I'm an avid player of the game World of Warcraft. I'm not a very sociable person, learned at an early age that I had little patience with self-made drama queens. So I play WoW, have since the open beta. I'm not the best at it, but I'm getting better.
Mostly I play on the horde side - moved one of my idle toons there just today. She's an undead warlock - which reminds me of Ozzy and the Blizzcon. Really enjoyed that, probably almost as much as I would have enjoyed in person. Zak says he'll go with me next time.. so I'm going to have to save up for that.
Meanwhile, my main, who started out to be my alt, has been 80 for a month, and there's still so much to do. Compared to other games, where you play a while and beat the game, this one never runs out of options - and if you think it has, you can start over, in a different toon, change factions, become something you weren't before. It doesn't grow stale.
So basically, I pay for an internet connection, which I'd have anyway, and about $13 a month. That's for hours of fun, and no other costs. I talk to real people in here and it's no problem, and I don't have to worry about going out, getting overtired or spending too much on entertainment.
Call me an addict, but it's sure cheaper than weekly bowling, Friday nights at Courtside or anything else along those lines. So, for anyone who has issues with my gaming... phhhbbbt!
A little hodge-podge of this and that. The cobwebs of an old gal's mind. Why Maggie O'Guin? The ancestor I most identified with and whose birthday I share, my great grandmother, and one I wish I'd had the opportunity to know. Topics will range from profound to silly, from serious to whatever.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Fairy Tales Can Come True
So fairy tales can come true, kinda, sorta. Hadda share this one with my co-workers.
Nope, I didn't check for bruises.. but I did get some major guffaws sharing this with my friends.
I don't sleep well, not uncommon as we get older. So Saturday night, I turned in kinda early, about 0230. Woke up at 730 am in major pain, felt like I'd wrenched my back really bad. Got up, did the old woman thing... puttered around, went to the bathroom, wandered into the kitchen and watered the plants, got some water for myself, and finally worked out enough kinks I thought I could sleep again.
Pulled back the blanket, and there in the dark, right in the middle of my bed - where I sleep, was a teeny tiny, white pea-sized rock. /snicker
Yep, I'm da princess. I set the rock on the dresser nearby and curled up into the bed and slept just fine after that, no aches or pains when I woke.
Monday, September 28, 2009
A Toddler's Fear
I've always been fascinated by words, by the way our lives revolve around the ability to use and redefine the words that we live in, through, and by. Our earliest memories are often pre-verbal. How then do we store them? Is it by the emotions, the feelings they evoke? Are those memories accurate? What about the earliest dreams we recall?
There is a recurring nightmare I had, from as far back as I could remember. It made no sense to me for many years. I was with my father, in a car. We were on a trip, and ate at a drive-in. This was in the mid-1950s, when I was about 2 years or so. I know it is based in reality, because family spoke of Dad taking me, in my words, 'on a pica-nic in 'tucky' - yes, Kentucky. The dream was nice at first, root beer, hot dogs, but then it changed, and there was a small grey stone building - a roadhouse of some sort? - and a man angry at Dad, and words exchanged. Some were about him bringing me. The dream deteriorated into a sort of pirate-y sword duel and I always woke screaming cause Dad killed the angry man.
I was still having this dream when I was 18-19. It wasn't until I was in my mid-twenties that I learned more of this. I learned mom left dad, she took me and my 1/2 sis to her mom in Kentucky. She left us there and went to Indiana where her brother and his family lived, and took a job at a drugstore soda fountain.
Dad was never one to lose an argument. He took his first weekend free and drove to Gramma's. There he took me, leaving my sister with her father's mother and in school, and told Gran that he'd 'work it out' with Mom. Well, that he did, sort of. He took me back to his place, shared with his sister and her husband and daughter, and told Mom, "You'll get your butt back here if you ever want to see your daughter." She did... after several months.
But.. what I wonder.. is just how much of that drive was real, that I dreamed of, and semi-recalled.. and how much of it was exaggerated by my fear of Dad's anger. He was always an angry man.. and I was a timid thing back then. How much can a child truly recall?
Mom says I used to pick cacti from her flower pots and bring them to her when they bloomed. I can almost remember that, but then, is it merely the power of suggestion? I was barely 1-2 then. And yet, I had a clear and distinct fear of touching electrical outlets for as long as I remembered which continues to this day - and she did tell of me putting a fork in an outlet.
If these memories are only fantasies, or dreams, or nightmares, but they have a real affect on the rememberer, are they as valid as the 'truer' memories that others had?
There is a recurring nightmare I had, from as far back as I could remember. It made no sense to me for many years. I was with my father, in a car. We were on a trip, and ate at a drive-in. This was in the mid-1950s, when I was about 2 years or so. I know it is based in reality, because family spoke of Dad taking me, in my words, 'on a pica-nic in 'tucky' - yes, Kentucky. The dream was nice at first, root beer, hot dogs, but then it changed, and there was a small grey stone building - a roadhouse of some sort? - and a man angry at Dad, and words exchanged. Some were about him bringing me. The dream deteriorated into a sort of pirate-y sword duel and I always woke screaming cause Dad killed the angry man.
I was still having this dream when I was 18-19. It wasn't until I was in my mid-twenties that I learned more of this. I learned mom left dad, she took me and my 1/2 sis to her mom in Kentucky. She left us there and went to Indiana where her brother and his family lived, and took a job at a drugstore soda fountain.
Dad was never one to lose an argument. He took his first weekend free and drove to Gramma's. There he took me, leaving my sister with her father's mother and in school, and told Gran that he'd 'work it out' with Mom. Well, that he did, sort of. He took me back to his place, shared with his sister and her husband and daughter, and told Mom, "You'll get your butt back here if you ever want to see your daughter." She did... after several months.
But.. what I wonder.. is just how much of that drive was real, that I dreamed of, and semi-recalled.. and how much of it was exaggerated by my fear of Dad's anger. He was always an angry man.. and I was a timid thing back then. How much can a child truly recall?
Mom says I used to pick cacti from her flower pots and bring them to her when they bloomed. I can almost remember that, but then, is it merely the power of suggestion? I was barely 1-2 then. And yet, I had a clear and distinct fear of touching electrical outlets for as long as I remembered which continues to this day - and she did tell of me putting a fork in an outlet.
If these memories are only fantasies, or dreams, or nightmares, but they have a real affect on the rememberer, are they as valid as the 'truer' memories that others had?
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