Category Archives: randomness

Written and directed by…

As some of my close friends and family know, I went to get my squiggly-spooch out yesterday. It required an overnight in a hospital, and from what the surgeon told me, apparently, I have screenshots! Hey! Guess what? Not going to post them. (I haven’t even gutted up enough to see them…get it?)

So while I’m sitting here in a tiny haze of Vicodin and ginger-ale, wanted to share a few things, and will try not to over-share. But writer friends, if you’re looking for that screenplay idea, I may be able to help you out. As long as you get me a cut on international and domestic gross distribution, and cast me in a cameo role, we have a deal.

The hospital is very much a typical large not urban, not suburban, but that quasi-area where city meets burbs and there is still a lot of traffic. There were several very old, very sick people around me, and it made me sad that they were in pain quite often, and I could set my watch by when they needed more meds. I also learned I have tiny veins, and my own IV would shift at the slightest movement, thus setting off an alarm, and I would have to call in the nurse to turn it off. Apparently hitting it with clogs is not cool. (Not sure how that is going to appear on the bill.) The other thing I learned is at this hospital, they pipe in the Brahms’ Lullaby rift every time a baby is born. My mother asked the poignant question what do they do if there is a sad mom/baby story, which unfortunately does happen, and then I could tell she regretted asking me, but only because I didn’t have an answer, and she knows once I start thinking about something…well.. In any case, I counted ten new little souls in 24 hours. There may have been more when I was asleep. Quite a fertile little bunch, all in all. Being in a hospital is a lot like camping, at least for me. All I want to do is go home and take a shower.

But here is where the screenplay idea comes in: when I was deep in my anesthesia in the post-op room, I dreamed I was in a real-time Azerothian style battleground, and then I wanted a puppy, and then I saw the “Release Spirit” button, hesitated on hitting it, but did, and woke up. There you go. A virtual after-life experience. Yea yea, I know that plot has been done a thousand times before. “It was all a dream” is in the rankings of horrible endings.

Should have known it was just a dream: next time I go on a vision-quest, I demand…a puppy.

PS Did I mention the Vicodin?

The Tenacious Tank…and a tired one

My vacation is starting here soon, this year a bit different, a change of pace…I really should be in bed asleep, but I’ll have plenty of time for that.

Luperci takes off shoulder, shield, and mace…g’night, moon, g’night room, and g’night Lupe

Had a great time on a normal DS run with the new guild*. Decided since Luperci has been doing nothing much but banging her shield against her horns, she should try the big guild for a while, and see what opportunites await there.

I have so much to learn, re-learn, and alter for tanking. It’s not hard, but when you make a mistake, it’s really bad.

Ended the weekend with many smiles– ah, what great friends I have. You make me laugh– guess what? Out loud!

Here are some highlights:

Matty got to feed rats to panthers…

Ceniza realized the reason she was doing not so great was she forgot to equip her orb…dios mio, Ceniza….

Happy Summer!!

Momokawa, the Peachiest Peach River of Druids, admired the beautiful frescos in Tides, and reached level 83…

What a wonderful world.
Theme song: Put Your Records On/Corinne Bailey Rae

P.S. Señor: Zep is still the boss. Take care of the guild, and don’t let your cat find the escrow papers.

*New guild is super cool– never mind the publicity, so shout out to Lost Soldiers of Darkness!

Evil woman.

Lock up your sons and husbands, ladies, Kélda is out there. (Just kidding. She’s harmless.)

I mean really – what kind of warlock becomes a miner and engineer? 
A sexy one who wants sunglasses, I suppose:
Kélda did get a few silvers on her leveling journey:

Jarel was not one of her trophies, however. 

Someday I will understand what these spells are doing, but for now – shiny pretty.
In other news:
Zep realized once again she never has gold. I mean, really!? There are pirate hats!!
Postscript: This is Gallywix:


The Untitled Post

Three good things, told in third-person:

Mrs. Whitworth:
Mrs. Whitworth was not always a cat, but once she was, she never looked back.
Mrs. Whitworth has been whispering in Zep’s ears, encouraging her to become a powerful Shadow Priest.  She had her reasons.
Ceniza tried to change to another worgen’s fire mage specification, with abysmal results. So, she went back to her role model, and fared much, much better:

And although she did not get the dagger—she noticed something. Millya used a staff, too–perhaps, just perhaps–things do work out for reason. Ceniza’s staff was not nearly so powerful, and in many ways she was unprotected, but finding her place, her own path, too, was quite illuminating.

There is change, always inevitable change. Mataoka has discovered that she enjoys healing, and while in a raid yesterday, a beautiful Druid healer won a trinket Matty desperately needed. She congratulated the Druid, and in a few brief moments, the Druid opened a trade window, gave Matty the trinket, and accepted Mataoka’s gratitude, and left:

Where I make no attempt to make sense….

Well, damn. Out of gold again. Once again too much month and not enough paycheck. But it’s okay. I’ll call my off-shore banker and have her move some funds around. I swear I keep a lit match in my pockets, so many holes get burned through them. Okay, this is so not a problem, this is happy — my phone has been bugging out for some time, and it is my technological life-line: during any break I have at work, I can’t check messages from my family on Facebook, nor approve a comment on my blog, nor jot down any personal writing I may have on my work laptop, because “they” will own it, so I must have my phone/mini-computer. To say it’s frustrating to be in a paradoxically challenging position (I am in charge of helping others be tech-savvy) and then not having half of my tools to do so is well, quite frankly maddening at times. (This makes me think of a comment of a player friend who has recently visited China, so I guess I shouldn’t complain about constraints of information.)

To repair this technological grappling hook (aka cell phone), I used a recent boon to purchase an i-phone, complete with Siri. I am having trouble with my i-tunes, and there is some issue with my bits and pixels being strewn all over the Interwebs, like abandoned flies and beetles, sucked-out carcasses of discarded data.

So, I’m a mess. Or my data is. I am data, therefore I am?

So much of a mess, on my two accounts, I need to clean up and stream-line a bit. Having two accounts is excessive. I log on and see players logging onto Diablo, and most players who wanted the MoP beta now have it, including me. The invitation is sitting in one of ten email accounts like some lost ball invitation, and the shoes don’t fit. As I am sitting here trying to choke down more coffee so I can function on my 5.5 hours of sleep, thinking about all the ways things just get out of control. I may need to clean up my blog roll–which brings up this blogging etiquette: just because someone doesn’t have my blog on their roll, it doesn’t bother me. I don’t blame them for not putting this mess on their clean blogs. I am not being facetious, either–really. This place is a damn mess. Wish I had tidied up a bit first. If you smell Lemon Pledge and bleach, it was my attempt to mask the clutter and junk.

My washing machine broke recently, and the dust bunnies turned hostile and created new horrors: undead armies of plastic laundry soap caps, a hammer, old warranties, and 77 cents in a mix of pennies, half-dollars, and other change crawled out from underneath the alter of suds and agitated filth.  It’s fixed, but the laundry has not gone out and washed itself. Maybe it was scared of the loose change and gunk.

I knocked down a mirror/coat rack the other day.

I had an exhausted meltdown earlier this week.

Zep went into a Zul with one of her most dependable running buddies, and fell off of not one but three cliffs, eaten by biting fish, and two bridges, and was pushed by trolls and slapped around by bridge ogres or whatever the hell those things are. Effing Zuls.

But she got enough Valor Points to get a higher level robe. Should she buy the helm? Nah. Robe is better.

Realized last night, long after the “receipt” expired I already had the damn thing.



This was the penultimate event of yesterday. The morning started with me calling an early morning meeting to deliver bad news, and a little trustworthy bird told me that indeed, there was a real life troll digging for dirt on me. It confirmed my suspicions, and another little bird said, “Hey this is like Game of Thrones!” and while I struggled with who was Cersei Lannister or Catelyn Stark in the scenario, the bottom line is I don’t play real-life ‘games’ well at all. Like, AT ALL. I am too much in my own head, my own life, love, and duties to put much thought into others machinations and Machiavellian* maneuverings. I am always dismayed when others show their true puce-colors.

“Penultimate” means next to the last. So there was one final thing: Senor, thanks for making me smile, not ever, ever allowing myself to take myself too seriously, and reminding me of cool things once again.

So–here is from Cymre and Vidyala: Anyone else out there who makes your day? Of course my close (blogging) friends-but every one who chose to put me on follow – they rock, I read them, and they make my day.

And I have many stories/posts half-started, too. I know why I hesitate to write some–because there are trolls out there who would try to make fiction into fact, and I can’t have that.

Do any of my fellow writers struggle with that? Having to censor one’s fiction because of outside forces or judgments?

In any case – onward. Got get a hold of that banker.

*Cool! I spelled it right the first time! Maybe my brain is coming back!

Three quick links, that have nothing to do with one another

LFR Guild-style:

What children’s drawing would look like if they were real:

A real scary boss:  (Act Two, Murder Most Fowl – seriously — what if a dungeon boss was a giant wild turkey?)

A day in the life…

*re-reads Paladin’s Tale
*thinks to self, “What a hack.”
*wonders why isn’t working on Nano
*reads other blogs
*decides to go tame tiger in Uldum
*heats up coffee
*helps young druids (like, a herd of them….what would/should the collective noun for druids be? A Stonehenge of Druids? A Diffusion?  An Order? (…thanks, Yahoo…kind of boring….) with everything from girl trouble to algebra…
*eats beef jerky
*wonders where she left that unfinished novel so she can cheat on Nano…