Crack

I don't really get why Mia is so interested in my love life. Am I interested in hers? No, because there isn't much that would be of interest. There isn't much at all. As far as I know. I may not have gotten all those private details of hers quite right, but what can you expect. This I know: if you have so much time that you can spend it watching us avatars, and do it a lot, then you don't have much of a love life. Because I can see here in SL that those that have partnered don't stick together for very long unless they spend time together. It's bound to be the same for humans. If there were humans.

Funny, I never really thought about humans partnering before. What if they do, and the avatars that they "control" don't like each other, but partner someone else's av? That would be weird, wouldn't it? A bit too weird for me. I think this is yet another crack in the not so very solid Myth of Humans. Ok, I can't explain Mia, and how she got to be so real, but I'm no brain sturgeon, and no pope, I'm not supposed to have all the answers.

Then, about that sheep thing. I never really said I dislike having them in songs. I think that is mainly Mia's hangup. I don't really mind the sheep. I don't like them, and they don't add any to my life. But they are ok. Although pointless. I think I have a sheep in my inventory, but I never use it.

They all keep saying happy new year. Seems to make them, well, happy. And then they talk about how unhappy they will be once the new year has begun. They say there will be headaches, and a big mess to clean at home, like crisps in little pieces in carpets. Why have a new year then, if it's just a problem?

Songs

"dear diary,

it seems like every guy wants to dance with serval. all those she meets and spends some time talking to, anyhow. but she rarely wants to dance with anyone. she has reasons. i gave them to her.

dance guys: out of control (she wants revenge)

it's not my favourite song. not at all. neither are the others below. i played them all to serval. first she said she liked them for not having sheep in them. but then she got my message.

my heart: decades (joy division)

don't disregard these songs, ye young men speaking to serval, hoping to know her more than as yet another avatar dancing in a club, sometimes saying the stupidest things. the same goes for you that may wish to form bonds with her. you'd be fools disregarding. you'd be labouring in vain.

my lust: wild is the wind (david bowie version)

i didn't have birthday parties for my 14th and 15th birthdays. i had sex. i don't know if he thought it an appropriate way to celebrate. maybe he just wanted to remind me who was in charge. as if i'd forget. for the 14th, i had anal sex. i hadn't expected him to come for me that day, so i hadn't prepared. he was never careful. it hurt. but there was no knife, so i wasn't that scared. it just hurt.

the first knife was the third time of them all. for numbers one and two, he had come to me sweet and gentle, although determined, giving me no choice. he said i was a grown-up now, and that he loved me. but next time, the third, after i had told him it must stop, he changed. there were no more words of love. there was the knife instead. there was duct tape, and a stick. when he left me afterwards, i sat on the concrete floor of his barn in nothing but a pool of tears, blood, sweat, sperm and some kind of engine oil that he had used for a lubricant.

he broke me in one swift move. i had no means for defending myself from something like that. his threats on me, and on what he'd do to my little brother should i ever tell, did the rest. he had me. he was 35 something, and a lot bigger than me. i was 13.

he came for me for two years. apart from being rough, careless, he didn't really hurt me much. he slapped me at times, and once cut me. it could probably have been a lot worse. but he did endless damage to my heart. life leaked until i was a living dead, spending all time dreading for him to come, and suffering when he did. i tried to kill myself, i failed, and he kept coming.

and then it just ended, after things had gone way out of hand one night. i was sent to hospital. he was soon searched for by the law.

it wasn't over, though. not for me. returning from the living dead is a long journey, even with professionals helping. so is fighting guilt, self-reproach, self-disgust, and self-a lot of things. i got wrapped up in weird behaviour that i later learnt was an obsessive-compulsive disorder. and even though the bad man was behind bars, all the other men were still out there, and i feared them.

the past has affected my every relationship so far. and through me it follows serval into next life.

i'm not strong. oh, in a way I am, gritting my teeth, fighting scars from bad days every day, and for ever on vigil, to ensure i and my family are left alone, if necessary by doing things i'm scared to do, but they have to be done or i won't be free.

but i'm frail inside. my mood dies from just little things. i cry in bed sometimes, over things happened, over time lost, over what i couldn't do, over what i'll never have. i'm sometimes utterly lonely, which i shouldn't be, don't deserve to be.

the border between my real life and the next one is not much of a border, not to me. one will affect the other. they become part of the same.

please don't play with me lightheartedly, ye young men. if you don't get my point with those songs, then, well, don't ask serval to dance. if you do get it, then you know where we are. it's off my chest. you know what it takes.

mia"

Discretion

Mia is back in my diary! I don't really like her speaking there, because it's mine, but I like hearing from her. And she's not in that low mood any more, it seems.

Having said that, I'd like to object to her analysing me, and displaying the results like some kind of shoes in a mall. Not that she's wrong about me (apart from the bits about me not running the show etc), but I'd appreciate a bit more discretion. It's me, Serval, that has to face the other avatars that listen to the diary, not Mia. I don't think she'd be happy if I was to tell everybody all about her, about those private details that I have figured out (because I'm reasonably clever, too).

The mood thing is good, because when she's ok, I feel fine too. I really felt great yesterday, when I went to that club where all the girls are and danced there again. It was good fun!

Talk

"dear diary,

in real life, well, those around have been talking about me. i guess they wonder why i live in the school, and not in a station like everybody else. and for some reason i don't seem very keen on the sheep that are such a great joy and interest to close to all other humans around. and i don't have a husband and a big bloody kitchen stove. not even a husband? oh dear!

some of those around me say i'm morbidly picky. others call me a tease, who keeps the few guys that i meet dangling and hoping, without ever offering them any fun. still others say i'm a lesbian, because i'm not married and have been seen kissing girls. well, i have. for fun. for the hell of it. for just going wild. oh, i can also feel a lot for them, emotionally, deep. but i don't have much desire sleeping with them. my eyes follow the guys. my fantasies follow them, too. i choose which party to go to from where he, or maybe the other he, will go.

but having one for myself isn't that easy. it takes more than having a beer together in one of the station parties, or hanging the fence together for a while, watching the others feed the sheep.

it takes trust. before he can touch me, before we can end up in the barn. a lot of trust. so it takes time. it may take months. young men don't seem to like waiting that long. especially as this is about all touching, touching at all.

i shy away from touch. oh, i yearn for it, in my dreams, in my fantasies, in my wishes. but for real, his touch, his hand upon me... my heart goes wild from joy... my lower parts go crazy from anticipation, excitement, and pure lust... and the autonomous nerve system, or whichever system it is, still hard-wired from bad days now gone, knows touch to be how rape begins, and sets red lamps flashing, sounds alarms, and rushes me into a panic room where i won't feel, won't be present, won't get more than unavoidlably hurt.

he who has touched me can't possibly understand why i flinch, turn aggressive, or just simply panic. sweet me. a hand. monster me.

i'm no prude. i don't have moral constraints holding me back. i just need to trust. before i do, i can't. my trust can't be forced; he has to earn it. pushing me rather works the opposite way, as it implies some sort of right to have me, and i've had enough of that for a lifetime. he can't talk me over, or cheat the trust by making me feel guilty, by flattering me no end, or by making me feel in debt. the only way is to deserve me trusting him. trusting him. trusting you.

up until that moment of trust, i'm afraid of you.

those guys patient enough, they still seem to expect a gradual development. some touching at first, then more touching, then kissing, naughtier touching, and so forth. like climbing a ladder, step by step, all the way to the goodies on top. but it doesn't work that way. not for me. my ladder has just one step. no trust, don't touch. trust. i'm yours.

that one step is high. it takes time climbing. but when up there, he'll find there are no more steps. he'll just find me, hungry to hurry straight for the barn. i want to, oh, don't i! not that i get many opportunities to. i'm still young. i look nice enough, i'm fit, and i'm reasonably clever and fun. i'm not unseen. but out of those that see, oh so few make the climb. it's no big help being talked about as a sheep-hater, man-hater, man-teaser, or just someone that can't work a stove in a station.

mia"

Should that day come

"dear diary,

serval, it seems, has little interest in sex. she's seen it around, and has heard a lot of talk about it. but it doesn't mean much to her. she can't see what good it would do her, and isn't very interested.

which makes it easy for me to interact with her, because i don't see much point either. there's no touching – or, rather, no feeling the touch – in next world, so sex there isn't for real. to me, it rather seems like playing fantasies. and though some surely find a good thrill in exchanging fantasies in sex chats, and enjoy it a lot, i believe that i can make up oh so much better fantasies for myself in my own head, than someone else can make up for me in his or her head and then convey by chat. fantasies i don't lack. oh no. oooh no.

to me, the thrill of sex in the next life is that you can't have sex. so you can, at least theoretically, have relationships that are exclusively emotional. love unobstructed by carnal desires. exchange of hearts only.

that's in theory. many next life guys still seem to follow their human master program, to conquer and to mount. with that approach, most soon lose interest in serval and in me. after revealing too little of themselves to make me nurse romantic feelings enough to make them stay.

serval doesn't understand love, either, but i bet i can poke her directions and put words in her mouth. should that day come.

mia"

Decisions

"dear diary,

going away for christmas isn't a bad thing, really. shutting down next life for a couple of days does you good. adds some perspective. and gives you a breather. that's when to make your decisions, isn't it, when not busy in the middle of it.

the second world isn't my life. obviously. i survived being away. but it's not just that way. it's the other way round, too. sitting with some distant relatives that i hardly know recently, listening to them, trying to muster some interest in them but failing, i felt next life to be much more for real. my mind wandering off there, thinking of the atmosphere, friends, clubs, places. i missed it a little. and thought about what to do when going there again.

some guys have been interested in serval recently. to varying extent. and because serval and i are a team, it affects me, too. it's a nice thing, though, the interest thing, and at the same time not so nice, because i had been hoping that the next life would open for news ways to think and behave, and that trying things differently would be an obvious choice for many. not least when it comes to relationships, dating, courting and all that. but it seems to work mainly like here in the real world.

strangely, it surprises me a little. it shouldn't.

i didn't come to second world to reflect my first world self. or to reflect something else, either, because that would have been just another aspect of that real world self. i came to the second world without a purpose.

but real me inevitably affects what i do in the second world. serval may think that she's running the show, but really, really, me is in her every move and word.

so i'm just like the others. bringing my normal self, and behaving accordingly.

mia"

Wet

And all of a sudden Mia's there again. Not that I've heard from her. I haven't, not for ages. But she's there again. Sweeping under my skin. Muffling the world and the avatars around. Numbing me. Clutching my hands, my heart. Wet cheeks and a void.

Sensing her this way makes me want to go to sleep, to just go away, away to nowhere. But I can't do that. I can't decide when to sleep. It just happens. And it doesn't happen now. All I can do is just feel her. And wait.

Party

Yes, yes, those untold rules. I was asked to come to this party, and I went, and they said I couldn't wear what I wore to a party, and when I spoke they said I couldn't say that, and when I laughed they said I couldn't because what I was laughing at wasn't fun.

I don't know who they invited when inviting me.

Club

Some of the others asked me to come and dance in their club, and I did, because they are nice and I do like dancing. It's a good one, this club. They call it something like a name with spots in it. The music is nice (there are no devils singing, which I like a lot for a change) and has a lot of bounce and beat in it, which is of course good for dancing. So I did dance, and had a really good time. There were only girls around, and some of them even game me lindens for dancing. That's not bad for partying!

I went back to the club later, when everybody had left and gone home or whatever they did after leaving. Then I found there's a huge bathtub, and a huge lounging area for relaxing. There are pillows and all sorts of things. I like the place! And the name is good, too – I like the "spots" part, being named after a spotted cat.

Rules

I keep breaking rules. Not because I want to, but it just happens. For example, I have been places that had rules against saying the things that I said, which made others want to kick me out. Eject, they call it. That's another one of those words that I don't like the ring of. Eject. Discontinue. Delete. And the other day when I was skinny-dipping in the clear ocean, someone came and said I couldn't. It wasn't allowed. Etc. How am I to know? Especially as there are different rules in different places.

Another kind of rule is even harder, because they aren't even rules. They are what individual avatars think should be rules. Or they may be things that other avatars have made rules for themselves. When you happen to break them, those avatars stop being friendly to you. Or tell you that you should do things a different way. Or start a big discussion to show that they are more clever than you and thus should make up your rules, too.

They don't always say it out clear, but I can often detect those same old religious undertones that I've heard so many times – "the humans want us to do it like this". The humans want us to follow this rule... The humans want...

It's often the same avatars that keep doing this. I don't mind them believing in humans, as long as they don't impose their belief on me, and as long as they don't expect me to follow their untold rules. I am an avatar. What would be the point of me trying to be a human?

SAW final day

And finally, of course, "Serval".

They told me to stop now, because it's been a full week. So, that was all for this year's Serval Art Week. They also said there will be more years, but I don't know if that's true or if they just want me to do this no more.

SAW day 6

"In my image".

At the neat price of two full hands of lindens. That's after the reduction.

SAW day 5

"Love".




(There have been some complaints on Serval Art Week.

The first one is from a school. It says that exhibitions like this one are a source of disappointment to the children, who in this particular case were searching the net for servals. And there are no servals in this exhibition of serval art.

I replied to them I was sorry to hear that. But what I really think is the following. It isn't very clever, is it, to search for cats in a net? Searching for fish would have been reasonable, or searching for avatar girls moving in long steps on a stage in front of avatar guys. But cats are not to be found in nets. Oh, there are the nekos, of course, but you'd be much more likely to find them if searching bright colours and skirts. Now, all this only reinforces my suspicions regarding the mental capacity of children. The schools obviously don't improve it much.

The other complaint said this is not art. Rather, it's an abomination, and should better be discontinued or I'll make an even bigger fool out of myself.

To this I replied that I was ever so sorry to hear that. As an act of goodwill I offered a reduced price. There has been no reply to that yet, but i think it is a good strategy that may work. I wouldn't mind the lindens.)

SAW day 4

"A million".

SAW day 3

And here's "#3".

SAW day 2

Welcome back! This is day 2 in Serval Art Week. Today's exhibit is called "#2".

SAW day 1

Welcome to Serval Art Week! Which is a week of serval art. Today is the first day. Consequently, this is the first piece of art.

Spree

I haven't heard from Mia now for such a long, long time. If I use the fingers of my hands, and set aside one finger for each time I have woken up and gone dancing, hanging, shopping etc since I last heard from her, then there aren't enough fingers. And it's two full hands since I found those messages of hers and spoke them into my diary. I had sort of half expected her to complain about me doing so, but she never did. She hasn't uttered a word.

The good thing is that I don't think she's that sad any more. Rather, I've felt that she wants me to go to the clubs a lot, and go shopping, and do wild things. Or maybe that's just what I'm reading into the mood I can feel. But I don't have that urge to go to dark and quiet places any more. Instead, the clubs, and wherever there is music and other avatars, are calling. To me that's good. I like the clubs, but it's hard enjoying them when I know that Mia has the blues.

I hope she'll talk to me soon and tell me what's up. Then I'll ask her for some more lindens, too, because I seem to be running short. She has used the words 'shopping spree' once or twice in my diary, and I think that may be what happened. I now have new hairs (once again, more than one for each finger). I don't know why, really, or how it happened, but I know I've got them. Those sprees are eerie, aren't they. I got a pair of really expensive big boots, too. And some dresses and tops, too. And almost bought a house.

Serval

You know that servals are cats. I think they looked like most cats in the beginning, but then changed into long legs and a perfect little tail because it looked so good. And those large ears... well, the servals originally didn't get them because of looks only. There's a story behind it, too. It's about this day when the serval met the bat-eared fox.

"lol u got redickuelusslee tienee ears, hun", Bat-Eared Fox said.

"omg, look at yours", said the serval, staring at the enormous ears of the fox.

"deyr goodd!"

"omg"

"eye say whee goe 2 prywate tchat nao", said Bat-Eared Fox.

And only seconds later, Bat-Eared Fox sent the serval an IM:

"dere r 3 nju liejohns come 2 da savannah. eye see dem. dey big mails, dey reely youch n scaree"

"omg :(", the serval replied.

"u cood knead dem earses bigga, soe u'd heer wat da liejohns say n doo from da grayt disdance. eye donn dat, n dis wat dey say:"

"us gonna fuck everee lil pusy in da savannah ere, sayd da firs liejohns"

"lol, say da seckend liejohns"

"rofl, say da thurd liejohns"

"omg", the serval replied.

"yea, dat rofl was scaree. reely scaree"

The serval agreed that Bat-Eared Fox had a good point, and used the Appearance menu to radically change the size of her ears. Then she took a snapshot of herself, and blushed when looking at it, because she had never seen such a weird cat before.

"omg", she said.

But the serval got used to those looks eventually, and from that point she became a good listener. She was really bright, too, btw. And the lions never shagged her.

I think that's a very good story with quite some moral to it. So I don't mind at all being named after the serval.