Thursday, April 11, 2013

Second Life, this dangerous thing!

Nostos Deer
As an old-time Second-Lifer, I’m part of an endangered species, I must admit reluctantly.
I am one of those people who believe Second Life (SL) is an amazing platform that, if well developed, could become an important stepping stone to the Future. Yep, dreaming big today!
Well, being totally ignorant of the technical aspects behind the complexity of SL (which could be a blessing), I nevertheless defend that it IS a viable platform.
Yes, the sims don’t work, the accounts are too expensive, the drama is overwhelming, the stress is exhausting, the griefing, the lobbies, all that is part of SL. However, let me focus on one area in particular.
In one of those crazy-believer days SL old-timers have every now and then, I tried to convey the potential of this platform to a friend who is a teacher. This friend is a well educated person with a college degree in History, several decades of work in the educational system, and someone who is always interested in new technologies, new options, and new means to implement in her classes. I was sure she’d be extremely interested in knowing about SL!
I had prepared my speech carefully and to the point, after all people do tend to get bored out of their wits when we talk to them about SL; I never quite understood why. So, I explained it briefly. The basics of creating an avatar, what a sim was, and that many people were involved in Role-playing (RP) in SL seemed enough to trigger interest!
At the time of this conversation, my friend was teaching the Middle-Ages to her students. What a perfect opportunity! I told her about the large number of sims with a Medieval theme and how interesting it could be to try to find one adequate to her students, perhaps even contacting the owners and suggesting organizing an RP event so the kids could see how people dressed, how their houses looked, what they ate, the tournaments, the social classes, etc. (and avoid any unexpected, X-rated situation we could come across, I thought).
She listened, patiently, and nodded.
“Imagine the possibilities! If the school sees the potential of this, they can even get a sim! The cost of one sim divided by all the students and teachers would be ridiculously low! Each department could have their plot in the sim, and create exhibitions, events, debates, classes!” She nodded.
“At the end of the year, the sim could become one large showcase of what everyone did throughout the school year!” She nodded.
“Imagine the kids who come from other cities or even countries (and we do have a lot of those) whose relatives would never visit the usual end-of-term exhibitions. They would be able to do that online!” And she nodded.
“No…?” I asked.
My well-informed, always curious, technology-focused teacher friend stood up and killed the one-sided enthusiasm with a simple wave of the hand. “This is a game thing, not that educational. They’ll get distracted with the cartoon-type figures and it’ll be a waste of time.”
Hah, I couldn’t help but smile. I am old enough to remember when we had our first computers set up in our school with an internet connection. How suspicious the teachers were of them. The students would get distracted, they wouldn’t write their own papers, they’d simply copy them from the Internet, they said. Their portfolios would be a pastiche, ridiculous and blatantly worthless. Everything would be a waste of time.
I… Well, I rushed to learn about this Internet thing. I organized classes in the library, back when that was the only place with Internet. Later on, I took my own laptop to my classroom, after being strongly advised not to, if the students broke it, the school wouldn’t pay for that. I did it anyway and no one ever broke my computer! Plus, was it a waste of time? NO! The students learned faster and better. They were more motivated, brought more questions to the classroom and I had never heard “what if we do it like this?” so often!
Back to my History teacher friend, the fact that educators specifically are not flocking to be in SL intrigues me. Is it our total inability to explain to them what SL is or is it people’s lack of interest in new possibilities that prevents them from becoming involved in this platform (and please remember that I am referring to a very specific group of people with a very specific goal)?
I can hear some of you saying that this indifference happens due to other factors… Yes, I know. But I must say that despite the recurrent complaints of cost, technical limitations, a steep learning curve (a pet peeve of mine I think we could totally overcome), amongst other aspects widely discussed elsewhere, SL could be an extremely interesting resource in education!
Perhaps it’ll take another 20 years for SL, or any other similar platform, to be considered the remarkable resource it really is. Perhaps it’ll take more unyielding souls like us Second-Lifers, who simply refuse to give up. Perhaps!
So, for the sake of the Future, bring down the Danger signs! Yep, dreaming big today! Hah!

Gelid

Betelgeuse 5
She touched him.
He shuddered.
Her gelid touch was a warning, he knew it. His heart pounded with difficulty.
She smiled.
He smiled.
Her fingers languidly caressed his arm, a spider’s web. Her heart pounded effortlessly.
When she stung him, he shrieked, certain of the wrong decision.
His squeal aggravated her. “How annoying…” she murmured.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Willowwacks

Inception

The forest of trees and silences,
Is crowded and alive.
It breathes in a million leaves
And out a rustling storm.
It feeds on fears,
It grows on shadows.
Pathways of benevolence,
Awaiting a plunge into the unseen. 
Writer's Dash

Wan

Wintersweet
A ghastly, bloodless, shadowy woman peeked through the window. Her livid, pale, waxen skin added weariness to her skeletal face. The white eyelashes seemed to flicker, wearily. Her discolored sunken eyes accentuated the emaciated look. She sat near the window every day. Kids walked by on their way to school, their parents on their way to work, each apparently too busy. “They are lost,” was her last thought, two months ago.

Atlas

Silent Hills
“May this letter find you believing we are mighty and strong. The maps guide us, the ones you paid for with your honor, the ones I dread and hate. Hidden away from curious eyes, they have caused envy, greed, disgust. Many have died, I confess, at my hands. Their constant bickering over them made me weary and suspicious. So, I cut their throats and threw them overboard. At first, the Captain didn’t think much of it. A drunkard’s squabble, a bet gone wrong, foul words exchanged, anything was a good reason to explain that sudden wave of deaths, until that day… The Captain walked in my cabin demanding an explanation. The mysterious orders given to his Chief Officer now gone missing and the enormous amount of money promised at the arrival didn’t quite compensate for the seemingly dark destiny of this ship. As a result, I am now the Captain, much to the dismal of the crew for whom a woman is worth no more than the pleasure she can provide. We have arrived at Port Town. I will hire more hands, or buy additional slaves; although I’d much rather do the former. The path we took seems unexpectedly rather treacherous, the decisions undeniably perilous. However, we have committed to it and we shall prevail. I wish the maps had come with a warning that we’d be selling our souls to the devil…”

Monday, April 8, 2013

Of Carrots and a Mayor

Pyri Funfair

The Carnival Tunnel was inaugurated by the Mayor, a competitive man who was the heart of the town. The Tunnel became a giant success, until he decided to increase the speed of the carts to compete with the opening of the Carrot Museum in the neighboring town. The result was appalling, several died, and a handful seriously injured. The Tunnel was closed immediately, the Mayor fired. The last people heard of him, he was chewing on a carrot, wearing a carrot top hat, wandering about, muttering “I’m a carrot, I’m a carrot. Hi-ho, hi-ho, to the Carrot Museum I go.”

Saturday, April 6, 2013

The Guardians Watch

Borgatti
Side by side,
Two rows,
The Guardians.
Giants of solitude,
Together they stand.
He crosses the Path,
And Life,
And Fear.
One step, and another,
He treads on,
So small, so crushed,
Never alone.
The Guardians.

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Oh, Stupidity Alert!

Whispering Wind
 The hotel lounge was covered in bookshelves. At first, he thought they were just shelves.
“Oh, no. Bookshelves,” corrected the receptionist.
“But… where are the books?”
“Oh, no idea….”
The blatant disinterest of the young lady bothered him.
“How do you know these are bookshelves?”
“Oh, I know,” she muttered.
“Did someone tell you?”
“Oh, no...”
He always expected her to say more, how frustrating.
“Right, I’ll buy a book tomorrow and place it on that shelf.”
“Oh, we don’t need books gathering dust here…”
“Bookshelves gather dust too!”
“Oh, not as much…”
He sighed hopelessly and thought “Oh, dear…” 
100 Word Stories

To Fix or to Cheat!

LEA 13 - Cica Ghost March 2013
A veterinarian was investigated after the scandal. Hordes of puppy litters were born, despite the best efforts of dog owners. So, the vet was forced to follow the rules, but he would still bend them occasionally, just to make an extra buck. He could always question if the male pets neutered by him really fathered those puppies. The ineffective spaying would be a bit more difficult to explain though. One day, a dog about to be neutered overheard a conversation between the vet and his assistant. To fix or to cheat! All the anxious dog could think of was “Cheat! Cheat!”

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Border

Misali

More than an original story, this is a tribute to someone who saved thousands of lives from the Rwandan genocide in 1994. Pierantonio Costa, a man many call righteous, was the Italian Consul in Kigali at the time. In his last trip to Rwanda, he saved 375 orphans, all very small children. 


“They’re children, children!” An armed man looked at the bus driver with doped eyes. “No.” The frustration amongst the adults of the convoy was palpable. 375 tired and restless kids kept their eyes wide open. They were so young, piled up inside the buses, uncomfortable and very thirsty. In the control post, armed men held rusted katanas.  Suddenly, a local authority talked to them. The convoy rushed away. The children finally arrived at the safety of a border and a foreign home. When interviewed, the man responsible for the convoy simply replied “I only answered the voice of my conscience.”

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

A Book Away

Grimm Shores

The trail of papers flies away,
A shy bird and another,
A page, two pages and many more. 
He sleeps, and we wait.
A book is a sailboat, away, away.
Run!
Grab those pages!
And he sleeps a book, the water ripples in the sun, a fire onboard.
He’ll wake up and write down his dream, a book away.
We will smile, guardians of his future,
Armed with our youth, a notebook and a bike,
Away, away. 
FFW 365 Day Challenge


Sunday, March 17, 2013

Unlucky 400-leaf clover

Neverland X

A drink or four, then he trotted back home, his paces tick-tacking at the command of his watch. He didn’t remember when he started doing that or even when he started walking the less populated streets. At pace 400, he looked around and found a grin, one who would never grin again. He knew the police was perplexed, struggling to catch him, but this was his day, his routine, wearing some green, doing some drinking, some singing and, to help with his headaches, some hunting. Fortunately for him, it worked. The last look on their faces wasn’t as fortunate though…