Grumpy

(Warning: This is a WoW-related post. And something of a rant. If you are unfamiliar with WoW, you may not understand the entire rant. For that, I apologize.)

Ah, the raid instance known as Molten Core. Where all the big kids go to duke it out with extremely powerful monsters of flamey hurtiness in the name of "uber phat lewts." Where folks must go, time and time and time again, in order to get their "leet" armor for their class, going again and again and again on the off chance that they might maybe, just maybe, find that drop they were needing.

Over, and over, and over, and over...

The very thought of it made me cringe. Made me shudder. For a long, long time, I resisted every invitation. Especially since I much rather play my dwarven paladin IC over OOC, and most raids of Molten Core are by necessity OOC. And sitting at the computer for more than 6 hours straight staring at the screen and having to be completely OOC...?

Bleh.

I mean, in all honesty, I like Branny more than I like *me.* I'm stuck in my own skin 24/7 as it is - I like my WoW time being spent trying to look at the world through eyes not completely my own. It's more enjoyable. It's a nice escape.

Then someone said they were going to start an IC group to run through MC. A group which would be consisted of RPers - not hard-core raiders, but dedicated RPers who would merrily RP their way through the Core. And I got invited.

The idea was intriguing. RP and Raid? At first, I was hesitant, not wanting to go. I know myself - I am not much of a raider. The whole "lewt" thing isn't that important to me. Oh, not to say I don't drool a bit when I see someone dressed up in all matching high-end armor or anything. But, knowing the number of hours necessary to GET to the point where you can get all that, well, seems like an awful lot of work just for a few pixelated goodies. I'm not "leet," I don't need (or honestly deserve) stuff like that. There are no rewards for being IC - but that doesn't matter, I prefer being IC to "lewts" anyway.

Not to say I don't enjoy being OOC from time to time. I thoroughly enjoy running instances with Tatsurai and friends from their guild, Rising Nova, most of whom are usually OOC. There's nothing wrong with playing the game OOC. It's a lot faster when you run things OOC. You get people being silly and goofy and joking around, and it can be a lot of fun.

But RPing your way though an instance can also be a lot of fun. It's just labor-intensive. But was it possible to do for a large 40-man raid? This group seemed to think so. So, after much encouragement from various friends, I agreed to go. And went. Twice.

And griped through the entire thing. Twice.

There was little if any RPing. People weren't even bothering to try to be IC. There was just a lot of goofiness, and silliness, and general playfulness going on. Now had this been a raid with non-RPers, or light-RPers, I probably would have been fine. But this had been billed as an RP Raid. An IC Raid. Filled with stellar RPers, some of whom I've played with quite a bit over the last year or so. I know it's not easy to play IC when learning a new dungeon, but I thought that we'd at least try to stay somewhat IC. But that wasn't the case. And it left me feeling disappointed and betrayed.

I feel bad. I feel guilty. Friends want me there. They had fun there. They look forward to going back. Me? Every moment spent there OOC made me more and more irritable. I took no satisfaction in successfully taking down boss monsters. No sense of victory or pride. No sense of belonging, of being a contributing member. Only a growing sense dissatisfaction and disappointment. A growing sense of division and loss.

A sense of, once again, being left behind. And of knowing that, once again, it was no one else's fault but my own.

Still, even so, I just can't force myself to continue. I'm not having fun. It's just making me grumpy and irritable. Deb and Wes have had to listen to my griping about it for two weeks now.

It's time to face facts: I just don't belong.

Worried

Just chatted with my brother very briefly a bit ago. He logged in just to tell me that I should wait to call Mom later, because they were leaving. He said that our grandmother, who is 93 years old, was just hospitalized. Something about her calcium levels being low. He didn't have a whole lot of time to find out or give me details.

At the moment, I'm sitting here alone in my room. Worried. Very worried. And feeling guilty. I should be there.

I know all the arguments. I need to be my own person. There's nothing I would have been able to do anyway. All of that, I know. And is true. But I still feel guilty

I still feel bad.

I'm still worried.

Family has always been the most important thing to me. Always. Before friends, even before myself - though not always, as I do have a selfish side - but often, family was always first. Now, now I'm far away. I can't be there for them. I can't drop everything and just go. I'm too far away to just drive and be there, where I'm needed.

And it hurts.

Dust

Maybe sometimes it's better to have tried, and failed, than to have never tried at all. After all, you only learn from experience, and that means the occasional failure. And the occasional bit of pain. And then, they say, you move forward, and move on, past the pain and on to something new.

... but why is it that every time I try, I always end up wanting to jab a really sharp blade into my heart?

The Western way of thought is to continually move forward, never looking back. But I can't buy into that. Not completely. I always want to look back. I don't want to forget. Forgetting can make you complacent. The Asian way of thought is to go around and around, again and again, over and over, and ending up in the same place you started - but hopefully wiser within. But I don't feel any wiser, just more scarred.

I don't know what it is. Others look at their accomplishments, their successes. I look not at my successes, but at my failures. And there are so many failures.

I've always tried to shed my selfishness, and have always tried to strive for harmony with others. To help others, and make them happy. And yet it's all a lie, because I'm very selfish, inside myself where no one else can see. And there, inside myself, inside my heart, I feel no harmony. No happiness.

Only emptiness.

The lifeblood poured forth from the beast's wounded heart - yet it yielded only dust...

what a craptastic person I am

Ever feel like you're just not worth the pollution expelled by gaseous bovines? Ever feel as out-of-place as a shot of scotch at an AA meeting? Ever feel as useful as that bit of toilet paper stuck to some guy's shoe?

...yeah, that's about where I stand right about now.

I just don't belong,
I'm outta my place.
My meaning is empty,
I'm losing the race.

I forgot a friend's birthday last week. Almost forgot my mom's too. I'm such a self-absorbed fool sometimes.

I'm drifting away,
I'm falling apart.
There's no one to blame,
I'm empty at heart.

And I know I'm just getting left behind again. I always do. I should just stop playing. There's just too much, and I can't get it all done in time, I know I can't. I don't have the time, the energy, or the skill. I'm not good enough, I'm not qualified enough, I'm not ready enough. Just like always, I'll get a nice pat on the head and be sent away by the big kids to play with the babies in the corner. It's always the same. Every single time. Every single fing time.

It's no one's fault but my own. I don't blame anyone else. Just me. And sometimes, I wonder why I even try anymore.

I'm running on empty,
There's nothing much left.
Just waiting in shadows,
And dreaming of death.

Of course, it's never that easy. Never.