The Pavlova Incident*: Oceanic Offensive

Let’s go to the Oceanic Servers! Hooray!

It’s 11:36PM, 29 October in Sydney, Australia right now. In Christchurch, NZ, it’s 1:30AM, Thursday, 30 October. That means our friends in the Pacific are enjoying their new servers, reduction in latency has got to be amazing, and not worrying about the rest of the world literally and figuratively lagging behind must be refreshing. I’m sure Cymre and Navimie are thrilled to pieces. However, being an amateur anthropologist of cultures and societies, I must caution my friends in Aus/NZ to play nice.

Yes. I mean it. Don’t make me come down there and separate you two.

If I’ve learned anything about human nature, including my lifetime spent under the “better half” of the North American US/Canadian continent (Canada is the better half: duh!), it’s that even the simplest of rivalries can get out of control.

Because, you know, it’s not all shrimps-on-the-barbie-sheep-romancing-kiwis-ferocious-crocodile-eating-spiders-Hobbit-kissing-hole-dwelling-Peter Jackson-worshipping-beer-drinking-sheila-calling fun, after all.

And by sheep romancing, there usually aren’t candles involved. 

When I looked up “sophisticated Australian” this is what popped up. You can blame Google on that.

Consider, Australia is a dangerous place. Its flora and fauna always ranks the deadliest in the world. Considered savage and rough, some believe Aussies lack sophistication; however, they do have Australian Screen Legends, and of course, Nemo.

But it’s mostly this:

Thank you, no, I’ve already had my flying fox serving for today.

When you look up animals for New Zealand, you get this:

FUNZ

I suppose we Yanks can liken it to our relationship with Canada. Everyone knows Canadians are nicer, better, cleaner, better educated, and dude, they have Royal Mounted Police. ROYAL POLICE.

Just wanted a pretense to have a Brendan Fraser image in this post. Carry on.

Now this being said, and you’re all better now that you know about the Aus/NZ potential for world domination if they mind their manners, eat their vegemite sandwiches (or paintings), share their fish-and-chips and whitebait, hangi and witchery grubs. And pass the Pavlova.

Will someone please get that woman some oil paints?

*Pavlova refers to a desert. Chalk one up to NZ! And I’m pretty sure Australia can keep Russell Crowe.

And to the untrained ear, the Australian versus the New Zealand accents can be muddy, but there are some nuances (this video is sooooo boring)

Now this is all in fun and jest. I know most of the world compartmentalizes us Yanks in three basic dialect types: Cowboy, Clueless, and the Hood:

And balls-fly-at-your-nose:

But when all is said and done, New Zealand, maybe you can give Australia the Pavlova thing. I mean, after all, they have to deal with this:

Cause after all, ain’t nobody got time for that.

 

Its own reward…

Remember the original Willy Wonka movie, with Gene Wilder? If you haven’t seen it, and I’m about to spoil a movie from 1971 shield your sweet Millennial eyes and look away because it’s happening: the climax of the movie where Charlie and his grandfather bear the famous “I said good day sir!” tirade, and instead of feeling entitled or justified in stealing Wonka’s trade secrets, Charlie returns the Ever-Lasting Gobstopper, a revolutionary candy. Wonka is in such awe, incredulous disbelief that a young boy would have the morals and scruples that no other human on planet Earth seemed to possess, it’s one of films greatest moments.

But something happened last night that made me see it slightly differently. I now understand the conflict Wonka must have felt, and perhaps a bit of shame in that he put a young boy through such a moral obstacle course: his relief that Charlie does the right thing is palatable and thrilling, but also a little haunting.

I’ve been trying to get Momokawa gear and better healing weapons (that sounds counter-intuitive: healing weapons – like an Azerothian oxymoron). Hawtpocket and I talked about her gear yesterday for a bit before the run, and my goals for gear. She needed better tier pieces, and definitely the mace and cricket cage (she has the off-hand from the big metal scorpion, and an LFR mace—ew!) One monk who’s been steadily there, Secondlight, is a wonderful Mistweaver monk. Jealously, I would look at his numbers, feel discouraged, and wish for more lucky drops. Every extra roll token for weeks has earned me only gold. (Sometimes I wish we didn’t have this ‘gear insurance’ because it sometimes sours or makes the loss magnified: you didn’t get gear once, and you didn’t get gear twice: you are a double loser!)

As seen in former beauty…

Momokawa is not used to feeling envy, though green is her color.

I’ve heard speak in Vent a few times, and asked him last night if he was from Australia (his server is Navimie’s former one, Dath’Remar), and he confirmed. I whispered him that was good news, because my husband says every time we hear an Aus accent we have to drink. (And then I made CD Rogue get me a small glass of red wine. I am fully prepared to take advantage of an opportunity.)

A True Healer

When we rolled on Dark Shaman gear, he won the Kardris Sceptor, I was really sad. My shoulders slumped, I felt bitchy and petty. Yuck, Matty!! YUCK! Those tiny moments I know I’d better dust my stupid self and snap the hell out of it. He was using a staff, and of course wanted a healing mace. Who wouldn’t? This is when I seriously question my judgment, or lack thereof, for having three relatively strong, or potentially strong, healers, and not focusing on any one to get gear. And I felt ashamed at myself for caring even for one minute that I would have to continue to be patient and try for the mace, and carry on with my LFR one. Hey, I told myself– the more gear others get the less they’ll need next time, right?! Somehow that helped when I reframed it that way.

We get to the General, and get through it no problem. We move on to the next wing, and he whispers me that he won the sword on the General, and would I like that? Well, sure, but Druids cannot equip swords. (Must be the iron: fairy folks and their brethren do not like iron.)

Know what he did next? He gave me the healing mace.

He gave me the Ever-Lasting Gobstopper.

(You know what gob means, right? Mouth. Yes. It SHUT ME UP.)

My heart is bursting still at his generosity: I asked him several times if he was sure, and he had one request, to essentially do something kind for someone else. I told him what I do for work and he said that counts, (I’m paraphrasing). I do try to help, and I help every day. I give a lot to others, but my return on karmic investment is worth it. But this isn’t about me – this is about that once in awhile, someone acts in such a generous and gracious manner, it must be shouted from the rooftops.

Coincidentally, Navimie just posted this about making new friends:

People will say they avoid these interactions because of bad experiences – but to be honest, maybe it’s because I only remember the good ones that’s why I like to keep doing them.  And you never know – you may start that domino effect, where someone you randomly helped feels more confident or inclined to help somebody else who in turn helps someone else.  That’s a lot of someone elses!  And you never know – you may make a new friend 😀

I’m still feeling like someone put a Gobstopper on my desk. Thank you Secondlight–you just made two worlds a better place.

Our raiding goals are to get through the end before WoD – I see others have multiple Garrosh kills, yet I and my comrades are still waiting for ours. Thank heavens for players like Hawt, Secondlight, Moonmagick, who are so generous with their time, insight, and support. We couldn’t play without these things.