant surprise to have it show up in my gift parcel this time.

The fourth box is vanillekipterl (crescent-shaped vanilla cookies), spiked spekulatius cookies, and zimtsterne (cinnamon stars). I haven't opened these yet because there's only so much cookies I can eat in one day, but I'm looking forward to trying them!!

Next up, I mentioned liking to drink plain black tea, and what was in the package but an extremely cute cylindrical package of black tea.

Possibly just the packaging nerd in me, but I was really taken by the silky softness of the tea bag, which my camera can barely capture the true texture of, but in real life it has a really beautiful pearly sheen to it that's just lovely to look at.

Next up, I am always ALWAYS so grateful for any kind of hand moisturizers because my skin gets easily dry/cracked in the winter and I go through tubes and tubes of them by the time spring rolls around, so this thick boy was nice to get in the package.

Finally, I asked for good book/poetry/play recommendations and frausorge kindly provided a list in the card itself that was included in the package, which I won't be showing for obvious privacy reasons, but I'm excited to try them out in addition to the books above, especially the poetry recs!!

In summary, thank you so much frausorge for the amount of care and WORK you put into this. Every year it feels like my santas inspire me to be a much better santa for the next year, and this year is no exception. Happy Holidays to you and I hope you're having a great break!

As well, I would be remiss if I don't also thank ikel89 for always doing the slog of organizing this year after year and especially this year as I straight up forgot to hand my application in on time 🤡 thank you so much for your hard work Kay!

Thank you Ambyr for your gorgeous Secret Santa letter

sephystabbity — Mon, 31 Jan 2022 14:21:00 GMT

Well, my annual tradition is a little late, but here i am logging on faithfully(-ish) once a year(-ish) as usual, to thank Ambyr (@ambyr on dreamwidth) for the gorgeous Secret Santa letter that they sent me.

To begin, the envelope itself, with a beautiful golden cat stamp (it's actually shiny gold though that doesn't come through in the photo!) that i teased out and saved, because I haven’t collected stamps in years, but it was still too beautiful for me to not save. Also, I’m more than a little charmed that Ambyr apparently has personalized envelopes with a cats logo, this is the kind of level I want to be on. Goals tbh.

Next, the letter (note the cutie pie little cat charm at the bottom of page one.) Ambyr wrote a very cute and touching letter about how they looked through my ancient deviant art (!!!) for my interests and got me stuff based on that in addition to my letter which is just??? An angelic level of devotion to their Santa job??? Also, I’d honestly forgotten I even had a deviant art page still publicly accessible.

The other pages contained poems, because I’d mentioned in my form that I loved reading new poems (I do, and my love has like, quintupled since I filled out that form so) so they HAND-COPIED some poems for me??? And then cut out illustrations to match them??? And idk if they ’s a mind-reader or something, but I’m currently collecting a lot of Mucha artwork and stained glass art because I’m trying to improve my lineart skills, so I’m actually keeping these letters not just out of sentiment but I’m actually taking them out while I practise to use as reference??

Predictably, the cat poem is my favourite bc ofc it is. they also sent me a tarot reading and a card (more on the card later), and you can see the tarot page in the letter, though I blurred out the actual text for privacy’s sake. Apparently this is part of a year-long project where they is sending one tarot card and reading each to people and I think that is a super cool project for someone to undertake. I got the three of cups, which apparently celebrates creativity, friendship and creative collaborations, which is surprisingly well-fitting for someone who doesn’t even know me outside of this exchange, because I am creative!! And I do collaborate with friends a lot!!

Not to make a meal out of it, but can i just say I am both equally impressed by the level of detail that went into the art cutouts for these letter pages? Like, check out that shiny cat sticker next to the cat poem! Check out those little music notes cut out of paper so that it looks like they’re emanating form the music instrument the lady is holding??

Below is the three of cups card. Again, i’m obsessed with the art, and this is another one I’ll be trotting out for reference while practising, because this is the level of lineart and detail i want to be at with my art one day. they also sent me a Tyrion Lannister because they saw my involvement in the Game of Thrones fandom from my deviantart page, and I had no idea there was even a card game, I should look up the mechanics.

Next up, I’d mentioned in the form that my current major fandom that I’m obsessed with is The Locked Tomb book series, so they sent me a postcard with a photo of a cemetery local to their city because it fits the aesthetic of the books, and yeahhh it totally does actually, i might draw a fanart based on that in fact, once I get some other stuff off my plate. Also, check out that linocut of a lotus. Ambyr did that!! That is the kind of handmade stuff I love getting, like so much care goes into stuff like this, and as someone who mostly does digital art, I really enjoy the rare chance of getting to hold something that someone made themselves.

The final two little booklets (you can see the outside in the photo above, and the inside in the photo below) hold a poem each, and they are small print editions if I understand the outer text correctly. Invictus by William Ernest Henley is one I’ve already read and obviously like, just judging by the fact that I still remember it despite reading tons of poems after that I cannot for the life of me recall. The other poem I was unfamiliar with before now, but I enjoyed reading it, it’s very much, as the kids say, the Aesthetic.

Then, as if that weren’t enough, Ambyr also sent me three postcards, which feature my three favourite genre of sapphics: astral, psychotic and dead. The bottom one is very much my Aesthetic. The top right one is one of those things that’s Not My Style, but which i love seeing other people draw and which I voraciously consume, if that makes sense. The top left has such Locked Tomb vibes that even now everytime I pass my desk and see it, I have to convince myself it’s not Ianthe Tridentarius holding that rapier over Camilla Hect’s neck. Anyways, very much My Thing, all three, which is why they’re lounging on my aforementioned desk to still look at, instead of being safely tucked away into my postcard folder.

Last but not least, on account of my ATLA stuff on my deviantart, Ambyr also sent me the cutest little ATLA pin in LGBT pride colours, which is now joining the Discworld and Locked Tomb pins I already have on my bag.

Anyways, I’ve rambled on enough so I just want to say, thank you so much for this entire letter Ambyr!!! It’s really cheered me up through this snowed-down slog that January has been, and I’ll be keeping it out instead of putting it away safely so that it can cheer me up a little more over the Feburary slog too. Every part of this letter was so clearly carefully crafted, even such small things as the stamp, I can’t help but set it as an example of Santa-ing to aspire to. I hope you’re having a better start to your new year than before, and that good things are happening to you!

Thank you Ksenia for the wonderful Secret Santa gift!

sephystabbity — Mon, 08 Feb 2021 14:21:15 GMT

First of all, a HUGE apology for Ksenia (who is not on LJ, sorry for my earlier mixup of tagging the wrong person) for my 1 week+ delay from when this parcel was delivered to me posting this. I'm staying in a different location right now after our stricter lockdown orders came down, and not travelling back to my place much. Anyhow, THANK YOU SO MUCH KSENIA FOR YOUR WONDERFUL GIFT THAT CHEERED UP MY DREARY JANUARY. Your gifts were so thoughtful, and downright prescient to the point where I wondered if you were reading Future!Me's mind ;) and your long letter was so wonderful to read (and listen! :D)

To begin with, the card:

This card was cute and had the sweetest and kindest and longest message written on it (and with such pretty handwriting), but omg that’s not even the end of it. THE CARD LIGHTS UP AND PLAYS JINGLE BELLS.

I knew cards like this existed, but I hadn’t gotten one before now, it’s really cool to try out!

Then, in the accessories section, I'd mentioned that I don't really accesorize, but would love anything to help ward off the Canadian winter, and lo and behold, Ksenia delivered and more!!

My favourite part is the lil mustaches in addition to the functional hats, I'm gonna have fun wearing these over my mask when I venture out for grocery shopping and what not.

So I mentioned in my letter that I had taken up baking during the pandulce (hasn't everyone?) and this one made me laugh when I opened it because I knew exactly who in my life would love to receive candy and cookie made in a silicone mustache mold. It’s just the sort of quirky thing that’s unusual and that I love, thank you Ksenia!

A mug! (And I appreciate the mustache theme running through this gif package, it’s like a leitmotif and I see and appreciate it.) Actually, it’s been a while since I got myself a new mug, and I’ve recently got myself addicted to tea, so this one is much appreciated!!

I don’t know why, but I don’t really like the chocolate that is sold around here in Canada and don’t eat it often, but that isn’t the case with international chocolates. International chocolates just somehow taste better, (Maybe Canada just has a really low bar for what constitutes as good chocolate lol, and by low I mean UNDERGROUND.) Anyways, these were delicious, and had that definite uptick in taste that I’m used to from international candy. But also, look, there were individual drawings on each of the bars, and each one was different! Adorable! The kitty is my fav because of course the kitty is my fav.

Cookie molds! I really appreciate how unique these are instead of the usual molds because hell yeah I wanna make and decorate some unique shaped cookies! But also, I had to laugh because I too sent silicone molds and cookie molds to my Santee recipient, so we were clearly on the same wavelength this year, Ksenia.

Cooking utensils! I think Ksenia sent these because I mentioned that I’ve been learning to cook for myself more and more this lockdown. In fact, I was actually going to go buy a slotted spoon the next time I went near the cutlery store, so this is another case of Ksenia reading my mind in advance and sending it to me. And look at the corn decoration!!! SO CUTE I LOVE IT KSENIA

AGAIN HOW DID U READ MY MIND BECAUSE I DID NOT MENTION THIS IN THE LETTER IIRC, BUT I LOVE GINGERBREAD COOKIES THEY ARE MY REASON FOR THE SEASON, AND I LOVED IT

WORM SOCKS! Ok again, Ksenia seems to have read my mind bc you wouldn’t believe it but, I was literally searching for my cozy socks that are exactly like this right before i went to pick up the parcel, and one sock was missing so I was like, guess I have to order another pair. And then, right there in the Santa box, was another pair, and supercute reindeer ones at that! Mind reader!

And thus we come to the end of this glorious package. I have one more thing to say, I was really glad I got to open it on the cusp of February/late January because it really is such a dreary and back-breaking time, and this was just the perfect pick-me-up. I am really, truly touched by all the work that went into packing this parcel. Thank you so much, Ksenia. A belated Happy Holidays to you, and everyone you love! And also, a massive thank you to ikel89 as always, for masterminding this endeavour.

As for life matters, well, that's 2020 down the drain. It ended as ignobly as it began, I guess. Thankfully, no one I know personally has been impacted by the panpizza, though I haven't been able to see my parents in a couple months bc they're in the danger age zone. My company has decided to shut down by March because of all the lost international business, but if I'm honest, I'm not too stressed about it. I've got a tidy amount saved up to tide me through a few months of unemployment, and I always seem to land on my feet, eventually.

It feels a little dangerous to wish for a better 2021, so here's a cautious toast to a new year, and new beginnings! Stay safe, everyone still here!

Thank you to Rinkafushi for the Secret Santa package!!!

sephystabbity — Tue, 24 Dec 2019 05:56:49 GMT

First of all, HUGE apologies to my Santa rinkafushi because I am delayed a few days in posting this since I got my package. Between getting sick (the day after I got my flu shot, because the universe loves me like that), and being shuttled from relative to relative for the holiday rush, I only got back to my own place today to take stock and do the proper writeup and thank you email that this parcel deserved. Because you have outdone yourself, my dear Santa, and thank you so so much for taking the time to give this gift for me, I am touched by every part of it :')

First of all, when I opened the box, immediately I was charmed because the inside is all hidden inside the cutest little tote bag.

Here is the tote bag on its own, with arcane writing on it. I'll certainly be putting it to use, but what a clever way to also shield the contents, thanks Santa! :D

Next, each parcel was individual wrapped too, which is just incredibly charming, and I think I remember that from the last time you were my Santa too :) The tape too... ahhhhh so cute!!!!

When I opened it, HOLY COW THE AMOUNT OF CHOCOLATES!!! I was in chocolate heaven and of course had to share with my coworkers and family, and between the two groups it was gone in less than a day because that's how good it was!!!

But ohoho, that wasn't even the best part of the sweeet treats. That was this! A box of homemade cookies, MY FAVOURITE PART OF THE ENTIRE PACKAGE!!! First, they came in the cutest tine, with an adorable note on top :')

They were baked by rinkafushi's mom(ETA: I misunderstood, they were baked by rinkafushi herself!!!), and OH MY GOOD LOOK AT THE BEAUTIFUL PATTERNS AHHH!!!! Almost too beautiful to eat (but I did eat them.)

Then, this! An absolutely gorgeous jar of bake-your-own-cookie ingredients, which I am holding off on using until my sister comes to town, because she has the baking chops in the family. But just the aesthetic of it, I am love 😍😍😍

And then the CUTEST snoopy bug with LITTLE REINDEER EARS HE IS SO CUTE. Also reindeer antler ears are one of those things that, everyone has a Thing, and that is one of my aesthetic Things, so I am incredibly cuted out by this mug, I am putting it in my tea mug circulation immediately.

And sustainable lip balm! Heck yes!!! I love the aesthetic of it too, the plastic half and wooden half coming together in such preeeeety harmony. I love it.

And then, if that wasn't enough!!! A bicycle bell!!! And just on time too, because mine is really rusty from all the rain and snow and I was JUST thinking that I needed to replace it because there's so little sound coming out. And this one is so much cuter than my generic one with the widdle Koala 😍

Thank you rinkafushi for being such an amazing Santa for the second time now in the Santa circulation run by our dragon overlord K. Every year I am touched by the work of my Santa, and inspired to do better myself in the next year, annd this year continues that tradition. Your kind letter really touched me as well, and in that vein, I hope that you and your loved one are doing well too, as mine are.

And as always, thank you to our overlord ikel89 for masterminding the Santa business as always, and especially this year because I was so delinquent in answering your whatsapp message due to New Phone shenanigans. ❤️❤️❤️

I hope everyone reading this has a wonderful couple of weeks (hopefully) off, and looking forward to a bright year. It has been a kind of unremarkable year for me, but I am looking forrward to a much better one with positive thoughts!!! Here's to a soon to be 2020!!

Thank you Sara for the wonderful Secret Santa gift!

sephystabbity — Fri, 21 Dec 2018 19:12:59 GMT

This week, I received my gift from the lovely Sara/cyanshadow. I have to say, the amount of thought and love put into this gift blew me away, and I can only hope to be as good a Santa next year. Thank you so much Sara, for your thoughtfulness in picking these gifts, and for your long and lovely letter. I was smiling giddily while reading it :D

And now *drum roll* for what was in the pakige, for all interested parties ;)

First thing Sara did was take my mention of having a sweet tooth to the full extent, packing her gift lots and lots of delicious goodies, all of which I'm having the most amazing time trying out! I'm loving everything so far! :D While I did share bits here and there with my coworkers, (because I felt too guilty not to!), everything packed was so delicious that I've kept the lione's share to myself! ;)

Some photos below:

Sara packed a lot of the Japanese candy she liked, as well as pear-flavoured hard candy. I've found all of them great so far, thank you so much for the variety. My favourite out of these are these packet below, which seem to be peanut brittle of the Lite(TM) variety. Peanut brittle is something I really love, so of course Lite peanut brittle was the best of the both worlds, and I really enjoyed it. I also enjoyed the rice krispie-like treats! And the hard candy I keep in my desk at work for eating while doing paperwork ;)

Also, look at the cutest little knitted purple stress ball! Actually, it's so useful, Sara, because my hands always get cramped in the winter when I exercise, and then I can't draw, because the cold sets into the muscles or something I guess. So this ball is the perfect device to get my fingers working again. So, really thank you for that :D

And then we've got...

Sara did something really lovely and thoughtful but getting me candy from her local Seattle chocolatiers, along with a beauuuuutiful postcard. The chocolate was not only delicious, but also beautifully wrapped. The wrapping for Brisk Mountain Mint was in fact so beautiful that I've kept it to frame it up. Also, inside the wrapping is a little description of the owner of the company and their fair trade policy, which I thought was really cool! Also, the little brown box is salted caramel chocolate, which was also a wonderful treat! I loved that salt-sweet contrast.

As if that wasn't enough, Sara also spoiled me with this gorgeously wrapped package...

What was inside, you ask?

Books, of course! Specifically, the To The Max version of Lumberjanes, which is an extra special edition of volume 1, with all sort of added goodies like special issue covers and tidbits. And Anya's Ghost! So, I'd read a few issues of Lumberjanes here and there but not in a coherent order, and I've always wanted to read Anya's Ghost ever since I saw a review of it once, so these are perfect book gifts!

Some sneak peaks of inside the books, some panels and cover art I liked ;)

I haven't finished either book yet, but I am starting my winter vacation tonight, so I'm hoping to roll through both of these by the weekend. In summary, thank you so much for this gift, Anya! I loved unravelling every bit of it, and I'm so touched by the thought you put into this. Also, I really loved how you explained your thought process behind each gift in the letter you sent, it really touched me. Thanks so much for being an awesome Santa, and I hope you have an amazing day and holidays!

Thank you hamsterwoman for your Secret Santa 2015 gift!

sephystabbity — Thu, 31 Dec 2015 03:56:43 GMT

*Adele voice* Hello, it's me.

I know I haven't written anything here for the past year basically, but really, I haven't been online much this year except to post pictures and sign off, so yeah. But, ~~today~~ yesterday I received a wonderful Secret Santa parcel from the benevolent Tyrell overlord hamsterwoman in the yearly gift exchange hosted by Santamaster ikel89, so I figured I should pop in and do a real nice thank you with pictures 'n' everything :D

My Santas always catch me at the best time to comfort me, and this one was no different. I was coming home thoroughly out-of-sorts from having been called in to work unexpectedly on my holidays, and what do I get handed right as I walk in through the door but a parcel! I immediately knew it had to be the Secret Santa parcel, because the rest of my expected deliveries for the year had already been done, and imagine my joy when I saw it a cute parcel from none other than Anna! :D

The parcel came in a cardboard box, but when I ripped it open I immediately started grinning because inside was a package-inna-package, and I was greeted by my cheerful old friend, the Manic Pixie Dream Santa giftwrap :DDD

(Russian Santa! I've read about Ded Moroz on Anna's LJ, and it was awesome seeing that signed on the card)

Moving on to the contents of the parcel, the first thing I noticed was that, somehow, Anna had managed to buy out all the candy in San Francisco and fit it all into one box.

Also, it was really cool how Anna mentioned she'd tried to keep some of the candy as local to San Francisco, ex: the Ghirardelli Chocolate below is an SF staple ( I didn't know that, despite having had Ghirardelli chocolates before!)

RIP My Post-workout Body.

This is the Creamy Almond chocolate opened! Much fancy very chocolate.

# the flesh is weak

Also this BEAUTIFULLY WRAPPED chocolate below is See's, which Anna tells me is another California chocolate company.

I opened it and this was inside!

*alexander hamilton voice* i don't know how to say no to this

But this following was my favourite candy out of the lot!

Gourmet jelly beans are apparently a thing!! I could tell these were high-class when I tasted them, because you can actually test legitimate flavours like lime, green apple etc, rather than just the sweet mess that jelly beans usually are. But the aesthete in me just reaaally loved the packaging and the open/close latch.

Cuuuute!!!

Oh and this part of the package made me laugh out loud, because holy Avatar reference, Batman :D Anna got me an AtLA-inspired T-Shirt!!!!

(This is a stock photo from the store because me in holiday mode is too gross to be taking photos of, cute shirt or not). The medium size fits me perfectly Anna, no need to worry about the size. Here is a close up of the T-shirt text that I photographed. (Excuse the weird red lighting that happens to all my photos because of the pink walls of my room reflecting off the lightbulb or something.)

Too cool, and I'm pretty sure that's my first AtLA fandom swag! And Anna's kids helped picked this out, so thank you to them too, and a shoutout to the Rodent family's collective good taste ;)

And if that wasn't spoiling me enough!!! There was more fandom merch to squeal over:

An ASoIaF coin purse! And honestly, I was really suprised by how cute and stylish it looks, because most of the ASoIaF merch I see online looks so rushed and "plop-a-logo-on-a-cloth-and-call-it-a-day"-ish. So this was a really cute and well-designed suprise. Also, Anna must have sekrit mind-reading powers, because I actually have been in the market for a small purse to put my spare coins and cards in, so this came in at exactly the right time.

Also, inside the purse was this super cute Chrestomanci button, which is my first DWJ fandom swag ever!!!

(As do I in my heart-of-hearts, dear button. As do I.)

ETA: Wait, I almost forgot about the books. Anna also sent me these two awesome books!

Both of them look really interesting, and I've already started on the Tam Lin one during my commute today. It's just the tone I like. I'm looking forward to the other one too. Anna had picked out both because she thought them to be similar to DWJ's style of plot/writing, so I'm doubly excited to read both of them, as well as touched that Anna would go to the effort of finding the kind of book I would like :D

And I have, as always, save the best for last: a looong letter from Anna full of kindness and warmth, which made me glow to read it, and then reread it two more times. (Blurred the letter contents, because I'm not sure if Anna would like me sharing that.)

And also, she signed it Grandma Olenna! Aw yiss, Tyrell family shenanigans <3

Thank you so much, Anna, for this wonderful book end to the holiday period! I enjoyed unconvering every part of it. I hope you and your family have a fantastic rest-of-the-holidays! And thank you as well to the great Kay/ikel89 for organizing this!

So that's my 2015 coming to an end. I can't say I'm unhappy to see it end. One can't expect a year to be completely good, but 2015 has been, overall, rather egregiously bad, on a personal front, as well as from the PoV of my close RL friends. Maybe 2016 will be better, I don't know. But 2015 almost went to a point of no return, so I guess it can't get worse, haha. (Famous last words, I know.)

Well, at least I finally managed to quit my second job very recently, so that's a lot of free time I got back into my life in the past month, and it did help to improve my overall mood Also, it gave me a lot more free time to plan out my life, and more time to draw. Emotions are still on a weird rollercoaster ride, where I seem to get weepy over everything, which is still a weird experience, because pre-2014 me was a stolid potato who was very secure about being an emotionally stable person. (But then, pre-2014 me was also a happy-go-lucky-potato who thought things like depression and anger happened to other people, so, uh, famous last words indeed, haha.) Still, here's to a 2016 that will be spent in grinding patiently towards a better and more hopeful situation in life. So, all in all, come at me, New Year. I'm ready for ya.

Hope you all had a happy holidays, and that you enjoyed the short break between work/school, and that you're looking forward to 2016!

sephystabbity — Fri, 13 Mar 2015 00:53:04 GMT

I saw the news just as I was about to go on break at work and I pretty much just went outside, sat in a corner and cried and didn't feel like eating. IDK why it feels personal, but it does, it really does.

sephystabbity — Sat, 24 Jan 2015 00:00:20 GMT

I left tumblr a few months ago. There are many reasons, but the two main reasons, the ones I didn't dare publicly announce, is a) I have been severly sad this whole year for many compounded reasons, and tumblr was making it workse and b) that I needed to be a better person.

Leaving was the best thing that happened to me. Instead of crab-bucketing on the internet, I went out into the community, I got involved in helping people, I hung out with my friends more. Any spare time I had alone, I spent it in community work, reading books and making art, which I privately stored away on my computer, rather that putting it online or showing it to people. I tried to be a better person, and eventually, I became a happier one, too.

A few months after my leaving, something happened in a fandom I know of but wasn't involved heavily in before, and I wanted to show my joy for that event by making art. At first I just stored the art away privately, as usual. But, some part of me wanted to share in the communal joy of the event, by sharing that art. I don't know how use twitter, and LJ and dArt are not very suitable for art sharing. I thought I would make an art-only tumblr, and put up some art and some funny comics I did. It went okay, and people seemed to like my stuff.

But apparently, posting art in a fandom inevitably means you get to know the fandom better. And once you know the fandom better, you see all the drama and hate and infighting that seeps through it like fucking cancer.

I don't want to be associated with a fandom like this. This is exactly the kind of drama I wanted to get away from

I honestly don't know why I'm getting so emotional about this. I'm not involved in this drama personally. But I see it from the sidelines, I see the names and accusations hurled by people from both sides and each other, and for some reason it's really breaking me up inside and making me sad again. Fandom used to be a happy thing. Why are all these people so engrossed in throwing hate at each other? Does it make them happy? Does it make them feel better?

I just want to make art about the things I enjoy, and to see pretty art that other people make, without always going into the tags and seeing people fighting about meaningless things. Everyone is so hateful, on both side, on all sides. There is no side that looks good here.

I wish people weren't such jerks to each other, that we could at least try to see things from another point of view. I wish we could just like what we like, without hating someone who likes something different from us. Only the Sith deal in absolutes, right? No one group can be all bad, right? If even I, who only posts art, can feel this bad over it, how must other people, who are actually involved in these things, feel? Don't they feel like they're breaking up inside, like the thing that is supposed to be their happy place is snatched away from them by careless, grabby hands?

I know I was an idiot a thousand times before. I'll probably be an idiot a thousand times again. But somewhere along the way, I think I learned better. I learned to be less judgemental, bitchy and prejudiced, against people who I once thought I had a right to be prejudiced against. I learned to see many sides to an argument. That was a main reason for me leaving tumblr before; I didn't want to turn into a bitter, nasty, jaded person, and I was, help me I am so, so, sorry for some of the things I said and reblogged, I was.

Maybe I can hope that these people arguing will learn better too? That, on both sides, they will realize that there is bad people on all sides of an argument, and come to peace with the existence of each other?

But right now, I'm kind of crying, and I want to delete this tumblr again, because i'm so sick of drama and hate, even one that I am not involved in. I just wanted to make art, I don't want to be associated with any of this.

SENDING HOLIDAY CARDS!

sephystabbity — Fri, 05 Dec 2014 18:22:02 GMT

If you want me to send you a holiday card or postcard, please comment here or message me with your PO Box / address/ whatnot :)

All comments are screened :DDDD

sephystabbity — Tue, 25 Nov 2014 04:06:47 GMT

Play like a girl

sephystabbity — Fri, 21 Feb 2014 00:15:16 GMT

FOURTH GOLD MEDAL IN A ROW FUCK YEAH. Props to Team USA for being a fantastic competitor!

Happy Galentine's Day!

sephystabbity — Wed, 13 Feb 2013 16:56:51 GMT

To celebrate, I wanted to share one of my favourite love stories, by one of my favourite artists!
(She also has some other great comics, like the delightfully creepy and twisty-turny His Face All Red, and the Poe-tic The Prince & the Sea)

LAST CALL FOR HOLIDAY CARDS!

sephystabbity — Sat, 22 Dec 2012 05:15:52 GMT

If you want a holiday card, comment on this entry with your name and address. All comments are screened!

Make sure to specify whether you want standard, homemade, or any other stipulations you prefer ;)

Trick or Treat!

sephystabbity — Sun, 28 Oct 2012 03:04:58 GMT

Because Halloween is one of my more preferred holidays of the year, I'm following mrstater's example and inviting trick or treaters to my door!

Comment "trick-or-treat" to this post and you shall be rewarded. Treats can be anything I choose to bestow upon thee, oh merry trick-or-treater (little drawings, graphics, gifs, maybe tiny fics, or little writeups about you, and so on.) The more "houses" to visit the merrier, so go ahead and open up your journal as well, if you please :)

ETA: Some of images seem to be disappearing due to Photobucket's shenanigans, so I reposted links here.

Completed already:
Tahorra for jesatria
Jaime/Loras for hamsterwoman
Greyjoy Fanmix for mezzogiorno
Jorah/Dany for mrstater
Minsu Gangnam Style for cosmicanomaly
Egg & his facepam-worthy family for ikel89
Grown Egg/Aegon the Unlikely for ikel89
Rhaegar & Lyanna for missyquill
Young Loras in the Rainbow Guard for ladyamaly
Young Jaime & Joanna Lannister for deeplyunhip
Lyanna as the KotLT for kitrinlu
Highschool!AU Jaime/Brienne for fallingtowers
San/San for sunnytyler001

HOUSE SPARKLY WINS

sephystabbity — Thu, 03 May 2012 07:24:20 GMT

YUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSS

(credits to cabepfir for the art, chacusha for the banner)

Sorry, I promise I don't usually post things this long above a cut, but I'm really proud of this win. I really think we came together well as a team, and we've worked pretty damn hard for this, and I'm just so glad we did well :D

And I was happy/proud to see my Dragonknight art used for the Targaryen banner. Thank you, powers that be, although I am not worthy of such honour XD

Wikipedia Blackout: Urge Wikipedia To Protest Censorship

sephystabbity — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 23:46:02 GMT

Originally posted by mountain_hiker at Wikipedia

Please share and reshare all over the social networks! Encourage Wikipedia to go dark next week!

Wikipedia Blackout: Urge Wikipedia To Protest Censorship

Quick request: Wikipedia is considering going dark to protest SOPA and PIPA, the Internet censorship bills.

It'd be huge news, jar rank-and-file Internet users out of complacency, and serve as a turning point in the effort to beat these bills.

Several sites are considering going dark next week -- Reddit's already pledged to do so, but to have the impact it'll take to kill SOPA and PIPA, we need much broader support. A blackout by Wikipedia could be what finally kills these bills.

Will sign you on at right to urge Wikipedia to go on strike to protest censorship? (You'll also generate an email to your lawmakers, with the language at right.)
PETITION TO WIKIPEDIA: We encourage Wikipedia to "go dark" to proest the Internet censorship bills pending before Congress. Millions of Americans would take notice, and it could be what finally turns the corner in the fight against SOPA and PIPA.
Please sign at right to urge Wikipedia to go dark, and to generate an anti-SOPA/PIPA letter to your lawmakers.

HUMANITY, Y U DO THIS

sephystabbity — Sat, 12 Nov 2011 07:49:02 GMT

The dark side of Dubai

Dubai was meant to be a Middle-Eastern Shangri-La, a glittering monument to Arab enterprise and western capitalism. But as hard times arrive in the city state that rose from the desert sands, an uglier story is emerging. Johann Hari reports

The wide, smiling face of Sheikh Mohammed – the absolute ruler of Dubai – beams down on his creation. His image is displayed on every other building, sandwiched between the more familiar corporate rictuses of Ronald McDonald and Colonel Sanders. This man has sold Dubai to the world as the city of One Thousand and One Arabian Lights, a Shangri-La in the Middle East insulated from the dust-storms blasting across the region. He dominates the Manhattan-manqué skyline, beaming out from row after row of glass pyramids and hotels smelted into the shape of piles of golden coins. And there he stands on the tallest building in the world – a skinny spike, jabbing farther into the sky than any other human construction in history.

But something has flickered in Sheikh Mohammed's smile. The
ubiquitous cranes have paused on the skyline, as if stuck in time. There
are countless buildings half-finished, seemingly abandoned. In the
swankiest new constructions – like the vast Atlantis hotel, a giant pink
castle built in 1,000 days for $1.5bn on its own artificial island –
where rainwater is leaking from the ceilings and the tiles are falling
off the roof. This Neverland was built on the Never-Never – and now the
cracks are beginning to show. Suddenly it looks less like Manhattan in
the sun than Iceland in the desert.

Once the manic burst of building has stopped and the whirlwind has
slowed, the secrets of Dubai are slowly seeping out. This is a city
built from nothing in just a few wild decades on credit and ecocide,
suppression and slavery. Dubai is a living metal metaphor for the
neo-liberal globalised world that may be crashing – at last – into
history.

I. An Adult Disneyland

Karen Andrews can't speak. Every time she starts to tell her story,
she puts her head down and crumples. She is slim and angular and has the
faded radiance of the once-rich, even though her clothes are as creased
as her forehead. I find her in the car park of one of Dubai's finest
international hotels, where she is living, in her Range Rover. She has
been sleeping here for months, thanks to the kindness of the Bangladeshi
car park attendants who don't have the heart to move her on. This is
not where she thought her Dubai dream would end.

Her story comes out in stutters, over four hours. At times, her old
voice – witty and warm – breaks through. Karen came here from Canada
when her husband was offered a job in the senior division of a famous
multinational. "When he said Dubai, I said – if you want me to wear
black and quit booze, baby, you've got the wrong girl. But he asked me
to give it a chance. And I loved him."

All her worries melted when she touched down in Dubai in 2005. "It
was an adult Disneyland, where Sheikh Mohammed is the mouse," she says.
"Life was fantastic. You had these amazing big apartments, you had a
whole army of your own staff, you pay no taxes at all. It seemed like
everyone was a CEO. We were partying the whole time."

Her husband, Daniel, bought two properties. "We were drunk on Dubai,"
she says. But for the first time in his life, he was beginning to
mismanage their finances. "We're not talking huge sums, but he was
getting confused. It was so unlike Daniel, I was surprised. We got into a
little bit of debt." After a year, she found out why: Daniel was
diagnosed with a brain tumour.

One doctor told him he had a year to live; another said it was benign
and he'd be okay. But the debts were growing. "Before I came here, I
didn't know anything about Dubai law. I assumed if all these big
companies come here, it must be pretty like Canada's or any other
liberal democracy's," she says. Nobody told her there is no concept of
bankruptcy. If you get into debt and you can't pay, you go to prison.

"When we realised that, I sat Daniel down and told him: listen, we
need to get out of here. He knew he was guaranteed a pay-off when he
resigned, so we said – right, let's take the pay-off, clear the debt,
and go." So Daniel resigned – but he was given a lower pay-off than his
contract suggested. The debt remained. As soon as you quit your job in
Dubai, your employer has to inform your bank. If you have any
outstanding debts that aren't covered by your savings, then all your
accounts are frozen, and you are forbidden to leave the country.

"Suddenly our cards stopped working. We had nothing. We were thrown
out of our apartment." Karen can't speak about what happened next for a
long time; she is shaking.

Daniel was arrested and taken away on the day of their eviction. It
was six days before she could talk to him. "He told me he was put in a
cell with another debtor, a Sri Lankan guy who was only 27, who said he
couldn't face the shame to his family. Daniel woke up and the boy had
swallowed razor-blades. He banged for help, but nobody came, and the boy
died in front of him."

Karen managed to beg from her friends for a few weeks, "but it was so
humiliating. I've never lived like this. I worked in the fashion
industry. I had my own shops. I've never..." She peters out.

Daniel was sentenced to six months' imprisonment at a trial he
couldn't understand. It was in Arabic, and there was no translation.
"Now I'm here illegally, too," Karen says I've got no money, nothing. I
have to last nine months until he's out, somehow." Looking away, almost
paralysed with embarrassment, she asks if I could buy her a meal.

She is not alone. All over the city, there are maxed-out expats
sleeping secretly in the sand-dunes or the airport or in their cars.

"The thing you have to understand about Dubai is – nothing is what it
seems," Karen says at last. "Nothing. This isn't a city, it's a
con-job. They lure you in telling you it's one thing – a modern kind of
place – but beneath the surface it's a medieval dictatorship."

II. Tumbleweed

Thirty years ago, almost all of contemporary Dubai was desert,
inhabited only by cactuses and tumbleweed and scorpions. But downtown
there are traces of the town that once was, buried amidst the metal and
glass. In the dusty fort of the Dubai Museum, a sanitised version of
this story is told.

In the mid-18th century, a small village was built here, in the lower
Persian Gulf, where people would dive for pearls off the coast. It soon
began to accumulate a cosmopolitan population washing up from Persia,
the Indian subcontinent, and other Arab countries, all hoping to make
their fortune. They named it after a local locust, the daba, who
consumed everything before it. The town was soon seized by the gunships
of the British Empire, who held it by the throat as late as 1971. As
they scuttled away, Dubai decided to ally with the six surrounding
states and make up the United Arab Emirates (UAE).

The British quit, exhausted, just as oil was being discovered, and
the sheikhs who suddenly found themselves in charge faced a remarkable
dilemma. They were largely illiterate nomads who spent their lives
driving camels through the desert – yet now they had a vast pot of gold.
What should they do with it?

Dubai only had a dribble of oil compared to neighbouring Abu Dhabi –
so Sheikh Maktoum decided to use the revenues to build something that
would last. Israel used to boast it made the desert bloom; Sheikh
Maktoum resolved to make the desert boom. He would build a city to be a
centre of tourism and financial services, sucking up cash and talent
from across the globe. He invited the world to come tax-free – and they
came in their millions, swamping the local population, who now make up
just 5 per cent of Dubai. A city seemed to fall from the sky in just
three decades, whole and complete and swelling. They fast-forwarded from
the 18th century to the 21st in a single generation.

If you take the Big Bus Tour of Dubai – the passport to a
pre-processed experience of every major city on earth – you are fed the
propaganda-vision of how this happened. "Dubai's motto is 'Open doors,
open minds'," the tour guide tells you in clipped tones, before
depositing you at the souks to buy camel tea-cosies. "Here you are free.
To purchase fabrics," he adds. As you pass each new monumental
building, he tells you: "The World Trade Centre was built by His
Highness..."

But this is a lie. The sheikh did not build this city. It was built by slaves. They are building it now.

III. Hidden in plain view

There are three different Dubais, all swirling around each other.
There are the expats, like Karen; there are the Emiratis, headed by
Sheikh Mohammed; and then there is the foreign underclass who built the
city, and are trapped here. They are hidden in plain view. You see them
everywhere, in dirt-caked blue uniforms, being shouted at by their
superiors, like a chain gang – but you are trained not to look. It is
like a mantra: the Sheikh built the city. The Sheikh built the city.
Workers? What workers?

Every evening, the hundreds of thousands of young men who build Dubai
are bussed from their sites to a vast concrete wasteland an hour out of
town, where they are quarantined away. Until a few years ago they were
shuttled back and forth on cattle trucks, but the expats complained this
was unsightly, so now they are shunted on small metal buses that
function like greenhouses in the desert heat. They sweat like sponges
being slowly wrung out.

Sonapur is a rubble-strewn patchwork of miles and miles of identical
concrete buildings. Some 300,000 men live piled up here, in a place
whose name in Hindi means "City of Gold". In the first camp I stop at –
riven with the smell of sewage and sweat – the men huddle around, eager
to tell someone, anyone, what is happening to them.

Sahinal Monir, a slim 24-year-old from the deltas of Bangladesh. "To
get you here, they tell you Dubai is heaven. Then you get here and
realise it is hell," he says. Four years ago, an employment agent
arrived in Sahinal's village in Southern Bangladesh. He told the men of
the village that there was a place where they could earn 40,000 takka a
month (£400) just for working nine-to-five on construction projects. It
was a place where they would be given great accommodation, great food,
and treated well. All they had to do was pay an up-front fee of 220,000
takka (£2,300) for the work visa – a fee they'd pay off in the first six
months, easy. So Sahinal sold his family land, and took out a loan from
the local lender, to head to this paradise.

As soon as he arrived at Dubai airport, his passport was taken from
him by his construction company. He has not seen it since. He was told
brusquely that from now on he would be working 14-hour days in the
desert heat – where western tourists are advised not to stay outside for
even five minutes in summer, when it hits 55 degrees – for 500 dirhams a
month (£90), less than a quarter of the wage he was promised. If you
don't like it, the company told him, go home. "But how can I go home?
You have my passport, and I have no money for the ticket," he said.
"Well, then you'd better get to work," they replied.

Sahinal was in a panic. His family back home – his son, daughter,
wife and parents – were waiting for money, excited that their boy had
finally made it. But he was going to have to work for more than two
years just to pay for the cost of getting here – and all to earn less
than he did in Bangladesh.

He shows me his room. It is a tiny, poky, concrete cell with
triple-decker bunk-beds, where he lives with 11 other men. All his
belongings are piled onto his bunk: three shirts, a spare pair of
trousers, and a cellphone. The room stinks, because the lavatories in
the corner of the camp – holes in the ground – are backed up with
excrement and clouds of black flies. There is no air conditioning or
fans, so the heat is "unbearable. You cannot sleep. All you do is sweat
and scratch all night." At the height of summer, people sleep on the
floor, on the roof, anywhere where they can pray for a moment of breeze.

The water delivered to the camp in huge white containers isn't
properly desalinated: it tastes of salt. "It makes us sick, but we have
nothing else to drink," he says.

The work is "the worst in the world," he says. "You have to carry
50kg bricks and blocks of cement in the worst heat imaginable ... This
heat – it is like nothing else. You sweat so much you can't pee, not for
days or weeks. It's like all the liquid comes out through your skin and
you stink. You become dizzy and sick but you aren't allowed to stop,
except for an hour in the afternoon. You know if you drop anything or
slip, you could die. If you take time off sick, your wages are docked,
and you are trapped here even longer."

He is currently working on the 67th floor of a shiny new tower, where
he builds upwards, into the sky, into the heat. He doesn't know its
name. In his four years here, he has never seen the Dubai of
tourist-fame, except as he constructs it floor-by-floor.

Is he angry? He is quiet for a long time. "Here, nobody shows their
anger. You can't. You get put in jail for a long time, then deported."
Last year, some workers went on strike after they were not given their
wages for four months. The Dubai police surrounded their camps with
razor-wire and water-cannons and blasted them out and back to work.

The "ringleaders" were imprisoned. I try a different question: does
Sohinal regret coming? All the men look down, awkwardly. "How can we
think about that? We are trapped. If we start to think about regrets..."
He lets the sentence trail off. Eventually, another worker breaks the
silence by adding: "I miss my country, my family and my land. We can
grow food in Bangladesh. Here, nothing grows. Just oil and buildings."

Since the recession hit, they say, the electricity has been cut off
in dozens of the camps, and the men have not been paid for months. Their
companies have disappeared with their passports and their pay. "We have
been robbed of everything. Even if somehow we get back to Bangladesh,
the loan sharks will demand we repay our loans immediately, and when we
can't, we'll be sent to prison."

This is all supposed to be illegal. Employers are meant to pay on
time, never take your passport, give you breaks in the heat – but I met
nobody who said it happens. Not one. These men are conned into coming
and trapped into staying, with the complicity of the Dubai authorities.

Sahinal could well die out here. A British man who used to work on
construction projects told me: "There's a huge number of suicides in the
camps and on the construction sites, but they're not reported. They're
described as 'accidents'." Even then, their families aren't free: they
simply inherit the debts. A Human Rights Watch study found there is a
"cover-up of the true extent" of deaths from heat exhaustion, overwork
and suicide, but the Indian consulate registered 971 deaths of their
nationals in 2005 alone. After this figure was leaked, the consulates
were told to stop counting.

At night, in the dusk, I sit in the camp with Sohinal and his friends
as they scrape together what they have left to buy a cheap bottle of
spirits. They down it in one ferocious gulp. "It helps you to feel
numb", Sohinal says through a stinging throat. In the distance, the
glistening Dubai skyline he built stands, oblivious.

IV. Mauled by the mall

I find myself stumbling in a daze from the camps into the sprawling
marble malls that seem to stand on every street in Dubai. It is so hot
there is no point building pavements; people gather in these cathedrals
of consumerism to bask in the air conditioning. So within a ten minute
taxi-ride, I have left Sohinal and I am standing in the middle of Harvey
Nichols, being shown a £20,000 taffeta dress by a bored salesgirl. "As
you can see, it is cut on the bias..." she says, and I stop writing.

Time doesn't seem to pass in the malls. Days blur with the same
electric light, the same shined floors, the same brands I know from
home. Here, Dubai is reduced to its component sounds: do-buy. In the
most expensive malls I am almost alone, the shops empty and echoing. On
the record, everybody tells me business is going fine. Off the record,
they look panicky. There is a hat exhibition ahead of the Dubai races,
selling elaborate headgear for £1,000 a pop. "Last year, we were packed.
Now look," a hat designer tells me. She swoops her arm over a vacant
space.

I approach a blonde 17-year-old Dutch girl wandering around in
hotpants, oblivious to the swarms of men gaping at her. "I love it
here!" she says. "The heat, the malls, the beach!" Does it ever bother
you that it's a slave society? She puts her head down, just as Sohinal
did. "I try not to see," she says. Even at 17, she has learned not to
look, and not to ask; that, she senses, is a transgression too far.

Between the malls, there is nothing but the connecting tissue of
asphalt. Every road has at least four lanes; Dubai feels like a motorway
punctuated by shopping centres. You only walk anywhere if you are
suicidal. The residents of Dubai flit from mall to mall by car or taxis.

How does it feel if this is your country, filled with foreigners?
Unlike the expats and the slave class, I can't just approach the native
Emiratis to ask questions when I see them wandering around – the men in
cool white robes, the women in sweltering black. If you try, the women
blank you, and the men look affronted, and tell you brusquely that Dubai
is "fine". So I browse through the Emirati blog-scene and found some
typical-sounding young Emiratis. We meet – where else? – in the mall.

Ahmed al-Atar is a handsome 23-year-old with a neat, trimmed beard,
tailored white robes, and rectangular wire-glasses. He speaks perfect
American-English, and quickly shows that he knows London, Los Angeles
and Paris better than most westerners. Sitting back in his chair in an
identikit Starbucks, he announces: "This is the best place in the world
to be young! The government pays for your education up to PhD level. You
get given a free house when you get married. You get free healthcare,
and if it's not good enough here, they pay for you to go abroad. You
don't even have to pay for your phone calls. Almost everyone has a maid,
a nanny, and a driver. And we never pay any taxes. Don't you wish you
were Emirati?"

I try to raise potential objections to this Panglossian summary, but
he leans forward and says: "Look – my grandfather woke up every day and
he would have to fight to get to the well first to get water. When the
wells ran dry, they had to have water delivered by camel. They were
always hungry and thirsty and desperate for jobs. He limped all his
life, because he there was no medical treatment available when he broke
his leg. Now look at us!"

For Emiratis, this is a Santa Claus state, handing out goodies while
it makes its money elsewhere: through renting out land to foreigners,
soft taxes on them like business and airport charges, and the remaining
dribble of oil. Most Emiratis, like Ahmed, work for the government, so
they're cushioned from the credit crunch. "I haven't felt any effect at
all, and nor have my friends," he says. "Your employment is secure. You
will only be fired if you do something incredibly bad." The laws are
currently being tightened, to make it even more impossible to sack an
Emirati.

Sure, the flooding-in of expats can sometimes be "an eyesore", Ahmed
says. "But we see the expats as the price we had to pay for this
development. How else could we do it? Nobody wants to go back to the
days of the desert, the days before everyone came. We went from being
like an African country to having an average income per head of $120,000
a year. And we're supposed to complain?"

He says the lack of political freedom is fine by him. "You'll find it
very hard to find an Emirati who doesn't support Sheikh Mohammed."
Because they're scared? "No, because we really all support him. He's a
great leader. Just look!" He smiles and says: "I'm sure my life is very
much like yours. We hang out, have a coffee, go to the movies. You'll be
in a Pizza Hut or Nando's in London, and at the same time I'll be in
one in Dubai," he says, ordering another latte.

But do all young Emiratis see it this way? Can it really be so sunny
in the political sands? In the sleek Emirates Tower Hotel, I meet Sultan
al-Qassemi. He's a 31-year-old Emirati columnist for the Dubai press
and private art collector, with a reputation for being a contrarian
liberal, advocating gradual reform. He is wearing Western clothes – blue
jeans and a Ralph Lauren shirt – and speaks incredibly fast, turning
himself into a manic whirr of arguments.

"People here are turning into lazy, overweight babies!" he exclaims.
"The nanny state has gone too far. We don't do anything for ourselves!
Why don't any of us work for the private sector? Why can't a mother and
father look after their own child?" And yet, when I try to bring up the
system of slavery that built Dubai, he looks angry. "People should give
us credit," he insists. "We are the most tolerant people in the world.
Dubai is the only truly international city in the world. Everyone who
comes here is treated with respect."

I pause, and think of the vast camps in Sonapur, just a few miles
away. Does he even know they exist? He looks irritated. "You know, if
there are 30 or 40 cases [of worker abuse] a year, that sounds like a
lot but when you think about how many people are here..." Thirty or 40?
This abuse is endemic to the system, I say. We're talking about hundreds
of thousands.

Sultan is furious. He splutters: "You don't think Mexicans are
treated badly in New York City? And how long did it take Britain to
treat people well? I could come to London and write about the homeless
people on Oxford Street and make your city sound like a terrible place,
too! The workers here can leave any time they want! Any Indian can
leave, any Asian can leave!"

But they can't, I point out. Their passports are taken away, and
their wages are withheld. "Well, I feel bad if that happens, and anybody
who does that should be punished. But their embassies should help
them." They try. But why do you forbid the workers – with force – from
going on strike against lousy employers? "Thank God we don't allow
that!" he exclaims. "Strikes are in-convenient! They go on the street –
we're not having that. We won't be like France. Imagine a country where
they the workers can just stop whenever they want!" So what should the
workers do when they are cheated and lied to? "Quit. Leave the country."

I sigh. Sultan is seething now. "People in the West are always
complaining about us," he says. Suddenly, he adopts a mock-whiny voice
and says, in imitation of these disgusting critics: "Why don't you treat
animals better? Why don't you have better shampoo advertising? Why
don't you treat labourers better?" It's a revealing order: animals,
shampoo, then workers. He becomes more heated, shifting in his seat,
jabbing his finger at me. "I gave workers who worked for me safety
goggles and special boots, and they didn't want to wear them! It slows
them down!"

And then he smiles, coming up with what he sees as his killer
argument. "When I see Western journalists criticise us – don't you
realise you're shooting yourself in the foot? The Middle East will be
far more dangerous if Dubai fails. Our export isn't oil, it's hope. Poor
Egyptians or Libyans or Iranians grow up saying – I want to go to
Dubai. We're very important to the region. We are showing how to be a
modern Muslim country. We don't have any fundamentalists here. Europeans
shouldn't gloat at our demise. You should be very worried.... Do you
know what will happen if this model fails? Dubai will go down the
Iranian path, the Islamist path."

Sultan sits back. My arguments have clearly disturbed him; he says in
a softer, conciliatory tone, almost pleading: "Listen. My mother used
to go to the well and get a bucket of water every morning. On her
wedding day, she was given an orange as a gift because she had never
eaten one. Two of my brothers died when they were babies because the
healthcare system hadn't developed yet. Don't judge us." He says it
again, his eyes filled with intensity: "Don't judge us."

V. The Dunkin' Donuts Dissidents

But there is another face to the Emirati minority – a small huddle of
dissidents, trying to shake the Sheikhs out of abusive laws. Next to a
Virgin Megastore and a Dunkin' Donuts, with James Blunt's "You're
Beautiful" blaring behind me, I meet the Dubai dictatorship's Public
Enemy Number One. By way of introduction, Mohammed al-Mansoori says from
within his white robes and sinewy face: "Westerners come here and see
the malls and the tall buildings and they think that means we are free.
But these businesses, these buildings – who are they for? This is a
dictatorship. The royal family think they own the country, and the
people are their servants. There is no freedom here."

We snuffle out the only Arabic restaurant in this mall, and he says
everything you are banned – under threat of prison – from saying in
Dubai. Mohammed tells me he was born in Dubai to a fisherman father who
taught him one enduring lesson: Never follow the herd. Think for
yourself. In the sudden surge of development, Mohammed trained as a
lawyer. By the Noughties, he had climbed to the head of the Jurists'
Association, an organisation set up to press for Dubai's laws to be
consistent with international human rights legislation.

And then – suddenly – Mohammed thwacked into the limits of Sheikh
Mohammed's tolerance. Horrified by the "system of slavery" his country
was being built on, he spoke out to Human Rights Watch and the BBC. "So I
was hauled in by the secret police and told: shut up, or you will lose
you job, and your children will be unemployable," he says. "But how
could I be silent?"

He was stripped of his lawyer's licence and his passport – becoming
yet another person imprisoned in this country. "I have been blacklisted
and so have my children. The newspapers are not allowed to write about
me."

Why is the state so keen to defend this system of slavery? He offers a
prosaic explanation. "Most companies are owned by the government, so
they oppose human rights laws because it will reduce their profit
margins. It's in their interests that the workers are slaves."

Last time there was a depression, there was a starbust of democracy
in Dubai, seized by force from the sheikhs. In the 1930s, the city's
merchants banded together against Sheikh Said bin Maktum al-Maktum – the
absolute ruler of his day – and insisted they be given control over the
state finances. It lasted only a few years, before the Sheikh – with
the enthusiastic support of the British – snuffed them out.

And today? Sheikh Mohammed turned Dubai into Creditopolis, a city
built entirely on debt. Dubai owes 107 percent of its entire GDP. It
would be bust already, if the neighbouring oil-soaked state of Abu Dhabi
hadn't pulled out its chequebook. Mohammed says this will constrict
freedom even further. "Now Abu Dhabi calls the tunes – and they are much
more conservative and restrictive than even Dubai. Freedom here will
diminish every day." Already, new media laws have been drafted
forbidding the press to report on anything that could "damage" Dubai or
"its economy". Is this why the newspapers are giving away glossy
supplements talking about "encouraging economic indicators"?

Everybody here waves Islamism as the threat somewhere over the
horizon, sure to swell if their advice is not followed. Today, every
imam is appointed by the government, and every sermon is tightly
controlled to keep it moderate. But Mohammed says anxiously: "We don't
have Islamism here now, but I think that if you control people and give
them no way to express anger, it could rise. People who are told to shut
up all the time can just explode."

Later that day, against another identikit-corporate backdrop, I meet
another dissident – Abdulkhaleq Abdullah, Professor of Political Science
at Emirates University. His anger focuses not on political reform, but
the erosion of Emirati identity. He is famous among the locals, a rare
outspoken conductor for their anger. He says somberly: "There has been a
rupture here. This is a totally different city to the one I was born in
50 years ago."

He looks around at the shiny floors and Western tourists and says:
"What we see now didn't occur in our wildest dreams. We never thought we
could be such a success, a trendsetter, a model for other Arab
countries. The people of Dubai are mighty proud of their city, and
rightly so. And yet..." He shakes his head. "In our hearts, we fear we
have built a modern city but we are losing it to all these expats."

Adbulkhaleq says every Emirati of his generation lives with a
"psychological trauma." Their hearts are divided – "between pride on one
side, and fear on the other." Just after he says this, a smiling
waitress approaches, and asks us what we would like to drink. He orders a
Coke.

VI. Dubai Pride

There is one group in Dubai for whom the rhetoric of sudden freedom
and liberation rings true – but it is the very group the government
wanted to liberate least: gays.

Beneath a famous international hotel, I clamber down into possibly
the only gay club on the Saudi Arabian peninsula. I find a United
Nations of tank-tops and bulging biceps, dancing to Kylie, dropping
ecstasy, and partying like it's Soho. "Dubai is the best place in the
Muslim world for gays!" a 25-year old Emirati with spiked hair says, his
arms wrapped around his 31-year old "husband". "We are alive. We can
meet. That is more than most Arab gays."

It is illegal to be gay in Dubai, and punishable by 10 years in
prison. But the locations of the latest unofficial gay clubs circulate
online, and men flock there, seemingly unafraid of the police. "They
might bust the club, but they will just disperse us," one of them says.
"The police have other things to do."

In every large city, gay people find a way to find each other – but
Dubai has become the clearing-house for the region's homosexuals, a
place where they can live in relative safety. Saleh, a lean private in
the Saudi Arabian army, has come here for the Coldplay concert, and
tells me Dubai is "great" for gays: "In Saudi, it's hard to be straight
when you're young. The women are shut away so everyone has gay sex. But
they only want to have sex with boys – 15- to 21-year-olds. I'm 27, so
I'm too old now. I need to find real gays, so this is the best place.
All Arab gays want to live in Dubai."

With that, Saleh dances off across the dancefloor, towards a Dutch guy with big biceps and a big smile.

VII. The Lifestyle

All the guidebooks call Dubai a "melting pot", but as I trawl across
the city, I find that every group here huddles together in its own
little ethnic enclave – and becomes a caricature of itself. One night –
in the heart of this homesick city, tired of the malls and the camps – I
go to Double Decker, a hang-out for British expats. At the entrance
there is a red telephone box, and London bus-stop signs. Its wooden
interior looks like a cross between a colonial clubhouse in the Raj and
an Eighties school disco, with blinking coloured lights and cheese
blaring out. As I enter, a girl in a short skirt collapses out of the
door onto her back. A guy wearing a pirate hat helps her to her feet,
dropping his beer bottle with a paralytic laugh.

I start to talk to two sun-dried women in their sixties who have been
getting gently sozzled since midday. "You stay here for The Lifestyle,"
they say, telling me to take a seat and order some more drinks. All the
expats talk about The Lifestyle, but when you ask what it is, they
become vague. Ann Wark tries to summarise it: "Here, you go out every
night. You'd never do that back home. You see people all the time. It's
great. You have lots of free time. You have maids and staff so you don't
have to do all that stuff. You party!"

They have been in Dubai for 20 years, and they are happy to explain
how the city works. "You've got a hierarchy, haven't you?" Ann says.
"It's the Emiratis at the top, then I'd say the British and other
Westerners. Then I suppose it's the Filipinos, because they've got a bit
more brains than the Indians. Then at the bottom you've got the Indians
and all them lot."

They admit, however, they have "never" spoken to an Emirati. Never?
"No. They keep themselves to themselves." Yet Dubai has disappointed
them. Jules Taylor tells me: "If you have an accident here it's a
nightmare. There was a British woman we knew who ran over an Indian guy,
and she was locked up for four days! If you have a tiny bit of alcohol
on your breath they're all over you. These Indians throw themselves in
front of cars, because then their family has to be given blood money –
you know, compensation. But the police just blame us. That poor woman."

A 24-year-old British woman called Hannah Gamble takes a break from
the dancefloor to talk to me. "I love the sun and the beach! It's great
out here!" she says. Is there anything bad? "Oh yes!" she says. Ah: one
of them has noticed, I think with relief. "The banks! When you want to
make a transfer you have to fax them. You can't do it online." Anything
else? She thinks hard. "The traffic's not very good."

When I ask the British expats how they feel to not be in a democracy,
their reaction is always the same. First, they look bemused. Then they
look affronted. "It's the Arab way!" an Essex boy shouts at me in
response, as he tries to put a pair of comedy antlers on his head while
pouring some beer into the mouth of his friend, who is lying on his back
on the floor, gurning.

Later, in a hotel bar, I start chatting to a dyspeptic expat American
who works in the cosmetics industry and is desperate to get away from
these people. She says: "All the people who couldn't succeed in their
own countries end up here, and suddenly they're rich and promoted way
above their abilities and bragging about how great they are. I've never
met so many incompetent people in such senior positions anywhere in the
world." She adds: "It's absolutely racist. I had Filipino girls working
for me doing the same job as a European girl, and she's paid a quarter
of the wages. The people who do the real work are paid next to nothing,
while these incompetent managers pay themselves £40,000 a month."

With the exception of her, one theme unites every expat I speak to:
their joy at having staff to do the work that would clog their lives up
Back Home. Everyone, it seems, has a maid. The maids used to be
predominantly Filipino, but with the recession, Filipinos have been
judged to be too expensive, so a nice Ethiopian servant girl is the
latest fashionable accessory.

It is an open secret that once you hire a maid, you have absolute
power over her. You take her passport – everyone does; you decide when
to pay her, and when – if ever – she can take a break; and you decide
who she talks to. She speaks no Arabic. She cannot escape.

In a Burger King, a Filipino girl tells me it is "terrifying" for her
to wander the malls in Dubai because Filipino maids or nannies always
sneak away from the family they are with and beg her for help. "They say
– 'Please, I am being held prisoner, they don't let me call home, they
make me work every waking hour seven days a week.' At first I would say –
my God, I will tell the consulate, where are you staying? But they
never know their address, and the consulate isn't interested. I avoid
them now. I keep thinking about a woman who told me she hadn't eaten any
fruit in four years. They think I have power because I can walk around
on my own, but I'm powerless."

The only hostel for women in Dubai – a filthy private villa on the
brink of being repossessed – is filled with escaped maids. Mela Matari, a
25-year-old Ethiopian woman with a drooping smile, tells me what
happened to her – and thousands like her. She was promised a paradise in
the sands by an agency, so she left her four year-old daughter at home
and headed here to earn money for a better future. "But they paid me
half what they promised. I was put with an Australian family – four
children – and Madam made me work from 6am to 1am every day, with no day
off. I was exhausted and pleaded for a break, but they just shouted:
'You came here to work, not sleep!' Then one day I just couldn't go on,
and Madam beat me. She beat me with her fists and kicked me. My ear
still hurts. They wouldn't give me my wages: they said they'd pay me at
the end of the two years. What could I do? I didn't know anybody here. I
was terrified."

One day, after yet another beating, Mela ran out onto the streets,
and asked – in broken English – how to find the Ethiopian consulate.
After walking for two days, she found it, but they told her she had to
get her passport back from Madam. "Well, how could I?" she asks. She has
been in this hostel for six months. She has spoken to her daughter
twice. "I lost my country, I lost my daughter, I lost everything," she
says.

As she says this, I remember a stray sentence I heard back at Double
Decker. I asked a British woman called Hermione Frayling what the best
thing about Dubai was. "Oh, the servant class!" she trilled. "You do
nothing. They'll do anything!"

VIII. The End of The World

The World is empty. It has been abandoned, its continents unfinished.
Through binoculars, I think I can glimpse Britain; this sceptred isle
barren in the salt-breeze.

Here, off the coast of Dubai, developers have been rebuilding the
world. They have constructed artificial islands in the shape of all
planet Earth's land masses, and they plan to sell each continent off to
be built on. There were rumours that the Beckhams would bid for Britain.
But the people who work at the nearby coast say they haven't seen
anybody there for months now. "The World is over," a South African
suggests.

All over Dubai, crazy projects that were Under Construction are now
Under Collapse. They were building an air-conditioned beach here, with
cooling pipes running below the sand, so the super-rich didn't singe
their toes on their way from towel to sea.

The projects completed just before the global economy crashed look
empty and tattered. The Atlantis Hotel was launched last winter in a
$20m fin-de-siecle party attended by Robert De Niro, Lindsay Lohan and
Lily Allen. Sitting on its own fake island – shaped, of course, like a
palm tree – it looks like an immense upturned tooth in a faintly
decaying mouth. It is pink and turreted – the architecture of the
pharaohs, as reimagined by Zsa-Zsa Gabor. Its Grand Lobby is a
monumental dome covered in glitterballs, held up by eight monumental
concrete palm trees. Standing in the middle, there is a giant shining
glass structure that looks like the intestines of every guest who has
ever stayed at the Atlantis. It is unexpectedly raining; water is
leaking from the roof, and tiles are falling off.

A South African PR girl shows me around its most coveted rooms,
explaining that this is "the greatest luxury offered in the world". We
stroll past shops selling £24m diamond rings around a hotel themed on
the lost and sunken continent of, yes, Atlantis. There are huge water
tanks filled with sharks, which poke around mock-abandoned castles and
dumped submarines. There are more than 1,500 rooms here, each with a sea
view. The Neptune suite has three floors, and – I gasp as I see it – it
looks out directly on to the vast shark tank. You lie on the bed, and
the sharks stare in at you. In Dubai, you can sleep with the fishes, and
survive.

But even the luxury – reminiscent of a Bond villain's lair – is also
being abandoned. I check myself in for a few nights to the classiest
hotel in town, the Park Hyatt. It is the fashionistas' favourite hotel,
where Elle Macpherson and Tommy Hilfiger stay, a gorgeous, understated
palace. It feels empty. Whenever I eat, I am one of the only people in
the restaurant. A staff member tells me in a whisper: "It used to be
full here. Now there's hardly anyone." Rattling around, I feel like Jack
Nicholson in The Shining, the last man in an abandoned, haunted home.

The most famous hotel in Dubai – the proud icon of the city – is the
Burj al Arab hotel, sitting on the shore, shaped like a giant glass
sailing boat. In the lobby, I start chatting to a couple from London who
work in the City. They have been coming to Dubai for 10 years now, and
they say they love it. "You never know what you'll find here," he says.
"On our last trip, at the beginning of the holiday, our window looked
out on the sea. By the end, they'd built an entire island there."

My patience frayed by all this excess, I find myself snapping:
doesn't the omnipresent slave class bother you? I hope they
misunderstood me, because the woman replied: "That's what we come for!
It's great, you can't do anything for yourself!" Her husband chimes in:
"When you go to the toilet, they open the door, they turn on the tap –
the only thing they don't do is take it out for you when you have a
piss!" And they both fall about laughing.

IX. Taking on the Desert

Dubai is not just a city living beyond its financial means; it is
living beyond its ecological means. You stand on a manicured Dubai lawn
and watch the sprinklers spray water all around you. You see tourists
flocking to swim with dolphins. You wander into a mountain-sized freezer
where they have built a ski slope with real snow. And a voice at the
back of your head squeaks: this is the desert. This is the most
water-stressed place on the planet. How can this be happening? How is it
possible?

The very earth is trying to repel Dubai, to dry it up and blow it
away. The new Tiger Woods Gold Course needs four million gallons of
water to be pumped on to its grounds every day, or it would simply
shrivel and disappear on the winds. The city is regularly washed over
with dust-storms that fog up the skies and turn the skyline into a blur.
When the dust parts, heat burns through. It cooks anything that is not
kept constantly, artificially wet.

Dr Mohammed Raouf, the environmental director of the Gulf Research
Centre, sounds sombre as he sits in his Dubai office and warns: "This is
a desert area, and we are trying to defy its environment. It is very
unwise. If you take on the desert, you will lose."

Sheikh Maktoum built his showcase city in a place with no useable
water. None. There is no surface water, very little acquifer, and among
the lowest rainfall in the world. So Dubai drinks the sea. The Emirates'
water is stripped of salt in vast desalination plants around the Gulf –
making it the most expensive water on earth. It costs more than petrol
to produce, and belches vast amounts of carbon dioxide into the
atmosphere as it goes. It's the main reason why a resident of Dubai has
the biggest average carbon footprint of any human being – more than
double that of an American.

If a recession turns into depression, Dr Raouf believes Dubai could
run out of water. "At the moment, we have financial reserves that cover
bringing so much water to the middle of the desert. But if we had lower
revenues – if, say, the world shifts to a source of energy other than
oil..." he shakes his head. "We will have a very big problem. Water is
the main source of life. It would be a catastrophe. Dubai only has
enough water to last us a week. There's almost no storage. We don't know
what will happen if our supplies falter. It would be hard to survive."

Global warming, he adds, makes the problem even worse. "We are
building all these artificial islands, but if the sea level rises, they
will be gone, and we will lose a lot. Developers keep saying it's all
fine, they've taken it into consideration, but I'm not so sure."

Is the Dubai government concerned about any of this? "There isn't
much interest in these problems," he says sadly. But just to stand
still, the average resident of Dubai needs three times more water than
the average human. In the looming century of water stresses and a
transition away from fossil fuels, Dubai is uniquely vulnerable.

I wanted to understand how the government of Dubai will react, so I
decided to look at how it has dealt with an environmental problem that
already exists – the pollution of its beaches. One woman – an American,
working at one of the big hotels – had written in a lot of online forums
arguing that it was bad and getting worse, so I called her to arrange a
meeting. "I can't talk to you," she said sternly. Not even if it's off
the record? "I can't talk to you." But I don't have to disclose your
name... "You're not listening. This phone is bugged. I can't talk to
you," she snapped, and hung up.

The next day I turned up at her office. "If you reveal my identity,
I'll be sent on the first plane out of this city," she said, before
beginning to nervously pace the shore with me. "It started like this. We
began to get complaints from people using the beach. The water looked
and smelled odd, and they were starting to get sick after going into it.
So I wrote to the ministers of health and tourism and expected to hear
back immediately – but there was nothing. Silence. I hand-delivered the
letters. Still nothing."

The water quality got worse and worse. The guests started to spot raw
sewage, condoms, and used sanitary towels floating in the sea. So the
hotel ordered its own water analyses from a professional company. "They
told us it was full of fecal matter and bacteria 'too numerous to
count'. I had to start telling guests not to go in the water, and since
they'd come on a beach holiday, as you can imagine, they were pretty
pissed off." She began to make angry posts on the expat discussion
forums – and people began to figure out what was happening. Dubai had
expanded so fast its sewage treatment facilities couldn't keep up. The
sewage disposal trucks had to queue for three or four days at the
treatment plants – so instead, they were simply drilling open the
manholes and dumping the untreated sewage down them, so it flowed
straight to the sea.

Suddenly, it was an open secret – and the municipal authorities
finally acknowledged the problem. They said they would fine the
truckers. But the water quality didn't improve: it became black and
stank. "It's got chemicals in it. I don't know what they are. But this
stuff is toxic."

She continued to complain – and started to receive anonymous phone
calls. "Stop embarassing Dubai, or your visa will be cancelled and
you're out," they said. She says: "The expats are terrified to talk
about anything. One critical comment in the newspapers and they deport
you. So what am I supposed to do? Now the water is worse than ever.
People are getting really sick. Eye infections, ear infections, stomach
infections, rashes. Look at it!" There is faeces floating on the beach,
in the shadow of one of Dubai's most famous hotels.

"What I learnt about Dubai is that the authorities don't give a toss
about the environment," she says, standing in the stench. "They're
pumping toxins into the sea, their main tourist attraction, for God's
sake. If there are environmental problems in the future, I can tell you
now how they will deal with them – deny it's happening, cover it up, and
carry on until it's a total disaster." As she speaks, a dust-storm
blows around us, as the desert tries, slowly, insistently, to take back
its land.

X. Fake Plastic Trees

On my final night in the Dubai Disneyland, I stop off on my way to
the airport, at a Pizza Hut that sits at the side of one of the city's
endless, wide, gaping roads. It is identical to the one near my
apartment in London in every respect, even the vomit-coloured decor. My
mind is whirring and distracted. Perhaps Dubai disturbed me so much, I
am thinking, because here, the entire global supply chain is condensed.
Many of my goods are made by semi-enslaved populations desperate for a
chance 2,000 miles away; is the only difference that here, they are
merely two miles away, and you sometimes get to glimpse their faces?
Dubai is Market Fundamentalist Globalisation in One City.

I ask the Filipino girl behind the counter if she likes it here.
"It's OK," she says cautiously. Really? I say. I can't stand it. She
sighs with relief and says: "This is the most terrible place! I hate it!
I was here for months before I realised – everything in Dubai is fake.
Everything you see. The trees are fake, the workers' contracts are fake,
the islands are fake, the smiles are fake – even the water is fake!"
But she is trapped, she says. She got into debt to come here, and she is
stuck for three years: an old story now. "I think Dubai is like an
oasis. It is an illusion, not real. You think you have seen water in the
distance, but you get close and you only get a mouthful of sand."

As she says this, another customer enters. She forces her face into
the broad, empty Dubai smile and says: "And how may I help you tonight,
sir?"

Some names in this article have been changed.

A friend of mine linked this to me on facebook. It's a long read, but it's well worth it. A city built on debt, excess and slave labor. How long can it last, I wonder.
Source: http://www.independent.co.uk/opinion/commentators/johann-hari/the-dark-side-of-dubai-1664368.html

Transgender woman set to become Polish MP

sephystabbity — Mon, 10 Oct 2011 21:50:18 GMT

A transgender woman is expected to become the first trans person in Poland to be elected as an MP.

Anna Grodzka, 57, of Krakow, believes she will be the world’s only sitting transgender MP if elected for the Palikot Movement party.

A gay man, Robert Biedron, is also expected to become an MP.

Palikot Movement is a new political party which advocates civil unions, legalising soft drugs and liberalising abortion laws.

(More at the source)

Thoughts: I rarely post about articles on my lj, but this made me happy :3

Oh, internet

sephystabbity — Fri, 23 Sep 2011 20:58:00 GMT

On the one hand, I love reading stories like this for entertainment. On the other hand, I can't help but feel terrible for the people involved. It goes a long way towards explaining why I'm cynical of most things I find on the internet.

Writer's Block: The state of perception

sephystabbity — Sun, 28 Aug 2011 19:05:04 GMT

The most useless to me is smell, but I'd rather give up taste, just because I have a weakness for food, and if I can't taste it, then I won't be tempted to eat it XD

Time to break out the bacon and the maple syrup and the beer, EH?

sephystabbity — Fri, 01 Jul 2011 04:53:41 GMT

HAPPY CANADA DAY!

For your enjoyment, a list of treasured Canadian stereotypes:

Yes we live in igloos!

And our public transportation is horses!

We like our maple syrup!

And we hunt beavers for breakfast, lunch and dinner!

But most of all, WE ARE JUST PLAIN AWESOME. GO CANADA!

Writer's Block: Born again

sephystabbity — Tue, 21 Jun 2011 07:11:17 GMT

Dragon! ...Or failing that...a cheetah.

Sansa Stark: Colored

sephystabbity — Mon, 20 Jun 2011 06:29:56 GMT

My submission for the sansan awards thats happening over at the sandorxsansa community.

When I drew this scene, I imagined it to be the one where (a slightly older) Sansa meets Sandor unexpectedly in the woods. Hence her wideyed expression.

Man, it took me forever to work out how to make beleivable snow. Tried to make the hair a medium between red and brown, though I'm still not sure exactly what colour auburn is :P I'm super happy with this picture, because this is the first time a picture has turned out exactly the way I pictured it in my head.

Sansa Stark: Lineart

sephystabbity — Mon, 20 Jun 2011 02:51:56 GMT

A lineart for a drawing of Sansa Stark that I'm working on for a contest.

I find Sansa to be one of the most interesting characters in the series, and she has grown into one of my favourite characters as well now, though Tyrion Lannister is still my #1.

I'll color it soon, but I liked it just a lineart so i posted it up :)

Character: Sansa Stark
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire

internet powers, activate!

sephystabbity — Tue, 14 Jun 2011 18:06:28 GMT

Posted on behalf of someone, by special request:

Originally posted by kythryne at internet powers, activate!

Okay, people. I need you to take this viral, and fast.

We know someone in upstate New York who needs a good custody lawyer ASAP. I'm not at liberty to go into details publicly, but this woman is very afraid that her abusive boyfriend is going to get sole custody of her young child. She's presently being represented by a court-assigned lawyer who doesn't seem to care about the case, and she has very few resources left at this point. Her next hearing is on Thursday.

If you know a good lawyer in New York State who might be willing to take this case for a low fee or pro bono, or at least offer her advice or support, please let me know. If you don't know anyone, please repost this far and wide. As a mother and an abuse survivor, it makes me absolutely sick to my stomach to contemplate a child being left in the hands of an abuser.

I can be reached at kythryne@gmail.com if you have any leads or want to help.

The internet can work miracles. Let's go.