It’s been a while since I wrote anything here. The last time I did, I told of moving away from the land I’d owned for years in Scepter’d Isle, to concentrate on building a home with Vex in Twisster, her waterside plot that was intended to be our ‘weekender’, but evolved into something different.
In the end it wasn’t possible for me, no matter how I tried, to spend nearly as much time in SL as I wanted to, and not nearly enough for Vex. I’ve sat around, waiting for someone to show up, only to be disappointed. You probably have, too. When it happens occasionally, it’s frustrating. When it happens routinely, when it almost becomes the normal way of things, you reach a point where the joy of meeting is lost in the ache of waiting. I never reached that point – Vex was always there for me. But there was nothing I could do to be in SL more often, nothing I could do to take away Vex’s waiting in vain, in pain.
Our partnership came to and end just after Christmas.
I don’t know what the future holds for either of us. My deepest hope is that we both find new ways of living that put less strain on us. There’s a chance Vex and I may be able move forward together, in some new enlightened way. There’s a chance we’ll find very different paths to follow. Life is just chances.
I have memories of love and happiness, of holding and being held by the most wonderful person. That’s been my fortune, my life’s chance, for the last two years. I could never have hoped for more.
Vex, my thanks are not enough. I have been privileged beyond my deserving. I love you.
I talked about it and thought about it, and finally I did it. After four years (almost exactly) I’ve given up my land in Scepter’d Isle, and moved in with Vex.
In te end, it was easier to do than I’d feared. One press of the big ‘return to sender’ button, and a few thousand square metres of sim was suddenly laid waste – as you can see.
Time to move on, and start another chapter.
It’s hard to believe that Vextra and I have been partners for a year, today. And yet, it’s hard to believe that we were ever anything other than partners. And it’s impossible to imagine going forwards without Vextra in my life.
One year, caught in a moment.
So few words say say much: Vextra, I love you more than ever.
A lot of things in sl are changing. Whether it’s a case of reaching maturity, or of moving on to the ‘next great thing’ I don’t know, but it seems to me that sl has stabilised. Or matured. Or stagnated, if you prefer. Or perhaps it’s consolidating.
However you describe it, it feels like there’s not the turnover of people, and not the influx of newcomers that there once was. Someone will surely find hard numerical facts to contradict me, but that’s not the point. The point is, that’s how it feels.
The last significant development in the sl feature set was the introduction of sculpties. It’s so long ago that I can’t remember. The only recent development in the viewer was the addition of bouncy boobs. Much appreciated, but it’s not a feature of the official viewer – it’s a feature of the open source ‘Emerald’ viewer. Where has all the innovation gone? Is it all less exciting when things have become more stable? Has it all drifted, from bleeding edge, to simply bleeding?
Well, whatever the answers to those (if you have any, please comment), one thing that has passed, more-or-less in consequence, is Commune 1.
Commune 1 was a piece of mainland owned and run by Corwin. It wasn’t big. It was set up as a cheap way to gain a foothold in sl – you could hire a skybox (even design and build your own) at no more than a fair share of the cost. No profit. And Corwin took on the task of tidying up the lost prims. Many of my current friends started their second lives in Commune 1, and none that I know regrets it. I’m proud to have had a tiny part in its origins, and I sincerely thank Corwin for bringing the idea to fruition.
It’s now gone, but it won’t be forgotten by anyone who lived there. They’ve moved on, happier for what it gave them.