Stuff.

I'm always surprised to find people commenting on my entries, which has brought me to the question: if I respond, does the person who left a comment know? I'm all curious!

As you might have noticed, I decided to treat myself to a facelift. New skin, new eyes...less snooty looking.

I am wearing my newest outfit. Literally. I've started making clothes to match my hats. I think I'm going about it backwards, as most designers I know make the dress first, then the hat. But I'm (still) the Mad Milliner, and I thought it would be fun to make dresses to accessorize my hats. :3 I will release them one day soon.

Okay, back to it. I just lost some work thanks to a crash that happened between saves. Grawr.

Kitty Fits.

Have you ever seen a kitty fit? The Midnight Crazies? Cat spazzes?

Occasionally, I have one and go dashing around my skybox, tail streaming behind me, eyes huge behind my glasses. Sometimes I leap onto my kitty tree and stay there for awhile, and sometimes I spaz my way down it, claw it, and then bolt upstairs to dash across the floor and flop on the couch. It is sometimes catnip induced, and sometimes it's just because I need to release pent up energy.

Right now, I am flopped on the kitty tree, still wearing my hat, gloves, and boots, and taking a breather from setting up for the RFL Clothing Fair. I've been a busy kitty lately! I rarely get to talk to my friends anymore, and socializing is as rare as me sharing my catnip, unless I'm DJing an event. I haven't even made it to a meeting to see my employer, Mr. Drinkwater!

But it's alright. It's for a good cause. I'll have two hats out for RFL, one's already made, and the other is going to be a Steamy Victorian.

Oh, oh, oh. I got a free dress today from Arundel's in Antiquity. It's lovely, and because of it, I am 650L poorer because I now have a new favourite dress. It's the one I'm wearing in the picture in this post. The hat is one of mine, and isn't released yet. I made the hat before I saw the dress, so I was delighted at the match!

Anyways, I'm too tired to ramble, I have done a lot of tedious and necessary work tonight, and I think my brain wants to turn to scrambled eggs.

Purrhaps I'll go down to the island and roll in my catnip patch.

On being single, and all that.

I have spent the majority of my Second Life single, though there have been three gentlemen that I have called beaus. Each of them left a mark on my heart in some way (good and bad), and there are no regrets.

I don't mind being single, I get a lot more work done that way, and I'm free to dance with who I please at balls. As it happens, I find myself single again as of yesterday, which means that (a) I can go dance with whomever I please (though I could anyways) and (b) I'm getting some work done.

The conclusion of the last relationship was very amicable, and even warm, if one can describe the severance of romance as such. But sometimes people are better off as friends, particularly when their needs are markedly different. I initiated it, and though I grieved a little bit, I am not unhappy with the outcome, particularly as we are getting along better now, or so it seems.

I also get something whenever a relationship ends, and that is a longer list of What I Do Not Want. The list began ages ago, and I add to it as needed as my own needs change.

So far, it reads as follows:

I do not want...

- someone who wants to be my master. Good luck.
- someone who wants to be my slave.
- polyamory.
- a control freak.
- SL relationships that form only with the intent of having them go RL.
- bad sex that relies heavily on poseballs. Descriptive posts are hot.
- n00b peeners/unrealisitically big peeners/badly coloured peeners.
- someone who wants to corral me. I'm a kitty, not a horse.
- someone who doesn't spend time doing stuff with me.
- a coward.
- a smooth talker.
- someone who takes all my time.
- someone who runs away if they know my secrets.
- someone who uses sex and affection as weapons.
- someone who doesn't care.
- someone who mangles English and/or is apparently on SL from their phone.

The list goes on. There's a point, though, where it's obvious (ie, no liars, no nutbars, etc), or where it seems like I'm being too picky, so I elected to leave those off.

What do I like?

I like:

- affection.
- doing things with a special someone.
- good sex. Yes.
- brains!
- intelligent conversation.
- someone who is not afraid to argue with me when I'm soapboxing.
- gentlemen.
- some ladies, but they rarely catch my attention In That Way.
- anatomically correct bodies.
- humour.
- attractive avatars. Shallow? Perhaps.
- being special to someone.
- someone who understands Reg.
- being the One and Only.
- someone who understands me.

So ... now what? Do I embrace my new single status, though I never really felt like I was 'taken'? Or do I keep myself open to the possibilities of someone else coming into my oh-so-busy Second Life?

I think I like the latter idea.

If I could take the best qualities of the three gentlemen I was involved with, I'd create a gentleman of my own. Wait...Reg?

Reg?

Reg!

Too bad I never see him.

Who is Reg?

His name is Reginald Bryant Straaf, but he's known as Reg. He'll respond to Reghan as well, used to being called that in error. He is a dandy, a rogue, a gentleman, a bit of a letch, enormously vain, intelligent, witty, has the body of a god and knows it. He is my brother, my twin.

He works only seldomly, preferring to let me do most of the work, though he quite happily spends my money on new clothes and toys for himself. Like most women who encounter Reg, I indulge him without much of a second thought. Because of this, Reg is almost always impeccably turned out, elegant and dashing with his fine clothing and luxuriously soft and long ebon hair. He lives on the same property as me, but recently acquired his own space up in the air that he can decorate to his liking. I can only take so much of seeing his rugs scattered around.

For some reason that many people, including me, can't seem to figure out, Reg is hard to resist, despite being enormously vain, and despite his somewhat suggestive talk, his libido, and his obvious lack of desire to make an honest woman out of anybody. He can whisper a lady to mush, melt formidable ice queens (as long as he's interested in them), and knows how to hold a lady in his arms while dancing with her so that she wants the dance to continue even when the music has stopped. Yet despite all that, he truly means his compliments and truly enjoys his companions. Women to him are a feast for the eyes and a fine liquor to his senses.

It doesn't stop with women; Reg's appetites are insatiable, and he is attracted to men as well. Humans, nekos, furries...as long as they're well presented, offer intelligent conversation and a sense of humour, aren't unkind or sarcastic, he's likely interested.

Reg can be found at dances more often than me, for he is truly the social butterfly whereas I am more reserved. Because we are never seen together, it adds to the speculation that Reg and I are the same purrson. Are we?

One of life's mysteries, indeed, but a fun one. Fun for us, anyways.

I am a narcissist.

I love taking pictures of myself.

This is my latest portrait picture, which is less formal than my usual ones. For one, I have no hat on. That's rare for a public picture, but why be predictable?

The expression on my face is a good capture of my moods these days: content, playful, happy, saucy, sexy.

Yes, it is possible to be sexy even in a high-collar modesty blouse.

An introduction to me: Reghan Straaf.

Sometimes I like to ramble. Sometimes thoughts just pop into my head and beg to be put to paper or typed into a keyboard.

I am Miss Reghan Straaf, known amongst some as the Mad Milliner. I am a neko, which means I have a swishy tail and ears. Why am I a neko? It was an accident. But to answer the question once and for all:

A while ago, I used to be a tigress. I was shapely and had long, wavy black hair, and my lush body was covered in a luxurious, velvet-like fur. I tell the truth when I say that I could have anybody I wanted without trying too hard, and I proved it over and over. I also wasn't very nice and did what I could to get my own way. What can I say? I'm a cat! Anyways, I decided, for purrsonal reasons, to take an airship from my new home to another place, and we ended up in a violent storm. I understand there was some sort of rift in continuity, and here I am.

I took another name, though it is not the one I was born with, and gave myself "Bella" as my middle name. I was going to use Strawe as a surname, but somehow it came out Straaf. So Straaf it is, and it sounds like "Strahhff". I'm not fond of the surname, but it's mine, and I'm stuck with it.

I am also Victorian, and while I will sometimes wear something that doesn't scream nineteenth century, it's not common. My hair is normally worn in a proper bun, I wear a hat and gloves when I go out, and unless I've forgotten to put my boots on before I go out (it has happened twice so far), my ankles are always properly covered.

My first job in Second Life was teaching building classes to beginner and intermediate builders, and I moved into teaching advanced building classes, which I preferred. At some point, I created a simple hat with a couple of flowers and ribbons, and taught that. I'd been making similarly simple hats in my condo (my first home in Second Life) to match the single Victorian outfit I had, and I thought it'd be fun to teach one.

I didn't know it back then, but one of those hats, originally created because I couldn't find one that fit, were going to explode on me.

The "Mad Milliner" title is borrowed from the Mad Hatter, and I believe that it is completely appropriate for me anyways. That aside, madness and hatmaking go together because back in the olden days, milliners used mercury to cure felt for the hats. They couldn't help but breathe in the fumes, and the mercury poisoning caused damage to their neurological system. This poisoning made them mentally disturbed or confused, created speech problems, and did other things to them before eventually killing them.

Anyways...when I'm not poisoning myself...

I work as a purrsonal assistant to Sir JJ Drinkwater, and I hold him in high esteem. He is a brilliant, charming man, and sometimes makes my heart give a little flutter when he's formally dressed and uses big words. He runs the Caledon Libraries, and quite tirelessly.

I also give a voice to Radio Riel, a radio station that allows me to impose my favourite 80s songs on everybody once every Thursday.

It seems I am a busy lady, and I am. It keeps me out of trouble, and lets me stay in the present moment. My purrsonal life was pretty boring until lately, as I only went to an occasional dance, or went shopping, and rarely socialized.

It changed. I am delighted to have a companion and friend in Fawkes Allen, who makes me laugh and feel good, and who can wreck a song just as well as I can. He owns Autogenic Alchemy, and sells a clockwork mouse that I just HAD to have. It lives on my cupboard of webmall boxes, next to my phonograph, in my Hatbox.

The Hatbox is my workroom skybox.

I don't live in Caledon, though I have toyed with the idea of buying a parcel there. However, I like and require lots of prims, so where I live now is purrfect with about 3000 prims of my own. I do have a shop there, but that's a different blog.

Well, as I said, I rambled. But that's me. Can I keep up with posting stuff? I shall surely find out in time.

I'm finished this one, though.

- RBS.