Solstice Advent Challenge: December 3

William Blake. 1757–1827

489. The Tiger

TIGER, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies	5
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?	10
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp	15
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?	20
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Solstice Advent Challenge

Tiny Story Time: Burden

Luperci threw off the heavy plate gear with a thundering finality. Startled from her reverie of an amazing tome, Matty almost snapped in anger at her sister’s rudeness. But then she looked at her face.

“I just can’t do this anymore, Matty. I can’t.”

Just then, the cat brought in his catch, a huge Stormwind rat, and dropped it at Luperci’s feet, sauntering away in triumph.

“Look, even the cat has more success than I do!”

Matty put her book down, and removed herself from the wide, warm cushions, that wrapped her like a lullaby. Luperci was in distress: that much was obvious, and did not require a sensitive shaman to figure that one out.

“What can’t you do anymore, Lupe?”

And, as if a second set of invisible armor was lifted and tossed, Luperci laid down another burden. Her sweet cinnamon face folded in tears, though Matty could tell she was trying to still hold them in, that crying was something she wasn’t used to doing.

“Day in, day out, doing nothing but escorting ungrateful trogs to and fro. No matter what I do, it doesn’t seem to matter. I never hear a word of gratitude, or even, well, nothing…and…”

Lupe wiped her now soaking face with the back of her hand; Matty handed her a cloth, and set her down on the warm chair.

“…This guild we are in, Matty, I am sorry to say, but I don’t fit in there. Some of our guild mates are so, stiff and proper, and dare I say, awkward? And that is saying something, coming from me!” Luperci weakly laughed.

Sniffling, she continued, just relieved to pour her heart out. “Matty, I hear more in what they don’t say than in what they do, like they’re constantly judging me. The things they say in battle, Matty, the derision…I feel they are a council of strangers who are not interested in me, or my offerings.”

Matty sighed, and frowned. She never envied her sister going into dungeons and slamming her pretty face against attacks constantly, while others stood back with their magic and melee. Healers—well, even Zep had sent a letter recently that shocked Matty. What had happened to her two sweet sisters? It seemed that the monsters in the world were not really the problem, but those who were supposedly fighting them. The intention of what may have started as heroism turned into bureaucratic entanglement and traps. Like falling into the maw of a beast, chewed and digested on the way down. There was no soft landing.

“I even had the notion yesterday, Matty, that I would listen to the Call to Arms, and go help on the battlefronts. At least there, was I do is my own, and my successes or failures hurt no one but myself.”

Matty had not thought of Luperci ever as a craven, for that was not how their father raised them. Indeed, many brilliant citizens of Azeroth, Horde and Alliance alike, used the military forces as a means of being truly heroic. As long as Luperci wasn’t under the delusion that she could hide behind the shield in battle, and take battles seriously, maybe she would find the success she needed. She wasn’t sure.

But, Matty did know one thing, at least for the next few hours, of what Luperci should do, and this Matty could help her with.

“Baby sister, for now, your burden is not yours to concern yourself with; let me make you some honeymint tea, and I have some Lunar Festival treats, too. And then, you are going to get some sleep for a while. Things always look better in the morning.”

The cat nestled in Luperci’s lap, proud of his gift, and grateful for her warmth. Though the cat couldn’t speak in a language Lupe would understand, he was happy to have her there. She just didn’t notice.

Half-a** Holiday, or "Stop Fighting in the Road."

Compulsively, or usually, I finish projects. This particular winter vacation, however, my actions have been somewhat fragmented. Take the tree down? Sure. Leave three boxes next to it and hope elves come and wrap up the ornaments and haul the carcass away (actually, I pay Boy Scouts to do that). Need those pants ironed? If I lay them next to the iron the wrinkles will magically disappear! Not sure what I had in mind, but now my vacation is almost over, and time to make those resolutions. One year I resolved that I would always match my pairs of socks right out of the dryer, so as to never lose one again, and by God, I managed that one for years.

The point of this tedious thought is this: I feel I am kind of at a crossroads here. I look at my hesitation for just jumping in with Zeptepi into the new dungeons again, or the LFR for that matter, and Luperci the Tripping Tail Tank, as a symptom of a larger malady. I had also intended to use this time to write, let the creative juices baste my imagination turkey (oh wow....I did not just write that), but alas, my muse seems to have gone to the Bahamas and has no intention of coming back. Hell, he left faster than Paul Gauguin can leave his French family for Polynesian goddess. Can't say I blame him. I stopped and noticed the absurd lack of light here in the northwest this time of year. Only Tom Robbins has been able to describe the Seattle area sky adequately. 

If you want to read a story about a red-headed princess and a wayward rogue, this is your story. Oh, a pack of Camel cigarettes has a starring role, too.

Maybe in the quest for valor I need to look at things differently: first, do the tough ones first, such as the healer or tank, and then dps wünderkind, Mataoka. I've been capping out her valor first because it's easy, with the notion that "I'll do the others later." Later doesn't happen. Second, maybe just say the heck with it. Maybe I am just a leveling dork after all. I did end up giving my death knight Morphemia to someone who can make her shine (she is now a human male DK--change hurts), and so far have no regrets. I have been having a fire-ball leveling Magadora, and my buddy has been helping me get Rökkr to a workable state (she'll be level 70 soon). The other diversion has been leveling Haanta as a PVP hunter with my dear friend. People can downgrade PVP all they want, but it is a different style of play and strategy that can be very satisfying, and not just when my side wins--though of course that is nice. I treat it more like a game of touch football or pick up basketball game. The level of fun comes from the synergy. And, advice for Tol Barad: defend, defend, defend. And always, stop fighting in the road. Just stake a claim, get it done, and win! 

Time to kick some elves in the tails.

I am such a girl: I found axes with pink handles. 

PS Reading and learning HealBot is one of my game goals: http://restorationdruid.com/2010/07/26/healbot-101/

Some good dwarfs may be sacrificial cadavers before it's all over.

Theme song:
Well, Beatles' Why Don't We Do It In the Road - too obvious
Robert Johnson/Crossroad
The Decemberists/California One

Luperci's theme song...

Not all of the search words allude to things of a nasty nature. Some are pretty experimental: Luperci Scorched Earth Media Fire.

Here is where it led me: http://soundcloud.com/sonic-meditations

Class lines.

Back in undergrad school, when I was a goofy Fine Arts major, hanging out in the print shop with lithography stones, acid baths, tar, and good paper stock, I was also a waitress at a local pub. (Stop me if I've told you this story before.) My working life began at age 9 when I babysit for neighbors' children, and my first real "social security number on paycheck job" came at age 13 when I worked at a Mongolian barbecue/Chinese restaurant as a busgirl for a Taiwanese family. I am no stranger to hard work, but somehow, have never managed to work equally hard at saving the money. But that comes into play later.

So, I worked as a waitress in college. Nothing extraordinary about that. The particular establishment was around 150 years old, and though I realize in terms of European history, that is nothing, but here in the States, that was considered a pretty old shack. Some famous writer (*cough Poe*) was said to have stayed there when it was an inn. The manager at the time was what I considered a bit grizzled; she had two grown children, and it was rumored that had one point in time she was a stripper. The other manager, also female, loved to put on the jazz station on during our busiest day, Sunday brunch. I hate jazz. (Oh, but what I wouldn't give for their home-fries and two eggs over-easy...). The layout was such that on the television side there was a small service bar and tables, next to the kitchen, the middle room bigger tables for large groups, and that had two doors that led to the "townie bar," the main bar with a large mahogany bar, and about twenty bar stools.

Let me explain the colloquialism "townie bar." Although the pub/restaurant was in a fairly established college town, there were still plenty of working-class folks all around the area. The folks who lived locally, and didn't attend the college or work there as professors were the 'townies.' They dominated the large bar. They were rough, tattooed, gritty, and had more than their share of grease under their fingernails. Probably from all of the Volvos they fixed. We girls learned, (for the manager tended to hire only girls, and the majority of us had brown hair and long legs), that if we needed a break from the frat boys and "ladies who lunched" groups, all we had to do was go into the townie bar, grab an order or two for nachos, and bring them back quickly with a smile. The townies were indeed the best tippers. And I promise you, I was not a mercenary waitress. They always had a kind word, a warm smile, and kept their hands to themselves. It was not an easy place to be a waitress. (Is any waitress job easy?) Their manners and chivalry made the shifts easier.

To contrast: the frat boys. Usually blond. Perfect teeth. Smug. Every Monday night was mug night, nickel drafts, but only if the patrons used a beer mug bought at an exorbitant price first. Cheap beer and college boys are a perfect storm of mess. One night, a dashing young man walked up to me and said something to the effect, "My dear girl, my companion has regurgitated his beer in his mug, pray tell, and would you be so kind as to grab it, and take it in the kitchen and wash it out?"

Insert response here: "Go f83k yourself." (Here is the cool thing about having an ex-stripper for a boss: she really doesn't care if you tell some pendejo to GFY.)

There was never, ever an occasion when a townie spoke to me in that way, or treated me with anything short of utmost respect.

Now--why this anecdote about college boys who can't hold their liquor and working-class Joe's?

Well, I'm not sure exactly. I do know that I really showed my rear to a friend last night. I know this friend well, and know his personality, as he does mine. He just pissed me off over something stupid. And the story of the townie bar popped in my head at 4:30 am when I was thinking about it.

The thing is, virtual games that involve any sort of resource (the ultimate being time, because you never get that back), are just as deeply complex as life itself. I have friends in WoW who have made me the best gear, using their time and resources freely. I have friends in WoW who have showered me with flasks and flowers, just because they wanted to make sure I was okay. There are those who helped me with a pay-it-forward gesture, or showed me their choice mining routes, or the best place to spend an hour picking up loose change from ghouls. And. lest we forget, my guildmate who left me a treasure trove of in-game goodies, including Vial of the Sands. (I still feel like a favorite uncle died--rather have the friend than the material things.) My priorities may not be my friend's, or friends.' I try to make sure things stay balanced and fair in all my friendships, and although the interactions may be in a virtual world, the human emotions are very real. My priorities are this: help each other out, make them fun stuff if I can, use my skills to help everyone have fun, and if I don't need something, don't take it. If a player is trying to gear up or increase professional skills, help them. If they need fish, go fish.

Now. I am sorry I was an ass. I know you know everything better than I do, and when you tell me "I'm a tailor" because apparently the orbs are wasted on this profession, I get it now. When you tell me "In 4.3 orbs will be trade-able," I REALLY get it, because although I am looking forward to this, I also know they will be less valuable. My frustration has been really with that stupid tank --*she* is not feeling very brave about pick up groups lately. All *she* sees is a room full of fraternity boys who have barf in their mugs, and no tip at the end.  Again, I am sorry. That was a whole lot of baggage for one poor little dungeon run, and a strange way of telling you I miss you.


So, a toast to the working man. "To all of the Knights of the Townie Bar, I raise a glass to you, and drink to your long good health. May your waitress always give you warm smiles, and your nachos be hot."

The next round is on me.

Postscript: For those of you who are worried about the fate of the barfed-in mug, have no fear. Another waitress hopped right over and cleaned it out. This same waitress cheated with my then-boyfriend, who himself, was the ultimate pendejo.

Postscript #2:
Theme song: Len/Steal My Sunshine

Postscript #3: thank you for the letter.

Good company.

Okay, here is some useful information: http://rhida.ch/2011/10/24/blizzcon-prot-paladin-recap/

Curb your consecration.

Daenys the Warrior on Bourbon Street

I don't like being the 'dumb one' sometimes. I really like knowing things, actually, or being growth-minded enough to look for answers. Occasionally, perhaps, I simply take advice without any research, and I need to find out for myself.

I was told by two respected paladins to stop using consecrate. The diminishing returns for its effectiveness do not outweigh its cost/benefit analysis of mana and damage. I moved it far, far away on the action bar, and have been focusing on other damaging tanking attributes.

Last evening, guildmate organized a few Zul runs. They went, well...okay. I still have a lot to learn, but my healer buddy said I did great, but still need some practice on J'in Do. (I had trouble keeping him just outside the bubble as I knew I was supposed to: how he kept getting in I am not sure. Think another player left a key under the mat. Blaming the mage on this one.) Guildmate very politely, (hard to read tone in party chat), says, "Um, Maty, I hate to [tell you what to do] but you really don't use consecrate enough." The response I give him is what the other paladins told me, (both long-standing members of the guild, trying to gain respect from him I guess), and his shocked reply was incredulous.

Azeroth is as dynamic as any environment. Change is constant. Keeping up with spell and skill changes is a challenge. Am I always going to be the last to know? Wonder when I'll get my geek on and say in Comic Book Guy voice, "Well, for your information, there were patch notes which you OBVIOUSLY didn't read, and you would have KNOWN about the .39% decrease in spell damage...."

To the collective WoW universe: I am putting the call out: whatever you know about using consecrate as a Protection Paladin would be most appreciated. I may be stepping in a pile of 'walked dog' on this one, but I would like your thoughts.

Going to this site for a dork like me is kind of like asking Uther himself for advice:
http://sacredduty.net/

Maybe I just better start here: http://www.wowwiki.com/Paladin_PvE_guide

That's just like, your opinion man.

 Someone's Original Artwork for Which I Cannot Find the Reference

Haven't been playing Luperci much lately. Was kind of saving myself for tonight: a guildmate scheduled painless Zul runs, because still being in PUGs with those can hurt. Besides, I need loot redemption for those damned plate shoulders I passed on last time by mistake. (*Bangs head on desk, doesn't see red Swingline stapler and it leaves a mark.*)

GM basically implied the other day I am too nice to tank. He is not. 

I am not sure the superlative 'nicest tank ever' applies to me, but perhaps lack of confidence does. So, I'll get back in there, and do my best. And try to get those shoulders: stronger ones might help me hold up those standing on them better.

Postscript: Situation: Cranky dwarf with a chip on his shoulder over his brewing techniques feels slighted. Luperci goes in there everyday to have a chat. Does fine. No one has ever died. Until this morning. Druid dies immediately. Then everyone struggles - and the priest dies next. I barely hang on and have to use LOH on COREN DIREBREW.

I don't know. Beats the sh*t out of me.

Apparently, this is an opportunity for the healer to criticize my tanking skills. "Tank didn't have on righteous fury." (I did. Didn't I? Did the buff drop off the second I went in there? Second guessing and self-doubt: worse than bosses.) Crixa still has issues.

That's right nimrods and numbnuts: I saved the day. You're welcome.

 Oh well. My shield is going to start to reflect back to you players. I honestly do not care if a DPS dies. It happens. You pull the baddies to you, think you can take them all on, and then wonder why you...can't. There are some solid reasons why there are roles, delegated responsibilities. We don't care if our DPS is highest--we are your shoulders to stand on and rock. Needed a little redemption after this, and sure enough, did great. Coren got that chipped knocked off of him in no time flat, no muss, no fuss.

On the plus side, Matty did win the Swift Ram! 

Comes with cup holders.

Vanity, thy name is Luperci.

Once again, her paladin friend has the timing of a Swiss watch, and arrives on the scene to help her reforge correctly...but, isn't she lovely?

Rewarded.

Luperci picking out her boon from the blown-out side of a head.

Just like she wished, she finished getting through Zul'Gurub this evening, only one incident, but once the wise healer clued her in, all was well.

Warning: Zuls may cause boots inserted into fanny.*

I really, really wanted to work my way to that silly chest piece.

Last night, tried to tank a Zul with guildmates. Not too bad. But, I was tired, I mean like bone-tired and fatigued, and needed it to go fast. I see, before every wipe, (and there were a few), one guildmate typing strings of guildchat. And not just once. Many, many times. But, I don't know this guildmate that well, and wasn't in a frame of mind to ask him not to do that, but to focus on the fights. The healer was newer, too, and seems like a nice enough guy. The least this rogue could have done was perhaps, gee, dps for a bit? I bowed out, leveled up tailoring on my priest, and went to bed. No reason to make everyone feel the fatigue I was feeling, too.

Brand new day, and decide to try again with a PUG.

The rogue and shadow priest were doing about 6-9k on average, never breaking above that. We got through every boss until the last one. There were some stupid mob wipes, mostly people pulling aggro, but no matter. It happens. The rogue won the BoE ring, on a need roll, so hope he knows it is soulbound. We didn't wipe on any bosses, even though their dps was quite low. (Did I mention their dps was low?)

Healer is a little bossy. They are sometimes. But damn, I did impress myself with my skills as far as cooldowns, taunts, etc. I used Hand of Reckoning, and often, and except for the elemental shaman, I have the highest dps: granted, I didn't WANT to be the highest, but thought, how good it would be to keep everyone safe and happy.

And then the last boss.

So close to my 140 Valor Points.

If I got those points, and then perhaps ran one or two more Zuls today, I would be one week closer to that chest piece, instead of two.

But, running back, after one wipe (dps very low, healer got eaten, sigh) I stupidly, STUPIDLY, got one pixel too close to a baddie and was quickly killed.

You know what happened next.

Kicked.

Now, I realize, after I've calmed down a bit, that their frustration with me is just a case of Zul rage. I get it. And my own embarrassment and anger is due to:
1. I hate that Blizz forces us to go into that many Zuls for VP/week. I can see forcing one or even two, but to cap out heroics at 490 just seems cruel:
2. Which leads me to the fact that I just don't have the time to run that many Zuls on two characters. This is the "I am a grownup with a job, a job that pays for this silly game, am quite put out right now."
3. I think one should be immune to being kicked on a final boss. Period.
4. My friend told me that I should have chosen to kick someone earlier, that way I would have been immune -- so, in other words, become the thing I hate. Become the pendejo who kicks low dps players, become mean-spirited, callous, and smug. (Not in my nature. Not going to happen. Which is why I wouldn't have lasted one episode on 'Survivor.' I would have done that TV show just for the diet tips. Easy to lose weight when you can't crack open a coconut or spear fish.)

Which brings me full circle: I am the grown-up here.

I will not make those mistakes again, and will reflect on the things I did right, which were many. Those Zuls will become as easy for Luperci as they are now for Matty, I have no doubt.


As I dislodge the boot from my tail and put on ointment in the knife wounds in back, realizing I just need to shrug this one off. I still say running with guildmates who give a damn about me and my success would be better. Considering the four hours I ran with a guild tank the first time through, they owe me that much. No typing in guild chat. No kicking. The reward will be greater than having another guild tank on hand, at your beck and call. I'd give up my satchel of gumballs for that.


Not the first time I'll be kicked, I'm sure, nor the last. First kick stings the most, though.


*No, my NZ friend. Not that kind of fanny.

Fool for Zul

Five little guildmates, going to Zul

this one tripped on venom, started to drool

Four little guildmates, battling panthers black

nothing is as wonderful as getting kicked in the sack

Three little guildmates, taunting gods, all tiki

this one pulled more, things got kind of kinky

Two little guildmates, making a stand

healer goes off line, in panties must have gotten sand

One little guildmate, going native and solo

talking smack in guild-chat, thinking he's cholo

Finished the dungeon

and got all the loot

Should have long ago given tank the boot

Postscript: Desperately seeking cracker-jack team to help get my tanking skills polished for Zuls. 

I feel pretty...

To keep this little tank motivated, Lupe went window shopping, considering what her valor points would get her.

And I am going to say one of the dorkiest things I have ever said: She. Gets. To. Wear. A. Dress.

Maybe one reason I haven't played my beautiful hunter that much is because she is ever destined to wear the pants in the family. Huntresses never get to wear beautiful robes: they'd get all tangled up in weeds, briars, and restrict movement. And as much as I wish Haanta could wear ermine-lined coats  and riding togs of the richest, crimson velvet, alas, 'tis not meant to be. And I assumed, as with hunters, paladins could never wear robes either.

But...girls can.

Luperci is almost 900 valor points away from this most desired goal. She is sick and tired of being a tomboy. She is all girl, and wants this chest piece. But, unless she can get her tail in a Zul, this will be difficult indeed, and very time-weary. And if the Zuls go like one of her first, only, and recent attempts, Oh, mio Dio~~! Yikes. She will need a raid-ready healer, three amazing weapon masters, and a lot of patience from the group.

But, damn - just LOOK at her - ! How charming would it be to go into a dungeon with this beautiful girl on your arm?

Theme Song: I Enjoy Being A Girl

Drabble: Dazed and confused.

The sun’s rays stood strong for days facing the encroaching clouds, until this morning the fire surrounded to the water. In the Uldum heat, during this brief spell, Luperci continued her training. A twisty group of pygmies constantly shouted obscenities at them. Though she had a salty tongue herself on occasion, she knew the best way to communicate with them was with her sword and shield. Those they understood. Luperci sliced the air with her shield, a gift from her sister, imbued with her sister’s love and protection. She watched in disbelief has the shield missed targets, the clang echoed.

Postscript: I thought I was doing something wrong. And perhaps I am. Guarf asked me how I liked the new changes, but honestly, I am confused still. Too much of a rookie tank to understand the mechanics of this new role. But I have witnessed my shield "missing" again and again, flying off like a stoner's Frisbee at a dog park.

Maybe this will explain it: http://sacredduty.net/2011/08/22/the-threat-a-clysm-what-to-do-with-hit-and-expertise/

Weapons A-Go-Go

Lupe has all kinds of great new weapon recipes. You got the truegold money, honey, I got the orbs.

Por favor, no tire de mí agro

I am an intuitive learner, not a logical one. I sense something, and then gather evidence to support or disprove my theories. I go on hunches, and ask questions. Sometimes this makes me seem really stupid, and other times I can come off like an idiot savant.

So, took rookie tank for a few runs this morning. (Am planning another post about Matty's bad mojo night last night, where the tank was practically cooing over the new threat changes. So much so, in fact, their giddiness challenged the DK to 'unleash' and he did 25k fairly frequently. More on that later.) Little Miss Smarty-Tank still has a lot to learn. We know this. I admit it, freely. Action bars, and understanding cool-downs, taunting, hammers, nails, screwdrivers, and how not to cut off her fingers on the table saw, are all safety tips she needs to learn. In any case, ran with a guildmate, and asked another buddy to go. There was a DK, mage, and something else. Not a druid or hunter - but don't remember. In any case, DK made it very difficult for me to gather aggro/threat. In fact, they all did. We were in Vortex Pinnacle, at one of the spots where there are more than a few trash mobs. Could not, NOT get one of the damn things out of the triangle. The player was very polite, but perhaps a bit passive/aggressive when I had asked, and kept asking, not to pull aggro from me. (He spoke Spanish, by the way, and I nicely told him that those language issues were not a problem for me. Gracias. [so--how do you say, "Stop pulling aggro from me, please?"]*

And the thing is, one stupid mob pull I have done quite well on Noobalicious Tank Girl in the past resulted in a wipe. I wonder if the players will reflect on their actions, that tanks, even with--is it increased threat? No threat? I AM SO CONFUSED - changes in threat, still need to follow the tank's lead? We are still designed to take a licking and keep on ticking, aren't we?

Anyway, would someone, for the love of Theck, explain this to me?
Sacred Duty: Threat Was Good

And Bubble's has her opinion, too: http://forthebubbles.wordpress.com/2011/08/16/a-sometimes-tanks-opinion-on-threat-changes/

So, here are my intuitive thoughts:

Tanks should:

• Keep the bad things close to them and in a good position so DPS doesn't get hurt and can kill them fast
• Make sure the healer has mana, and is safe, too
• If a bad thing gets loose, get it back fast, like an underage Mclovin trying to get into a strip joint- bounce it back
• Let the group know which bad thing to kill first, or spells, or whatever
• Go fast, but don't leave good elves behind

As ignorant and noobtastic as this post is, I will graciously ask you all to cut me a break. If you knew what I was thinking about at 4:30am this morning I would have your love and support. But love only goes so far: if any of you want to respectfully explain to me anything you think you should, please. I need to pass this class.

PS For the most part, guildmates and strangers in PUGs alike have all been very encouraging and complimentary. So far, no kicks, nice feedback, and good manners. This is a social game, and usually I am just as sweet as I can be. If you're looking for a pendejo tank, you won't find it with me.

Got threat? Apparently, yes!

Does this mean you don't have to ask hunters to turn off growl anymore?

http://wow.joystiq.com/2011/08/17/wow-threat-tanking/

I am psychic: http://wowsugar.blogspot.com/2011/07/got-threat.html

Drabble: In time

Restless and shifting, showing only one brave face, Lupe watched the moon. She scratched an itch behind her left horn, tangling her thick, black hair. Twitchy muscles under leggings. The plate armor scratched against the tower stones, abrasive. She wanted to be in silk; all she had was metal and mesh. She wanted to throw light and warmth; she could only crunch and pound. The hardened tapestry of her path, and the needle’s line of stitches sewed her destiny in place. She longed to rip out the seam and be something else, if one night. Have him see another side.

Lost.

Dearest Luperci--
Guarf has kept me apprised of your many successes of late -- that is so wonderful! He also told me you two ate the last of my s'morcs that I was saving for a friend, but no matter. The evening wasn't harmed by a lack of sticky chocolate. Missing snacks are a trifle: I have more disturbing concerns, and am hoping for your help. If you see my dear Night Elf priest friend, please tell him to come out of the shadows and let me know he's all right. I broke down in tears tonight while getting an enchant on my bracers, because it wasn't him or his druid brother doing the enchanting. I convinced my comrade I was crying over the price of maelstrom crystals and volatile air, but don't think he believed me.

Also, I may be sniffly because I went for a midnight run through Zul'Aman. I'm allergic to troll dander, I think. During an ill-fated dungeon expedition, a blackguard paladin made me so furious, I left abruptly and angrily, but determined to save face in the future. So, I set my horns on tight, and marched back through there, hexing sticks in pocket, ready to scout my way around. And although it is a very dangerous place, Zul'Aman, there is something about it that bewitches me. It was a beautiful night tonight. The air was warm and balmy, the stars kissed the field flowers, and it all smelled of lavender and Queen Anne's lace. So, B'oso (my baby bear--named for brown sugar and oatmeal) and I went through, stopping only when we saw that some trolls had been reborn to their posts. And although I had a pocketful of lucky charms,  I wasn't fortunate to get Mojo, the kissable frog, but did find an enchanted scroll for you to use in your dungeons (enclosed).

I did this not only for myself, Lupe, but for you--you are growing into a wonderful protector, and knowing your way around is so critical to making those in your party feel safe and secure. I wish all paladins felt as you do--caring, strong, and protective. Alas, they do not. They allow for immaturity and disrespect like fighting, spoiled children.

Well, I must go to sleep--I am stopping in the cathedral to light a prayer candle on my way to the Dwarven District. Or I may just go sleep in a tent somewhere - the flowers and weeds are sometimes more comfortable than those scratchy rugs...and the crickets will sing me to sleep. Drunken dwarfs, although charming, do not soothe like cricket song.

Love,
M

Not linear. Curvature. Quadratic. Skid Rows.

Firestarter.

Much of our lives, and perhaps this is only a first-world issue, is spent cleaning up clutter. I have been wrangling with stacks of papers from work, for home, for others, myself, my creative life, and virtual life. There are to-do lists, calendars, agendas, and, quite frankly--some very aggressive sticky notes.

It is not a good sign when I have a touch of insomnia because these volatile sticky notes are stuck in my head. I know the only cure for this is to roll up sleeves, and wade through, being ruthless in my judgement of each scrap's worth.

Was catching up with a mentor/friend yesterday, long overdue. She and I feel the same way about current professional issues, and both are having a "I don't wanna" response. But the summer's light still shines, and as far as I know Starbucks is open now.

So, three things:

1. Cougar Club:
My guild's raiding team has been trying to put out the fires in Firelands. I haven't been on those raids of late, and neither have a few other guild members. I had a productive chat with my guildmaster the other evening. For some reason, there has been an attraction of 30+ women to our guild. I sense virtual saucy wenches, but I and a comrade have dubbed them the Cougar Club. Am I a charter member? Eek. Never saw myself as that. In any case, the word on the street was that a few of us wanted to raid, but had been feeling intimidated, left out, etc. Wise guildmaster scheduled a Tier11 raid, so we could get our hooves wet. I imagine the Saturday Night Live skit, Cougar Den.

2. Sparked:
Came across this blog: http://judging-chasey.blogspot.com/2011/07/fireland-raid-guide-and-videos.html
What sparked me to talk to the guildmaster was a comrade relaying that although they did pretty well during one Firelands' raid, but not great (I am paraphrasing), at least his rep went up. I think I said something to the effect, "That's twisted all sideways and defying gravity in a sexy way." I am all about access to fun, rep, loot, etc. So we shall see.

3. Vanish:
I may just say "twist it all sideways and defy gravity in a sexy way," and do something completely different. Move realms. Leave no forwarding address. And light a match to this pile of work.

In the meantime: Luperci/tanking is a blast. She tipped the scales for her reputation with the good Guardians of Mt. Hyjal, and was awarded with this very ugly belt:

Luperci keeps her lip gloss in this fanny pack.

Off to Starbucks. And find a pack of matches.