Hello 
I'm Siobhan Curran/Kisa Naumova, and this is my weblog. I tend to write about stuff like crossdressing, Macs, code, cats, wine and Second Life, but in general it's just an ongoing conversation about all sorts of stuff. If you'd like to know a little bit more about what this all is, I recommend starting on this page which has a little bit of info on who I am, and what I'm trying to do — or you could dive into my five years worth of archives if you like.
Otherwise, feel free to close this box and explore...
Residue
Puppy
Pre
The "cameraphone in the mirror" self-portrait is a genre of photography that I rather enjoy 
Tipex Opportunity
Oh, the hilarity that would ensue...
Defeat
I'm not a very productive person at the best of times, yet I'm still annoyed with myself for completely failing to get around to one of the highest things on my metaphorical To Do List this week — redesign the comment form.
I took so long over redesigning the rest of my blog last year, that the once-pretty (and IMHO "enviable") pink thing that used to reside at the bottom of each day gave way to a hastily cobbled-together plain <form> — and I've been meaning to do something sexy with it ever since 
I've wanted to increase the robustness of the Flickr-based authentication — actually using the API rather than page-scraping to find someone's buddyicon. I've wanted to have a major rethink of whether to include the Blogger credentials, and drop The Angels. I've wanted to maybe do some cunningly AJAX-based previewing of gravatars and such...
But. Well. There's just never enough time, you know?
To be perfectly honest, I disabled the comments on Monday because I was a bit narked about a couple of things — the borderline between Things That Are Public™ and Things That Are Private Yet Still Writable About™ is a thin and complicated one, and something I must try and write about in the future. How you balance wanting to be very open about your life when you've made a decision to be a "personal journaller"-type of blogger, against wanting to reserve some things for non-commenting is tricky — and even after five years of spewing my life onto the internets I still don't really have a handle on it.
But I thought I'd take that opportunity firstly to allow myself the freedom to write without the constant self-validation paranoia of How Many Comments I Get™, but also to redo the whole form in the hope that a Comment Form 2.0 would be something useful and fun.
Except, well. I've been a little busy I guess. What with playing the benefactor to a wandering soul, despairing at lack of funds (a long story which I might write about, although it's a prime example of the Private/Public thing), and running around Canal Street in a stupidly short skirt and getting into a bit of trouble (more on that later, perhaps) — I just haven't been able to take the thoughts in my head and cement them in code.
So, rather embarassingly and with a large dollop of humble pie, I'm not bringing the form back with the Raspberry Yumminess™ that had half-formed in my head as a visual design. I'm just going to change the false into a true (or is it the other way around?) and hope that no-one notices.
Beware Rams? Why, were the free people of Lancaster.. erm Manchester exercising their freedom to drive sheep through the city? 
On The Dangers Of The Gents
You will, perhaps, be familiar with my Oh So Envelope Pushing!™ habit of going to the Gents rather than the Ladies whenever I'm dressed up and out. Here, for your enjoyment, is an example of me doing just that...
But
See, I was going to write a long thing this evening about being violated in toilets, and the inherent misconceptions that people have about folks of "my ilk" — along the lines of "even if we seem to be presenting ourselves as available, it doesn't actually mean that we are" ...
...but I can't be arsed. Because I'm tired.
One thing though: If you ever happen to see me in a toilet, do not touch me. Because I'm not there for your pleasure. OK?
D'you know, I've only ever heard one person describe themselves as, "There for your pleasure", and it was Ebeneezer Goode.
That's terrible. No-one upon no-one should have to put up with their personal space being invaded when they don't want it. No-one should think they have the right to violate someone. Big hugs, and I hope you decked him (I assume) properly.
I wish I understood what this all means.