Looking for Brian

Meeting Him There

            Since I said good-bye to Brian with my avatar Deirfiur Thies, I’ve been logging into Second Life each night with my old avatar Morrhys.  Every time, I wonder if this is the day Brian will contact me through my avatar and show me all the wonderful things he’s built in SL.

If you’re new to this blog, you’ll want to go to the beginning and get some background.  Those of you who’ve been here before, welcome back!  Read on!

I look eagerly at the saved IMs when I arrive in-world.  There’s never anything from Brian.  I sit on my too-soft old couch, the large but thin Clans and Tartans hardback serving as my lapdesk, math books to my left, my notebook computer to my right.  I scribble equations on the paper on the Clans book.  Periodically, I look at the computer screen and check the IM and chat history, in case I missed anything.  Each day, after several hours, I reluctantly sign off, having completed my homework.

Tonight I got tired of the useless drill.  I called home.

“So, mom, how’s the therapy going?”

“I think it’s going well.  The fact that Brian’s still attending is pretty amazing all by itself.  This is the guy who otherwise hasn’t set foot in a doctor’s office for years!”

“That’s great!  So, when do you think he’ll get back to me in Second Life?”

“Pardon me?”

“I wonder when he’ll contact my original Second Life avatar?  Maybe you could suggest he IM me!”

“Well… I hate to disappoint you, but it might be quite a while.”

“What?  How come?”

“Because his therapy just started, and there’s no telling how long it might take to undo the behaviors and attitudes he’s acquired over the course of his lifetime.  Remember, the doc hasn’t even given Brian a diagnosis of depression yet.  He hasn’t suggested drug treatments.  He’s just getting Brian comfortable with the idea of therapy, showing him how it can help through helping me.”

“I’m sorry, mom.  I don’t think of you as needing help.”

“You’re very kind.  Actually, the therapy’s been good for me.  I had no idea what an emotional drain living with Brian is, to say nothing of the things that happened previously that drove us to this point.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re getting something out of the therapy.  I’m just anxious to know when Brian will do things with me other brothers do with their sisters.  When will he fly down to see me?  When will he give me a hug?  When will he go out to dinner with me?  When will he talk with me about how we’re going to celebrate your birthday?  I want him to be normal!  It just doesn’t seem like asking him to chat with me in Second Life is such a big deal.”

“It may not be a big deal from your perspective, but look at it from his point of view.  He wants to be alone.  Second Life apparently gives that to him.  He can be anonymous there, can’t he?”

“Well, yes, that’s true.”

“One thing the therapy has brought out is Brian is nothing if not true to himself: bluntly honest, impatient with imperfection, and clear in his view of the world.  No psychiatrist is going to talk him out of who he is; no medication will change his philosophy of life.  We might as well accept him for who he is and who he isn’t.  Enjoy the times he’s willing and able to speak with you, and celebrate any positive changes you see in his behavior.  You’re the more mentally mature of the two of you; it’s up to you to accommodate him.”

I looked over at my computer, even now logged in to Second Life.  I looked at the empty IM window.  Like a barren woman aching for a child, I felt a desperate need to fill the empty space in my life that Brian’s mental illness had left.  I remembered him when he was a child, before I went away to college: cheerful, friendly, talkative.  Where has that little boy gone?

            “He respects you, you know,” she went on.  “He talks to you about things he won’t talk to me about: music, audiophile equipment.  He believes you understand it.”

            “Mom, I often don’t!  He’s studies those things so deeply I don’t get half of what he says.  But when he talks, he barrels on so fast I don’t have a chance to ask any questions!”

            “But you listen anyway.  That’s good.  His behavior seems selfish, but he’s really complimenting you, and he can’t control himself once he gets on a roll.  It’s the manic side of his manic-depression.  He’s gone through a spell of more depression than mania lately, but I think he’s coming out of it.  Soon he’ll talk to you more, and you’ll have trouble getting a word in edgewise!”

            “That’s not what I want, either!  When he’s like that, it’s like I’m not even on the other end of the line.  I can put the phone down and get a drink of water and come back, and he’s still going, full speed ahead.  He doesn’t stop to listen to what I have to say at all.”

            “I know.  There’s nothing we can do right now but be patient and supportive.  He has to become comfortable with this doctor before he’ll be receptive to receiving professional help.  In the meantime, we need to try to be grateful for Brian’s positive qualities.  Not everyone has a brother who’s so smart, who never lies to them.”

“Mom, you sound a lot less timid than you’ve sounded for a long time.”

“I guess I feel less timid, at least about this.  I’m doing something positive about my life and Brian’s, and doing something positive has a way of energizing a person, don’t you think?”

I thought for a moment about how much energy I’d put into meeting Brian in Second Life, into creating Deirfiur, into learning to build, into creating the cat.  I wasn’t getting as much sleep then as I’d been getting before, but I didn’t seem to need as much, either.  I was running on passion.  “You’re right,” I said with brightening realization.

“Now, would you like to talk to Brian?  He just came back from putting gas in his bike.”

            “Sure, I’d like that.”  I tried to sound chipper, but I know my voice was a little flat.  This was not what I had in mind.  I didn’t think it’d be too much to ask Brian to do a little something for me, just to chat with me occasionally in Second Life.  I sighed.  Now was not the time to ask anything of Brian.  I wondered if there would ever be such a time.

            “Hang on, I’ll get him on the phone.”

            I waited.  I know it was only a few seconds, but time moved forward for me in tiny spurts, like water dripping from a faucet.  I closed my eyes, and let each teardrop of time dilute a little bit of the pain and loneliness I felt.  Brian is here on this earth with me, breathing the same atmosphere, about to make a physical connection to me between his phone and mine.  For this I should be grateful.

            “Hello, Kathie.”  His voice was unreadable.

            “Hello, Brian.”  I wondered if he’d be manic or depressive today.  Whichever, or in the glorious in-between, I would meet him there.

Is Talking to Yourself a Sign of Insanity?

I need to know the answer to the title question, because that’s basically what I’m doing with this blog.  Let’s face it: a Google search of “Looking for Brian” doesn’t even pull up the blog!  That’s really discouraging, especially since the second site in the “Looking for Brian” Google search is “Looking for Brian Parker – UFO Meetups.”

If you Google “Looking for Brian” “Typepad”, you’ll find the link at the top of the second page of hits; but even I have trouble remembering my blog’s on Typepad!  A Google search of “Looking for Brian” “Second Life” brings the blog up as the first hit… just prior to an ABC News Alert about predators using the Nintendo DS and an unrelated list of “Brian’s thingie on the web” blog entries.  We’re definitely not taking big-time here.

            But it’s still important to me to do a good job on the blog, even if no one ever reads it.  I’ve learned a lot by following the story along, by having to create something viable on a schedule.  For one thing, I’ve discovered it’s hard for me to write a serial story.  I’m a major rewriter, queen of the unrecognizable first draft, champion of the paragraph shuffle.  Once I’ve published a blog entry, I don’t want to change it and make my imaginary readers re-read it to follow the story.  I try to work with what’s already published.  I managed to do that until last week.

            Last week I was stymied.  I put off making my entry for an additional three days, trying to figure out where the story would go next.  In the end, I posted an entry with which I was not satisfied.  It was consistent with the characters, it fit with the SLiterary version of the story that is written from Brian’s point of view, but it didn’t take Brian anywhere emotionally.  It took mom somewhere, but she’s a supporting character.  It is the literary equivalent of treading water.  Treading water is boring.  So I removed the entry.  My apologies to all you imaginary readers out there.

But with what should I replace it?  When I started the blog, my goal was to write a story in which the character Kathie makes it as easy as possible for her brother Brian to seek the help he needs to deal with his depression.  I foresaw Brian growing mentally healthy and strong, eventually doing all the normal things you’d expect him to do with his sister: give her a hug, go out to dinner with her, discuss with her how to celebrate mom’s birthday this year.  It was a beautiful thought.

            And nothing more.  The story did not write itself that way, even as our lives did not go that way.  As I wrote each week’s entry, I found that Brian remained true to himself: bluntly honest, impatient with imperfection, and clear in his view of the world.  No psychiatrist is going to talk him out of who he is; no medication will change his philosophy of life.  The best I can hope for is that he will eventually connect with others to the point he will try seeking help before giving up and committing suicide.

            So if Brian won't change, then the only way for the story to reach a satisfactory conclusion is to have Kathie change.  But Kathie wants to change as little as Brian does!  Ah, but change she does...

Other Places

I don’t know why I’m so bummed.  I’m only saying good bye to Brian in a virtual world; I still have him in the real world.  If I had a choice of one place where I’d like to interact with him, the real world would be the place, no question!

If you’re new to this blog, you’ll want to go to the beginning and get some background.  Those of you who’ve been here before, welcome back!  Read on!

I logged in to Second Life last night a bit before 6 pm Second Life Time (SLT, the same as Pacific Standard Time).  But when I teleported to the sandbox where Brian spends his time, I didn’t find him!  That never happened to me before on a Sunday late afternoon/early evening.  Was he sick?  I got on the phone immediately and called my mom to find out.  The phone rang three times before she picked up.

“Hello?”  Her voice sounded stronger than usual.

“Hi mom, it’s Kathie.”

“Well, what a surprise, hearing from you so late!  To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”

“Brian’s not on Second Life tonight.  I want to make sure everything’s all right.”

“Everything’s fine.  Brian and I were just watching TV together.”  She spoke with such joy that each word sounded like a jewel.

“You were?”  I couldn’t remember the last time she said she and Brian watched TV together.

“Yes.  There’s a show on about how animals can sense impending natural disasters. The program looks at animal behavior preceding the Indian Ocean tsunami.”

“He’s watching a TV show with you?  That’s amazing!  How’d you manage it?”

“By accident.  I saw the description of the show in the TV Guide, and mentioned the event to him during dinner.  He said the topic sounded interesting, and asked me to knock on his door when the show was about to start; maybe he’d watch with me!  You know what?  He didn’t wait for me to knock!  He came out all by himself!”

With a tensing of my throat, I realized I took her away from him with my call.  I felt a hot rush of anger at myself for my awful timing.  “Oh… I’m sorry I interrupted you.  You should go back to him!”

“That’s okay, the show’s just ending.  He’s heading down the hall now.”

I felt my face cool slightly.  “That’s a relief.”

“Well, I guess you haven’t done what you agreed to last week?” she said, changing the topic.

“I was about to,” I replied, which was almost a lie depending on how you interpret the word ‘about.’  But I knew she was right; the fact that Brian watched TV with her told me he was making an effort to get out of his room and interact with at least one other person.  It was time for me to say good bye to him in Second Life, as I’d promised.

By the time Mom and I finished our conversation, Brian was in-world.  I logged on and teleported to the sandbox.  He was working in his usual place.  I saw the sun setting behind him, easing toward the blue of the still ocean.  He looked peaceful standing there, puttering away at what appeared to be a sidecar for a motorcycle.  I watched him for a few minutes while I pretended to work on a Celtic cross.  Finally, I took the cross into my inventory and walked over to Brian.

“Hi,” I said.

He turned to look at me.  “Hello,” he replied.

“I want to let you know I’m leaving SL for good.”  The words came without warning, unscripted, straightforward, as if I was thinking in clear black and white like he does.

“Why?” he asked.

I had to say something.  “Eh, I have cats to make in other places,” I explained, referring to the cat I made for him some weeks before.  My lower lip began to quiver; I bit it to make it stop.  It didn’t obey me.  I bit down harder, until the pain caused my eyes to water.  I directed my avatar to bow to him, and said, “Good luck to you,” hoping he wouldn’t lash out in anger at me for deserting him.

“Same to you,” he replied.

I lost it.  I started to cry.  I quit right in front of him, before we even turned away from each other.

Each Beginning is an End

When you’re pretending to be someone you’re not, there’s always the chance you’ll be outed.  If you are, it can mean the end of all your hard work.  So, sometimes, it’s better to quit while you’re ahead, even if it hurts.

If you’re new to this blog, you’ll want to go to the beginning and get some background.  Those of you who’ve been here before, welcome back!  Read on!

Mom had her first appointment with the psychiatrist today.  Brian drove her there.  She called me as soon as they got back home.  I was between classes, so I couldn’t talk long.  I lay down on the grassy lawn outside the Institute for Physical Sciences and Technology and stared up into the cool blue sky, seeing my mother’s face in the high, transparent clouds.

“So what did you think of the guy?” I asked.

“He seems good.  He spoke with the two of us together, then each of us separately.  He did a lot of listening, which I think is especially good for Brian, who’s apt to get up and leave if he hears something he doesn’t agree with.  We spent about an hour there.”

“That’s great!”

“We’ll be going back once a week for a while.  I have to keep track of every time I feel worse than usual, and write down what happened just beforehand.  He asked Brian to keep a mood journal, too, explaining the assignment by telling him there may be a relationship between his feelings and mine.  That doc is smooth!”

“Yeah, that’s a very credible explanation.  Do you think Brian will keep going?”

“I think so, for now, anyway.  The doc endeared himself to Brian when we started talking about my job.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.  The doctor asked Brian if he thought my job might be causing me stress.  Brian gave him the same speech he’s been giving me for months!  Then, after asking me some questions, the doc said he thought I might do well to check into another job.  He gave me a sheet of paper with questions to ask a prospective employer, questions geared to finding a workplace that’s emotionally healthy.”

“What a great idea!”

“I’m pleased.  Um, speaking of ideas, I had a thought as Brian was driving me home.  You have time to hear it?”

“Sure, I have a couple more minutes.  What great idea do you have?”

“You may not like this one.”

“Try me!”

“Okay,” she said softly.  “I think you should abandon your Second Life avatar.”

“What?”  Some people walking by turned suddenly to look at me, and I caught the motion out of the corner of my eye.  I must have sounded upset.

She spoke a little more firmly this time.  “You should stop interacting with Brian in Second Life.”

“I don’t interact with him much,” I explained.  “I mostly just hang out in the same place with him.  I like to see him!  It’s the only chance I get, except when I visit you, and I hardly ever get to do that.  Why should I stop?”

“I knew you wouldn’t like my idea.”

I took in a sharp breath.  She was right.  “Oh, mom, I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have jumped on you like that.  But tell me: why should I stop seeing Brian in Second Life?”

“What happens if Brian figures out it’s you?”

I paused to think about that.  “Well, he’d be mad,” I said, knowing I wasn’t giving the question the attention it deserved.

“More than mad.  He’s smart.  He might figure out what we set him up for.  Kathie, if he thinks this psychiatrist thing is for him at this point, he’ll stop going, and he won’t trust us at all.  Don’t you see?”

I hesitated.  I agreed with what mom said; I just didn’t want to.

“What if I give up this character and make a new one?”

“You could.  That would be better.  But I suggest you wait until he asks to see you.  If that takes too long, at least let me check with the psychiatrist first.  Maybe the doc can tell us when it might be safe for you to ask Brian if you can see him in Second Life again.”

I found myself ripping blades of grass out of the lawn.  Long, green confetti littered my black nylon backpack, lying by my left side.  I lifted my left hand and put it on my abdomen to spare the landscaping.  “That makes sense,” I agreed reluctantly.

“Take a few days to get used to the idea.  It’s not an emergency.  But don’t take too long.  Brian’s really smart, you know.”

“I do.”

So now I have to end what I’ve worked so hard to create!  I can’t imagine how I’m going to go about doing that.

The Key Moment

All the time I’ve spent in Second Life, all the conversations between my mom and me about Brian, came to a head today in the little dining room of my mom’s house.

If you’re new to this blog, you’ll want to go to the beginning and get some background.  Those of you who’ve been here before, welcome back!  Read on!

I got the call from Mom just a few minutes ago.  “Hi Kathie.”  Her voice sounded tense and breathless.

“Hi mom, how are you?” I said, with trepidation.

“Just exhausted.  I had a talk with Brian today.”

“Oh-oh.”

“No, it’s not bad. I was just so worried, it took a lot out of me.”  She coughed.

From what she said, the exchange went something like this:

“Brian, I’ve been thinking,” said mom as she entered the dining room. Brian looked up from his dinner with dread on his face, as if he expected mom to say something he didn’t want to hear.

“Hmm?” he responded, sounding reluctant.
            “I’ve been feeling sort of down lately. Well, really down. Sometimes, I feel bad about my cigarette smoking. Sometimes, I feel bad about the way we get along. I thought I might go see a doctor.” Mom’s voice cracked on the word ‘doctor.’ She walked past Brian to the dining room window and stared out at the field behind the house. “Would you come with me and talk to him?” Her voice sounded small and timid.
            Brian put his sandwich down and looked at mom’s small, skinny back, the shoulder blades defined under even her generously-cut shirt. “Why do I need to talk to him?” he asked. “This is about you, not me.”
            Mom turned and faced Brian. There were tears in her eyes. “The doctor said it would help me most if you’d come, too. He wants to talk to you about our family.”
            Mom must’ve appeared pained.  Brian looked like he’d taken a slug of beer and gotten a beetle in his mouth: nauseated and mad at the same time. But his face softened.  What was he thinking?
            “Okay,” he mumbled.

            

            “Mom, that’s great!” I said.

            “I just hope he follows through,” she replied.  “I’d hate to tell him it’s time to go, only to have him say he changed his mind.”

            “Well, you can cross that bridge when you come to it.  Meanwhile, you got him to the first step, to say he’ll talk with someone.  Nobody’s been able to do that!  You should be very proud of yourself.

            “Thank you, Kathie.  I’m just relieved the conversation is over.”

            I didn’t tell her I’m worried about his follow-through, too.  If he refuses to accompany her on her visit, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d changed his mind about something.  Then where will we be?  Back to the beginning, or even further behind than before?  We’ll find out soon.  Their first appointment is only 8 days away!

The Second Plan

“What am I going to say to him?” mom asked.  Her voice sounded pleading.

I drew my knees to my chest and wrapped my left arm around my shins.  The pressure felt comforting.  “I don’t know.  But you have to say something, while there’s still time.”

If you’re new to this blog, you’ll want to go to the beginning and get some background.  Those of you who’ve been here before, welcome back!  Read on!

“What do you mean?” mom asked.

“Brian is really depressed.  Docs say depression is a concern when it interferes with daily life.  Heck, Brian’s daily life is totally screwed up!  He ignores his friends; he has no job and doesn’t go to school; he never goes out unless you’re sick and need something or he’s going for a ride; he has no interests except his motorcycle and Second Life; he’s constantly irritable.  Depression is deadly.  There’s no telling when it will take someone’s life.  You’ve got to find a way to get him to see a doc.”

“But telling him he’s sick doesn’t work.  I tried that.”

“Right.  He doesn’t think he’s sick.  Even if he did, he doesn’t think docs can help him.”  I thought for a moment.  “Mom, when was the last time he was in a doctor’s office?”

“Oh, it’s been years!  He never goes to the doctor.”

“No, I don’t mean the last time he went to see a doctor himself; when was the last time he was in a doctor’s office?”

Mom was quiet for a few seconds.  “He drove me to Dr. Blythe’s when I got the pneumonia.”

“Good,” I said.  “So he’ll enter a doctor’s office if it’s to take you there.  That’s something.”

“But not much.”

“We have to work with what we have.  So, when might you need another ride to the doctor’s?”

“Hopefully not for another decade!”

I smiled sadly.  Mom’s smoking has taken such a toll on her.  I can’t imagine she won’t be back at the doc’s before the year is up.  But I didn’t want to say that.  She’s addicted to cigarettes; she wouldn’t believe me.  “Well, then, we need to create a reason for you to go to the doctor, and for Brian to come with you.  I have an idea.”

“Yes?”

“Tell Brian you want to stop smoking.”

Mom didn’t say anything.  I wondered what she was thinking.

“Well?” I prompted.

“I don’t need to see a doctor to quit smoking.  I don’t want to quit smoking.  I mean, I do, but there’s no rush.  It’s not affecting me very much.  And I enjoy it.  It makes me feel better.  I should get through this thing with Brian before I even think about quitting.”

“So, then, can you come up with any other reason you should see a doctor?”

She was quiet again.

“Mom, you know smoking is bad for your health.  It contributes to lung cancer, emphysema, and heart disease.”

“I don’t have any of those.”

“Maybe not yet.  But if you keep smoking, you might.”

“Well, anyway, a pulmonologist isn’t the kind of doctor he needs to see.”

“That’s true.  He needs to see a psychiatrist or psychologist.”

“A psychiatrist.  They can prescribe medicine, and he probably needs that.”

“I agree,” I said.  “Hey, can psychiatrists help with smoking cessation?”

“I don’t know.  I suppose so.”

“That may be it, mom!  If you can get Brian to go to the psychiatrist with you for smoking, maybe you can get him to at least talk to the psychiatrist.  Brian doesn’t have to know any of this is about him!”

“Maybe.”

“But you’d have to really try to quit smoking.”

Again mom said nothing.

“I know it’ll be hard, but you don’t have to quit cold turkey the first day with no help.  You can talk to the doc about your options, and do what’s best for you, at the time it’s best for you.  He or she might want to do some psychotherapy first.  Maybe family therapy.  That could pull in Brian nicely!  I can come and talk to your psychiatrist, too, if it would help.  But first, you have to find one.  Maybe your GP could advise you.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s great mom.  Thanks so much.  I’m sorry this is so hard on you.”

“It’s hard on you, too.  Being so far away must make you feel helpless.”

“It does.  But I feel a lot better about Brian with you there to help him.”

I just hope she takes the first step and calls the doc.  That’s the hardest step to take.

Communication

Sorry, tried to post this a week ago, but it didn’t take.  Here it is now!

Something happened a few minutes ago that may have been the first step toward Brian getting help!  Oddly, it started out under circumstances as dreary as the day, when Brian lost control.

If you’re new to this blog, you’ll want to go to the beginning and get some background.  Those of you who’ve been here before, welcome back!  Read on!

I logged into Second Life this afternoon, rezzing in the Eon sandbox.  As usual, I saw Brian working down by the shore.  He stood next to a small vehicle that looked like it should fly: oblong, with stubby wings and a cockpit covered with a clear hatch.  I smiled; it was good to see him expanding his interests beyond motorcycles.

I brought up my inventory and rezzed a Sandworm.  As I began to play with the shape of the mouth, a sudden motion distracted me.

Brian had lifted the ship he was building.  He swung his arm forward violently, throwing the ship forward toward the water.  It flew through the air, landed on the beach, bounced once, arced up again, and fell into the sea.  It rolled a few feet further, only one wing visible, and that rising up from the surface and then rotating back down again, coming to rest fully hidden.

I stopped editing the Sandworm and walked toward Brian.  He hadn’t moved; he was just staring out at the ocean.  I stopped next to him and said, “Can I help you?”

He turned to face me.  His face was as neutral as ever, but the length of time it took him to respond suggested to me he felt anything but neutral.

“This damn thing won’t hover on command the way I want it to,” he replied.

“May I look at it?”

“Sure.”

I walked toward the water, then out into it.  I checked the vehicle; only Brian could look at the script.

“I need you to give me permission to edit it,” I said.

Brian waded to the ship.  I saw him start to edit it.  After a moment, he stopped.  “Okay,” he said.

I tried again; I was able to pull up the script.  It was nicely written, although rather long.  He was trying to do a lot with it.  No wonder he was having trouble!  I scrolled down to the part that controlled the hover function.  After reading it three times, I caught an error.  “I think the problem is in this last section of code.  Looks like a parenthesis is in the wrong place.  I’ll move it.”  I waited a moment to make sure he didn’t object, then made the change.  “There,” I said.  “Try it now.”

He did.  The ship righted itself and rose slowly up through and out of the water.  It made no sound as it ascended.  It stopped in mid-air, perfectly dry.  “Thanks,” he said.

“No problem.  I’m just glad this wasn’t a real life object, because it would have broken into pieces.”

“I get mad sometimes,” he admitted.

This was the first piece of personal information he’d given me in my Deirfiur form!  I wanted to capitalize on it, to be sympathetic without being talky.

“Life can be pretty frustrating,” I agreed.

“It stinks,” he said.

“And then you die,” I agreed.  “So until I die, my goal is to make life better.”  I wasn’t sure how he’d react to the statement, but I wanted to steer him into something positive.

“That doesn’t take much,” he said.

I realized I’d been holding my breath.  I let it out.  He’d responded!  He didn’t cut me off!  I breathed in and went on.  “Yeah.  It’s funny, though.  Sometimes, what makes a person’s life better isn’t what they want.  Sometimes, they don’t even understand how it might help.  Sometimes, maybe I don’t understand.  But I try anyway.”

“Does it do any good?” he asked.

“I hope so,” I said honestly.

He was quiet after that.  The interchange over, I went back to breathing normally.  I bowed to him; he waved to me.  I walked back to my place in the sandbox, and resumed work on the worm.  But I didn’t stay long.  I got off and started thinking about what I could do to capitalize on our communication.  Any ideas out there?

Big Help

            Who would’ve thought that other people’s problems could be of help to me?  But it turns out one of them was key to communicating with Brian!  I was in the Eon sandbox when this guy with one brown eye and one blue eye came up to me…

If you’re new to this blog, you’ll want to go to the beginning and get some background.  Those of you who’ve been here before, welcome back!  Read on!

“Hi Deirfiur,” he said.

“Hi Horton,” I replied, noting the name displayed above his head.  I hadn’t seen him here before.

“I see you build things.  I have trouble.  You help me?”

“Sure, I’ll see if I can help,” I said.  I’d helped a couple other people build and script things over the last few days.  Apparently the regulars in the sandbox were getting used to seeing me, and liked the things I was building.

He turned and walked toward a very rudimentary dune buggy-like vehicle.  He stopped a couple feet from it.  “Can not get wheels to spin.  You take copy?  You help?”

“OK,” I said, and took a copy of the little car.  I looked at the script.  It was long and involved, and the few comments in the code were in not in English.  It would take an hour to go through the code and see where it was incorrect.  If only I had a ready-made wheel script to give to Horton!  But wait; Brian would have one!

“You help?” Horton asked again.

“I know someone who might help you,” I said.  “Wait a moment.”  I walked over to where Brian was working, the cat I created for him at his side.  It made me smile just to see him there with that orange tabby!

As I approached him, he looked up at me.  “Hi Deirfiur.”

“Hi Lonewolf.”  That’s the name of Brian’s avatar.  “Sorry to bother you, but Horton over there is having trouble with a wheel script, and I wondered if you had a script you could give him.”  I gave Horton’s wheel script to Brian’s avatar.  There was a long pause.  I hoped he was reading the script, and not ignoring me.  I stood patiently next to him.

“This script is shit,” he said.

I was never so happy to hear him swear!  “Yes,” I said.  “No point in trying to fix it.”

As we chatted, Horton came over.

“You fix my wheel script?” he asked, looking at Brian’s avatar.

Brian turned toward Horton.  “Here’s a new one,” Brian said.

“Thank you, I try it,” Horton replied.  He turned and walked back to his vehicle.  I stayed next to Brian’s avatar and watched Horton work.  Presently, Horton climbed into the buggy and brought it to life.  It zipped away!  He rode it all over the sandbox, up and down the dune near the water, across a bridge and back, and finally over to us.

“Work good!  Thanks Lonewolf!” said Horton.

“You’re welcome,” Brian replied.

            As Horton motored away, I turned to Brian.  “Thanks for your help.  Do you mind if I send people to you sometimes when they need help you can provide better than me?”

            “I don’t mind,” he said.

            “Thanks,” I replied.

            “No problem,” he said.

            I went back to my place in the sandbox, smiling all the way.  I can hardly wait for the next problem!

Making Cats

            The greatest thing happened yesterday evening when I was in the Eon sandbox!  I was making a cat…

If you’re new to this blog, you’ll want to go to the beginning and get some background.  Those of you who’ve been here before, welcome back!  Read on!

As has become my habit, I visited the Eon Public Sandbox last night after dinner, taking up my spot above the beach.  Brian was on the beach, as usual.  He was building ramps for his motorcycle.  I’ll bet it’s fun to ride up a ramp and sail into the air, without being afraid of getting hurt coming down!

I’d finished making the animated turtle last week, graduated to a lizard, then a dog, then a cat.  The cat was the toughest, because it has such an expressive tail.  But I’d succeeded!  As I put the finishing touch on it, an orange tabby texture, I suddenly noticed someone move into my field of vision.

It was Brian!

He stood there, a little ways off, watching me put the color and pattern on the cat.  I felt so nervous my hands were shaking!  I’m really glad he couldn’t see them as they worked the keyboard.  Finally, afraid he’d walk away if I didn’t engage him, I spoke.  “You like it?”

“Yeah.  How’d you make it?”

Relief!  He replied!  Not wanting to scare him away with too much talk, I tried to be as succinct as I could.  “Take a copy.  It’s editable.”

He copied the cat, then rezzed it on the ground in front of himself.  He seemed to study it for a long time.  I figured he was reading the animation script.  It’s pretty extensive; the cat can follow, purr, twitch its tail, even sit and lie down.  It does some things randomly, and some in response to stimuli.  I’m pretty pleased with it.  I continued to try different textures on my copy of the cat while he examined his.

“You could sell this,” he said finally.  “It’s the best cat I’ve seen in SL!”

I was taken aback.  I had no intention of selling the cat.  I was building it to get his attention, and I’d done it!  I remembered the cats I’d known as a child growing up with Brian, the barn cats that decided where to live, what to eat, who to befriend.  I turned to him and replied.  “I didn’t make the cat to sell.  I made it to be free.  There’s something right about a cat that’s free, isn’t there?”

Brian stood looking at me for a moment.  Then he said, “Yes.”

I wanted so much to engage him in conversation then, to ask about his motorcycle ramps and helmet and where he planned to use them and so much more!  But I didn’t want to spoil the moment.  He was responsive to my just being there, doing something of interest to him.  I felt it might be wise not to overwhelm him with chat.  So I just nodded and returned to my work.

After a while, he spoke again.  “Thanks,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” I replied, smiling widely in Real Life.

“See you around.”

“Okay.”

He turned and walked away.  His new orange tabby cat followed him, tail in the air.  I was happy to be able to give Brian a companion, even if it wasn’t me.

But I want to capitalize on this!  What can I do next?  If you have any ideas, let me know!

Back to Eon

            Whew, I nearly blew it when I did my last blog entry!  Brian was halfway up the stairs when I logged off Typepad and brought up my e-mail!  That’s all over with now; I’m back in Maryland, and Monday I was back in Second Life.  Now I see Brian every day, but we still don’t talk, and he probably doesn’t particularly notice me.  I just keep an eye on him.  But even that can be a bit scary!

If you’re new to this blog, you’ll want to go to the beginning and get some background.  Those of you who’ve been here before, welcome back!  Read on!

I popped into the Eon Public Sandbox Monday night after dinner.  Brian was there already, like he’d been the night before.  He’d staked out the area below the main level of the sandbox.  To keep an eye on him, I started building above him and to one side.  I guess he finished his motorcycle, because he was working on a helmet.  I decided to build an animated turtle.  It wasn’t as easy as I thought it’d be, so I decided to check out turtles elsewhere in Second Life.  Long story short, I ran across Galapagos National Park.  I teleported there, and ran into Breandan Turas, a park ranger and one of the main builders of the park.  I had a chance to study his rideable Galapagos tortoise.  Way cool!  If you ever log into Second Life, check it out!

Using the ideas I got from Breandan’s tortoise, I started building my small turtle.  As I did so, I guess I got kind of carried away, because I was taken completely by surprise.

“Hello.  Nice turtle.”

I gasped and spun around. Not Brian!  Not yet!  What a relief to see a stranger standing there.  He was tall, muscular, and dark skinned with blond hair, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.  “Thanks,” I said.  “It’s my first attempt at an animated object.”

“Ah, I thought it might be something you’d animate.  I just built a pair of dice, and I want to be able to roll them.  But I’m having trouble getting them to roll randomly.”

I wanted to send him away.  I couldn’t watch Brian effectively and help someone else at the same time.  Then it occurred to me that I wasn’t watching Brian effectively anyway; that’s why I’d been surprised.  Besides, a good way to get Brian’s respect might be to get the respect of other builders.  And with my background in math, figuring out how to get dice to roll randomly ought to be easy.  “I can help with that,” I said.

“Great!” he replied.

As he rezzed the dice before us, I glanced over at Brian. He was still tinkering with the helmet.  He was making the face shield rise and fall.  I smiled.  This might work out after all.