Merry Christmas 2018

Sometimes, the kindest gift of all is the gift of time and attention.

Thank you for your lovely Christmas Presence.

Merry Christmas & a Happy Hearth's Warming!

https://www.deviantart.com/paintedhoofprints/art/Merry-Christmas-from-Fluttershy-341743363

Something Inspirational

My post on Bob Owens' suicide prompted this gem of a reply by Timothy Callahan on Facebook, and I'm reposting it here because the world needs to see it.

"Sometimes, when you are standing on a mountain, and all the world is dark before your feet as you ponder the cliff, you may chance to look up, and see the rest of us, guiding stars, twinkling as best we can in the night. Then, you fix your sight on whatever constellation you can, and let it guide your steps until the sun rises again.

"None of us can truly light up that darkness. But we CAN shine for all we are worth, and hope that someone looks up." 

— Timothy Callahan

Merry Christmas 2016

May the joy of this holiday season

be as precious as jewels,

as plentiful as snowfall, 

and sparkle as brilliantly

as diamonds in your heart. 

Merry Christmas & Happy Hearth's Warming, everypony!

Jesus, Salem, don't DO that to me!

I was ready to fucking KILL YOU after that first paragraph.

In hindsight I should have seen it coming, and realized you'd never prostitute yourself by working for Gawker. But still... you know how to push my buttons, dude.

I have had three co-bloggers here at Lurking Rhythmically. You're the only one of them still here, the only one who keeps plugging away, writing quality content for me. Sure, you occasionally phone it in, but I don't think you've missed a week. And if you have, I'm pretty sure you told me about it beforehand.

Some readers wonder why I keep you around. At least one of them tells me that he can't stand you. And the answer is: I like you and you have talent and worth. 

I touched upon it when I wrote your introduction two years ago, but I recently re-discovered something of yours that I thought so important that I reposted it here, on my blog. You've shut down your old blog, which is a shame -- you had some really good entries there -- so all that's left of your recorded wisdom is this:

Some lie because they are insecure or unsatisfied with their lives. We put a lot of these people on medication, whether they've hurt anyone or not. Some people lie to entertain people. We call these people writers, musicians, actors. We cut these people paychecks sometimes. Some people lie to better their own lives at the cost of other people's. We call these politicians, and we can't do anything to them because they're writing the laws. -- Salem MacGourley, Notes from the Sonic Stapler

I titled that as "Too awesome to let pass unnoticed", and it still is. I keep saying you are quite wise in many ways, and I hope that one day you will write a book of your wisdom.

Because that's why you're my co-blogger: you write well, and I want you to do it more often.

*HUGS*

Merry Christmas & Happy Heart's Warming Eve

This is the most magical time of the year. And because Friendship is Magic, this means it is also the friendliest time of the year.

Thank you all for being my friends.

May you, and everypony you love, have a blessed holiday.

An odd thought for an idle Monday

Isn't it weird/awesome that we, and in fact most of the world, use:

• months named by Romans (Julian calendar) and then adjusted by another Roman (Pope Gregory XIII),
• filled with days of the week named after Norse gods (but using the Germanic spelling); 
• and then we count down those days filled with hours, minutes and seconds using a Base 60 numbering system for time that originated with the ancient Sumerians 
• and which is written with Hindu-Arabic numerals.

Maybe you shrug your shoulders and say "So what?" but I think it's nifty that this deeply rooted stuff which we take for granted has come from all over the place.  Realizing that the way we measure time is an amalgamation of four seven different and ancient cultures and that it's all so invisible to us is like... well, the best approximation I can come up with would be if I discovered that my skin was made in Brazil, my brain came from Taiwan, and my organs were made by the Inuit, but they were all still me and still American.

When I posted this on Facebook  (and if you aren't following me there, why aren't you?  I'm delightfully weird and random there), I received a wonderfully fascinating reply by a gentleman by the name of Logan Darklighter:

What's the connection between the Space Shuttle and Roman Chariots?

The width of two horses' asses.

Wagons were more or less standardized on the width of tackle it took to harness two (and multiples of two) horses in front of a chariot.

Roads and the ruts worn into those roads more or less demanded carriages be built to the same scale.

Later when trains were invented, in many cases they followed old roads and kept the same standards.

Thus a standard gauge engine and rail cars are based on that width between the rails. Tunnels cut for those trains to go through mountains and hills are cut so that a standard sized railcar will go through.

Morton Thiokol had to design their SRB boosters so that they'd clear through those tunnels when they are being transported by rail to Cape Canaveral. They couldn't be any wider.

Wow! That just gets me. I'm not especially disposed to the whole "We are one" interconnectedness thing, but the concept that these ancient concepts have such an important and measurable, yet invisible, affect upon my life makes me wonder about all the other bits of awesomeness around me that I just can't see.

Inevitably, that leads me to thinking about how all the iron in my blood all comes from exploded stars and then I get really mellow and zen and usually end up looking at the night sky for a while.



Don't worry, this is about as hippie as I get. I'm not going to sit in a circle and hold hands and sing Kumbaya.

Unless, of course, there are ponies involved, in which case, I am totally going to make you sing.

I Bask in the Light of Forever

Dedicated to Brigid, upon the loss of her beloved Barkley, 

in the hope that this brings her peace. 

I Bask In The Light Of Forever

I know my owner misses me,
And I sure miss her, too.
I hope she knows I'm doing fine,
And I know I'll see her soon.

You made me feel so safe, mom,
You surrounded me with peace.
Going to sleep within your arms
Was the way I'd choose to leave.

I woke up in a lovely place,
And all my aches had fled.
Waiting there was a kind-faced man
Who scratched me on my head.

"Welcome to heaven, young pup," He said ,
I hope that you don't mind
Staying and playing with me for a while
Until it's your master's time."

Jesus is so good to me, mom,
He plays with me every day.
I run and I chase and I play ball and dig
And eternity just melts away.

I don't lack for playmates, mom,
There are so many friends for me here;
Doggies and kitties and children and birds,
And we romp, all love and no fear.

I bask in the light of forever,
Resting at Jesus' feet.
But every day I ask the Lord,
"When will my mom and I meet?"

He smiles and then pats me kindly
And He says "Oh, it won't be long now."
I know that He is telling the truth
Because time here flows different, somehow.

Heaven's a wonderful place, mom,
It's the perfect doggie resort.
So while I can't wait to see you,
Don't you dare cut your time on earth short!

When your time comes I will be waiting,
All wagging tail and kisses and love,
And together my joy will be complete:
I and my master, with the Master Above.

I have been Batman'd

So yesterday, the Queen of Snark paid me one of the nicest compliments I've ever received.

I was talking about how I wished I had the courage to do a photo shoot with Oleg, because I have this idea for a poster that would have an incredibly powerful message -- but I'm hesitant to do it because I know it will draw a lot of flack, and I don't know if I can handle all the hate and mockery that would result from it.

And then she laid this on me:

1/16, 7:06pm

Tamara Keel
Fuck 'em. They ain't nobody, and you're Erin goddam Palette.

WOW.

I realize I sound like I'm bragging here ("Look, everyone! Look what Tam has to say about me!"), but my only reason for bringing this up is honestly because I want to thank her in as public a way possible for making me feel so very good about myself and giving me what is one of the best compliments I've received in a long time, right when I needed one.

For context, here is why I call this "Batmanning":

So now you know why I'm so flattered. Thank you, Tam. You really don't know how much this means to me. I really don't get what people see in me (and no, that is NOT fishing for flattery, so please don't), but I am delighted every time people that I like and respect tell me I have good qualities and that I should be proud of who I am and what I have done.

So thank you. Not just Tam, but everyone who has stood beside me, everyone who has boosted my ego, and everyone who calls me friend. Thank you all so very, very much.

Merry Christmas & Happy Hearth's Warming Eve

This is a special delivery of love, kindness and laughter from Ponyville!

The fire of friendship lives in our hearts

As long as it burns we cannot drift apart

Though quarrels arise, their numbers are few

Laughter and singing will see us through

We are a circle of pony friends

A circle of friends we'll be to the very end!

Help make a Christmas Miracle happen

If there are any members of my Flying Monkey Legion (TM) who are financially able to help make a last-minute Christmas miracle happen, please email me* immediately!  

(Details kept quiet to preserve pride and prevent embarrassment of recipient. Emailers will receive more details upon request.)

UPDATE:  Miracles managed!

* erin dot palette at gmail dot com

Derp A Herp

This is a Christmas present for my mother that I commissioned from Joie Brown. There's actually a cute story behind it, which I will share with you. 

My mom occasionally watches ponies with me. She doesn't quite "get" the show, and certainly doesn't enjoy it the way I do, but she thinks the characters are cute and the music is catchy, and she is amazed by all the creativity and passion of the fans.

She chose Derpy Hooves to be her favorite pony because mom also has really bad (REALLY bad) eyesight, and has a tendency to be scatterbrained. Of course, I needed to explain to her what derping is, and how one herps a derp.

So one day, she picks up her Celtic harp to practice with it and announces in, no shit, an ERMAHGERD voice, "Erm gerrna play de herp."

Bemusedly, I replied with "You're gonna derp your herp?"

"Yerp!" she confirmed.

Thus, "Derp a Herp" was born. And mom is NOT gonna see this one coming!

Also, God bless Joie for having the patience of a saint. I was as nitpicky and demanding as a mother-in-law for this commission, and to her credit she's still friends with me. :D

Things for which I am thankful

For ponies!  :D

That once again, no one in my family has killed anyone.

(But brace yourselves, because Christmas is coming, and that time of year is always iffy.)

That my mom managed to set off the fire alarm this year, making me feel less bad about my own kitchen misadventures. 

That my putting the turkey in the pan upside-down turned out to be a happy accident, as that allowed the (normally dry) breast to marinate in its own juices, resulting in a moister, juicier, tender-er turkey. Mom plans to cook it upside-down from now on.

That folks donated money just so that I could attend the Bidet Shoot. 

That I have awesome friends who send me awesome presents for no reason other than "We like you and want you to be happy."

That everyone accepted me wholeheartedly when I came out back in August. 

That lots of talented people donated really killer prizes to Squeak or Treat. 

That so many of you were generous enough that Squeaky made her donation goal to cover medical bills. 

That Squeaky made it safely through surgery and seems to be recovering well. 

That Oleg is going to be in Florida in December, and he wants to see me. 

That once again, I've made it through another year with my Second Amendment Rights intact.

WNW: On Moshe, on Herschel, on Schlomo...

Happy Hanukkah to all my Jewish friends! Also, may you have a tasty, tasty Thanksgivukkah tomorrow!



Hanukkah Harry Saves Christmas from David Benschlomo on Vimeo.

Been meaning to do this for a while...

... but I've been putting it off for no good reason.  

Anyway, Shelby shared a very painful story with us about the death of her brother 11 years ago, and that finally motivated to post these.  Some of you may remember this poem from a few years ago; after much procrastination, I have had them prettied up under the expert hand of Nathan Bechtold.

You are free to print these, or email them, or use them in any other way you wish, just so long as the words aren't changed and I'm still listed as the author.

Ponytails

As many of you know, I have been dreading turning 40 since pretty much the beginning of the year. In fact, it was weighing upon me so much that on February 20th I reached out to some friends (some of whom you know),  and I asked them if they would help me through it:

I have a favor to ask you all. It's probably quite a lot of work, and for that I apologize.

On March 11, I turn 40 years old. This is a huge deal for me. Not much "Oh god, I am getting old" so much as "I am now middle aged and have accomplished NOTHING. I still live at home, have no steady relationship, no regular job, and no prospects of fixing any of that."  I feel like I have inherited the mantle of perpetual loser-dom, and it's really depressing me.  As in, more so than usual for my regular birthday depression.  

What I would like for you folks to do is to find some way to cheer me up on my birthday. Now, since you all know me pretty well, you should know that the usual well-wishes simply won't work. I need to feel like I am not a massive hole of suck and fail. Basically, help me believe (and that is the key here) that I am not a loser like I feel I am.  

I don't really have any suggestions other than "Help me see that I've accomplished worthwhile things and that my existence has meaning."  I don't specifically want stuff; nor do I want the usual "Oh, you have brightened my life simply by being my friend" because, however true it may be, the sentiment simply won't penetrate my armor of cynicism and self-hate and I'll just go "Yeah, right, whatever." 

I picked you five because you are smart, caring, creating, and know me pretty well. If anyone can come up with a good scheme to break my depression, it will be you.

I thank you in advance for trying, and I will still love you all even if you don't succeed. 

PS:  No pressure or anything.   :P

About a week or two later, I knew I had picked the right friends for the task when one of them let slip that there was an "Erin Birthday Central."  I wasn't sure if I needed to be flattered or alarmed to discover that I rated a War Room.





The package was preceded by an email ominously titled DO NOT OPEN UNTIL THE BOX ARRIVES.

Well, okay then.

I didn't think it would arrive in time for my birthday, but at 8:30pm the Brown Truck of Joy arrived with a much larger box than I had expected -- about the size of an easel or bulletin board. I leaped to my computer and read the email:

This will explain one of the key elements of your birthday surprise.

One of the most popular traditions in the US when a pilot first solos an airplane is the removal of the pilot's shirt tail.

The traditional removal of a new pilot's shirt tail is a sign of the instructor's new confidence in his student after successful completion of the 1st solo flight. In the days of tandem trainers, the student sat in the front seat, with the instructor behind. As there were often no radios in these early days of aviation, (and in some of those old planes still flying) the instructor would tug on the student pilot's shirttail to get his attention, and then yell in his ear. A successful first solo flight is an indication that the student can fly without the instructor (solo). Hence, there is no longer a need for the shirt tail, and it is cut off by the proud instructor, and often displayed as a trophy. When I learned to fly, the tails were pinned to a big bulletin board at the flight school, with a date, or perhaps a congratulations or word of encouragement from the instructor, for all to see.

That shirt tail was a sign of the courage the budding pilot had, to get out there and try, as well as everything that still lay ahead of them to dream of.

So for your birthday, your pony pack cut off their tails and pinned them to this board, so you can remember. Even if we may not be literally sitting in back of you, we're always behind you, with friendship and support.

My first thought was, quite literally, "Oh no. They cut the tails off of MLP toys and pinned them to a board," and that made me sad because deliberately mutilated toys just seem tragic to me.

I needn't have worried.The present I was given was far, FAR cooler.

A few clarifications before I begin with the image dump:

1. More than the initial 5 contributed to this.
2. Some of them wished to remain anonymous, so if you wonder why certain things are covered or not seen, that's why. 
3. Everyone else named is named by express permission. Yes, even the one that will make you gasp "No way!"  Yes way.

The Loot

Clockwise from left: A tin of Apple(Jack) Cider; two sparkle ponies from blind bags; a personalized note from AGirl; the Spa Pony set; Crystal Empire Twilight Sparkle with book and reading glasses. The background is from some kind of MLP sticker set.

An overview

You are probably already gasping at the top left, so let's just start there.

Top Left

Quoting the person who assembled the gift:  Tam was on the phone with me while I made another stop trying to find pink push pins late one night (no one likes pink?) and when I told her about it she said "Oh, send one from me!" and she told me exactly what to write on there for your day.

So there you have it!  Our own Tamara Keel is, at the least, pony-positive.

Top Right

This one comes from AGirl, and the significance of it is explained in her handwritten note (posted with permission):

Erin,

The most any of us can be is ourself. I think you under-estimate your worth and what you have to offer.

Your gumption has inspired me countless times to stand up and be myself; to not back down.

This shirt is actually a jacket I wore 2 weeks after I was mugged. I wore it to my very first conceal carry class. That day was the beginning of me having the courage to take full responsibility for my life, its safety & joy.  I wish for you the Happiest Birthday!!!

Wow. I feel like I've been entrusted with a piece of Internet History!

 Top Center

A lovely quote from Melville.

 Left and Right, one layer down 

 Center, two layers down

Hey! No fair maiking me fifty!  I'm already insecure about being forty!

Bottom

 

A cross between Malcom Reynolds and Pinkie Pie? Terrifying!

This one came a day or two later

It's metal because he's a robot, you see. 

I have some of the best friends in the world. Thank you, everypony!

Thank You

Thank you, dear readers, for being my friends and online family.  There are times where I feel very alone in the world, but it warms my heart to know that so many of you care about someone whom you've never met.

You welcomed me into your ranks, when I was but an idiot beginner. (I'm still an idiot.) Thank you for that.

You gave me the money to buy a pistol and a permit and ammo and magazines and all sorts of other thing. Thank you for that.

You give me sympathy when I whine, and advice when I need it. Thank you for that.

You encourage me to succeed, help pick me up when I fail, and keep me from getting too big of an ego. Thank you for that.

You want to meet me in person, and are very gentle with my neuroses. Those few of you that I've met in real life have been nothing but kind and accepting to me. Thank you for that.

You make me feel connected, such that when one of you is in trouble, I don't feel like I'm acting improperly by asking about you, or giving you money, or organizing donations. Thank you for that.

You make me feel loved, and I cannot put a price on that. Thank you so very, very much. I love you too.

Dominus Vobiscum

Within the past month there have been two deaths within the gunblog community. First it was Neptunus Lex, and now I hear that Newbius has passed. I'm sad to say that I never knew either of them, but that doesn't matter; the death of even the least of us diminishes us all.

Not knowing what to say about this, but wishing to pay my respects to fellow members of my tribe, I'll go to my old standby: a poem I made last year for a funeral service of a friend.

CHRYSALIS

To all things there is a season

Even trials which, for no reason,

Seem to strike us down without remorse;

And when our time has run its course

We must remember, through our fears

That we are allocated only years.

We are born into this world

Larval, incomplete, and furled

With no knowledge of what awaits us soon;

And then we crawl into cocoons

Of wood and earth, and thence to die

While all around us, mourners ask God why.

In our rebirth, they cannot see

Our souls borne into eternity

As we emerge from our chrysalis.

And so, my love, I tell you this:

As from eternal grace hope springs

A butterfly begins to spread its wings.

It is my sincerest wish that as they go on to their eternal rewards, they receive a "welcome home" as loving and joyful as this one:

Merry Bronymas to everypony, and to everypony a good Heart's Warming Eve

I Wish You A Messy Christmas

Mutant Sestina written by Erin Palette, Christmas 2008. Feel free to share this with all your friends, but please attribute it to me.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution- Noncommercial- No Derivative Works 3.0 License.