Virtually Depressed

My old land ...

View looking toward new location ...

Cal helping me take down the exhibit ... the last bit.

New locations offered

This has been one of those "perfect storm" weekends that send me into a one-woman (and a pride of avatars) pity-party.  There's a family emergency in RL(tm) so I am home alone without the usual support system (although I'm sure my husband has enough on his plate and doesn't need to hear me whinge over what is really just dollies in pixels) and then I learn that my landlords are moving me again ... after some of my things were partially landformed over.

I had that exhibit thing going and considered adding office hours where people could come and discuss things (and had already posted one) to my book discussions ... which were turning into office hours anyway, it seems, where we just sat around and discussed books in general, the platform we were on, and a lot of personal stuff.

This happened before, and it upset me, but today the reality of everything pressing on me hit when I logged back on and looked at my new plot.  It takes a bit of time to develop an idea for what I want to do with my plot or you with your sim, so one would expect that you would know ahead of time that you had a long term plan of some sort.  Considering myself an employee, I would have thought I'd be notified of upcoming changes or included in ... and then I remember what RL(tm) jobs are like annnnnd ... I take it all back.  Nevermind.

I'm sad.  It may take me a while to get back to my plot, as it did last time, and I'll probably find happy, shiny things to do.  After all, it's more fun setting things up than just living.  In the meantime, I had a fit of pique and removed everything for some astringent effect on the spirit.  It stings like hell, but it should do me some good in the long run.

I'd like to thank my friends who rallied and offered me spaces in their areas (I have one of those pointless Linden Homes, so it's not like I'll be homeless again), but when I'm sad it all looks like dust.

So Much for Happy

Lludmila camps out where her lovely home used to be.

Why did I, knowing what would happen, do it anyway? I invited tons of avs to my third rezday party just to get them to visit my house, which they resolutely refused to visit unless I threw a party, and none of them showed up. Well, not "none," of course, I had six people show up. How Second Life can so accurately mimic my first life should make a dissertation. I had given up on birthdays because parties were always ruined. Either no one showed up or it was hijacked by someone else.
So, after the party, I deleted my house and all its contents. What was the point? I now hated it. It would be a constant reminder of how little I or my feelings meant to other people (despite the probability that they are busy in their first lives and/or just spaced, which I do all the time). So for a couple of days I replaced it with this pathetic tent (and some lovely trees). I used the fetal position option inside.
To be absolutely accurate and fair, I had accidentally dragged a HUD out of my inventory, so even if the party had been such an overwhelming success that we crashed the sim (ha ha ha), I would have taken the house and most of the contents down to look for the errant object that was running my prim count over the limit. Deleting the house, though, seemed like the perfect gesture. I deleted it seconds after the last guest left, punching the keys so hard that the keyboard rattled and jumped on the desk. It spooked the cats.
I threw almost a week-long Pity Party in a new skybox far above the painful memories and then Carla's Workshop sent me a notice that a free horse barn was available for pick up. Ooooo! Well, I thought I'd look at it. It came with a spider and spider web and optional Pferdapfeln (with buzzing flies!) and straw bales. I loved it. Especially the mojones. The only problem was, I needed a horse to put in it. Tempting as turning it into a pennyfarthing garage was, I was dead set on getting a horse even if it beggared me (read: I had to buy more Lindens). Imagine my surprise when I won an extra flipping-great-wodge of Lindens at the next Book Trivia Quiz!
I went right out and test-rode some horsies and made an actual decision and actually purchased one with actual Linden dollars [starts hyperventilating].
Why I bothered to get the one that could ride two avs at one time is the subject for another dissertation. I hate other avs. I hate Real Life (tm) people, too. I wouldn't give one of them a ride on my nice horsie if they begged me now. Ha! At least I could if I wanted. Double-ha! Neener-neener!
Well, we can see I never grew up.

You're never alone with a quadruped.