This may be longish. *deep breath*

I'll do picture interstitials, it'll be fun. Promise.

In the purest sense of the experience, I had an emotional weekend, to say the least. I cried for most of the day on Sunday. Not really tears of sadness, but I'll put out that ol' cliched "caterpillar-into-butterfly" or "butterfly-into-some-transcendental-lifeform" analogy, and hope it works out for the best. I had a good chance to take a hard look at myself and where I am in life. Story arcs, which I didn't set out to tell but find myself sharing anyway, have advanced several chapters. Mentally, I haven't been thinking much about Torley Jr. (you know, my time-travelling daughter from the future), which explains why I am a gung-ho, martial law-abiding sheriff DOG in Second Life.

The whole thing was cathartic. Gotta break me down before building me back up. Beat me up and unleash my qi. It's hard for me to fill out profiles and even forum signatures. I replaced my old one with a crap "new" one—it's going to sit there until it bugs me so much that I replace it again. I have several tester alts inworld I use for… testing. Their profiles are blanky. And in that, there's sort of a revivalistic feeling, that I can fill out the details, and it's like clean sheets, or fresh snow, or even opening a box of computer parts and smelling that… scent.

I've been looking through my forum posts—some of them, anyway, of the almost-15,000. I've been looking at stylistic changes through the months, and one thing I do that hardly anyone (but I secretly wish more would) picks up on is my writing is such a composite of fellow Lindens and Residents. I'll borrow phrases and remix them. Maybe this is in part because I copy-and-paste the forum Guidelines and have gotten used to that robotic motion, while at the same time seeking more fluid, arcing ways to say things. How many ways can I say "hello"?

(This is completely selfish but I think it'd be cool to get someone to analyze all my writing like a skilled transcriptionist can take a live music performance and commit it in a structural way to paper. I wonder if they have services for it. Know any?)

In the same light, I've also gone back through my blog. I feel more sure about what I am now. The enthusiasm is still here—even moreso!—but it's firmer, grounded, tethered so if I ever want to come back to the ground, I can. O, I won't… not for a long time, at least. But at least it's open to me.

I forgot about that page until I was searching for Snow Crash on my blog. And why? Because I needed to verify the date I cited in this thread. Connections. I didn't try. It just happened.

What is past me saying to present me? What mistakes do I need to learn from?

*sigh*

I don't think most coincidences are just that. Sure, maybe some of them. But I think just like there's elements of chance even in very skill-oriented activities, so be it with the currents of existence. Make your bed. Feed your pets. Tell her you love her. Make love madly. Brush your teeth (or you will lose them). Practice. Rest. Digest. Make more love. Exhale.

Control. And then lose that control. And feel exhilarated when you regain it. Rush into the thick of the woods. Drop your breadcrumbs so you can find your way back, but dance without abandon.

Be alive.

When I was a kid, I was pretty obscure. I threw out a lot of references noone else got and was (again, secretly) wishing they'd be latched onto. So, maybe that's kinda impregnable. Watermelons? Easy to say, "Torley loves 'em!" And I've got both. I am very simply complex, and very complexly simple. And you know what is really cool about a blog? It's like a diary, but an open one. Anyone comes by and reads your diary. So if you're reading these words right now, thanxies. (And yes, being self-aware, I also know "thanxies" is one of those funny Torleyisms!)

I've got some mad ideas splashed across the dual graffiti decks of my dreamscape.