Its official – I have joined Second Life

Not just as the occasional player, or as a substitute for my real life.  I have rented a brownstone on Postoffice Street in the Galveston Island SIM, applied for an SL job at Club Sky on the eLab City West (UC Riverside) SIM. 

Otherwise, I am fair.  My Second Life has helped my first life.  It is quite a creative outlet that has the promise of future possibilities.  The stifledness of life in sluburban Delaware is then ameliorated a bit.  Quite a bit.  I feel lighter, more hopeful.  And more motivated to housework in my RL (real life).  And that is saying quite a lot. 

Lady’s eyes are doing a little better.  That is good too.  All in all – I am far off track in my original plan for this fall term, but somehow I think I am right on schedule.  I will keep on, keeping on – with the hope the road will rise to meet me.

OKay I’m Compensating …

but who can wait until the holidays on the off chance the hubby will come through with something I actually ask him for. Give the past track record, anything that requires thought for purchase prior to December 22nd is problematic.

So I bought my own gift in advance from the Toy Shoppe … one of their exclusives which do NOT stay around long. I missed Tiny Betsy McCall goes Shopping for waiting a month to decide to buy her. I saw the Madame Alexander Coquette Cissy’s at the IDEX doll show and knew I was going to get one someday. I loved the Latin Dressed to Thrill and I also liked the AA doll in the yellow gown. However, know I know why I waited. The Toy Shoppe has had their own ltd.ed. versions of this doll and their AA one has the most beautiful Cissy Type face I have ever seen. The pink dress is elegant – all in all a wowser. So last night after the third increasingly hectic day on the college treadmill, I bought her. Now I have to pine away until October until she actually arrives.

<img src="http://www.thetoyshoppe.com/showimage.aspx?resize=true&width=375&img=/images/dolls/madame/romance.jpg"
She is called the Romance and Roses Coquette Cissy and like all Toy Shoppe exclusives take a great doll and even make it more special.

A Shop!!!! A Shop!!!!

It was really late last night when I got back from my 2nd night class … and I still had to give Lady a walk. Poor girl had been waiting over 12 hours to see me. I took her down the road a few miles in the car to walk on the Main Street of Newark DE – which is the heart of the college town. It is a place I take her to walk frequently when it is late or in bad weather. It is a place where there are a lot of folks out at 10+pm at the restauarants,etc.

There is a boutique called Echo which is next to my hairdressers (The Cat’s Eye ;-)and the owner often stays open late if he is there doing his jewlelry work. He lets Lady come in with me, so Echo is one of Lady’s favorite shops, along with the florist and the used book store (all of the owners let her come in with me). He happened to aske me a question about the bracelets he was making, and we fell into conversation.

I found out that he is apprenticing under an elderly local goldsmith/jeweler who is letting him acquire all his equipment gradually while learning all about how to use the stuff. So this guy may end up to be one of the few true jewelers left in town who can actually fix fine jewelry. He was showing me the rings he carves from plastic for casting later in precious metal. So I asked him if I could design some rings if he could make them. Of course he said. Ken & I don’t yet have our marriage rings as I never could find something I wanted to spend all that $$$ on. I thought I might have to find a silversmith in New Mexico (or Montana) but never ran across anyone in my summers that seemed “right”.

Turns out that the right guy was just down the road aways. I started telling him about the limitations I have in wearing jewelry due to my work. Just out of the blue he offered to represent my work in his shop – he already works with 50+ other local artisans/crafters/designers. TTTTTWHAAAT???

So now I have a shop too!!!!!!!!! Not my shop, but exactly what I need – a place to show my stuff for sale. The BEST part of it is – he says he wants whatever I want to bring in. Unlike other places which are only seeking particular things – Echo would be interested in anything for the house or body … and when I get tired of making it, I can move onto whatever might interest me.. like hats, purses, wearable items,

Just knowing that the place is THERE, has got me exciting about doing stuff.

Dreaming About the Creative Pulse Again

I had the oddest dream. It was the first day back at the Creative Pulse. I was one day late. It had been moved to the UCLA campus in Westwood, and I didn’t know that. I spent the longest most anxious time trying to find out what building we were in, and with a surge of relief and a measure of joy I finally found my way back.

I had to jump right in to – you guessed it – personal performance – without the benefit of one day to have mental transitions. It was – jump out of car (parked illegally of course) – run around campus in a frenzy – personal performance. Talk about a “cold reading”.

Nor was anyone was thrilled to see me. There were three or four first year students that were hypercritical of everything – and they had already formed the “critic’s claque” in record time. I was up on their chopping block after my personal performance, which was put through a critical wringer, in which I had to defend nearly every aspect of myself, including my right to breathe the same rarified air as themselves. It was as if the personalities from the judges of American Idol or Project Runway were being channeled through these members of our group. [ Of course in the dream, I didn’t ask myself what 1st year students would be doing in the 2nd year performance group anyway ]

The dream progressed from terror to worse – until I had to wake up. I can see the face of this one young woman so clearly – she had made it her mission in life to prove that my whole premise for art and life was a cop-out for the untalented, undisciplined, and undeserving. Most of the time, I get anxious about what all is left to be accomplished in this field project year. This time I was glad to wake up and still be in Dela-where?.

Rocky Bottom Feeding

I have felt that I have been fighting it for a long time, the external momentums that want to push me away from the direction I seek to pursure, the feeling of sinking in a bog.

I dream in some fashion about the Creative Pulse all the time. Since I finished my undergraduate degree, I have a recurring dream about math classes. I recognize this as my “anxiety” dream, when I dream I have been registered for a math course and either have a) not taken any exams or b) never gone and all of a sudden realize this. What is significant is the emotion, the fear of being involved in something that I have been too late in comprehending my involvement in it. It usually isn’t too hard to figure out what it is exactly in life that I am truly worried about after having one of these dreams.

In the week I traveled to Montana, I had a variation of my math anxiety dream. It was the night I spent in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, which was just about the halfway point of the trip. I dreamed that I had been registered for not one but TWO math classes, it was past mid-term and I had never even gone to class at all. I took this as a measure of the degree of anxiety I was feeling upon embarking on a committment to the Creative Pulse program.

Now I dream more specifically about being back in Missoula at the Creative Pulse, probably in an effort to relive what I was feeling while I was there. However, last night I had a significant dream …

In short, I dreamed I was involved in a theater production and during the performance the theater caught fire. I was one of the few inside that was aware of this, and was simultaneously trying warn others and find a way of escape for myself. What was unique about this dream was the realism and the sensations. I have never dreamed about being in a fire when I have felt the heat of the flames so vividly, and felt the sense of impending suffocation from the smoke so realistically. I made my way with a group of people toward the lobby of the theater, but because I had held back to help others, I had waited until too late to be able to escape from this route myself. Many had gotten out, but quickly the path of escape had been blocked by flames. It was my intimate knowledge of the interior of a theater that helped me act quickly to seek another way out. I turned and raced toward the production areas – the shops. I ran inside. It was the oddest theater shop I had ever seen, but that is not vitally relevant to this narrative I think. There were a few people working singly in isolated spots inisde this strange multilevel shop. I was not able to convince them at all of the impending danger. The fire exploded through the shop door. It was that split second of decision – either I acted to save myself, or if I hesitated even a moment for one last attempt to save the others as well, we would all perish. Hesitation IS fatal, at times.

I acted. They perished. I jumped up through the levels of the shop toward a door at the top, which I knew led outside. I sat up in bed, startled awake, just as I had reached the door and the sensation of the fire was searingly impressed on my consciousness.

I interpret this as an accurate perception of the danger I have been feeling about the side of myself that I rediscovered this summer in the Pulse, “perishing” in the fire of ordinary life. I truly would rather die than be forced back by circumstance to my life as I knew it before.

yes the cost has been high, and in a sense it is irrevocable. The bell can never be unrung. There is no support or succor. All seems to be contrived to force me to abandon this new road.