I am always transfixed when certain events collide, coalesce, and converge. Between feeling a bit wonky, being grumpy, (chalking most of it up to sheer, unadulterated overwhelmed-ness) and the death by a thousand pixel cuts, while driving into my work today to see if I could move a mountain or two, caught part of This American Life’s episode, Play the Part. Whoa. Spooky.
Now, little background.
Yesterday I was running on too little sleep, too much caffeine, and too many emotions. I noticed, during the late afternoon, in the place at work where there are no windows, the atmosphere seemed suppressed, the light more muffled and weaker than normal. Sure enough, walking out to the parking lot, it was pouring rain. And I don’t mean a shower or mist, as sometimes the western Washington precipitation is described, but a deluge.
Later safe in my burrow, I decided to bang out an LFR on Little Miss Mail Pants Shaman. Slogging up through the Valor Points has become an interesting obsession/act of futility. I don’t really know why, except to say that if someday, somehow, I am “discovered” and am called to duty to be on a ten-man raid team, I will be geared up at least.
|Starting to feel a little like Miss Havisham, without the Great Expectations|
Now, during this LFR, and I don’t know why, the DK tank had it in for one of the DPS Elemental Shamans. I mean, he was on hardcore trolling mode from the get-go. And I kept my big mouth shut, until the end. The shaman was doing great, top 4 in DPS/Damage, kicking my enhancement tail all over the place, and doing a great job. But the DK (Worgen) kept on, and on. Now this is after I was in there once with a poor little tank who said, “What button?” and we wiped twice, and he graciously, and kind of sadly left. The DK Worgen came in and determined that he was cock-of-the-walk.
Now, I’ve been in plenty of situations where someone just simply doesn’t dig my sh*t. There is no rhyme or reason. It just is: perhaps it is a primitive response to some pheromone I throw out there, or some sort of reincarnated, past-life issue that didn’t get resolved the first time around the karmic wheel, but it just happens. (See how I go for both the scientific and magical thinking on this?)
And, at one point (see foreshadowing of the storm), I disconnected: it said I looted the spine, which I didn’t. Sigh. I did open a ticket and Blizzard patronizingly told me to “never leave during an instance for any reason.” Yes. I left on purpose. I chose to make it rain so hard that all the wires and tubes and notes pulled my LFR plug so I wouldn’t get a chest token.
But before the big disconnect, the shaman had enough, and left.
If I could have put my virtual hoof up the DK’s virtual ass I would have.
But I am a tired human, and after the disconnect, and nerd-rage, and whatever, I just wanted it done. Some fun, huh?
And at the end, when all the loot was distributed (I did get some token so I got something for my resto set, but that was it), I did tell the DK to seek professional help for his nerd-rage issues. (After I said something about a microscopic measuring tape.)
I know some players make it their mission, their entertainment, to go into an LFR and just punk folks. I get it, more than can imagined. And I am getting to my point, promise:
The parts we play in our real and virtual worlds don’t come with scripts. They aren’t rehearsed, and they are difficult, if not impossible, to control. Throw some mental health issues into the mix, such as Asperger’s Syndrome, and let the party begin. I know many great folks with Aspergers, and I don’t know if the DK has this particular syndrome, but something is certainly broken.
And ladies, if you have a man in your life, you too may be spooked by “Wife Lessons” in Act II of TAL.
Theme song: Can’t Take That Away From Me