A Party to the Thing

In which our hero suddenly realizes that it’s not a testbed but sands of home still weeping the deep from whence they came

I wasn’t about to turn down a new look at my diary, but participating in beta testing was much more about good will than connection here.  Some big questions remain, too, because I’m still not going to leave anything that isn’t throwaway until there’s a viable archiving mechanism.   It’s not that there’s any grudge or ill will, but between the great crash, occasional vanishings and the abrupt end, normal paranoia is enhanced by a fool-me-twice-won’t-get-fooled-again sensibility.

The pleasant surprise was seeing the other testers, names I knew, names I remembered.   The community was broken when the lights went out, and little rafts of connection drifted apart.  I still get pinged by people asking if I know how so-and-so might be doing and so we try to keep track of each other but the primary net was broken, and likewise the ability to at least dwell on what they’d left behind.   Coming back, it’s been equally strange to see people and not see people.

So it has been weird to be back here on not-quite-my-opendiary with not-quite-my-people picking over not-quite-my-diary (here noting that the entry import order issue remains queued).  I’m still learning to navigate and interact, and functionality is evolving under me as I gain my footing (with kudos to the Diarymaster and team for the hard work at turning over these changes).   It’s a little disorienting because it’s my space, but not how I left it.

But now more people are showing up and some of them are people who landed on other rafts, or who had vanished from OD into life long before the end came.  It doesn’t even matter if it’s a one time thing, I’m just delighted to see their names, and know how they are doing, or just that they’re doing.  I wouldn’t have bet on it, but even this fledgling beta community is starting to ignite that feeling inside that here are my people, some of them, some more of them, some of what made this place home for me and carried me through my stupid and my silly and my hurts and my joys for years.

I’m delighted.

I’m furious, too.  The joy is bubbling up through the loss and the trauma of everything ending.

And I’m struggling still with what this place, this specific diary, is supposed to be.  What is Serin in beta? What am I supposed to write when I’m also writing about the things I find because there’s a support system with issues I can’t see.

I can’t help but say thank you.