Detachment

The big, fancy machine arrives, April of 2008.

Not only have I had four good years in the virtual environment, but I've gone through four graphics cards.  Each time it has been a minor pain to convince Dell that the card is the problem - until this last episode where they decided they wanted to see if the software was the problem.  The software was not  under warranty like the card.  I'd toodle off to work while my husband wrangled with software assistance until after three days, $200, and absolutely wiping the hard drive, they gave up and said it's probably the card after all.  Now we can't get hardware assistance to respond.  At least my computer is up again, although anything more complicated than YouTube is probably out for now.  No more 3-D immersion.
I am going to have to face the possibility that there will be no more Second Life for me.

This isn't such a horrible fate.  I'd been getting bored with it for quite a while.  The clothes weren't interesting me anymore.  I looked at the freebie blogs and just went "Ho hum."  This could have been because I'd been busily fashion blogging on my own.  That was making it Work, right?  And once it's Work, it isn't fun anymore?  No, I just think I'm getting choosier about what made good virtual clothing.

Must. Have. All. Toys.

Next, I became more interested in furniture and houses and fun toys.  I had to have that donkey with the twitching ears to carry around.  In fact, I had to have absolutely everything off of that set of lucky boards.  I was off the grid for two weeks while I was on vacation and dove right back into it when I got back.
But I'm tired of it now.  Hardly anything piques my interest.  What I believed I would miss the most, the people, I realize I have contact with other ways.  I'm connected to them on Facebook or Plurk so I won't completely lose them as friends.

The same hostessing outfit for the past coupla weeks because I can't change.

Then there are the jobs I had: dance-hall hostess and book-talk facilitator.  They weren't hugely successful, but they provided me with a place to stay, some extra Llinden dollars, and a purpose other than just wandering around collecting things just to "own" them.  What about my jobs?  I was raised to be Responsible and while a year in SL is more like 10 RL(tm) years, I would still feel like a flighty slut for ditching after so short a time.

Lludmila shows off her horse, Major, to ... hmm, might be Cal.

And what about my stuff?  Some of it I actually purchased, like the horse.  I remember losing my whole Toy folder, which included all my transportation, weaponry, etc. and how devastating it was.  I was slowly replacing it with more toys, more vehicles (although I couldn't bring myself to buy another penny-farthing bicycle), more silly things that made me smile because the creators can be just so, so creative!  Am I able to give up my stuff?  What would I do instead?

Necklace using pendant from Kay Pere.

Well, what did I do before?  I made things.  Made jewelry.  Performed (I have an extensive acting résumé).  Wrote.  Good merciful heavens, I even cooked!
Lately, I've been rediscovering the Fun of Ironing.  No, not Irony, Ironing.  Unable to get on SL Sunday afternoons, I've been starching and ironing clothes while listening to audiobooks.  I'm actually enjoying this.  But I realize Homemaking will get old after a while (and if I start cooking, I'll be getting in my husband's way). 

We have yet to settle the graphics card problem and the situation might change ... but I'm starting to slowly detach myself and find something else to do with my time.  But then what sort of news do I see?  Articles about how much better adjusted people with online friends are and how effective the virtual world is at helping you lose weight.  Dang!  Just my luck!