When you assume...

...you make an asshat out of you and me.

This is a picture of my eye in full stage make-up. It was 'fake an injury' day at work (why, why would anyone do this, you may wonder...I don't have a good answer...) It is incredibly realistic. Many of my colleagues, from a distance, thought I got in a fight with the road, or worse, that CD Rogue had used me for a punching bag. (That would be the last thing he would ever do, up to the moment he would lose his mortal coil.) This was really stupid on my part, because many in my world have experienced real traumatic experiences, and this upset them. I told them I fell off my dragon, or unicorn, whatever I felt like, the story growing more outrageous and fantastic at each telling. "You should have seen the other orc!"

The other night, I dragged my poor shaman out of the cupboard to see if, by chance, just a whim, slim at best, I could get another ax or fist weapon for the best specialization of all, ever: the enhancement shaman. My DPS/Damage was sub-par compared to everyone else, and we hit the enrage timer on the twins. (Footnote: I like those twins. I do. When the blue one says, "Are they gone?" my heart melts. I know there was a fuss and all, but...) The blame started pouring out like Ragnaro's fire. I apologized for my DPS, but that I had been unlucky when it came to weapons, and was still using a blue. A little warlock spoke up and said his luck as been equally poor. The DK tank, Juggleballs or Judgeyournutz or something, said "Then you should play better."

Yes, I guess he's right. I should play better.

I should play better by going to play with my stories. I should play with my weeds. I should go play with scrubbing a few toilets around the Matty-shack, cause heaven knows they need it. I should play better and prepare more entertaining and engaging things for my job. I should play better at a whole lot of things. I should play at going for a walk or doing yoga or trying to learn how to make tamales.

Anyway, I am looking forward to 5.3. Big time. Neri Approves posted this link and sometime today I'll read a few more patch notes. I love the fact that I heard I can queue as a healer but choose to get enhancement weapons. But before I get too excited, I am not going to assume too much. Let's hope that all the hype is true, and no one ends up with a black eye. Except that orc. He had it comin'.

Mr. Snerggulls Returns

"Sweetheart, I got some bad news for ya. Ya see, it's like this: your writing, it ain't fresh no more. Smelling worse than a 3-day old dead big-mouth clam, washed up under a troll's butt, on a hot summer day. With a side of pickles. Okay, okay...you get what I mean. Not sure what you think you were doing, there, goatchop, but we gotta get a few things straight, capiche? Do you realize you have used the term "bean counters" about 1,345 times? It's old news, sweettail. And this so-called news about kissing and pets? We ain't running a social rag here you know, this ain't no Stormwind & the Manor. Have you seen the latest numbers? Tome writes about her adventures in PVP and gets about 35,678 comments!"

The shaman started to get glassy-eyed. "But Mr. Snerguls, sir, she's the IRONSALLY! She's awesome! She's kind, funny, and self-effacing, and and and IRONSALLY! I couldn't even get past level 9...And I love reading her, too -- everyone does!"

"That's my point, hornhead! Folks dug this little gazette, too, but lately--well, our numbers have significantly dropped. This ain't no non-profit, moonbeam. I've got 12,345 spawn to feed. You're no Terry Gross or Ira Glass. Folks ain't lining up to read, and you ain't getting paid by the character count."

Mataoka thought this would not be a good time to mention she wasn't getting paid at all...

"So, let's take a look: you're splitting infinitives, transitions are tiresome, syntax is superfluous, raconteur redundant, your spell check is broken, and grammar nonexistent, and I think you lost your Azerothian Aegis Style Manual, 33rd Edition, didn't you?"

"I accidentally deleted it from my bank, sir. When I was finding room for my..."

"Kid, you got no style. If I don't see some fresh ink soon, well, the only words you'll be producing will be 'you're fired' on a pink slip."

Mataoka wiped her eyes. She knew it was the truth. No murloc news is good murloc news. She wish Mr. Snerggullls had stayed on vacation with the goblins. He came back smelling of fish stew and cigar ash. Not pleasant.

"Look, happyhorns, I don't want to let you go. Come back in a few hours with some ideas, all right, totemcheeks? I'll be down at the pub pumping down a few fortifiers, if you catch my drift there."

Mataoka put a request up in trade chat: WTB Muse.

No response yet, but queue times vary.

Got Happy?

First: I hate to keep meme'ing (is that a verb?!) [potential] historical inaccuracies. I'll justify it this time though by saying, even if Benjamin Franklin didn't say it, it's still a cool quote. It's cool, not because of any political agendas, but in spite of them:

Watch the 2011 documentary, Happy

If Blizzard was writing this, perhaps it should read:

"The game rules only guarantee the citizens of Horde and Alliance the right to pursue levels; you have to get the RNG gods to drop items in groups."

Wait, no-- how about:

"Blizzard only guarantees the Horde and Alliance to pursue gear level. You have to do the quest line yourself."

Okay, I give up. It's early. But you get the point. The RNGs guarantee nothing.

Been thinking a lot about what makes me happy, or unhappy, lately. Happy is such an ubitquitious, yet elusive, state of being. Happy, you kind of suck sometimes.

Next, find a comfortable 45 minutes and watch the documentary. It's worth it. Parts of it will make you uncomfortable, so be warned. Parts will make you cry, so be warned. If you don't have time, I'll cut to the big themes:

1. Family and friends are our worlds; when we get lost in creating material worlds only, we are lost souls (watch story on Karōshi (過労死^?)
2. Self-actualization, or the quiet moments of inner peace come in surprising ways--be open to them, even if your sister-in-law runs over your head. (No spoilers -- promise.)
3. Since we all can't live in Denmark or the bayous of Louisiana and eat crab and crawdads all day (oh man would I fit in there!) consider your own little patch of earth and see the joy. It's there, I promise.

Here's the deal. Straight up. Blunt.

I love playing WoW. I am nostalgic already, after only three years of play, though. It is my humble shaman opinion that unless Blizzard does take a open, honest look at the grinding, they are going to kill that joy. That's it.

If you watch the documentary, there's a lot of talk about dopamine levels. Dopamine levels are our happy buttons. They are killed with desperate repetition. Excerise and creative pursuits keep them pumping. Speaking for myself, I found my Azerothian dopamine levels were at their highest when I was doing a progressive achievement task, such as What a Long Strange Trip. I was also happiest when I had my first character, and then discovered a new class. I did not like the same repeated queats. I loved when pets and mounts became account-bound, and love walking into old instances to goof around, and feel like a bad-ass for a few minutes. I love the small amount of RP I've done--it's creative and engaging. I love when I've been on a raid team, even for short times, with funny people who made me laugh. I love my few close friends in Azeroth, that we get each other and I don't have to justify a damn thing to them.

More legendary fun, more solo, two, and three person achievements (not just for ponies, but achievements--a common bond, a goal, a STORY). Every time I read Navi's posts on raiding, the subtext is always the same: she is hanging with people she loves, and who love and depend on her --sure the gear is nice, but that is always secondary. Always. She's sitting at a large picnic table picking freshly caught seafood. When Tome writes about her solo adventures, she's writing about exploration, and making the game her own. She's catching happiness. When Bear writes about Cub, he's writing about family connections and insights that this journey. Even Navi, Kallixta, and I had raised our dopamine levels to the roof when we wrote our fables. (We have more in store, by the way....)


Oh, the blunt part, that's why you're still reading? Not the love fest? Okay. Here it goes.

For every time a bean counting, trolling game design mechanic or "what can I MAKE them do" enters into the equation, I feel a game karoshi moment.

Blizzard: knock it off.

Less karoshi.

More dopamine.

Within reason. Wouldn't want to become an addict, yo?

Theme song: Imagine Dragons

Bellyrub Buff

This cheers me: if you don't have one already, start a male Pandaren. Do a /kiss. Listen. It's slobbery, full-bore, all-the-way adorable and kind of messy.

If it doesn't make you feel like this:

From the Australia Facebook Page...

then, seriously -

there's no help for you.

PS Full report on all the /kisses soon.

three

1. I wish I could stay home and write today
2. I wish I could finally get my house in order
3. I wish it was payday



P.S. I wish I knew what the hell I was doing in the Throne of Thunder things. Nerd rage before 6:30AM is not a great way to start the day.

Fishing for compliments, or the TBH approach...

"Lady Katrana" is now known as Siri. 

This is a true story. On Friday, after a long, but sunny, week, I was driving home, and needed to tell C.D. Rogue my expectations about some things. You know - one of "those" messages. I don't talk on the cell phone and drive, not only because it's a $200 fine, but it's deadly. I don't want to die. I don't want to kill anyone else. Go figure. Fortunately, I have Siri by my side! With the press of a button, she will take dictation, and send the missive on its way. I talked. I hit send. And do you know what that little electronic bitch told me? She spouted back a long quote with the passive-aggressive subtext that MY MESSAGE WAS TOO WORDY! Yes, all caps, YES I am yelling now. Deep breath. Deeeeep breath. This has to be some kind of an i-phone joke. We all know Steve Jobs had a sense of humor, right? Try again. It was one of those messages that could not be edited. If I didn't say what I wanted to say hurt feelings would abound. Well, my feelings anyway. She then proceeds to quote Thomas Effing Jefferson to me, TO ME! About clarification and brevity and blah blah blah. I realize the man wrote one of the greatest pieces in all of history, the Declaration of Independence, but gee whiz, Siri! Cut me a break! If there was ever a moment I wanted to chuck a $400 phone out the window of my broken-down truck, that was it. Cooler head (I only have one) prevailed, and I dictated a shorter message, fuming, and sure enough, all of my expectations and hopes did not materialize. Siri cut me off.

Okay. Rage at the machine. Fine.

But this incident inspired reflection on my part: am I too wordy? Undeniably, yes. I read back through some previous posts and thought to myself, "Why would anyone in their right mind read one thing here?" Siri's right. C.D. Rogue is right. I talk too damn much.

Some squires and damsels were explaining to me the other day that when they post "TBH" on a Facebook post, the To Be Honest is their way of giving each other unadulterated compliments. Sometimes anyway. To hear what they want to hear. TBH, you're awesome! TBH, you don't look fat! Etc. So is this my TBH post? Want you all to tell me, "No, Matty, you're funny! You're great! Keep up the good work!" Well, it's okay. I know I talk too much. Color me logorrhea.

If you read my accomplishments feed, you might infer that I am working on the Salty title. I am indeed. I've wanted to be Salty Ceniza for some time, and have grand plans on starting a character named Pretzel. Maybe. It's been a lot of fun. I only need a few more coins (a follow-up post on those coins is in the future...) and got my tail thoroughly handed to me in the fishing tourney. Third place? Hell, more like 245th. Cross-realm zones, I Love You! But I'll get there.

Mr. Snerrggggulllls has been on vacation, and hasn't done right by me in the editing department. Sorry about all the TL:DR posts. Whatever.

Drabble: Mother's Love

Even rogues have mothers.

“You know, sonny boy, I wasn’t always this way. Before the Stonemason’s Uprising, I had a heart, ya know. I had big dreams for you, lad. Big and grand. You were goin’ to be a captain in the king’s army, or an innkeeper. Respectable work. Not some filching rogue slumming the docks of Booty Bay. It’s not too late son. You’ve never disappointed me—just veered off the wrong path. Couldn’t be helped. Now be off with ye: take these crates to the man with the black hat. He’ll know what to do.”

“Ma…”

“What? Time’s wasting.”

“I love you.”

The Egg Thief

Know how I think it would be awesome to spend a Mother's Day? Go to Hooters for free food! Free BAD food! And see how young waitresses to whom gravity has not cursed yet feel about their abundant buoyancy versus most mothers' lack thereof. Hey, but free is free. 

Happy Mother's Day, to one and all - want to be moms, grandmoms, moms, and those who have a mom, and especially those who have faces that only a mom could love. 

Dear Matty: Run For Your Virtual Life Edition

Dear Matty:
I am in the market for a new guild. This comes after a few years of playing, meeting others in Azeroth, and a lot of false starts. I just can't seem to attract other players who have the same goals I do, or who can be accommodating to my schedule and real-life responsibilities. The other issue is, well, there are some creeps out there. Every one seems so nice at first, but then they turn on me. Case in point: one Guild Master locked me out of the guild bank when I took some wool cloth out of the shared tabs page to level my First Aid. He said I should have asked first, even though it was the shared tabs page, and I had contributed most of the cloth. G-kick. Another time, I was healing on a ten-man, and the raid leader kept confiding in me about how awesome this other healer was, but her husband was part of the package, and the husband was a terrible tank. So not only was I left feeling insecure about my own position on the team, I realized the raid leader would not hesitate to talk about ME behind my cape. Another time I befriended a congenial little Forsaken, only to be stalked to the ends of the world with "Whatcha doing? Whatcha doing? Whatcha doing?" and then never any further social input. Awkward. Matty, these are only a fraction of the stories of the social awkwardness, stalk-iness, and subterfuge that has been my experience in Azeroth. I just want to be on a ten-man, derp, and laugh once in a while, and not have to take out restraining orders and being scared every time I put someone on the ignore list. Is that so much to ask?

Signed,
Woeful Worgen

Dear Woe:

There is not a single player in World of Warcraft who cannot relate to part of your story. Wait, I take that back. The ones who can't relate are the ones perpetrating these social atrocities: the creeps, stalkers, divas, ninjas, backstabbers, and "I forgot to take my pill" folks. There was one time a girlfriend of a player friend had a violent episode over his time playing with me. Yikes. And in this day and age, unfortunately, and tragically, one cannot be too careful. The phrase "trust your instincts" has never had more power. I believe we all go into Azeroth with a wide-eyed innocence -- look! Just look at all these players who want to be here too, in this beautiful and exciting place, and play! Yet, alas, what people do in their real lives carries over to the virtual one, for ill, but also for good. It is not too much to ask that you find a guild that will be like-minded, and share your goals, too. But like love--it can take time. I would say be honest with yourself, and determine what you can and cannot tolerate. Some of these things include the obvious, such as racism, homophobia, bullying, harassment, overt sexual stalking, etc., but they go to the other end of the spectrum, too, such as consistent miscommunication, undermining, and perhaps the most dangerous of all: unclear expectations.

It's really too bad we can't see if a player has a monkey tattoo such as the one in the video. If we could only see what an ass they are ahead of time, it would sure save a lot of trouble. Since this is the virtual world, we all must set our own clear expectations, and then honestly, and transparently, (and paradoxically) tell others how to treat us in this opaque virtual one. I think we could all learn from successful Role Players in Azeroth: IC or OOC. Are we in character, or out of character? And if one's "in character" is being an asshat, then it's time to say goodbye, and not look back. Unless your avatar is a doormat, don't let others scrape their sabatons on you.

Stop motion.

I always loved Monster, Inc.'s allusion to Ray Harryhausen in the restaurant scene.

Rest In Peace, Ray Harryhausen.

RTMT: Counting Coup

This isn't actually true. I think about quitting all the time.

Listen up, ClustrMaps. I've been blogging for over seven years. I've used widgets, whatnots, and whoop-dee-doos. I have used your widget, Revolver Maps, and page counts. I don't know the hell your problem is, but sir, your dots are off. Way off. Okay, sure, yes, admittedly I am in a borderline OCD habit of spamming my visitors. I love to know who's stopped by, because in this day and age, most folks do not have time to comment. No harm, no foul. I don't either. I read more blogs than I can possibly comment on. But damn, when I wake up at 3am with insomnia, and use my Kindle as my personal nightlight, falling back to sleep with the comforting dots is all I have sometimes. What kills me is that I will see a Dot, not just a dot, and then in a few hours it'll be gone! ClustrMaps, come on now! Don't do that to me! I see that many visitors have stopped by: intelligent hackers from India, curious spammers from Viet Nam, and oh yes, now I have to look up where the Faroe Islands* are: like a virtual geography lesson! But there are those dots that mean everything to me. Dots from the States, dots from the Southern Hemisphere, and dots from Great Britain. Those dots represent visits from actual, real friends. Friends I may or may not ever meet in real life, but I consider them friends nonetheless. Recently on Facebook a woman I only know through mutual friends in that social media stew posted that she was eliminating many from her Facebook roster. I made the cut. I sent her a message saying I hope that I would, albeit we had never met in person, because from her Facebook persona, she is someone I want to continue 'knowing.' Her posts and shares are insightful, funny, sardonic, and real. And yet, I have never met her. Can any of us judge what is real, then? And does it matter?

Currently I'm crafting a thesis of sorts about the reconciliation between my two writing lives. This thesis is not going to be presented to a Board; this is just for me and one other small cadre of professionals. I worked on it more last night, even though it was Monday, and valor capping on five alts was an impossible goal. In fact, most game goals are out of reach for me. If I focus on one character, say Mataoka, and try to get all the thingamabobs the Black Prince, sure enough they will not drop. I have seven so far. I think I need twenty. All I can think of now is that scene in Holy Grail where the Knights Who Say Ni are never satisfied with the shrubbery. My growing resentment over not having my own time (at work) to use a computer for anything but boring e-mails and data collection is bubbling up my own creative apocalypse. My writing ideas have invaded my dreams. Last night I dreamt an entire short story about Madame Eva, and I had a great dream where my great-grandmother's house was haunted. I mean, how cool is that?! Who wouldn't want to wake up immediately and start writing about it?!

You may be interested to know that my little thesis mentions this blog, and having over 100,000 page hits. Sure, sure - thanks Russian and Asian hackers! Rock on! I am honest about these dots, though. Not all dots are created equal. For those dots who are Dots, and true friends, be patient with me. In a twenty-four hour day, I do need to sleep at least six of those. I do have about nine hours of work, and zero chance of writing, watching Youtube videos on game strategies, or anything but taking five minutes here and there to sneak reading other blogs, and that's usually on my i-phone. In my car, okay! My CAR - not the toilet. Not most of the time anyway.

So my achievements -- I'll get to them. The thingamabobs: Prince, keep your pants on. (Please. No one wants to see dragon bits.) Reader/blogger friends: thank you. Thank you for everything.

Now I'm off to go find a shrubbery.

*Well I'll be damned. The Faroe Islands look like an awesome place to go.