Consider this: you are a nondescript creature full of warmth & love who finds yourself locked in a cage of the traditional variety, with sturdy metal bars and all that. You are instructed via some ominous speaker that you can get out of the cage, but it will require getting a key off of the wall. Sounds simple enough.?It is certainly within reach. Initially, you do not feel any great need to escape, because the prison just happens to be stocked with goodies to the brim. You dine and feast on the food and drink within until your tummy is full and content, and using the comfortable minilavatory, your excretory needs are served well too.

But, days go by. The yummies run out. You soon find yourself starving and a feeling of deliriousness beginning to overcome you. So you want out. Now. You reach for the key.

As soon as you do — and by the way, you almost reach your goal — some hidden force exerts a great amount of pain on your body. It spreads from your fingertips of the reaching hand, all the way back to the core of your body. It hurts like hell. But you're feisty and full of spunk, arentcha? So, after being thrown back against the bars, you try again. Same thing — actually, that's a lie. It feels worse this time. Undeterred, you reach for the key once more. Even worse. You keep doing this, and as the pain gets stronger and takes ahold of your every movement and breathing moment, your hope fades. The possibility of any such escape draws further and further, zooming into the distance at a pace you can't possibly catch up to in your weakened state.

You are full of pain and suffering. And what hurts you even more than any physical agony is the fact that you are alone. All by yourself. In isolation, in solitary — whatever you choose to call it, it does not change the indisputable, irrevocable state of you being alone. Oh, it's not silent: you can hear yourself think and your little heart beating, and that hurts even more. You wonder if anyone's coming to save you. Why? No one even knows where you are. You could rest and try to build up some more strength for the next attempt, but you've tried to grasp for the key dozens of times now. In vain. Oh, how you regret not reaching for the key earlier, when?your cell was stocked with nutritious delights. Oh, how you regret not saying and doing so many things in this life. And oh…?by the way… don't forget that you're alone.

"When the heart breaks, the spirit soon follows."

Consider that.

(Now, onto some happier things! YAY )

~~~

?????

I'm gonna fire off some quick memories in true automatic weapon fashion. If the pen is mightier than the sword, this as well might be a verbal Seburo assault. And to note, today's image portion has been edited for your excitement. (A more dreamlike quality awaits, 'cuz if life is but a dream, then what is Second Life? )

I had such a packed day yesterday — it was exciting, one adventure after another. I'm 2 months and 2 days old on SL, and some of the zany fun I had reminded me of my first days here, when everything was so fresh and new. I'm living in the moment and enjoying it, because who knows what will come next?

First off, my friend Chance Abattoir made some fine observations to me yesterday. I've asked for his permission to print our IM conversation, so here goes, straightforward and astute:

Chance Abattoir: A thought occurred to me as I read your journal today.
Torley Torgeson: oh yes?
Chance Abattoir: Now both RL and SL Torley miss their fathers.
Torley Torgeson: that's a really insightful point.
Chance Abattoir: I guess the more you break away, the more things come full circle.
Torley Torgeson: HEY!!!
Torley Torgeson: that's good!
Torley Torgeson: yeah…
Torley Torgeson: that's true.
Chance Abattoir: I still haven't met you, Torley Jr.
Torley Torgeson: well now's the time, TP me if you wanna
Chance Abattoir: But right now I'm exploring Neverland.
Torley Torgeson: i was JUST there

My RL Dad died last year — liver complications and whatnot. I watched him literally die on his deathbed. He was in his own world of?suffering and pain,?and he?tried to reach out and communicate to me, but his body was too?weak. He faded off, and soon, there was a funeral.?It was spooky to me — in?a good way — how effectively Chance pointed this parallel out to me, because I hadn't been realizing it myself.?And he's so right on the "full circle" point. In some way, Torley Jr. misses "the old Torley" (aka my very first avatar), who offline used to be able to compose music and didn't feel like a bird with clipped wings.

As I've blogged about before, I see a lot of loops in my life. Some of them have yet to be broken. Some already have. Some don't need to. Both First and Second Lives go on, and as they do so, Chance performed a cool act of community service at Neverland by pointing out lost trees that had been stranded somehow under the buildings. Yes, palm trees in Olde London. Hilarity ensued. Here's what we had to say:

Torley Torgeson: lol nice public service work you're doing
Chance Abattoir: Yadni actually had two down here
Torley Torgeson: making Neverland a more tree–appropriate place for everyone
Torley Torgeson: HAHAHAHA
Torley Torgeson: LOL
Torley Torgeson: are they gonna get him in trouble for treehiding now?
Chance Abattoir: He's a polluter
Chance Abattoir: with trees
Torley Torgeson: HAHAHAHA
Torley Torgeson: i've never heard of that before
Chance Abattoir: It's the offense of the future.
Torley Torgeson: that's very cyberpunk
Chance Abattoir: Sir, is this your tree?
Chance Abattoir: There are ghost sounds in the graveyard
Chance Abattoir: g-raveyard
Torley Torgeson: HAHAHAHAHA

We were joking about this, of course. YadNi, aka?"Mr. Joint Time!",?is nice. It was just too funny speculating on the possibility of?a very literal "London Underground club" beneath the streets. So, what's next? Turntablism with grammaphones and pimpin' Victorian rides?

Although London doesn't look in 2004 A.D. like it did in 1905 A.D., some things remain the same. For example, people speak English. I could even make a microcase for the sim of Umber, better known as Midnight City. Ever since my first visit there about a month-and-a-half ago, so much has changed, and yet there are still familiar presences. I fondly recall meeting Mistress Midnight and crew at the Spook House, and how friendly they were. The Spook House has moved, and new buildings like Liquid & Taji's Pirata are coming into full bloom — not to mention the expansion of Launa Fauna's shoppe along with the shifting of my home dumpster and… and… well, I'll get to this in a bit and tie it all up?in a neat package.

A funny thing happened yesterday: I was sitting on a bench in Welcome Area, next to Mis, and I was under the impression that something was seriously buggered with my SL because Mistress was (AWAY) but kept on smiling. Yup, one cheerful display of shiny whites after another. I promptly insisted I'd relog and come back, and when I did, she explained to me it was intentional, and added: "What's wrong with smiling?" complete with emoticon. And how right she was. I realized then, in that moment, that perhaps some things about me had indeed become dusty and more hardened then when I first showed up at the WA, and I needed to restore that shine, that smile. Full Circle. It wouldn't be a deliberately stilted process, oh no, but something much more fluid and akin to a stream-of-consciousness journey. I had already entered this vital slipstream a few days ago upon the entry of Torley Jr., who I'll refer to from now on simply as "Torley" for convenience.

My ruminations were confirmed upon entering a trivia game hosted by the sage Lisse Livingston, a most righteous citizen of Second Life. If you want a fair land deal, talk to her. She's got nice places to live. I'd not really played trivia in awhile, in part because the spark had puffed out for me and I wanted to diversify, but seeing some of my good chums here and taking a seat next to amig0 FlipperPA — heck, that lit things up so brightly I'm on supernova sunshine again. The banter was so entertaining, the questions diverse, and the pace was intense. One of the first things I did when coming to SL was play trivia — Pituca's Jeopardy!, actually. Unfortunately, I missed her event at Neverland yesterday but the future is a big place.

I visited a number of friends. Asset server went kerplunk for awhile in the wee hours, but the Lindens quickly ramped it back up again.?When TelePorting was broken, I manually flew to Gwyn's house?to give her a big hug. Gwyneth Llewelyn was there for me at the beginning of my Second Life, and I'll never forget her graciousness.

Today, leading up to as I type this, Midnight City is undergoing winterization. I just got one of Launa's sweeeet scarves and dolled myself up for the impending snow. There's something magical about Christmas — er, Xmas — and although I've never been big on holiday sentiment, personally, I see the joy that it brings to others. This makes me happy too. It's nice to know that every year, Xmas is celebrated, and that while some traditions are absolutely ridiculous in my book such as the outrageous pricing of compressed carbonstuffs, you know what December 25 means. It's a constant.

The constants. I call these anchors, and rather than any singular approach to living life, I am very much fascinated by a multitiered method of embracing seeming contradictions and getting "the best out of all worlds". It's nice to know when in life, you can really count on something or someone like some totally solid bedrock foundation, and it won't chip away and fall under your feet when you need it the most. I have my doubts and insecurities about the future, but even in light of this, I look for my personal anchors. When my Father passed away, I lost an anchor. In Second Life, I hope I?have found some new ones.

Now, when I'm in that cage, reaching out for the key and wanting to be set free, I'll know I'm not alone.