It's like my life is flashing before my eyes.
I feel homesick for what used to be. What SL used to be. What *my* SL used to be.
It's like that time when LL introduced windlight. The light inworld changed and it felt like a whole different world. And I missed the old light.
It's like when LL first allowed you to change the volume for the UI and the wind separately. They turned those sounds down and it felt like a whole different world. I had to turn up the UI sounds, and some sounds are different now. And I never heard the wind again.
I'm scrambling to finish the book trailer before Friday when I plan to get the book live on Amazon. If I weren't busy with the book trailer and with current lovers, I'd probably be more an emotional mess. I cried after I finished sorting out the formatting issues for the upload. I cried again today because the release date is so close.
I guess I always feel like this during life transitions. My old SL is dying. I suppose my old RL is too.
Almost exactly eight years ago, as I was preparing to move to Minneapolis to start my MBA program, I wrote something in my RL personal blog about "Lea soup." Here's an excerpt:
"... while on the treadmill, I was reading an article in "O" (Oprah's magazine, of course) about how we go about reinventing ourselves. It started with a story about how caterpillars actually shed their skin in a cocoon and become a glop. "Caterpillar soup," the author said. The article went on saying that we also become "people soup" when the world falls apart, when the ground shakes.
"Maybe this move is forcing me into the "people soup" phase. If I bring only the bare necessities, I give myself room to be redefined, to be reinvented."
It's like SL has been my cocoon for the past five or six years. I had "hidden" from the real world and became a glop as I searched for who I am and who I am meant to be. And now, the cocoon is cracking. My wings are unfolding.
And that is damn scary.