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Apr
27

HOW TO START A SECOND LIFE – Wait! This IS your second life!

“Irving…you haven’t said a word in two minutes. Are you depressed?” my shrink asks.

“No,” I exhale, lying on his couch. “I’m kinda going over what you told me; that I am who I am, and I should be okay with that.”

“Indeed. But I didn’t mean you can’t change, or won’t. Actually you should change. You should grow.”

“That’s what I’m thinking about. I don’t like the way my guy is growing me.”

“Your guy?”

“My writer…the guy who’s writing me. He’s controlling me. I don’t like that.

“Now Irv, I thought we resolved–”

“I DID…kinda. But then my writer-guy, yesterday his friend at work showed him a website called Second Life. And that friend, when he goes there, he really DOES have a second life. He meets people! And they’re real, sorta, from all over the world. And they meet up with their cartoon selves at this place called Welcome Island and there they can do anything and BE anything they want.”

“Yes, Irv. Those alter egos are called avatars. And what those avatars do in that virtual world is role play, like we do in this office. Now let’s put this to rest. We were talking about–”

“How do YOU know about Second Life?”

“Irv…remember our rule? Don’t question your world.”

I sit up. “C’mon! How do you know this stuff?”

“Lie down Irv.”

“How come you know about this Second Life place and I DON’T?” Now I’m standing, getting sweaty. “WHAT’S GOING ON!?”

I move towards my doc. He lifts up a yellow thingy and points it at me. “Irv, this is a Taser. Stay where you are.”

I freeze. “Whoa! I promise! No touchies.”

“Step back!”

Back I go. Have to. My shrink’s scared of me, ‘cause I need hugs when I get triggered. And sometimes I hug too hard.

“But I wanna know what’s going on!” I protest. “What do you know that I don’t?”

“Everything.”

“Jeez! WHY?”

“Because I’m WRITTEN that way! Lie down, Irv!”

“WHAT?!”

“Your writer is my writer. Lie down, Irv.”

“Huh? I thought you were real!”

“I AM real. Just like you. Lie down, Irv.”

“How can we be real?”

“We live in a world of thoughts. Lie down, Irv.”

“BUT…”

“LIE DOWN, IRV!!!”

I sit.

“Lie down and focus!”

I focus…sitting up.

“Get this. Thoughts are real.”

“C’mon…”

“It’s true. We ARE what we think, what we remember, what we love…fear…crave. And what we dream. Everything about everybody is a collection of thoughts. And when your author writes about you and someone reads about you, new thoughts, new ideas spring from that. And out of those new ideas come new actions. And from those actions new things are made, like iPads and computers and the website, Second Life. Everything starts with a thought.”

“Yeah, okay,” I mumble. I’m letting him think I agree. Inside, I wanna be really real.

My Doc walks to his desk, and grabbing his pad and pen, says to me, “Let’s get back to your issues. Lie back down.”

I stretch out…with more thinking…about why my writer guy makes my therapist know more than me. So I ask again and get an answer.

“Irv, within your stories YOU are the Character-of-Discovery and I am the Voice-of-Reason. As you learn from me you pass that knowledge on to the reader page by page, like a springtime sapling growing into a tall, strong tree, blooming wisdom.”

“I don’t wanna bloom. I wanna be the writer!”

“But you ARE the writer. When things flow, when you and your author connect in the Zone, you’re the one saying the words, thinking the thoughts, doing the deeds in your author’s mind. He just types.”

“And then he changes stuff! He makes me say things I should know already!”

“That’s role playing, Irv. You’re his actor.”

“Well, Skippy, I QUIT! I wanna be a big-penis avatar dude!”

“You already ARE an avatar.”

“A detail! I want my own second life!”

“You ARE a second life.”

“FINE!” Again I spring off the couch. “I’ll go for a third! Where’s your computer?”

“STOP!” yells my shrink, re-aiming his taser. “I’m writing this scene! LIE DOWN!”

“No!”

“YES! Now tell me how characters come alive in the writer’s mind, when YOU, Mr. Podolsky, move your reader’s heart.”

“I just wanna get laid.”

“So it’s all about you. Again.” He makes a note. “Irving, you’ve grown up. There is nothing to be learned from replaying your past.”

“But I wanna stay young!”

“You want to stay young? Stay excited.”

“Sure…”

“I mean it. There’s a way to do that.”

“I know.”

“You know? Explain.”

“I know that being young means discovering new stuff, being interested in people, in science, art, music, politics, emerging paradigms and technology. It means staying involved in everything.”

“You got it!”

“My writer made me say that. Me? I just want to be popular.”

“So we’re back to that again.”

“We’re back to that because everybody needs to know there’s a reason for waking up in the morning.”

“Not every one. Many people just live, play, work. They don’t question their existence. And they do just fine.”

“But I’m not. I need to know!”

“Which is why you’re here; to find your soul.”

“Yeah… But while I’m doing that finding thing, can I…on the side, check out ‘Slut Street’ in Second Life?”

“No! Nor will you go looking for a Poseball, or grab a sim Emo Chick, super rezzed with big breasts and bang her virtual buns off. You will not do that, Irv. Because that’s not you.”

“But it can be! I don’t wanna be Jewish anymore!”

“Impossible.”

“I’m depressed. I have no control.”

“You will when you understand your purpose.”

“Sure… My big purpose…”

“It’s important, Irv. You’re the messenger – the bearer of truth for all those who share your concerns. Like the Prince’s Whipping Boy, you take the hits so your readers won’t have to. You mirror their fears and joys, safely confronting them page-by-page, helping to sweep away the haze of confusion. This is why your writer writes you the way he does. Through you he asks the questions behind the questions, examining the world through your eyes…your heart…your soul.”

Through my eyes? I roll them.

“There’s so much to discover, Irving; so much more to learn. And YOU are your reader’s guide, their mystical Explorer!”

“Yeah, right. What’s a Poseball?”

“A place to have sex in Second Life.”

“I’d like to explore that. Where do I–”

“Uhh… We’re out of time.”

“Perfect…”

 

Graphic created by community.secondlife.com

This post was originally posted on Curiosutyquills.com.

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