A million and eighty days

I went back to the Sanctuary yesterday night. I haven't wanted to before, as the previous time was quite bad. Not the Sanctuary itself. But I had lots of blackouts, and I couldn't move at times, couldn't hear. There were problems. It all was like being sick again. I don't like that, and it made me feel bad about going there. But now, with all this listening to Mia's diary, I felt like dancing again. So I went there. And there was music. There was dancing. There was dressing in a lot of strange ways. Oh, do I like the Sanctuary. I think this is the quintessence of avatarism; forgetting you're an avatar, because, truly, frankly and truly, avatar life isn't very substantial, or eventful, or developing. I think there has to be something more to squeeze out of these a million and eighty days that Second Life has in store for me. And when I can't see this whatever more of squeezy thing, then the dancing turns the panic into just another pleasant night with all the other avatars, guys and gals.