The Village Blacksmith

Under a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate'er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.

And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter's voice,
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.

It sounds to him like her mother's voice,
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.

Toiling, -- rejoicing -- sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought.

-The Village Blacksmith
--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Before my Husband even revealed his smithy soul to me, (Which is a real life thing too, btw. He's a metal smith without a smithy) I've loved this poem since I first heard it. I swear I can smell the leaves of that spreading chestnut tree, feel the coolness of the shade and the heat from the forge.

My poor brain and alternate personalities.

I was going to try and pimp up my blog a bit when I moved to Wordpress, do some IC posts, that sort of thing. But I am finding myself very self conscious about writing in public. You see, I used to be a very, very good writer. No, seriously, I was. I have several novels sitting on my hard drive, and just because they are not published does not make them terrible. For a while, I even had a following of readers, and while it was not many, they were all intelligent people who I was flattered to have the attention and praise of.

Whether it be my medications, or the inevitable slight decline of my cognitive function as a result of my illness, I notice I don't write as well as I used to. Every time I write a sentence that only makes sense to me, or reads wrong to someone else, I cringe. This is just in day to day communications. Then again, there has always been a difference between how I write/blog, and how I write/storytell. I think I am as good a Storyteller as I ever have been, it's just the technical function I struggle with these days.

So I don't know. Maybe I will give myself the permission to suck again (as I did when I first started writing in front of people) and give it another go. Given that I am also trying to teach myself how to spell in a different dialect, I might just need to choose my battles carefully.

But in Second Life we live in a very shallow world. Even those of us who are deep beautiful people snigger at other people's faux pas and "Fashion don'ts." So giving yourself permission to suck is about as bad as walking around with a freenis sticking out of the front of your poorly adjusted prim tutu.

Anyway... Second Life has been quiet for me, and yet busy. I am craving some RP really badly, and while I am not calling anyone out^**, I wish all the people who complain about the lack of RP would show up and do some. Mmm Kay, we don't have grid cryers, guilds, (Or dozens of micromanaged social groups for those guilds) we do not fight except in designated places, and then, rarely. These are the things that supposedly define "serious RP" and if I wanted "Serious RP" there would be dozens of other places I could go.

But I wouldn't be happy, just as dozens of people in Second Life are not happy with the politics and drama and bickering that happens in their RPs. You people are out there, I know you are, I've spoken to you. I'm just not seeing you, in order to create this alternate RP environment we want to provide and enjoy.

Seriously, people don't realize the impact they have on RPing, just by showing up and doing some. or Showing up and being *available* for some. I have learned that in Second Life, the Best RPers happen to be the ones who are most excluded from RP.

Child Avatars. Yes, they can be annoying when they are done with a lot of baby babble, yes, they even creep people out (though I theorize that has more to do with the Elder individual) but they never let down the RP, because to do so, is to walk away from what their Avatar is. I don't mind confessing that recently Eacen and I created a set of Child Alts so we could participate in some of the kid activities happening around the isles. And what an enlightening experience it has been, to see what good RPers other Child Avatars are, even if they are just dancing or splashing around in a puddle, after all, this is what children do.

My Point? I wish adults had the ability to let go of themselves a bit in world, and get in touch with the avatars they spend so much money and time on pimping out. I am as guilty of this as anyone (and it is hard when work is involved, to be a tree-lady) but I am trying. I don't know who reads this beyond a few close friends, but I would hope that if someone does, they'd realize how valuable their character ideas and imaginations are In world. Yes, your Real Lives are important too, and I like knowing the Real Life people as much as anything.

I just wish I knew some of your characters. :p

** ^{I loathe passive agressive cattyness on blogs. Was involved with a group of bloggers who excelled at it for years. What a way to ruin someone's sanity. Please note this is not my intent.}