November 6, 2009
In my RL I’ve been contemplating joining an Episcopalian church—I was raised Southern Baptist, while my elderly parents recently returned to Catholicism—and I think maybe my entire family appreciates strict liturgy, even though we have not always practiced that. So pretty unsurprisingly, my Jenn Avatar has infrequently dipped a toe into the Anglican Cathedral of Second Life. There’s a strong, active virtual community based around its daily or almost-daily services, and I really like many of its members’ British and New Zealand accents when they read call-and-response selections from the, uh, the Anglican Readings Hymnal thingie. About this: I really like the call-and-response, especially in a liturgical context (writer Amy Fusselman has a beautiful passage about sea shanties in her novella The Pharmacist’s Mate), but there’s something really magnetic and alienating, in turns, about the virtual call-and-response. One person will lead, reading canticles aloud via voice chat, and the rest of us will follow along silently. That’s the “call.” Then it’s time for our “response.” And the leader will pause, waiting for all of us to repeat the words in bold type, and during that silence, we are all whispering to ourselves at our computers all over the globe. And I imagine other people whispering to God with me. This is kind of a haunting feeling but, as many of these services occur well after my midnight, I know the rest of the world is awake and alive and swathed in daylight. Maybe this feeling is not what the Bible is talking about at all, when in certain passages It imparts the importance of establishing and maintaining churches and relationships and flocks, but I don’t know for sure.

In my RL I’ve been contemplating joining an Episcopalian church—I was raised Southern Baptist, while my elderly parents recently returned to Catholicism—and I think maybe my entire family appreciates strict liturgy, even though we have not always practiced that.

So pretty unsurprisingly, my Jenn Avatar has infrequently dipped a toe into the Anglican Cathedral of Second Life. There’s a strong, active virtual community based around its daily or almost-daily services, and I really like many of its members’ British and New Zealand accents when they read call-and-response selections from the, uh, the Anglican Readings Hymnal thingie.

About this: I really like the call-and-response, especially in a liturgical context (writer Amy Fusselman has a beautiful passage about sea shanties in her novella The Pharmacist’s Mate), but there’s something really magnetic and alienating, in turns, about the virtual call-and-response. One person will lead, reading canticles aloud via voice chat, and the rest of us will follow along silently. That’s the “call.” Then it’s time for our “response.” And the leader will pause, waiting for all of us to repeat the words in bold type, and during that silence, we are all whispering to ourselves at our computers all over the globe.

And I imagine other people whispering to God with me. This is kind of a haunting feeling but, as many of these services occur well after my midnight, I know the rest of the world is awake and alive and swathed in daylight. Maybe this feeling is not what the Bible is talking about at all, when in certain passages It imparts the importance of establishing and maintaining churches and relationships and flocks, but I don’t know for sure.

February 5, 2009
Narshe Talbot announced that he was off to attend a SL discussion group, so of course I invited myself along. During the discussion, I actually changed shoes, having noticed that my feet weren’t quite fitted into them properly. But I didn’t change shoes before Narshe snapped this photo, hence all the awkwardness at the ankles. Ths discussion itself was interesting (you can read about it at Narshe’s Tumblog), and I was, of course, completely delighted to meet up with a real-life friend-not-met (to use FOAF parlance) via virtual circumstances. Very, very cool.

Narshe Talbot announced that he was off to attend a SL discussion group, so of course I invited myself along. During the discussion, I actually changed shoes, having noticed that my feet weren’t quite fitted into them properly. But I didn’t change shoes before Narshe snapped this photo, hence all the awkwardness at the ankles.

Ths discussion itself was interesting (you can read about it at Narshe’s Tumblog), and I was, of course, completely delighted to meet up with a real-life friend-not-met (to use FOAF parlance) via virtual circumstances. Very, very cool.

Voice chat insecurity

I have a love-hate (mostly hate) relationship with my voice. In my early RL adulthood I did do some voiceover work—if I concentrate very, very hard, as if I were singing, I can make my voice smooth out and become something else—but in actual, day-to-day life, I really hate my own voice’s rasp, going so far as to avoid even talking on the phone.

In spite of that, though, I took my avatar to a voice chat -enabled island and, infrequently, put on the mic to say something. But I was eventually asked to withdraw from the conversation. “Your voice is really irritating,” one person said. “That girl Zoey ran off because she couldn’t stand it.”

I generally feel like a Second Life outsider, but I’ve read enough to hear, repeatedly, that Second Life is powered almost entirely by “drama.” I’m starting to understand. There’s a lot of anonymous cruelty, but there’s also a lot of room for misinterpretation—“Why didn’t he accept my friend request, after all that conversation?” et cetera.

I guess this one particular experience was upsetting for me because, where people in SL generally might say “You’re fat” or “You have a huge ass,” they’re really only criticizing the avatar: if those criticisms bugged me, I’d change shapes and invest in cuter hair. But my voice comes with. It follows me in life; it isn’t a put-on. I can’t change it. In everyday life, I can’t not use my own speaking voice (unless I pretend to be mute, which might frankly work out great for me). Rather than letting the altercation escalate—it’s the sort of thing I’d ordinarily bait—I simply frowned and walked off. I think I might be meeker in Second Life than in Actual.

I wonder how much SL “drama” has to do with the unintended overlap between the “personal” (or “genuine”; “concealed”) and the “public” (or “artificial”; “displayed”). For instance: in December I initiated a confrontation with a user, and he proceeded to flip the fuck out. At the time, I’d thought the whole thing was laughable: his typing looked like an acute panic attack. He expressed that his earlier aggression was “in keeping with [his] RP character,” but my confronting him in IM about it was “personal, and bannable.” The reality was, he felt invulnerable until I crossed some weird, ephemeral personal boundary; in the meantime, I was calling him out because I felt he had already escalated his attacks into the personal and private.

February 4, 2009
My new skin (Milk Motion, “Marla,” pale, black eyes) makes me a little nervous. I like it, but I don’t think I’ll wear it very often. Maybe only to places where I hope to never be recognized? Hair by Hiccup (“Nerd Swept”); necklace by Swallowtail.

My new skin (Milk Motion, “Marla,” pale, black eyes) makes me a little nervous. I like it, but I don’t think I’ll wear it very often. Maybe only to places where I hope to never be recognized?

Hair by Hiccup (“Nerd Swept”); necklace by Swallowtail.

After a morning of hoverboarding all over Lloyd and Horst, Jennatar unwinds with a cold one. Hair (“Cherry,” in brown), bangle, and hoodie by CreamshopPose (“Tird bird stretch”) by PudgeTetris T-shirt (AKA “Candy Heart”) by ToastfaceLeggings (“Welcome to Country Noise - pink padding”) by Royal BlueShoes (“Kristin Booties”) by ETD

After a morning of hoverboarding all over Lloyd and Horst, Jennatar unwinds with a cold one.

Hair (“Cherry,” in brown), bangle, and hoodie by Creamshop
Pose (“Tird bird stretch”) by Pudge
Tetris T-shirt (AKA “Candy Heart”) by Toastface
Leggings (“Welcome to Country Noise - pink padding”) by Royal Blue
Shoes (“Kristin Booties”) by ETD

January 12, 2009
In December, I did something sort of creepy: I logged into Second Life as Nik. I mean, Nik knew, so it wasn’t, like, an awful thing to do. I just kind of wanted to “fix” Nik’s avatar, hopefully make Second Life a happier place for one Nikko Weezles. Nik’s avatar, like mine, is based on his real-life self. So even though I hate plaid shirts, I begrudgingly dressed him in one. I tweaked his sideburns. I found a better skin. I fiddled with the nose. But I was embarrassed because his avatar waddles; I was terrified that someone might try to talk to me. This isn’t me! I wanted to shout. I’m not this person! I’m not a dude! I don’t wear plaid! It was extremely strange. I felt really out of control.

In December, I did something sort of creepy: I logged into Second Life as Nik.

I mean, Nik knew, so it wasn’t, like, an awful thing to do. I just kind of wanted to “fix” Nik’s avatar, hopefully make Second Life a happier place for one Nikko Weezles.

Nik’s avatar, like mine, is based on his real-life self. So even though I hate plaid shirts, I begrudgingly dressed him in one. I tweaked his sideburns. I found a better skin. I fiddled with the nose.

But I was embarrassed because his avatar waddles; I was terrified that someone might try to talk to me. This isn’t me! I wanted to shout. I’m not this person! I’m not a dude! I don’t wear plaid!

It was extremely strange. I felt really out of control.

December 24, 2008
Happy Christmas. Here’s Jennatar in a “Santa is my homeboy” T-shirt, free from Toastface. You can pick it up in the Starlust hotel (under the Christmas tree in the lobby) along with tons of other goodies. Actually, OK. Here’s a story. I—I mean, my avatar—was wearing this festive ensemble (see above) in Second Life and, when a woman thought I was out of ‘earshot,’ she called me a “freaky fuck.” BTW her avatar was wearing a miniature dragon on her shoulder and a Santa hat.

Happy Christmas.

Here’s Jennatar in a “Santa is my homeboy” T-shirt, free from Toastface. You can pick it up in the Starlust hotel (under the Christmas tree in the lobby) along with tons of other goodies.

Actually, OK. Here’s a story. I—I mean, my avatar—was wearing this festive ensemble (see above) in Second Life and, when a woman thought I was out of ‘earshot,’ she called me a “freaky fuck.” BTW her avatar was wearing a miniature dragon on her shoulder and a Santa hat.

December 5, 2008
Jennatar, enjoying the smoove sounds of Martini in the Morning from her barstool in Esoterica, where we are celebrating the 75th anniversary of Prohibition’s repeal. I switched to a different Den-Dou skin than the one I usually wear (this one comes with eyelashes!). I also put on my go-to flapper hair, “Nadia” by Sirena, which I like to wear a little shorter and foreheadier than its creator intended. The dress, which might be a decade or two off, is another Ivalde.

Jennatar, enjoying the smoove sounds of Martini in the Morning from her barstool in Esoterica, where we are celebrating the 75th anniversary of Prohibition’s repeal.

I switched to a different Den-Dou skin than the one I usually wear (this one comes with eyelashes!). I also put on my go-to flapper hair, “Nadia” by Sirena, which I like to wear a little shorter and foreheadier than its creator intended. The dress, which might be a decade or two off, is another Ivalde.

December 4, 2008

Here’s little Jennatar dancing to music at alt7.

Since the chances are good I’ll never buy actual video-capture software, this doubles as a really, really blatant ad for iShowU.

Just a reminder to my fellow fashion-forward poindexters: Icing is giving away free “Valedictorian” hair in every possible color. If you’ve ever used pencils as hair chopsticks—and you know who you are—these are for you.

Just a reminder to my fellow fashion-forward poindexters: Icing is giving away free “Valedictorian” hair in every possible color.

If you’ve ever used pencils as hair chopsticks—and you know who you are—these are for you.