RTMT on a Wednesday: You keep using that word….

…I do not think you know what it means.

The word? Elitism.

Recent events have made me think about the connotations of this word. The denotation, belonging to a select group, conjures up synonyms such as 'snobbery,' and deserving of entitlement or reward without merit. This word gets tossed around in a pejorative fashion to "put down" or shame those who are expressing an opinion or perspective, and often feels lonely unless it has its friend "snob" right next to it.

But snobbery means exclusion, and I find it paradoxical when the label snob is applied to those who are striving to be inclusive and fair.

But maybe there is no 'fair' and never will be.

And let me clarify: when I say recent events I mean many in and out of Azeroth.

Being elite in terms of talent (see above) means one has crafted a mastery of some skill, trade, or profession. It does give one the right to be proud of those accomplishments, however, it does not give one the right to:
*Use knowledge as a bludgeon
*Stop learning and growing: the true "elitists" I know (and I am speaking of those both in and out of Azeroth) are constantly reflecting and reexamining their practice. This does not mean they forget all worthy knowledge, but build on it. I remember several years ago a friend had a sick little boy, and took him to the doctor. The young doctor had no clue what was wrong, but the older pediatrician knew immediately it was measles. Because vaccines had eradicated much of this, the younger or less experienced doctor wasn't familiar with this once-common childhood illness. This young doctor may have been feeling pretty confident about things, but realized he could still learn a thing or two.  This is my belief: those who are elite with talent stay that way because they continue to do the hard work. Is this special snowflake-ism to an extreme? Perhaps. But I sure would hate to be the one to tell a child they might as well give up right now because anything they do someone will do better. Might as well stop right now.

Whenever I encounter someone who's insecure, they seem to talk the loudest. I heard it on Vent last night. I read it on Facebook this morning. And in my own day, if I fall to cussing/swearing it is out of sheer frustration and defeat, and yes, insecurity. I try the path of tranquility and enlightenment, and yet sometimes careen into the muck. I had a colleague cracking up yesterday morning in a meeting when I said, "I am the Princess of Darkness and Shadow. Deal with it." I decided to pretty much write off the month of November every year. Blizzcon sunshine aside, November kind of blows.

I misspoke in Vent yesterday saying something about a country in Africa and I know Africa is a continent. I then basically was told my profession (and those in it) is stupid and dumb and dumb and stupid. I paraphrase, of course. But it did strike a nerve, because some of the things and issues I articulate and try to handle in a professional way are met with immature, ignorant folks. Does that make me an elitist? If you're using that word to put me down, go right ahead. But I have done the homework, training, and damn hard work. Stop using that word to try to hurt me. Instead, be proud of your own accomplishments, and be proud of your own dreams and aspirations. That's only fair.

Now, enough of that. Here is a picture of a stingray photo-bombing some ladies:

PS Because of my "elitist" attitude, if I choose the path of "life is too short" and decide to not read one's Facebook blatherings or rabble-rousing mob-mentality silliness, then so be it. Princess of D&S OUT.

RTMT: Never tell me the odds, kid.

Things could be worse. Could be this squirrel.

Today's Random Tuesday Morning Thought is sponsored by Random Number Generator: "when you absolutely, positively have to have it: we won't let you. ™" 

Driving young cub to school yesterday morning, he bravely, but resoundingly, told me my chances of getting the Horseman's mount were slim to none. It involves real math. This conversation inspired him to consider taking Statistics, which I strongly encouraged because who knows what I might have become if a young Matty had taken stats and physics instead of art and, well, art? I could have been somebody: I could have been a contender. Or at least earned a comparable salary to my years of degrees. ANYWAY.

Sorry. 

Okay. Back to math. (And why does British English call it 'maths?') Turns out, there is a big difference between decimals and percentages. Consider the only source of drop-rates I could find was from 2008, which provides a .5%. Now, if it were simply .5, that would be pretty damn good, because it would be 50%.  But it doesn't say that, it says this:

I do not feel confident this early to share my math noob-ness. I used to be pretty damn good at it, until I got a gin-drinking Algebra teacher in 7th grade who reflected upon his life behind a newspaper while I sat bewildered. Hope he got it all worked out. But I can't blame him - but I can blame the RNGs. For "fun," (I really need to work on my definition of "fun") I have been keeping this chart of my horseman runs:

So far I've gotten 3,456 candies, three troll masks, one Horseman helm (on my druid, ROCK ON MOMO!), a few sinister swords, and a few razor blades in the apples. To date, this is 77 times. By calculations, I should have gotten the horse 38.5 times. But alas, no: 3.85 times. But where is my pony? No where. Ponies don't do math. Nothing to lose a head over, I suppose. Godmother has done a lovely job discussing rewards, and has thoroughly analyzed everything Azeroth. I can't even get my calculator to work right or remember third grade math.
Here: let's look at some pretty Draenei:

It's okay, chicas. I won't give up on you. You'll get your pony.

RTMT: Long Way To Go and Day 28: Corridor

#wowscreenshotaday

Stay the course, Dornaa...

I woke up this morning still tumbling a negative thought in my head, of whether or not to confront someone about a 'thing.' The reason this person did this thing, (and this is the second time), is because they don't know me. They made an assumption. Now I'm old enough to have been around this block once or twice: do people change? Or, by being honest with "how you made me feel" trope can you make them see your point of view? /shrug I don't know. I was thinking if it happens three times then I'll say something, but that is officially going into festering territory. What I do know about people are the things that are important to them do not translate into what's important to us. The problem is when I confront someone emotionally I tend to tear up. I can't do this, namely because this person tends toward bully territory, and will misconstrue tears as weakness, not anger. (Yes, this person is a female: gender makes no difference when it comes to bully acuity.)

Maybe I'll keep this image that Cynwise posted today, and just set the whole thing on mental fire:

Cynwise: On Golden Lotus Dailies

Time to toughen up. Know I am strong. Show I mean business. And I do. I've been down this road before.

RTMT: Two out of three ain't bad

going around in fairy circles...

I always have mixed feelings on Tuesday mornings when I have: 1. time to play 2. nothing to play 3. other things to do 4. realize I don't really have time to play but what does it matter anyway the servers are down.

So what's a girl to do? Wander around the Internet, of course. Not sure how I missed my artistic hero Neil Gaiman's graduation speech from last year, because it almost snuck past me. I suppose I assumed he was telling the young, hopeful graduates to follow their dreams and don't do it for the money. I was basically correct. His drum-beat message: "make good art."

But the best advice starts around the 13:00 mark when he talks about how one keeps working, not just getting the work in the first place: 1. You're a pleasure to work with; 2. The work is good; 3. It's delivered on time. He suggests you just need two out of the three, and he is right. It's true in our creative life in Azeroth, too. If you are a pleasure to be with, your play style is good, you'll find a place on a raid team, or others will seek you out. If you're a grumpy ass, but you are good, you'll still keep your spot. Alternatively, if you're on time, and nice, well you get the idea.

This makes me think about those of us who wring ourselves out from trying to do all three, all the time. We try to keep our relationships bright, our work lives enjoyable, our families and friends entertained and delighted. If we are expected to be the caregivers, the nurturers; however, the instant the spotlight shifts from others to ourselves it becomes instead a search light, and we are in need of rescue.

It is a supreme act of selfishness to create art.

I always think about the first Mrs. Neil Gaiman, the one who gave him children, presumed security while he persued his craft, not the second, more artsy Mrs. Neil Gaiman, the one with the ukelele. But it's none of my business. I just hope she got to make art, too.

It's a week till 5.4 comes out, and there are some exciting things in the works. But like most things, it will probably have two out of three things that are awesome. In the meantime, going to go make some art.

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.

RTMT: AOE, PVP, BYOB: Understand?

These are a Blood Elf and Human Warlock in disguise as hedonistic British women.

Dealing with communication or lack thereof is my area of expertise. And, yes, in some ways I have capped out on expertise +22 agility with a proc ratio of 3:2. What? What the hell am I talking about? Well, nonsense really, but for my WoW compadres, most of you know I am using the jargon of Azeroth. I heard this story the other day, and thought it was intriguing: In a Fragmented Universe, Can Pop References Still Pop? The thesis is that because of our increased media feedings and offerings, we don't always get cultural/pop references like we used to. And, it made me feel better, too, because I don't and catch watch every new show out there, and some I just flat-out refuse, like Bad Girls Club or The Jersey Shore. But even though I've never seen them, I know of them, and sure as hell know what a "Snookie" is or South Park's reference to her (which was disturbing). I know there has been a small amount of snobbery in myself when I get references in Absolutely Fabulous or the IT Crowd. Playing WoW, and becoming a "better"* player, was largely in fact that over these few years of playing I have had to speak the language and become more fluent in Azerothian.

This is a gnome engineer, a human mage, and a night elf rogue in disguise.

Think about how many times you've heard from a more seasoned player about "back in Vanilla," etc., those who remember how raids, loot, dailies, etc. were, and remember the hit caps from five tiers ago. I am not nearly that fluent, and sometimes put both my fingers in my ears and do a "lalallalalalalaICANTHEARYOU" motion, but some of the facts and figures, and cultural references are fascinating.

Maybe that's how a guild also survives or not, not just the leadership, but when you feel like others "get" you? Just being understood is sometimes what love means. 'Nuff said.


* "Better" is qualitative, because I'm still kind of dork.

RTMT: Gearhead

Baby, you're much too fast...

I can honestly say that of all the big and little sins, "coveting thy neighbor's wife' (in a manner of speaking) is not one of them. I don't covet a lot of things. Even when things were very rough and dark in the Matty-shack, if I ever thought of my friends' successes, I did not envy them. Sure, I am only human, and wish that whatever was going on wasn't, but I didn't want my friends not to have success. Life is a constant battle between preparation and chance. Expect the best, prepare for the worst, and that glass needs washing, forget the amount of liquid.

But--damn. Look at that Corvette. It is sassy. This is what Queen Azshara would drive as she's leaving you a broken man the next morning, not even giving you a backwards glance. This is what Lady Sylvannas would receive as an apology from Arthas, and she would drive it over a cliff. This is the car that Jaina donated to the poor orphans of Stormwind, but King Wyrnn secretly repo'd and placed back in the royal garage. (Anduin and a couple of buddies took it out for a joyride, and it didn't end well.)

I am not a fan of Corvettes other than this particular model/year, whatever it is. I have no idea. I am an ignorant gear head, meaning, I love the way gear looks, but cannot tout the year, make or model of many beautiful things. I have player friends who say, "Oh, that drops from Whoozybutt in Watzerdoodle, Tier 5 token for your Blahblahblah." I am not Marisa Tomei in the courtroom scene from My Cousin Vinnie. But I do know that I would look damn cute in that car, cause red is my color, baby.

So, to that end, I may never, ever get my butt in the seat of a car like that. Not while I'm young anyway. Forget the "when I'm old I'll wear purple" crap. I want to wear a red Corvette. In the meantime, I can wear funky purple shoulders,
a pretty parrot and a big, fat, rat:

Sometimes it pays to PUG.

The parrot? Did I sell it? Nah. On the advice of council, decided to stash the goods and not fence them. In too much hot water already, over something about hot wiring something or another.

Theme Song: Viva Las Vegas/Dead Kennedys rendition

RTMT: Dirt Nap.

That is one helluva litter box.

Oh, archeology and pursuit of knowledge. And pets. How you vex me. Picked up my ax and shovel last night, as well as my surveyor's stand, and tried to see what else I could find. I'm five epic items from my Professor title, and I just keep digging up junk. Well, junk according to the academic circles in Azeroth--I find some of these items enchanting, and more meaningful as they belonged to the common folk than the artifacts of kings and generals.

And while the servers are down, I'll remind myself that I have plenty of other things to do, like write about what other players/bloggers have had me star-struck,  or nicest things in game, and I want to write Navi something, and there are a few more road trips planned, and oh yeah...the weeds. The healthy, thriving weeds out there.

But nothing else is as important as training my dog to fetch me another cup of coffee.

Why are there sand kittens?

And, what is Brother Anton's story?

RTMT, II: Brain Freeze!

Like the woolly-weather of Western Washington, many bloggers have been lamenting over tiny, little things that stick like poisonous thorns in play, that shunt out our fun, and put a wet blanket over our squeely-joy. I can tell you all on good authority it is nothing personal. The RNGs are not in as much control as one would hope. One tentacle doesn't know what the other seven are doing, in other words.

Take for example Falling Leaves and Wing's post on Ice Chip. It's a tiny thing, but these tiny things add up to momental obstacles, the water-torture of insanity.

Another example is a conversation I had yesterday with my real-life gang of dwarfs, rogues, mages, warlocks, and druids. I was lamenting the silliness of Draenei not being allowed to be rogues, the rationale being their hooves would make it impossible for them to sneak up on anyone. A stalwart cross-dressing mage stated that he found the whole thing ridiculous, because game designers first and foremost need to be asking "What is fun?" and NOT - repeat NOOOOOOOOOTTTT "What can I make the player do?" 

Believe me - there are game designers whose first words out of their mouths are "I'm going to make the player do..." and those jokers are the ones who are killing your fun. Period. Yes, they exist. Yes, they are limited by lack of vision, imagination, and have engineered their own realms of control and power. Poop heads.

There was apparently one person, with the initials CM, who decided he didn't want Draenei to be rogues, that was that. But I say, "Ah-ha, Sir CM!! I have you! Look what my imaginary creative powers of play can accomplish! I will create a pretend buff, a horse-shoe engineered by goblins and gnomes, that soften the steps of clumsy hooven rogues, so that they too may share in the glory of roguish romping! Hey, Tauren, too, if you like, can go all cloak-and-daggers, if they want!

I have had a healthy debate about my wish of Draenei to also be warlocks. Why should Orcs have all the fun of using their evil powers for good on their teams? Whatever.

Time to open it up a bit, Blizz. Just a tad.

But no matter--we must play. If you don't believe me, watch the TED-Talk by Stuart Brown on play. 

And...the science of brain freezes: http://www.npr.org/2012/07/03/156155297/when-ice-cream-attacks-the-mystery-of-brain-freeze

Oh, and I just like this:

RTMT: Peely-Wally Cloud Burn

Narratives that begin with weather, to me, hold promise or potential ennui. This may be one of those moments, only because the weather in my little glen is very typical for this time of year. For those of you who live in the rest of the big world, your experiences with weather are very different from mine. Take heart, I do have empathy and experience: I have lived in (no particular order) Texas, Georgia, Illinois, New Mexico, Connecticut, Pennsylvania, California, Arkansas (as a very tiny girl), and Colorado, and even overseas. I don't want to type where I lived overseas because it may get me pulled over by the TSA in some odd twist. I know humidity, big thunderstorms, tornado warnings, sweltering summer nights that are indescribable, slow heat cookers in clay pots with water and vinegar flaying the meat off my bones. There is no sleep, no rest for the wicked in these areas. Here it seldom, rare as firefly on the other side of Rockies, generates enough heat to have thunderstorms big as Texas, or heat that makes one long for sprinklers and Otterpops (lime, naturally) in the front yard.

This is one of those mornings. It is 61 degrees Fahrenheit for the high, 46 low, winds from the south 8 mph, the summer leaves fritter on branches, seeming confused, or disappointed, like they planned for a picnic, made apple pie and fried chicken, and forgot to pack umbrellas. The summer leaves sit in the station wagon listening to AM talk radio and static-y country/western music.

Truth be known, I love the weather here. Yes, I have to supplement my diet with hefty amounts of Vitamin D, coffee, and I give the tanning salons many a second-glance when I pull out of the grocery store parking lots. I laugh at advertisements for bikinis and cocktail shakers, and all those "entertain your guests" Target fliers where beverages sweat in buckets of ice and someone went a little heavy on the chlorine in the pool. It just doesn't happen around these here parts, ya'll.

What do we do here in the North-Northwest, under a mountain's smug, condescending shrug? (Cuidado, Sir Rainier, see what happened to St. Helen? Nothing like a little Pacific ring of fire to bring a mountain down.)

We read.
We play video/computer games.
We buy a lot of blue tarp if we're the woodsy type.
Some of us attempt to write.

I could be working on bad plants. Bad, bad, evil plants. The blackberry vines have taken over like a bad scene out of Sleeping Beauty. Their roots and tendrils go deep underground for miles, so that when you pull one up, you're just as likely to be pulling it from Mulkiteo as you are from Seattle. It's best if I just left them alone for now, because gods know if I try to poison them, the salmon will suffer, and I don't want that.

In order to feel some heat out of the muffled, woolly days (summer weather usually begins jokingly but truthfully after July 4th), I also attempt to write, and make lists. Lists are like mental road maps. I will never get anywhere unless I know where I am going.

Today:
1. Shower. Not a long bubble bath. Shower. Check.
2. Read Facebook posts:

• Friend asked, for the good of the group, if Fifty Shades was worth reading, and most of the ladies said not unless you have something better to read. 
• My mom put this up:

3. Read blog posts:

Tome's

Eriny's - where the word "peely-wally" reference is employed

Navi's, naturally

Neri Approves has a poignant post today

4. This is someone I follow. Many of you will be very confused. I am. Read it, though: The Weed - it's interesting.

5. Need to finish The Death Knight story TODAY--stupid surgery and Azeroth. The deadline is July 7th.

6. Dancing Tree posted The Nicest Thing, and that question got me thinking...needs to be another post.

There may be another wolf, a third wolf. The runt of the litter that also needs care. I'll see if I can find it some Vitamin D and coffee, too.

Postscript: I have a reading list coming ya'll's way. Stay tuned.