M is for Myg

Live your god damned dream

Here and not here.

I know, I know. You may think Mygdala March is no more, given my lack of logins since the kids were born in January. And I can understand that. But I want to assure you, Myg is still very much alive. It’s just that I’ve morphed my online personality to fit a bit more with my first life, or real life, or whatever you want to call it, and I may choose, “Holy shit I have twin boys and I’m getting no sleep but life is awesome” life.

I read this short but thought provoking piece, “Good as Dead”  by Tateru Nino about a month ago about what happens when someone disappears from their virtual world, and I felt so bad I almost posted. Almost. The reason I didn’t was really a matter of how much time and energy I’ve got these days, which is next to none, and what little of it there is, is spent with them: 

Five months

Can you blame me?

Then most of my spare time, of which there is, actually, none, I am asleep. Because folks, it’s been over 5 months now and the babies still aren’t getting through the night without getting up at least once. Between two kids, that makes for one spotty night of slumber.  Which, ironically, reminds me of the first several months of Mygdala March’s entrance into Second Life.

Funny the parallels there. Back in November 2006 I gave birth to my online self, Myg. The nurturing of that self took a tremendous amount of time and energy, and was also a labor of love. It was a time of play and exploration and creation and possibility, which is what drove me to spend hours upon hours in world, and no, I don’t regret a minute of it. I love Second Life. I love Topgol and the places we’ve created there. I love and miss you, my digital companions. I dare say I will be back, but I can’t say when. When I learn to better manage my time, I suppose. When the kids sleep through the night and take regular naps, perhaps.

Some of you have an interest in my life outside of Second Life, and I’ve been able to keep in touch. If you are at all interested in the whole Myg, you’re invited to follow me at Wisermom.org, where I blog mostly about the “holy shit” experience of being a new mom. You can also connect with me on Plurk or on Twitter, which I’ve re-embraced along with Oprah. No, I haven’t literally embraced Oprah, nor her talk show.

Some of you aren’t interested in my life outside of Second Life, and hey, that’s alright too. I totally understand that. This started out as a Second Life blog, and I do intend to keep it that way. But unlike real life, or first life, or whatever you like to call it, my Second Life can wait a little while.

But those adorable little monkeys in diapers and onesies in that photo up there? They don’t do “wait.”

I can’t imagine where they got that quality from, either.

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Cruel facts of pregnancy

They call it “pelvic rest” but it means orgasms are right out too.

I can’t have any – and I mean any type or variety of sexual activity – because it can start contractions and my risk for preterm labor is too high right now. Did you know nipple stimulation can start contractions? I didn’t. Pity me, pity my husband. Because after the kids get here, well, anyway I don’t want to think about that right now.

appropriateness of belly tattoo

I didn’t take this photo to talk to you all about my pathetic lack of sex, actually. I took it because I noticed that this tattoo (DaVinci) from Truth Hawks actually has a fetus on the belly. Ha!  But looking at this picture made me think of sex. Well, looking at the wall makes me think of sex right now.

Pregnancy, nature’s miracle, is a cruel mistress of irony, indeed.

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My brain is different.  My body is different.  The light is brighter.  The night is darker.  Color is a distant fire from an indifferent circus. The future is a gaping nowhere and the past is a rat gnawing its way through a blanket of resolution woven from words and tears and many years.

I find I am still here. Even when I feel like I’m not.

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What, no photo?

Rule Number 1: Never break your own rules.

Therefore on account of Rule Number 2, the “No post without a picture” rule here at M is for Myg, I’m going to reprimand myself harshly and will even write myself up. I can do that, I’m the boss here.

It has been a few weeks since my last post, and there’s no hiding the fact that my Second Life is in shambles.  To be completely honest, it’s not too far off from my first life.  I had the hope of a digital resurrection not long ago, but a series of things have sidetracked me. I have been popping my head into Plurk now and then, where I’m able to keep loose tabs on JellyBean and Hawks, Chestnut, dandellion, Crap, Xax, RosieCodie, and Vint. (And actually, Alex and Romana  have rather dead looking Plurk threads too, and even Sable had one but looks like hers has disappeared.) I don’t plurk with the best of them, but I do like to stick a toe in to say hey and snark here and there. I digress.

I will tell you that I’ve been obsessed with presidential electoral politics for a good long while, and given the current economic meltdown, I’ve only gotten more obsessive.  No creative work, no making stuff, no hanging out, no chatting, no listening to excellent tunes at Clockwork for me. It’s not healthy. I don’t recommend it, spending all your free time glued to the Daily Kos and The Rachel Maddow Show. (Yes, I’m a totally left, liberal progressive Democrat, but that’s not the point.)

And then there’s this other matter…

In a few short months things, meaning life, for me and Burgess will go completely insane. Insane in the best of possible ways, but insane nonetheless. I will try to be more in touch on that front, WITH pictures even.

I’ll just put it this way. Sometimes you want something so badly for so long, but you never think it will happen, so you prepare yourself to deal with that disappointment. But then what if it does happen? You realize that everything in the world, everything, you yourself even, changes. You stare dizzily over the edge of a black abyss that’s calling itself your future. You don’t know what to expect and how you feel isn’t exactly how you thought you’d feel. You don’t feel bad. But you do feel a bit stunned, a bit scared, a bit giddy, a bit, “well what the fuck?” Ready to leap into the dark gaping maw of the eternal unknown, death be damned.

It’s the circle of life, folks. Spinning, I’ve finally found where I am on it.