Still night, nothing for miles,
White curtain come down,
Kill the lights in the middle of the road
And take a look around...
Packed away the doll. Can't help it; I can't imagine being in her skin right now, and I'm shying away even from keeping out those pieces I like and wear with other forms. It hurt, though, the packing away. I poured a great deal of me into the form of the doll.
It don't help to be
One of the chosen
One of the few, to be sure
When the wheels are spinning around
And the ground is frozen through,
Now I'm finding myself at loose ends, wondering what happens now. Life stage next: there don't seem to be a lot of goals, and less in the way of landmarks to guide me.
Driven, like the snow
Pure in heart
And given away to the west
I have a Tumblr account now. It is defiantly not safe for work. I have an established Twitter account, which is mostly safe for work. I maintain one blog nearly daily, another blog diffidently, and I just tied up a third stealth blog for NaNoWriMo. (I'm still not sure what to do with the fifty-one thousand words of output. It wasn't fiction. It was far from impersonal. And in spots it was raw and painful and bleeding to write. I seriously doubt anyone wants to read that but me.)
A white dress
'Til the river don't run
A black dress
Looking like mine
'Til the sun don't shine no more
All of which means I'm finding places to test my footing, places to learn new things, but very, very little of it has anything to do with Second Life.
Where the sky meet the ground
Where the street fold round
Where the voice you hold don't make no sound
I haven't moved on yet. I'm still holding my parcels (though I'm still looking to sell Caledon Morgaine), working in world; I'm still involved in building the occasional frock.
Let's just say, I know where the exit is now, even if it doesn't lead to another virtual world.
Look, snow on the river and two by two
Took a lot to live, a lot like you
I don't go there now, but I hear they sung
Their "Fuck Me And Marry Me Young"
So where am I drawing the line at present? Well, I can't conceive--now--of ever having another rezday party. I can't conceive--now--of going to another dance. I know maybe eight people in Caledon at this point.
Some wild-eyed dear in a big white bed
Now, you know better than that, I said,
Like a voice in the wind
Blow little crystals down
Like brittle things will break before they turn
In fact, it's gotten so bad, as far as detachment goes, that I wonder--when I get Lindens--why I'm bothering buying new things at all. I'm trying to gut out the inventory I have, and, since I still have this strong feeling Second Life may not be long for this world...why am I buying new things?
Like lipstick on my cigarette
And the ice get harder overhead
Like, think it twice but never never learn...
Which makes it hard to support the efforts I want to support. Like Woeful Wednesday, and even 25LT, though I'm not Gorean. Supporting sculpt makers who throw sales. Supporting the makers I do like, when I do have spending money over and beyond rent.
And the mist will wrap around us
And the crystal, if you touch it...
And more importantly, it makes it very difficult to consider buying Lindens. Why, precisely, am I supporting a company who's spent the past three years lighting any last shred of community support, and any established positive feelings, on fire?
And the cars lost in the drift are there
And the people that drive lost in the drift are there
And the cares I've lost in the drift are there
Theirs, ours, lost in the drift are
Are, are, are
Like Bettina Tizzy, at this point I think I'm just hanging around, waiting for the Labs to be sold off to whomever, and then figure out if I can cope with the changes that company may want to make.
And driven apart
At this point, I come in for sale days, if I have extra money; for the rare build project; and for my work shifts at Solace Beach. Nothing else pulls me into SL without effort.
I can't decide if it's a good thing or not, but I know it's not a bad thing. It remains to be seen how permanent the absence will be, in time.
(Lyrics taken from "Driven Like the Snow" by Sisters of Mercy. "Driven Like The Snow". It comes off the album Floodland, published [and ©] in 1987 by WEA Records, Ltd. and SBK Songs. It was written by Andrew Eldritch, naturally.)