Now boarding

The day has come! I'm off to First Life on flight 1001. And it's one way.
I met Fishie one last time. I cried a lot, hating that I won't see her again, ever. I really do love her. But she understands why I'm leaving. Thank you for coming to see me off, sötnos.
The others said I shouldn't leave, because they like SL a lot and so should I. But I'm off anyhow. I want to have all the fun in First Life. In Real Life. In Emmi life. Where there's tea and stuff.

So now the adventure moves on to First Life, and I'm all excited about it. Despite what I leave behind.

And you know, they say there are movies on board. And blankets. And little bags of peanuts, which I've been dying to try since the peanut guy spoke about them first time, such a long time ago.

Yes, this is where my real adventure begins.

If I didn't catch you to talk to you before today... tc. Thank you ever so much for your friendship. You know I've loved having you around, and the other way round. (The latter meaning being around you, because I can't really know about the other thing, you loving having me around, can I.)

Omg, they just spoke on the stream: "Passenger Boa, immediately go to the gate, or we will proceed to unload your luggage." Omg, where's the gate? What's a gate? Well, my legs are moving, so I guess I've got an angel still watching over me and handling this for me. She doesn't want me to miss my flight, I bet, or she won't have me around very soon. Where am I to sleep, btw? Will I have a bed of my own?

And, hey, "unload your luggage"? They can't, because I'm travelling with hand luggage only. Most of the stuff in my inventory was no transfer, so I had to leave it behind. I really didn't keep much of the rest, either, because there are shops irl, too, aren't there? So I gave stuff away. And I set the Black Cat Avatar free in one of the sims, because it can't come along. Just leave it alone if you see it. Don't keep it.

Here's where I should say brb. But that one won't work, will it. Neither will cu. I've had no problems whatsoever speaking before, but right now I find myself at a loss of words. I hate leaving. But love going. And more words won't change a thing.

tc

won't brb

/me boards, takes her seat, and, after ogling the tray of complimentary drinkies, poofs

Who

who can? without shedding tears.









not me.

1000

They say I've been alive for a thousand days. It's a lot, I know that much. Although not exactly how much. It can't be more than a million, or more than eighty, because you're supposed to live a million and eighty days, and then you're discontinued. I live, so I'm not that old yet.

Sure, I'm not that good counting. But I'm not stupid. Even without counting I can say that one thousand and one is the same as having one thousand and then have yet one more. Just one more. And that's tomorrow. And that's some special day!

Big log

time has come to log. the big, big log. serval is moving to first life for good, to join me and accompany me there.

it's a hard thing to do, but hasn't it to be done at some point anyhow? it can't go on and on for ever, can it? especially not just for the sake of it. for some time i've been keeping serval alive only to keep her alive. since those days together with fishie, sl life has been solitary. bonds to friends were lost during those months when fishie was the focus of attention, and since then, well, let's say that serval's social life has never recovered. the reason is partly that her human's social life mainly has been really, really nice, following a move to a city of good size, a new job with many young colleagues, and lots to do.

i recently decided to have one more go, and took serval to a club similar to the one where she once used to dance. that's where she had her one and only sl job, and where she met a number of very sweet avis and had such a good time.

serval is taller than her human. that wasn't intentional, but just happened and then stayed that way for a thousand days. but in this new club, she turned out to be a shortie. the other ladies were godzilla size (as to height), and wore high heels and long flowing hairs, all of them. none of them wore their c or d cups this particular day.

serval stood watching the goings on for a while, listening to the chat, and then left, concluding this was nonsense. i myself concluded that going to such places, or keeping up the lonely drifter and shopper kind of existence, would be just more waste of life.

to tease avid sl'ers, serval has now and then called sl a game. they promtly reply that sl isn't a game but a community. it seems to be an important distinction, as the game label is never left unchallenged. i myself don't think it's important whether you call it a game, a community, computer software or a waste of life. what matters is what you put into it and what you get out of it in return.

i used to get enough in return, but not any more. then, in rl, i've had so much in return just by being there. my heart, body and soul have been love bombed by first life. so to me, sl has become a waste of life computer software, which does offer communities, i admit, but serval has not found a place in one of them. to me that's a reason good enough to log.

i'm aware of the big black misery that's gonna hit me the moment serval passes the point of no return. but it has to be happen. and i intend to bring her into first life, into my life, not to get rid of her. she has been showing me how to do things that i'd never have done myself. now she's to become my angel, instead of me being hers, to lead me by the hand, to kick me in the bum, to make me do things myself instead of through a defenseless avatar. no hands. this, i can tell you, is some thrill.

i will wear sooty eyes. i will speak to strangers. i will not speak to guys that don't zip up. i will open my heart to guys, girls and furries, if they are willing to open theirs. i won't hesitate to try new things. i will have a notecard for guys that go mmmmm. for starters.

there may be some goodbyes now. and a lot of work. you can't leave an inventory behind for the lindens to eat, can you.

if you ever return to this diary again you may find new posts. serval may continue writing in first life. what do i know. it's her diary.

xoxo

emmi

Sanctuary revisited

I went to the Sanctuary Rock for the first time in a long time to hear master Rykk the vampire play his music. It was nice, although most of the crowd has changed. Well, yes, I supposed they have changed skirts, pants, hairs, shoes etc, too, but what I mean is that these avis were other ones than those I used to see there in the olden days.

The Sanctuary is where I got my first friends in SL. Where I got to know Oz and his buddies. Where I met Aimee. It's actually been a good place meeting others. Everyone should go there, I think. Except for the horrid little man, of course, because he'd go berserk from listening to the chat and start rains of fish or whatnot, and they don't like partycles much in this club.

Omg.

Omg!

Omg! I didn't listen to my diary until now! Is it true? Is it really true, Emmi? Omg. Oh, I know I should complain about you speaking in my diary again, becuase it's mine and not yours, and you never seem to care, but you think I care this time, no no no no no, please, come on, say it again! Pleeease! Are you really bringing me to First Life?!

/me swoons

Arabian

omg, i'm away for a couple of days to get at least something good out of all this snow, only to return to find my avi suicidal , nibbling pills to make it through the day. and, hey, smoking, slaying and exposing herself.

there has been a misunderstanding. serval said she likes stories. so do i. a good story beats them all. makes you cry, laugh and love. sad thing is that they end sooner or later. throwing you back into reality. that's the nature of good stories.

i told her about a story that has many stories within, of which some even have yet more stories in them. serval liked that concept. it goes on and on and never ends, she said.

well, it does end, actually. after one thousand and one nights. i'd say that's kind of enough for any good story. if it has to end, why not at that very point.

serval has been fearing discontinuation from the very start, but has survived inworld so far. i told her she won't have to for so much longer. i think most of her stories have been told by now. it's time to stop. it's time to end. one thousand and one nights. just a few more to go, before it's time to log.

i guess this is where things got wrong and were sort of misunderstood.

don't worry, my little best friend serval. this is not discontinuation. i'm bringing you to first life for good. to walk with me and to inspire me. it will be a better place for you, and a better place for me to explore those things that seem to come more easily to you than to me. from day one thousand and two i'm gonna do them myself and in first life only, with you by my side. and i'll treat you loads of meringue.

e.

Done

It has been done. I found him, the horrid little man. He wasn't expecting me. On the contrary. He didn't expect me. He was busy, probably devising evil plans to have avis like me and the others suffer sorrows and pains unheard of. And then I appeared out of the shadows, wielding my sword, crashing into his life one last time.

"oh dear, sweetie, i didn't c that 1 cuming", he said.

So, yes, it has been done. Which is a bit of a shame, in a way. Because I really liked the costume. Not his, of course, he looked dreadful, wearing stuff he probably got for free out of a dumpster. While I myself actually spent more time dressing than hunting him down. I didn't do the smoke him out part, though, because I'm not gonna try that again ever. But really, I liked the costume and now I see no good reason to keep wearing it. I gotta put another snapshot of it into my diary, so that it won't be forgotten, because I'll never wear anything nice again, how can I.

"u can't hurt me, u know", he said.

"oh, i can"

"no, u can't"

He was kind of cocky there, he really was, knowing that we were in a non-damage sim. I don't think I managed to give him much of a scare, either, because my Dip me in chocolate dance script didn't go very well with the sword. But, hey, cmon, I have really made efforts to keep my inventory lean, or finding stuff in it would be just impossible, so hoarding combat script hasn't been my kind of thing.

He laughed at me, and repeated:

"u know u can't hurt me"

I couldn't, of course. I had to leave him behind alive. So much for swords. I dunno why anyone bothers to make them.

But it doesn't end there. Little does he know. While I myself happen to know, after having met him a couple of times and having received this endless number of IM's of his, that he has like this obsession. The angel's compulsive obsessions are nothing in comparison. He has a cause. A Cause. No, a CAUSE. Which is to fight immoral sins, ranging from for example 9. Being cheeky to 90. Using bouncy settings. He seems unable to rest as long as there is anything that can be called sinful left to trample.

He knows of my diary. I know that he listens to it, because he kindly informed me about 167. Making typos in posts. So despite my ambition to keep my diary sweet, fluffy and PG (to which I've stuck oh so well up until now, haven't I?), I'm gonna put nudity in it. Because that's really gonna get him going. If 7. Flexing made him want to burn me by the steak, wow, then nudity is gonna make him raise hell. Or, knowing that his CAUSE has a kind of religious backdrop, it's gonna make him lower heaven, rather. Which I personally don't think is a very good thing, because what's the difference between hell and heaven if they end up at the same level.

After I'm gone (of which I prefer not to think very much, as it's not that long ... of which I wasn't gonna think very much) I won't be around and can't be made to take any nudities or anything else either btw away. And because it's on the nett, it's gonna stay there for ever. That's what the others said after I spoke those poems into my diary a long time ago. They said I was screwed, because now those words of mine were in the siberia space for ever and would never be forgotten.

The horrid little man won't be able to stop hating that parting gift of mine. And he won't be able to get rid of it. There will be Eighty. Diary nudity, A million. Diary nudity and so on until the end of days. He will never rest again. A clever plan, eh! This is the curse that I will cast upon him.

(So please, all of you who have those little avis in your inventories, don't make them listen to my diary to make them sleep any more.)

Here's me after almost slaying the horrid little man, trying to find my way back through his Garden of Eaten (which I assume he planted himself and out of love), and no longer wearing that nice assassin costume. Omg, didn't I like it.