More & More Curious-er


I have no special talents…I’m only passionately curious.
~ Albert Einstein


The effects of which can be…interesting.

Last weekend, SL went through some major bends of sorts brought about by a severe line of FL storms that caused a major power outage in Colorado (least, that’s what I had heard).  And every resident went with the flow as things inworld became borked and blipped in and out, in general.  Well, and as it turns out, quite specifically and literally, too. 

When it first happened, I was watching a neighboring sim as it built itself up prim by prim only to unbuild itself suddenly.  This happened in rapid succession and repeatedly, as if the entire process was looping.  Curious, I called up the map; the sim “appeared” to be there.  I looked up and across the way; the sim was there.  Then not there.  Then there.  And so on.  Then after a while, it appeared to merely hiccup (I don’t know how else to describe it).  More curious, I  rechecked the map a few times, and yes, each time, the sim was there.

All of which caused me to grow increasingly curious.

So I flew over to the neighboring sim, thinking perhaps it was just my viewer wigging out.   Well, as soon as I entered the sim, I didn’t exactly crash, but I quite did precisely become very stuck.  So much so, that – what? – three days later I was *still* stuck in that sim.  Even though I had logged out (but I suspect the system didn’t log me out) and even though I had logged back in each day, my “shadow” remained trapped in the neighoring sim.  (This, even after the emergency maintenance, which occurred sometime after I became stuck and left my shadow there.)

It’s a bit disconcerting (not to mention increasingly frustrating) to log in and see yourself hanging in midair in some kind of frozen state, in some digital out of body experience.  It’s even more disconcerting to realize there’s little you can do to unfreeze yourself when the process of clearing cache and relogging doesn’t work.   But then there’s very very wonderful and brilliant friend Dale.  Because of him, all of the pieces of me came fully together.  Dale suggested that probably a reset for the sim that trapped my ghosted-self was needed.  So, with Shen’s help I found and used Live Chat (the first time I’ve used them and I found them to be very friendly and helpful).  After patiently going through their recommendation to clear cache and relog (which still didn’t work), I mentioned and repeated a few times the suggestion to “reset the sim.”   Well, they finally did, hesitating only because I imagine they thought everything should be okay after the emergency maintanence.  I’m pretty sure that much to their surprise, resetting the sim solved the problem immediately. 

So the moral of this story is even at just over 2-1/2 years, there’s always something new to learn (and I love that).  And even though I’ll likely not go flying any time too soon into sims that appear to be on the verge of melting down (no matter what the map might indicate), I still remain passionately curious.  And utterly eternally grateful to and for a very very wonderful and brilliant friend.

And here’s a little song that conveys the strength in openness and openheartedness that I so love. 


Soon, a Key Lime Sky

…in Dark Moon. 

The fifth and final entry in the Dream Series, the form of which follows Dale Innis’s “spontaneous narrative” approach.   Also the sixth and final entry for Alicia Chenaux’s annual ”Big Bad Blogger Challenge.”




 “Did I hear you correctly…”

June the fairy looked up , as if gazing into Dawn’s bewildered eyes would help the fae understand her better.

“Do you mean to tell me that –” Dawn’s voice took a hard-stop.  And for what seemed like several minutes.  Until she added with complete astonishment, ” — that… I…  am your muse?”

June smiled.

“– that a fairy has a human – I refuse to give up my humanity – as a muse?  That I am some kind of source of inspiration to you?  That you are — what — you are waiting — what — for me?  For me?  For me — to do?  To do?  To do — what?”

Dawn was suddenly in very real danger of babbling.   She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, trying to hold herself together, pursing her lips into a thin red line, her eyes beacons on the fairy.  And all at once, Dawn thought she was going to burst.  She drew a shaky breath.  This was some kind of revelation.  To learn that she had no memory because — she didn’t really exist?  Could that be possible?  Or was she the manifestation of an idea — a thread of an idea of June’s — that was left dangling in the air and that finally fell into the sea.  Unrealized.  And nearly washed away…despite how beautiful the idea might be.   

“But,” Dawn mumbled with sudden surprise, “I am.  Right here.  Right now.  I am.”

“Dreams remembering…” June nearly purred, which was a strange juxtaposition, a feline fairy.  But who was Dawn to argue.  Dawn was but a dream.

Dawn grabbed the skirt of her gown with those stretched fingertips that had been looking for something all along and were looking for something in this very moment.  She tugged at the gown and searched the skirt until she laid her fingers on June’s Thread of an Idea:  to paint a new day at will.  And to make it speak so clearly to everyone who saw it…so very clearly, so very brightly that maybe her siblings in the other worlds would hear it and see it. 

“Ohhhhh,” Dawn said softly and felt suddenly overwhelmed.  To have the vision is one thing.  To have pressures of expectations or in creation is another. 

She shook her head, slightly incredulous.  She had no idea how she would surprise and delight a creature with neon glow wings and happy dust, but now knowing June’s unrealized thought, Dawn became more determined than ever to see this through even if she hadn’t the slightest idea what she was doing.  She paced around fairy, sloshing water gently as she went.  She held her hands out, palms up…as if somehow some kind of clear reasoning would fall right into them.  And something did, but it wasn’t reasoning.  It was something more organic, not necessarily clear at all times.  Not necessarily perfect.  More of  a collaboration between heart and mind, between perceiving and expressing, between intuition and knowledge. 

“How would I bring inspiration to a creature like you?” she muttered as if sorting out a problem.  “How can I be more inspiring than this place…with this incredible sky.   An incredible sky that I just want to eat up because even as a dream, I’m just a tad starving and seem to be fixated on sherbert.  Look at the sky!”  she said with astonishment and delight.  “It looks just like sherbert.  I couldn’t dream this up.  Could you?  How can I inspire more than what is already here?  More than what is right before you?”  Dawn paused briefly and then launched forward again.  “Sure.  We could change the color.   Make it a — oh, I don’t know — make it a lime sherbert.  Sherbert because I am famished and it’s summer and I love the feel of the sweetened icy blend on my tongue.  And lime because – oh I don’t know – I painted a room a lime green — well,” she snorted softly, “I thought I had but maybe that was really your room…do fairy’s even have rooms?  And if you do…don’t you just love that keylime color?  It’s so refreshing!  It’s so summer!  It’s so open and clearing and happy and friendly!  And we could put in trees, great giant canopies of trees with tops as billowy and as light and as full as whipped creme…and we could create a…oh some kind of connection between one world and the other.” 

Dawn’s feet sloshed in long swirls now, her toes skimming the surface of the water.  “A bridge!  Between both worlds.  A bridge over the aqua-y colbalt-y cool waters, under the sherbert lime sky, canopied by happy airy whipped creme tree tops, and an ancient gazebo with a dome that sparkles like a snow globe.”

June tilted her head and smiled.  Her hands rose slowly and her wings fluttered.  Her body uncurled as she hovered up to where Dawn was levitating (quite oblivious to that fact, I might add).

June smiled.  “We could fly, you and I, across the sky.  And scoop up as much lime sherbert as we can along the way.  For us and for the siblings when we meet them were worlds collide.” 

Even the worlds of creative and rational thought, Dawn said in silence.  She smiled quietly then, not minding at all this new sudden revelation or the sudden realization that she had been hovering in the air.  They were preparing to traverse the sky, and the journey would be spectacular!  Oh, how sweet the magic will taste, Dawn thought.  She looked gently at the fairy, glow spilling softly out of the corners of Dawn’s eyes, happy dust sparkling from her fingertips that she now placed onto June’s.  And Dawn suddenly knew.  She suddenly remembered.  Dawn and June were of the same magic. 

They were one in the same.


Note:  I’m using the last six photos that I uploaded to flickr as the basis for this dream series, and using them in the order of upload.  All photos were taken at the elven-themed sims Dark Moon and Angelgate.


…in Dark Moon. 

The fourth entry in the Dream Series, the form of which follows Dale Innis’s “spontaneous narrative” approach.   Also the fifth entry for Alicia Chenaux’s annual ”Big Bad Blogger Challenge.”




This was not what Dawn had expected.  Although…she hadn’t really expected anything because she couldn’t seem to remember anything.  What expectations could she have of a blank slate?  Well, actually, plenty, Dawn thought in answer to her own pondering.  There could be a masterpiece there anticipating its own becoming, waiting to crystalize, waiting to breathe.  Waiting to express the fullness of its being. 

She sighed as a bit of exasperation set in.  But then, distracted, she studied the fairy who sat on the lip of the sea with her legs dipped into the water.  The liquid shimmied and reflected the sherbert sky across the fae’s knees, just as Dawn’s mind shimmied and reflected upon June’s story… a story told just moments before that now –  in this moment – represented the only memory Dawn’s mind held.   And so she held it very closely and inspected it very thoroughly. 

She re-imagined the fairy and her siblings flying hundreds of years ago across this same sherbert sky.  She winced again at the tender parting of their ways.  She smiled once more as she re-listened to the fairy’s exclamation of wanting to “eat it all up!” just as Dawn now found herself wanting to do.  She paused again to consider again the fairy’s words — strange though they were —  of the need for dreams to remember…as if dreams could do such a thing…

But ironically enough, it was from that recollection in particular that a light went on in the once-silent recesses of Dawn’s mind.

“Am I…am I a…a dream?” 

Instinctively, Dawn put her arms around herself in the hopes of proving otherwise.

June the fae sat silently, casting her gaze deeper into the undulating water.

“Am I………your dream?”

The fairy held Dawn’s reflection in the sparkling surface of the sea.  Her luminous face spread into a smile, glow sparkled from the corners of her eyes, and June began to sing a song for the ages…a song of magic and wondrousness and sherbert skies yummy enough to eat, all wrapped up in and at once released by a single word, a single magical concept…

“Muse…” the fairy said-sang, finally breaking her silence.


Note:  I’m using the last six photos that I uploaded to flickr as the basis for this dream series, and using them in the order of upload.  All photos were taken at the elven-themed sims Dark Moon and Angelgate.

On a Wing and a Prayer

…in Dark Moon. 

The third entry in the Dream Series, the form of which follows Dale Innis’s “spontaneous narrative” approach.   Also the fourth entry for Alicia Chenaux’s annual ”Big Bad Blogger Challenge.”




June, the fairy with the nearly radioactive wings, remained crouched onto herself and hovered silently.   She appeared to be turning about.

“In times past we flew there.”   June titled her head upward.  “Along the sherbert sky.”  June’s head bobbled as if looping through a happy memory.  Dawn was slightly envious and flinched a little at the realization that so much of her own memory still remained just beyond her grasp.  Her fingers opened as if straining for something.  For something, the tension in them said emphatically.  She frowned and looked down into her palm.  For something, yes, but not for glistening dust.  As if hearing Dawn’s thought, the fairy laughed at once.  Her head rolled momentarily, which had the effect of sprinkling out long arcs of glow that eminated from the ends of her tawny brown hair.  

“Well,” Dawn muttered.  “Pretty,” she added and then half smiled.  “Happy dust, I suppose?  Well…why not?” and then she watched the fae hover about, propelled by tiny bounces of amusement.  Yet, her motions were very contained and demure for such a worldly creature who had no doubt seen many different horizons.  Her smile resembled that of a mere child, although the fairy was likely in her thousandth year.  Dawn decided this for no obvious reason other than it seemed quite mystical and magical to believe the ageless fae to be in her thousandth year.  And besides…Dawn liked big, round numbers.

“We?  You said ‘we’ flew there.”

More demure nods.  “Adoris, Lilluth, Evie, Favre, Arathorne,” the fae sang.  “And me.”

And just then, one of June’s previous thousand years emerged from its shadows.

They were sisters and brothers.  They were fellow fae.

“June, young spirit,” Arathorne her eldest brother whispered, his transluscent skin offsetting his powerful yet trim frame with a diffused glow.  “The Sun.  The Sky,” he said with a glint in his silver eyes. 

“The Worlds,” Evie chirped in.  Her platinum hair pulsed a glowing light  that was nearly as bright as June’s radioactive wings. 

“New worlds,” Adoris and Lilluth said together, with a baiting emphasis on the world “new.”  Adoris and Lilluth were rubenesque, stunningly beautiful with pouty ripe lips and a plumpness that suggested a love of one two many reeds.   But they were sure to fly it off by lifting their forms into the sky and crossing the boundaries between one world and another.  If only June would join them, too.

“What holds you,” her brother Favre asked her, his hand lightly on her small round shoulder. 

Arathorne gently added, “What keeps you bound here to this place.  We were flying…”

“Into the sherbert sky,” June gasped with excitement, “I just want to eat it all up!”

“Yes,” Arathorne whispered.  “Into the sweetness of new worlds.  That only we can enter.  That only we may claim.”

“Well, no,” she corrected him.  “I literally want to eat up the orange sherbert!  But as for the new worlds, yes…”   She grew quiet for a moment, and then added, “Soon.  I will join you soon.  But for now,” June said her voice tinged with sadness and words failed to be formed. 

Instead, she gently pushed her brothers’ hands away and gestured for them to lift yet again into the sky.  She shooed Adoris and Lilluth’s round bottoms and Evie’s tomboyish form, beckoning that they join their brothers in flight.

“Soon,” June repeated when words found her voice again.  She sat and watched her sisters and brothers hesitate until they finally accepted that she – though the youngest of the fae at a mere several hundred years – was right.  The new worlds needed magic. 

“And this world does yet, as well,” June whispered, “as it waits for the dream to be awakened, tucked in slumber at the feet of the mountain’s giant slumber.  Soothed by the swaying breeze flittering through the trees and the poppies that climb up to the sun.”

When June was certain that she had seen, for this moment, the last of her siblings’ wings meld into the farthest reaches of the uppermost horizon, she folded her legs under herself, returned her gaze with her mind to the stream that wound its way alongside the mountain.

“Soon,” she whispered to herself and to every living creature, “when the dream remembers.”

Note:  I’m using the last six photos that I uploaded to flickr as the basis for this dream series, and using them in the order of upload.  All photos were taken at the elven-themed sims Dark Moon and Angelgate

Clear Orange Sky

…of Dark Moon. 

The second entry in the Dream Series, the form of which follows Dale’s “spontaneous narrative” approach.   Also the third entry for Alicia Chenaux’s annual “Big Bad Blogger Challenge.”




” How does it taste?” asked a small voice that wafted up into the air from exactly where, Dawn wondered.  Her eyes widened to take in more light because suddenly the light had shifted and was less blaring in its concealment of the previous velvety night.   Less blaring but still illuminating no additional clarity on the matter of how Dawn had come to be — asleep was it? knocked out? simply unconsciously floating was it? but utterly unharmed? — there in this massive body of water on this lovely — yet secret ? or undiscovered ? or exclusive could it be ? — beach. 

“How does ‘what’ taste?” the voice interrupted its own line of questioning and asked in a lilt that could only be produced when vowels and consonants are pushed out through a smile.   “Is that what you’re about to ask?” 

Dawn craned her neck to give her eyes room to breathe, and they did, quite expansively actually, along the far edge of the looping reeds.  Exactly where… her mind drummed as she pursued what she thought to be the direction of the small voice until – yes…just on the other end of the tall grasses.

“Possibly,” Dawn replied with some curiosity.  She wandered gingerly along the reeds, fanning them lightly under the touch of her fingertips, swishing her feet and her gown in the water that lapped around her ankles, draping them in undulating pools that reflected the dazzling orange sky.   When she reached the outermost edge of the grasses, Dawn stopped and stared, looking carefully upon the back of a glistening, leafy form with magnificent, radiant wings that was seated curled in on itself on the ground.  The form sang a soft melody to the earth and the sea and the sky, and the voice belonged to a fairy…or as near as Dawn could tell because up until now Dawn hadn’t met one in person.  But she had seen illustrations and paintings, and the ironic thing was this particular fairy looked nearly exactly like one that was on her calendar in her kitchen…which suddenly seemed to Dawn to be very far away other than when she looked up (which was often) at the penetrating orange sky.  Because when she looked into the sky, Dawn began to feel very hungry (and happy because orange can do that), which had the odd effect of making her kitchen seem to be just around the grasses.  

Dawn shook her head as if to sway it into reason, while wondering if she might have suffered an injury of some sorts.  Her thoughts were strange and the sky was just such a delicious color (she wanted to eat the sky) that she had never seen before.  But she had seen this fairy before…of that she was certain, even if everything else seemed like a dream — so she set her mind away from the thought of food and concentrated instead on the where of it all (not to be confused with the wherewithall) when suddenly she mouthed “June”…the month on which the creature was, well, featured on Dawn’s calendar that hung on the side of her refrigerator in her kitchen.

“How did the — idea, was it? on the tip of your tongue? — taste,” June the fairy asked more directly this time.  Her wings glowed with their points of light reverberating through the air.  “Or would you say it was more of a hint of an idea?  Just lightly seasoned?”

Dawn paused.  She suddenly felt as if she may have fallen through a looking glass, which was concealed entirely and very cleverly by the sea.  The fairy smiled, Dawn could tell.  The points of light in her wings twinkled.  She must have felt some kind of kinship of some sort or other with Alice in Wonderland, Dawn decided, then said, “I’d say it tasted more like sherbert…like an orange sherbert…like this mouthwatering orange sherbert that’s begging for a spoon to be dipped into it…or a team of kids on bicycles to fly across it in a grand swoop of an arc, gathering as much of the sherbert into their baseball mitts and pockets and sprockets along the way as they could.”

June the Fairy hovered a bit, her wings thrilling the air into tiny earthquakes.  She beamed across the reeds and the looking glass sea.  She radiated up and out into the clear orange sky.  She sang a soft melody to them all…one Dawn couldn’t quite detect…and then whispered, “I’d say that would taste more like Wondrousness.  Far more like Wondrousness than like orange sherbert.”

Note:  I’m using the last six photos that I uploaded to flickr as the basis for this dream series, and using them in the order of upload.  All photos were taken at the elven-themed sims Dark Moon and Angelgate

Dark Moon

Here’s my second blogpost for Alicia Chenaux’s annual “Big Bad Blogger Challenge”.  For this post, I thought I’d insert one picture and create a story around it.  I may do this for the remainder of the BBBC (I feel like a news anchor with a stuttering issue).   And I may connect the story from day to day…or not.  We’ll see!   In any event, I wouldn’t be surprised if this approach has been done before, since, in some ways, there’s not much new under the sun.  But for me the thought to do this actually stems from the NaNoWriMo experience combined with Botgirl’s recent plurk about interpretting life like one would a dream.   I have a hunch therein lay an interesting process for tapping into creativity in a different way, so I thought I’d give it a whirl.  UPDATE to this intro:  But really truly where I first saw this approach, “spontaneous narrative” as Dale refers to it?  You bet, smiles widely.  From Dale and his wonderfully creative webblog story from earlier this year:  “Chapter XXVII The Hollow Earth” . 

Here then is the first in the dream sequence:




A piece of her memory had seeped out.  And it had felt very wet.  It ran in waves down the seam of her gown as she lay in the water.  Then, when the last remnants of her leaking memory pooled itself into a lulling mass just barely within her grasp, her brain began to whirl its gears.   

“Criminey” she thought to mutter outloud when that small thought – the only remaining thought somehow still attached to her disconnected memory – had fully formed itself into her awakening brain.  She was thankful some kind of consciousness had asserted itself.  And when it had, so did she. 

“Criminey,” Dawn (ironically) whispered as she lifted her torso up and leaned into her elbows.   They were covered in water and sinking into the sand, but somehow that felt good.  She looked to the east and flicked her eyelashes in an effort – feeble though it was – to shield her optics from the early morning rays.  The light had what Dawn would call an “obnoxious” effect of broadcasting rather loudly to her coffee-seeking brain that she had no explanation for why she now found herself washed ashore like a beached whale. 

“Heh,” she snickered.  “In a very fine gown hugging a curvy shape, thank you very much,” she muttered to the earth as she looked around, then quickly added to the sun as she studied it for answers, “Perhaps I’m still dreaming.”  

If Dawn didn’t know any better, she could have sworn the sun had winked back in response.  But clearly Dawn didn’t know any better.  The only thing she seemed to know in this moment was that she was dripping wet from head to toe, so she did what any reasonable person would do.  She rose.  Indeed, Dawn rose.  She rose to meet the day head on.  Stood face to face with the promises in its light, to its secrets in its darkness and resolved herself to discovering those secrets.  In particular, that particular set of secrets claimed most prominently by velvety nights. 

It was there, Dawn thought to herself.  She stood still as a statue, canvassed slightly by the tall swaying reeds, and lifted her fingertips to her lips as if something dwelled there.  “There,” she murmurred and searched the tip of her tongue for a memory just beyond her grasp.


Note:  I’m using the last six photos that I uploaded to flickr as the basis for this dream series, and using them in the order of upload.  All photos were taken at the elven-themed sims Dark Moon and Angelgate. 

Fashionably Late

Because I’ve been relatively “unplugged” the past few days during an extended weekend vacation, I just now read Dale’s blogpost in which he shared his first posts for this week of daily posts as prompted by Alicia Chenaux’s annual “Big Bad Blogger Challenge” .  Gadzooks, I am two, possibly three days behind already!  But like many others have already done, I too am tossing my URL hat into this ring because oftentimes I tend to overthink potential topics and end up not posting my thoughts on them.  In many ways, this challenge reminds me of National Novel Writing Month…not in terms of quantity of words each day (which really required 2000 words a day across 30 consecutive days…*quite* an endurance exercise as much as a writing exercise), but it reminds me of how the process becomes the thing, allowing us to give our internal editors a time-out (not abdicating responsible self-censorship) and granting room for more organic expression.  That became incredibly difficult to do during NaNoWriMo, which I somehow by some miracle actually completed, albeit it took me closer to 45 days.  Evenso I celebrate the accomplishment and learned how difficult it is for me to “try on” a different writing process.  But the wonderful thing is in the trying.  That’s where the growth happens.  So along those lines, here’s my first unglossed entry for the BBBC!  Dashing off now in the hopes of doing two more entries today to catch up!