In Another Life

Recently I signed up to enter Second Life; A virtual world that has been around for a few years, and has sort of already had its 15 minutes of fame. You don't hear too much about it lately. Except on Science Friday, which has its own island "in world."

I haven't done much yet aside from create my avatar. I named her Jemma, as in a combo of Jennifer and Emma. That quiz on Facebook that was going around said that if I was born today, my (not creative) parents would have probably called me Emma. I like it because it reminds one of Jane Austen and therefore sounds British.

People in virtual worlds like Second Life join for all different reasons. It's fairly common for citizens in these places to want to make their life as different as possible from their real life. They may give their avatar a crazy fantastical appearance, or just make it look like a dream version of themselves. The way they wished they could look. There must be some who want the avatar to be as realistic as possible. To represent them in this world. Not to be anything he or she is not. I don't think you hear about those kinds of people much. But I am one of them. Aside from the British sounding name, everything else about Jemma so far is fairly close to my reality. I could have just kept the default female avatar body, but I wanted to see what I actually look like walking around in the world. So I made her short and curvy, with a large ass and muscular legs. Big feet, olive skin, dark eyes and hair. I even made her jaw a bit long and gave her dark circles under her eyes. I haven't got it all 100% right yet. The appearance editor in Second Life is even more sophisticated and specific than I know what to do with. I'm not sure the exact length of my torso, the angle of my nose, or the slope of my cheeks. Or the degree of bowleggedness or pigeon toe my walk is. How can I be sure what my exact proportions would look like if plugged into a computer? I can only approximate. At first I made my butt a bit too big. Like you could see each raised cheek under my dress. I think mine is more wide than it is plump. It's hard to say. I really never look at myself that closely.

With an approximate likeness of me, I next tried getting Jemma to move around and explore the world. It took an age for me to figure out how to get her to sit on a bench. She's still on Help Island right now. I've managed to get her to tour the model house on display, and sit on one of the sofas. (See the snapshot above.) I've changed her clothes into something more casual than the cute pink dress she started with. Some jeans and a sporty sort of T-shirt. I think it was technically a boy's outfit. But it was all I could find. And when I put it on her, it comformed to her shape and size. So it looks okay.

I still haven't figured out the whole "shopping for goods and using money and whatnot" in world. Supposedly there are a lot of free items around for those with no money. I haven't yet been able to navigate to any stores or other locations. Apparently I can fly, or teleport but I have no idea where I am or where I should be going. That means baby steps for now.

Anyway, I think my exploration of this world will be helpful in some ways. I can maybe try to figure stuff out. See if I can interact with people. Find out how they see me. Find out how I want to be seen. I don't expect to make any great strides in my therapy through it, but it may turn out to be a supplemental exercise.

I had a session with my therapist yesterday and she seemed a bit frustrated by the fact that I am still doing a lot of negative thinking. I should know better by now surely. I was practicing restructuring my thoughts. But those assumptions (mind reading) and exaggerations (magnifications) just keep jumping out, before I have the chance to stop them.

Maybe playing some of it out in Second Life will help. I can be a fly on the wall, get a different perspective from outside of myself/Jemma. And maybe I can find a bit of truth.

New Year's Eve

So the year ended as it began, in a crowd of people in the middle of Dan Bunin's family room. All day I prepared. I got a new coat and scarf in case I ended up standing out in the backyard in the cold. I got a new clutch so I could have my technology at my side. I got dressed in my carefully chosen outfit, and arrived, fashionably late. And promptly fell down the steps into the living room.

I spotted Kate first. Then Ralph. I gladly greeted them. And we chatted. Ralph introduced his friend Rob who sometimes helps out at his store. We took some pictures. And then I noticed him. Keir was now in the living room, showing someone his portfolio. Now on his new iPhone! He'd grown his hair long again. And he looked good. Healthy. It was a relief seeing he was okay. But I'd have to try not to pay him too much attention. Indeed I wasn't there for him.

I greeted Janice, and Joe and Dan and Mike and a few of the others. I stayed close to Ralph as usual. But eventually I greeted Keir. "Hey, how are you?" "Good, you?" "Good." "I thought I might see you here," he said. Momentarily I wondered. Was he glad?

So just like last year, I milled around, and felt awkward, and talked to a few new people and some familiar ones. I did bits of catching up. I work at the Test Site now, blah, blah, blah. Some good music played and some not so good. I danced a bit. Especially when a block of songs off the Glee album were played. We sang along, and danced and there was much drinking. And Janice had Barb with her. A bit of her ashes enclosed in a silver charm hanging from her neck.

Late into the night, Keir requested a special song. And he and Janice danced. They were both drunk, I think, and maybe for those few minutes they were back in that place; Keir held her tightly, as they swayed and teetered around the floor. I winced and stood against the wall. But I knew it was right, the two of them. And even though it went wrong, it never went away.

I stayed very nearly to the end. Because I didn't know what else to do. Or because I couldn't leave until I was sure it would hold me over until next time. In case another year goes by. I got Keir's new phone number. And hugged each of those who were left. In the living room, Janice was crying. Another time I'd stumbled into her at a bad moment. It was time to go. And I gingerly made my way back down the street to my car.

And it didn't matter what I wore. Not to anyone but me. Which, I guess, is the point anyway.