My Daddy

'He didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it'
Clarence Buddinton Kelland

When I was 4 my Daddy was a mystical person I only saw for half an hour a day who would alternately praise or scold me depending on my days behaviour.

By 8 he had become the focus of my world - and mostly our fights were over who exactly was meant to be looking after who.

By 14 he was the force stopping me from doing what I should be allowed to - it just wasn't FAIR!! And occasionally the person tidying up after my rebellious messes.

At 18 he was the one I suddenly realised actually might know a thing or two about life.

By 21 he was the example I used to show me how to live my life and the one thing I knew had shaped me into who I was.

By 24 my Daddy was the one thing I thought I could never live without and somehow had to learn how to.

And by my mid 30's he is the one person I would choose to be able to see. touch. hug and most of all be scolded by again.

I count myself lucky enough to have had such an amazing Dad for the time I did - and I know some people are not so lucky.

In just a couple of weeks time its Fathers Day. Not a day to buy an extortionate card or a pair of socks just because you have to. Should you be as lucky as I was, it's a day to feel and show your gratitude and appreciation for the wonderful job your Daddy has done. I will be doing the same.

Sunrise and My Second Rezz Day

I am sitting in the Cafe du Monde and I have my world set to sunrise because, though I woke this morning at 4 am... I missed the sunrise in real life.

Lately my real life has been a bit dreary... mostly I've been locked up in my office trying to sort out real life work, or the latest family crisis that has arisen with my 9 year-old daughter who seems determined to give me gray hair at the tender age of 32...

And today is my rezz day... two years in Second Life.

It's a bit strange really that I should suddenly choke up... those who know me know that I am not a crier. And mind you, I'm not crying now. It's just a frog in my throat.  Honest.

But you see... I came to the cafe this morning and found something from someone I would have never expected.  And truly I was stunned and yes, humbled.

There are moments when we think the world is against us and no one loves us. It is human nature I suppose to think in such selfish and vain terms.  Everything simply seems to go "wrong" and Fate and her wheel have turned you under into the canal.

Evie and I have locked horns. More than once. However, I have always respected and admired her. She is smart, she works hard, and she speaks her mind.  If I am honest, I have often envied her wit and lack of fear in dealing with others.  She epitomizes many of the things I have wished to be... and do not always think I am.  There are many days I have thought she hated me.  Which was maybe why it hurt so much to admire her.

And yet I sit here in my cafe... completely stunned by her show of kindness and generosity.  She wrote a poem for me... even remembering how important and symbolic dragonflies are and have always been to me.  And she has put up pictures of some of my favorite memories. 

At this point, I can't write much more.  Kindness like this often blows me away, simply because it is so foreign to me in my life...  But perhaps it is not as foreign as I have always thought.  Perhaps, it is just that I have been too busy "faking" a smile and a light heart to see that I'm not alone.

A Few Thoughts on Spirit

I am not a religious person.  In fact, the sight of a church nearly brings me to my knees with nausea.  There are many reasons for this... most of which don't matter.  I have not stepped inside a church since I was a teenager.  Even my wedding happened outdoors... in a park.

And yet, I have been told that I am spiritual. And if I am honest, I cannot disagree.
One definition of "spiritual" is:  of, relating to, consisting of, or having the nature of spirit; not tangible or material.

And that is perhaps descriptive of me.  Material things are of little value to me.  They become dust with time.  It experiences and people I value.

In the last 11 years, I've been a teacher and a mother and a wife.  I know I have touched lives.  I've watched my students grow up, graduate, and have children of their own.  The greatest honor that could ever have been given me were the numerous invitations to weddings and baby showers I've gotten over the years from men and women whom I knew as awkward high school teenagers, who have now become successful adults... who remember me... and say I touched their lives.

I know I will leave a legacy behind.  And it will not be my house, or my car, or my money.  It will be my spirit... my essence, my spirituality. 

I am standing inside the St. Louis Cathedral at One Quarter French.  It is the closest I imagine I will ever again come to being "inside" a church unless someone holds my funeral in one.

I lit a candle.  It is for you.  And me. And all the lives we touch.

Cartoon Boy: A Memory and a Lesson

While drinking coffee in the Cafe du Monde... I reflect for a moment on the
importance of manners, kindness, and the power of the word "hello."

When I was in first grade, there was this boy.  His parents had named him after a popular cartoon character of the time, and in looking back, it seems a terribly cruel thing that they did so.  I remember him so clearly...

I do not remember him because he was my first crush, or because he was smart, or because he was cute or funny or sweet or rich or any of those things.  I remember him because every day, he sat alone at lunch.  Every day, he played alone at recess.  And almost every day we walked by his desk in the classroom without so much as a nod or glance.

None of us even said "Hello" to him.

He was like a cartoon to us.  Sometimes we watched him and laughed.  Sometimes we simply turned him off and walked away.  He was not important to us, or significant in any way, and we were cruel.

Recently I have been visiting a Sim in hopes of being part of things there.  It's a lovely place... a beautiful build.  They have a lovely culture and history there.  It's a make believe world, subtle and lovely... and prideful.  I do not know why I continue to return, as when I go there, no one says hello... not even if I say it first.  And I feel like the Cartoon Boy there, eating my lunch alone.

Samanda sent me a note card today asking me to fill it out.  One of the questions was about my hopes and dreams for One Quarter French.  And I thought, suddenly and strangely, of Cartoon Boy. 

I want One Quarter French to be a place where people are greeted and welcome.  I invite you, when we open our doors... to say hello to someone you don't know.  To come in and sit down next to them and become part of their world.  Don't be the kid in the cafeteria who walks past the Cartoon Boy without a nod or glance and sits with the same group each day.
 
Instead, stop.  Set your tray across from his.  Sit down.  Breathe.  Smile.  Say hello.

I look back now and wonder... who was Cartoon Boy really, except a reflection of the inadequacies of human courtesy and kindness?

How hard is it really to say... "Hello?"

Eh..what..Come again?

OK so my Internet has gone from bad to worse and you know me readers I see things in a positive light and try always to be dandy. However I can honestly say in true northern spirit its doing me nut in. We had a meeting to night regarding our sim and I was on and off so much I remembered what Becca said earlier. "You should sue them for whiplash"...telecoms that is.


I have to say a touch of the grumps overcame me as I got more frustrated with not being able to communicate. I have been reduced to a text viewer where I see nowt and hear nowt and then it hit me. Quit moaning Beanie, you ain't sensory impaired! However I felt it and I am not in real life so I felt selfish.


When our group talked about things that had sprung up in the sim, I couldn't relate to what they were talking about as I couldn't see. Each time my Internet powering oompa lumpa kicked me off the viewer I missed chunks of chat when I returned. Nothing had context. When I tried to type to contribute I couldn't as I was endlessly crashing. I had been rendered blind, mute and deaf.





It made me think though having my ability to communicate crushed , if I thought it was endless it would be truly upsetting. However when I switch off my PC I can see Columbo and hear Columbo and OK yes on occasion I talk to him...." You clever thing you..Columbo". So I have pinched myself hard and reminded myself for the precious thing I do have and that's all my senses and for that I am grateful.

I'm not a complete idiot... some parts are missing!

So in SL I am sat on a tyre in a very unladylike pose, watching Gypsy the Pitbull lick the extra large McDonalds milkshake from Baby Maise's face (we has class) and reading Beans earlier post. And that means in RL I am howling laughing and need a wee quite desperately.




And I started thinking to myself...dangerous I know so hold on to your heels and prepare for a bumpy ride.


I was thinking many things....like why does the word monosyllabic have 5 syllables? Why isn't phonetic spelt like it sounds? And if you tied a slice of buttered toast to the back of a cat and dropped it from height what would happen?



But most of all I wondered...why do we spend so much time being so very modest...if not downright critical of ourselves? If you speak to the 6 of us Quarter Frenchies about how to 'make a sim' you would get much the same response. 'Oh I don't have much of a clue about that kind of stuff I am a bit rubbish at all that'



Yet....with much help from our amazingly patient builder chicklets.....its happening. And we all have much more clue than we ever thought possible. OK so some of the instuctions can be along the lines of 'Just shift that little deely round under the oojimaflip and squiggle it a bit' or 'I like that doodah you stuck in the wotsit' but with the help of a TechnoNumpty translator its happening!


We found we have vision for what we want...classy, sexy, cozy, welcoming and OURS! And along this exciting, occasionally frustrating and just once or twice flipping terrifying journey we have found all these things we actually can do...and we very much like doing.



And surely for the love of everything I hold dear if I just brainlessly poke this dooberry for long enough it might work?? And does anyone have a cat I can borrow.....

Things I've learned

I've never really been a fan of change. Personally, I rather like the status quo and am a big fan of 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it'. So when it was time for me to make a few changes in my SL, I went into a bit of a panic. Yes, really silly, but I did. I was so used to doing things a certain way, at a certain schedule, that I knew I was going to be wondering around lost. But, to be fair, I realised I've been wondering around lost in SL for all the time I've been there. I've only had a few things to do to make me feel like I was actually doing something.

But, I'm now sitting back in amazement, watching as something, that was only just talk, begin to grow into something real. And I think perhaps I won't be wondering around lost for much longer, nor do I think that change is such a bad thing.

Of the 6 of us, I think I may be the eldest on SL. Feel free to prove me wrong, any of you, but i reckon I just may be. And in the 2+ years I have been inworld, I have learned that you can wonder around aimlessly or you can take the initiative and just find your own way.
I've learned that no matter how hard you try, you cannot always please everyone, nor, no matter how good a person you think you may be, there will still be people inworld that will dislike you.

I have learned that you make a lot of friends over time, but that there are very few that actually stay on your list for more than 6 months. Our likes and interests change all the time. What is important to me right now, might not be in 3 months from now, less likely in 6. And so we keep evolving. Some of your friends, evolve with you, some don't.

I've learned that anything is possible in SL. No matter how big you think your dream/s may be, if you have the will, and you have the right friends, it can become a reality.

I've learned not to trust just anyone. A mistake I have made over and over. The world is made up of all kinds of people, so is SL. But I've also learned to be proud in my accomplishments, and I don't think there have been that many in SL for me yet, but I reckon times are changing.
I've learned that sometimes change is necessary. It's sometimes scary and always uncertain, but if I'm going to make the most out of my 'Second Life', then I need to accept that change is inevitable.

And as I watch 'our' little heaven come to life, I have learned that change is good. I look forward to what is to come. I look forward to being a part of something really lovely and new. And I am so proud to be part of this amazing team.

Its all a game....... isn't it?

I recently had a conversation with someone regarding real life versus Second Life. That being, real life is paramount above everything that is Second Life. To an extent I agree. I won't be missing exams, work, a meeting at the bank or that hot date with a possible Mr Right BUT and I say this vehemently Second Life isn't pixels to me its about commitment to those I friend and work with. When I discuss Second Life with a friend who thinks the name sounds like a cult religion or funeral home I start with the "well its a character that you move with keys and you dress up and ooohh you can do unmentionable things with". You mean "shagging" she says but no I was actually meaning ride on a bumble bee. Now I just sound weird. I then use that famous term "social networking" She raises an eyebrow; I can still see she thinks shagging.

My Second Life isn't about being second its called "Compliments Real Life" or CRL, (I just made that up, but it sounds good). However as tongue in cheek as it sounds it really does compliment my real life. I have friendships in SL that mirror my RL friendships. I exhibit the same personality in world as I do in my real world. O.K riding on a bumble bee is stretching it a bit but if I could find one big enough to harness in real life I would give it a go. It sounds fun! Animal welfare as paramount of course.

When I observe those new to Second Life rez and announce "what am I supposed to do in this game?" ; then watch as older residents take umbrage and state "Its not a game !" I would argue it is, as isn't life a game? You might meet the snake and fall and occasionally you see a ladder to climb to your goal. We compete for Park Lane and turn our nose up when we can just get a house on Old Kent Road. Then we caterwaul into Xbox 360 Karaoke wanting to be the new Christina or as I impressively attempted at Christmas Dr Dre.

Well in my real life I fall over and pick myself up again and jump on that merry go round hoping I will get somewhere. I think that SL can mirror RL its not a bad thing to think it of as a game with objectives set by us and possible goals.

Even games have serious rules. Have you ever seen a bunch of boys play Call of Duty? Pensive and testosterone spring to mind. For me its Operation, I sweat when attempting to retrieve the Charley Horse.

What I am attempting to say is once I make a promise whether its in Second Life or real life I commit to it. Yes real life at times is always an essential first however for those I friend and make promises to I commit. The key word for me is a promise, I don't do it lightly and I hope I have never broken one. If I never log on second life when I say I will its because probably I found that giant animal welfare approved giant bumble bee to harness and ride and got distracted.

The Name Game: Reflections on Identity in Second Life

When I signed up for Second Life, I had no clue about the importance of choosing a creative Second Life persona, i.e. "name." As I signed up for my account for the first time, I plugged in a first name, looked through the list of last names, and didn't even realize I could refresh the list to find something more creative.  In the end, on the last page of choices, I saw "Titanium" and thought... that says "strong."  And so it stuck.

As "Jami T" I cannot see ever changing my SL identity.

I had no idea that in a way, "Jami T" would become a "brand."  And indeed that is the case for many of the "old timers" in SL that I know.  They make a place for themselves, create something and become part of it, and their name sort of becomes like a slogan that follows them around.  I know more than a few people like that.  And like them, it would be nearly impossible for me to ever change avatars.

I remember once asking a fella in London Hyde Park to go dancing.  And he said, "But whoa!  You're Hyde Park's "Jami T."  And I thought, "What the hell?"  He saw me as totally unreachable due to my SL persona and it was my first glimmer of just how important a name can be in SL.

Which is why, perhaps, those of us who have been in SL for any length of time prior to the move to display names and the "Resident" surname, find the shift in creating identity a disturbing one.

As MooCow Beeswing, pointed out, her SL name is a nickname that was given to her.  She chose it because it was an important part of her identity.  She remembers seeing all the names and thinking they didn't mean much to her, but then "Beeswing" stood out and she chose it thinking it was a cute match for "MooCow."  She added that the new user names with display names is "confusing and just very unoriginal."

Karola Silversmith: "If I could see one good thing in it, it's only
when someone named the avi with a typo."

One of the big issues with display names is that users can take advantage of this to create confusion, naming themselves after someone long established in SL who has a well-known identity.  As Karola Silversmith points out, display names are "really confusing for others and in work too.  Some names are really hard to read too, especially the "hand write" font.  If I could see one good thing in it, it's only when someone named the avi with a typo."

And older users seem attached to their names.  In looking around, the "older" avatars I see (those that have seen at least one rezz day or nearly so) aren't using the display names.  Or if they are, it is only to reassert the name they chose in the beginning.  Simon Sangria, who will celebrate his first rezz day in mid-May, remarked  that he would not change his name.  "I won't change it... It's been my name too long." 

Simon Sangria: "I won't change it... It's been my name too long."

After a friend of mine mentioned how difficult it was to "join" SL now due to the new naming policy, I went into the website to create a new account to see, and discovered that she was right.  It was difficult to find a unique "user" name without adding random numbers or silly combinations of letters.  With the loss of randomly generated surnames, a person has to come up with a user name that is unique from all other user names.  This seems to have generated a flurry of names appearing in-world with numbers or other random letters attached to them.
 
In real life, our name in inherently linked to our perception of ourselves.  It is no different in SL.  In a world where identity and "brand" means so much, it's sad that the new policy gives such a "prison number" feel to names, stealing away our identity in a subtle but powerful way.

   

Friends... an honest if surprisingly soppy story

"A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg even though he knows that you are slightly cracked." - Bernard Meltzer

I have spent the past week of my virtual life being constantly surprised by the friends that have proved to have shoulders truly worthy to lean on, and in some cases saddened by the ones who were only cling film friends... flimsy and liable to snap under the slightest pressure.





















So to me... what is a good friend? What makes a proper buddy?

I would say... it's the ability to be able to listen to your rants, tell you they are wrong... and then give you a hug at the end. It's about lending a shoulder even when they know you are being totally loony. Its about being willing to stand up and support you whatever the situation. Its being the carrot to my pea.




I am fortunate to have many such friends... more in fact than I knew.

Now I just have to figure out how to get a bus big enough to get them back to the safety of their cuddle coats.

At the Helm: Second Life and Celery




I was hoping to find celery to munch, but at least the garden tools were a distraction...

 
For no particularly good reason, I'm eating celery for breakfast this morning.  Except that perhaps some deep need in me was stirred last night and again this morning to take back control of my life -- to come back to the helm and steer myself away from oblivion and back into the center of the glimmering sea which once rose about me in undulating waves.

My daughter came to me last night, and pressed the pads of her small fingers against the underside of her arm and said, "I have grandma flaps." And she frowned.  

She's a twig really. But at the tender age of nine, she already knows the power of appearances in this world.

When I look in the mirror, I'm usually content, save for my c-ankles.  Yes, c-ankles.  You know... where your calves and ankles have no defining separation?  Oh, for the slender ankles of Victorian times, framed by the embroidered hem of an ivory petticoat above a small, buttoned boot.

Oh, I've tried it all -- soup only diets, running till my knees collapsed -- hell, I even own a set of electronic food scales that measures item weights down to the gram.  And I use it.  Every day. 

Control nut?  Perhaps.

I think that's why we like Second Life.  In Real Life, we often wait on the deck of the boat while others steer the ship.  They stand at the helm like immobile boulders, taking with them all our control... steering the journey as we wait for a turn at the wheel which may never come.   Here, within the pixel realm, we are captain of our ship.

Not only can I make my avatar look as I want (skinny, athletic, voluptuous, fairy, dragon, wolf, you name it...) but I can shape my world.  I can choose my family and my friends and my coworkers with a freedom that Real Life can never offer.  And I can mute the people who annoy me.  (Although, in looking at my mute list, I see that only two "names" are there -- two fountains on a Sim I frequent... listening to them disturbs my bladder.)

Move furniture?  Yes! I can!  Change clothes in public without taking off the previous outfit? You bet!  Fly? Of course! 

Second Life is our turn to steer the ship.  Real Life doesn't always give you the helm.

Sure... my avatar explores Second Life as a reflection of me, but that is not the only appeal.  She is my ship, and my mind and heart are at the helm.  The real world is often governed by circumstance and fickle Fate, and Second Life offers the chance to practice control in a way that is safe.  And so perhaps the real appeal is just that.  Risk with safety.  In Second Life,  I can fall... and fail.  And in the end, these pixels are expendable.  They may feel, or rather I may feel them, but they do not breathe... and a rebirth is always a possibility. 

The Word of the Day was "Cling"

So, the word of the day at Milk Wood was "cling."  And I thought... "How appropriate..."

Jami T. sits down with her muse at Milk Wood's "Writer's Dash."

You see Milk Wood does this lovely "Writer's Dash" each day.  They give us a word and ask us to write for fifteen minutes, brilliance not required of course but surely appreciated, and then we pass around our note cards (when SL is willing to let us save of course) and oooh and ahhhh over each other's fifteen minutes of inspirational genius.

But the word of the day at Milk Wood was "cling."

As a little girl, I once clung to a cat's ear.  Don't laugh... I'm serious.

My little gray cat Rusher, whom I adored, was let out by accident one day.  I was a touch over ten years old, and she came back the next day, battered and bruised and scratched.  There was a particularly nasty cut on her left ear.  My mother bandaged her up and put ointment on the wounds the best she could, as a visit to the veterinary during those days was not just a luxury, but an impossibility.

My cat slept with me at night, often under the covers, sidling up against the small of my back.  She thought she was a dog, perhaps, as she often curled up near my feet during meal times, though she never begged even for a scrap.  On my birthday she had kittens in my closet... in my toy box, and when I found her and the litter (there were only two, and both were female) she'd purred and squinted her eyes in pride.

So when her ear fell off, as a ten year old child who clung (perhaps desperately) to anything "good" in her life, I took it, wailing, to my mother.

"Throw that out." She said.  "It's nasty.  Rusher will live.  It's just her ear."

And I remember looking down at the withered gray flap in my hand thinking, "How can I throw away part of my friend?"  And so I wrapped the little bit of my cat in a Kleenex tissue and hid it in the bottom drawer of a small jewelry box on my dresser.  I told myself, "I can hold on to this part of her, so that when the day comes, she can be buried whole."  And, that was how it happened.  A year later, when my cat died, I brought out the ear and silently slipped it in the shoe-box with Rusher.  My mother  just shook her head and said nothing.

And so, I know that there is a part of my that clings to things, desperately.  Even, perhaps, to the point of despair.  But only because there is a part of me that is incredibly and indelibly loyal to anything that becomes part of my world. 

It is like that even now.  At present, I feel like there is an "ear" in my jewelry box.  And I hope that it stays there...  I have no desire to bring it out and put it in the shoe box.

The Two Most Powerful Words I Know

I have been an advocate in my lifetime.  I am a mother, a daughter, a teacher... and the reality is that in the core of these roles I am a lifestyle advocate. 

As a mother, I fight for my children, breathing them into my soul and pushing them out on their own two feet in such as way so as their stumbles will not mean falls, but instead the building of balance and muscle.  I have watched as they have grown from infants squalling in my arms (and oh God, did my daughter squall) to toddlers teetering on furniture and then to teens, kissing girls in the back bedroom with the light off when they thought I wasn't paying attention.  But when they came to me, I fought for them. 

As the daughter of a fragile woman, I am again an advocate.  I took my first beating for her when I was only four.  She'd fallen back, his fist in her face, and hit the table, unconscious.  I stood over her in my slender frame, a short, inadequate child, with my fists clenched at my sides, screaming soundlessly one word... "No!"

And, "No" has been my mantra for so many years now.  I rarely say it because it holds so much power.  But the word is branded on my heart; a searing wound that never heals. 

As a teacher.  I am an advocate.  When they come to me and say, "One more day..."  I lead them into that day with the same hands, now open, that once curled into fists to protect my mother.  When they come to me and say, "I can't do it..." I say, "Yes, you can."  And "yes" is the second most powerful word I know.

In the end, I am an advocate.  I am a fighter.  And though my arsenal consists of little more than two short words, the power of them has long held sway over any obstacle in my life.  I am not afraid to use either of them in defense of my own.  And know, that if I say "no" to you it is not because I hate you... and if I say "yes" it is not because I love you.  In the end, it is because I have the strength to be your advocate.