Sunday, February 14, 2010

I can't breathe easy here, 'less our trail's gone cold behind us

Here I go again
Slipping further away
Letting go again
Of what keeps me in place...

Second Life,shopping,build
(Ruminating at Tweedle. You can find intriguing skyboxen, large tree lamps and tableaux, and a variety of fun and seasonal decorations here, including the highly amusing cardboard trees in several seasonal shades.)

There is a curious schism at present, between lives. I spent today by myself, wandering. From place to place, new-found or treasured of old, I wandered. I was twitchy under my skin, it kept changing. And I was alone.

Alone seems to be how I spend most of my time, these days, on the grid.

I like it here
But it scares me to death
There is nothing here...

Second Life,shopping,build
(The zombie kissing booth at FallnAngel Creations. Note the new frock behind me--you'll find it under Ballgowns and it's called Queen of Hearts. Spendy, but worth every penny, available in far more colors than just black and white. And the hair in the ad you can find over at Falln Sanitarium.)

Is it a good sign or a bad sign that unless I specially request it, or attend at the urgings of friends who refuse to let me drift completely from the world, all I do here, I do by myself? It's not a bad sign that out of world, I live with, and adore deeply, two people, and know my heart is captured and held by two others. Love, I am not without. Valentine's Day as a holiday holds no terror for me, unless it's what to get for all these varied loves.

But on the grid,'s just me. Is this a good or bad sign?

The light is beautiful
But I’m darker than light
And you are wonderful
But this moment is mine

Second Life,shopping,build
(Hanging out at the sick sim, above the main drag.)

Maybe it's just a sign of burn-out. I'm no longer enchanted with scavenger hunts, what with the total and extreme glut of them, these days. Even the scavenger hunts for places I adore, like Falln, I don't always attend. And hunting out interesting freebies lacks appeal when my inventory groans at 62K.

All of this dust
All of this past
All of this over and gone
And never coming back

Second Life,shopping,build
(Very large angry kitties on the sick sim.)

And really, while I enjoy dancing, and I do want to spend time with my this point, I'm not even going out of my way to strike up conversations with anyone. I rarely speak in Caledon chat anymore, and I keep pulling open one or the other graphics program, staring at it, thinking Why bother? and closing it.

All of this forgotten
Not by me...

Second Life,shopping,build
(Ripple effects: looking up through the water at Alirium Gardens. The tree behind me is the Ordinary Tree in Insanity; it's a good name for such a random collection of wildly colored leaves.)

Maybe it's ennui. Maybe it's just something that happens to people who've been on the grid this long. I'm coming up on four years, this summer; maybe all the changes, all the frustration, all the selective deaf ears of the Lindens is finally wearing on me, to the point that I just don't have the patience to spend on the grid that I once had.

I find comfort here
'Cos I know what is lost
Hope is always fear
For the pain it may cost...

Second Life,shopping,build
(Relaxed contemplation on the green at Alirium Gardens. The dress is part of Nomine's contributions to the Stumblebum line, in particular, the Skully Red Dust Storm dress. To date, it's the only 'babydoll' style I like, and have ever liked, on SL.)

Perhaps that's part of it, too. I'm still recovering from somewhat serious illness--the flu I had did not turn into pneumonia only due to extreme paranoia and overbearing diligence on the part of my loves, pouring medicants and herbal teas down my throat, making sure I kept warm, and making sure I stayed visible, which meant the wee netbook, propped on my lap. The netbook will run SL...barely. When I didn't have the energy to fight through the lag, I sat and sewed, or nodded off, awakened only by coughing or by the next dose of cough syrup, or the next cup of tea. I didn't touch my desktop for nearly a week.

And I have searched for the reason to go on
I’ve tried and I’ve tried
But it’s taking me so long
I might be better off
Closing my eyes
And God will come looking for me
In time...

Second Life,shopping,build
(Meditating on "Elven" flowers at the Arachne Market.)

I'm still coughing, but that's the last trace of it. To me, my voice is still creak and crackle; to others, it is deep and mysterious, and to be fair, of the two, I'd rather be Mata Hari than a Mogwai after midnight, so it works.

All of this dust
All of this past
All of this over and gone...

Second Life,shopping,build
(I'm going to have to write and ask, because I am enough in love with The Deck's patio furniture, I want to know how much and where I can get--and while the pieces are all over the shop, the vendors for them are not.)

Maybe the desire to play on the grid will return. I do know that this patch of discontent is hitting at the worst possible time, as I'm attempting to get up and functional both my main store, and the satellite branch on the additional bit of Morgaine. I think there's all of three items, maybe four, at either location, and in Twilight Tears, I'm just unhappy all the way 'round with the build in the first place.

All of this dust
All of this past
All of this over--

Second Life,shopping,build
(Building over Glidden.)

I may end up just going for a huge, hollowed-out megaprim, the dimension of the parcels I'm allowed to play with on Twilight Tears. Something gargantuan and empty, pattern the walls with stars, the ceiling with comets, the floor with grass...and put in trees and dances and more gravestones and fog....It's not that I lack ideas, just the drive to put them into physical form.

I can see myself
I look peaceful and pale
But underneath
I can barely inhale...

Second Life,shopping,build
(Drifting down in a bubble looks more peaceful than it is. The bubbleport system just came down at my new main store above Twilight Tears, because we're working on a simpler, less erratic teleportation system. Even assuming that were fixed and purely functional, I just don't have the stock, at present. It's a very large empty store currently.)

It remains to be seen if my unabashed love for SL will triumph over disheartening cynicism. I'm not pulling either way, though I do know that--contrary to the last time I spoke of leaving--I would miss SL if I did go.

Maybe that's part of it, too. It would just take too much effort to leave and uproot everything. I have a home here. I have--if disjointed and lonely, at times--a life, here. And while it's not as vibrant as my first life, it does exist, still. In spite of it all.

I can hear myself singing that song
Over and over until it belongs to me...

Second Life,homecoming,nostalgia,Rivula
(Can't go home again: where my home stood, two years ago, in Rivula.)

The Second Life of today would not have captured me in 2006, when I joined. But the Second Life I joined in 2006 is far, a thousand leagues far, from where we are now. M Linden seems to want nothing but business networking; there's still mass confusion over what's allowable and what's not, in terms of camping, lucky/unlucky chairs, and Adult ratings; and there's deep, deep unhappiness at the Labs. I predict more departures for better, less stressful, climes, by more Lindens who care about people, not profits.

Can't go home again, clichéd but true...but what happens when home leaves us, first?

(Lyrics are taken from "All of this Past" by Sarah Bettens.)


Magdalena Kamenev said...

As someone who was once guaranteed to get bronchitis at least twice a year, I'm glad you are recovering from being on the hair's breadth from walking pneumonia (or the full-blown thing).

Sometimes, burnout is temporary, sometimes it's a sign that one should walk away and not look back. If you decide you need to or want to go, you would be missed ...

Emilly Orr said...

I have an unlovely combination of factors working against me here: a brief flirtation with clove cigarettes (which ended after my voice dropped a full octave), a predisposition for getting pneumonia regularly (had it eight times; bronchitis twice, and "unknown bacteriological impact"--whatever that means--once), and keloids (I scar at the drop of a hat).

I'm fairly sure I have weak lungs now--if not actually scarred, then at least damaged. But yay for lack of pneumonia!