I’m starting to get out of my depression a little more, finally. Now I’m trying to get back on track with my store. Ultimately, I want to redo some of my older mesh models, improve upon my earlier works, but if I wait until I’m ready to do that, my store will never be updated. So, I’ve spent part of the weekend creating a new vendor to use with CasperVend for my store. I’m now slowly migrating my existing products to the new vendors with updated LMs, updating the Marketplace listings, and updating my new blog as each product is being readded. I’m using the date from the original blog post to keep things aligned. The first product has been updated, the rainbow bangles. These are just simple prim bangles that work with any avatar, and are only L$5 for the pair.
It was about two weeks of silence. I didn’t really get much accomplished in those two weeks either. Nothing from my list of things I wanted to do, that is. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. What is the point in anything? I go through the motions of the day, doing what needs to be done, and procrastinating on other things. Even now, as I write this, I’m asking myself why am I doing this. I’ve struggled a little with this before, but ever since the move, it seems to have gotten worse, which doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me.
The move was to a much better job, with a huge pay raise. I like the company I’m working for, and the people I’m working with. It’s always busy, but not usually overly stressful. I’m even planning on working out after I get off work to start getting in better shape. I’ve been trying to do that since starting the job, but something always seems to get in the way.
The move put me closer to my family than I was before. I’m in a rare situation where my family is not dysfunctional, very loving, and very close. Being able to be close enough to spend every holiday, like the upcoming Mother’s Day, with my family is wonderful. My parents even came down a few times to help me get some things done at my house, and then go out to dinner before they went back home.
There is so much more to do here, compared to where I lived before. Since moving down here, I’ve been going different places, eating at new restaurants, just doing different things as I’ve had the time. Usually that was on a Sunday, leaving my Saturdays home. The restaurants could have been at any time of the week. It really is great.
With all that, why am I struggling so much? What is it about myself that I haven’t fully grasped yet? Is there anything that I’m missing? Am I just trying to read too much into things? Why can’t I just enjoy this, and not worry about anything else?
I look back to before. I was working at home. I was off at 3pm, and from 3pm to 4pm, I spent an hour in SL, unless I had an appointment to go to in the afternoon. I’d usually be back in SL between 6pm and 7pm and spend the rest of my evening there. Then weekends I was almost always in SL. Hours upon hours in SL. Probably too much time. Now, I’m hardly in SL anymore. Technically, I could be in between 8 and 8:30, and stay until 10 or so. I do have time on weekends, maybe not as much as before, but still could be there most of the weekend. Yet I’m hardly there now. Is this good or bad?
Why is SL so important to me? Not just SL now, but my entire online identity. I’ve mentioned it before, but it is because that is where I can be fully me. In life, I live as everyone else expects me to live. I had thought about changing that before, but there are just too many risks that I’m just not willing to accept. So, to counter that, I express myself through my virtual self, which I think is more real than my real self. I am Trasee, and Trasee is me.
Does this mean that because I’m not in SL as much, I’m not Trasee? When I’m writing these blogs, writing my stories, playing games on my PS4, who am I? I’m still Trasee. When I’m at work or dealing with other things in life, I’m the other person I have to be. During those times, though, am I really thinking that way? No, I’m just doing what I need to do, regardless of my “identity.” So, what is it that’s really different? What is it that is keeping me in a depressed state more than before?
I don’t have the answers to it. In many ways I’m still trying to learn who I am. I had a couple blog posts here on who I am. Thinking back at them, I wonder how accurate they are. Just like everything else in life, things don’t always line up, and things change as time goes on. Those things I wrote are still true about me, but the reality is much more complex. So much that I have trouble seeing through the fog a lot of times.
For now, I just need to keep pushing forward. I want to push forward. Everything will work out in the end.
The first part to take place on the moon has been written in Lunar Penal Colony. I found out about these things on the moon called mascons that tended to occur in lunar basins. I couldn’t find a lot of information related to exactly how they worked on the moon, except they were gravitational anomolies that had caused satellites to crash and made lunar navigation difficult. It seemed like gravity in these areas were denser than other areas. So, it seemed only natural to choose one of these basins to put the penal colony on.
Orientale Basin is a real basin on the moon, and naturally the name extended to to the station as well. As I think about it, the name Orientale Station is a much better name than Lunar Penal Colony. Perhaps that could become the name in the future, or something similar. I’ll have to see how the story continues to progress, to see if a better name comes up in the future. For now, the ugly name Lunar Penal Colony will remain.
Based on the last part, the date is important, to an extent. A lot of what happened in the previous five parts, though, seems to be pointless filler material. The court scene in part one is important. I think the scene at the processing center in part five is also beneficial to the story. Then there is the history narrative, explaining why the birthday is so bad. Instead of a single info dump, it should probably be spaced out a little differently. I think it is important to include that information in some fashion, though. – Trasee
Waking up from a medically induced sleep, or would that be a coma, is not an easy task. Waking up from a medically induced sleep on the moon is even more disorienting. I don’t know how long I stayed in bed, just trying to focus and get myself oriented.
The bed and pillow were quite soft. A warm blanket was pulled over me. It was very comfortable, unlike the stone beds I was on in the detention centers. Even the room I was in was completely different. For starters, it was an actual room, not a cell. I was in the twin bed, with the white sheets and light grey blanket. A simple white desk with a chair and a white desk lamp was next to the bed. A small tablet lay on the top of the desk. On the opposite wall was a wardrobe and dresser, also in white. Even my hospital gown was replaced with white pajamas. The bathroom, white of course, could be seen through an open door, contained a shower, sink, and toilet.
A clock on the wall gave the time as 15:08. I had to think for a few minutes to understand that was three in the afternoon. My brain damage, combined with the waking from the sleep, made it difficult for me to do the conversion.
Once I felt awake enough, I slid out from under the covers and stood up. The action felt odd to me. I don’t know how to describe it. Almost as if I were underwater, yet without the resistance of the water around me. When I slid out the chair to sit down and picked up the tablet, everything seemed lighter to my touch than I expected.
I touched the screen of the tablet to turn it on. The image of a woman appeared on the screen, holding the tablet. She turned it around to show me the back of the tablet and pointed to a small circle in the back. “Please place the tip of your finger here to unlock the tablet.” Like the nurse, she had a kind voice and a very sweet smile. After she finished the instruction, the screen turned off. With a slight shrug, I found the circle in the back of the tablet and pressed my finger to it.
The tablet flashed to life again, and the same woman appeared on the screen, smiling. “Good afternoon Val Edelstein and welcome to Orientale Station. This is one of four science stations on the moon designed to house prisoners from earth. This station is meant for those who have been sentenced for crimes of inconvenience, such as your inability to keep a steady job. We want to make your time here as comfortable as possible, but make no mistake, this is still a prison. You will be expected to follow the rules, and if you break them, you could be sent to one of the other stations.
“There are a couple things you should know. We’re located in the Orientale impact basin, an area of the moon with a slightly denser gravity, but still half that of earth. That means it will take less energy for you to move or jump, as you’ll literally be lighter on your feet, and things here will feel half the weight as they would on earth. It will take some getting used to, but you should be adapted to the changes in a week or so.
“It would be a good idea to keep this tablet with you at all times. It contains a map of the station so you can find your way around, and will give you important messages, such as when meals are served. You are expected to stay in your room between twenty hundred hours and eight hundred hours, that’s eight pm to eight am by the earth clock. The rest of the time you are free to roam the station. If you need assistance, just contact the guard desk via the messenger app on your tablet. While the circumstances of your arrival were not ideal, we do hope that you will enjoy your stay here.”
The woman flashed off the screen, and the desktop of the tablet appeared. The date and time indicated it was Friday, May 7, 2117, and was now 15:46. A schedule of upcoming events showed that dinner was in the cafeteria from 1700 to 1800, karaoke in Jupiter Lounge from 1830 to 1930, followed by lights out at 2000.
A nice, albeit very white, room. A comfortable bed. A tablet of my own. Karaoke night even? This wasn’t a prison, this was a whitewashed resort with strict rules and curfews. If this is what it is like here, no wonder no one ever came back to earth. Who would want to leave this comfort, even if the decor was kind of plain.