1876: Connecting Flight

Good morning from Dublin! Today has been a very long day. Technically it’s already “tomorrow” but I haven’t yet made it home from Boston (my connecting flight leaves in a couple of hours) so I thought I’d take the opportunity to scribble a quick post.

This PAX weekend has been pretty much everything I hoped it would be. I had a great time with my friends, I saw some cool stuff at the show and I picked up some fun swag.

Most importantly, we successfully carried a number of formerly Internet-only relationships into the offline realm. Doing this is always a nerve-wracking experience — regardless of whether said relationship is platonic, romantic or anything else — and so it’s always a pleasure when things come together and we all get along.

I actually wasn’t too worried this time around, though. Something brought us all together in the world of Final Fantasy XIV and the fact most of us have been together for nigh on two years now says something positive about us and what we mean to one another. There have been tough times, as with any relationship, and people have come and gone over time, but the people with whom I spent my weekend represent a core group that I have always very much enjoyed spending virtual time with — and it turns out I enjoy spending real time with, too. It’s just a pity we’re all so scattered.

“I’m glad everyone is exactly how they seem to be,” said one of our number last night, possibly slightly fuelled by a beer or two. “It means that everyone’s genuine. And that we’re all as fucked up as each other.”

That latter point is key, and not necessarily a bad thing. Almost without exception, we’ve all had Shit to Deal With to varying degrees over the years, and our adventures in Eorzea have provided not only some much-needed escape at times, but also an outlet through which we can talk about the things that have been bothering us with like-minded individuals.

And that is immeasurably valuable; in an age where it seems people are drifting further and further apart from one another for various reasons, it’s comforting to have a group that is pretty much always there for you. I know I’m grateful for these friends, and I’m sure they are too.

Now coffee is calling, closely followed by a connecting flight, a taxi ride back home and then almost straight back out (hopefully with time for a shower first!) to go and teach clarinet to kids. It’s all go, huh. I shall sleep well tonight, for sure.

1838: Friday Night

Not really sure what to write about today, to be perfectly honest. All in all, aside from the motivating weight loss I successfully achieved the other day, it’s been a fairly shitty week all round. I won’t bore you with the reasons, but suffice to say it’s been rubbish and crap throughout, and I’m glad that I now have a weekend to (hopefully) enjoy before a new week begins and hopefully continues somewhat better than the last.

Played a bit of Final Fantasy XIV earlier and had the pleasure of playing alongside some players I’ve got to know via Twitter recently. This is, I think, the first time I’ve really spent much time hanging out with people outside the “Free Company” I’ve been a member of since the beta version launched back in 2013, and it’s been pleasant.

It’s also been interesting how this little social circle has expanded quite quickly in the last couple of weeks. I initially met “Farah Maxwell” (character name, not real name) when I heard about the tragic passing of an FFXIV player, and participated in an emotional (virtual) beachside vigil to pay my respects to the fallen. We stayed in touch via Twitter after that, however — it was Twitter that made me aware of the event in the first place, since Farah had been tweeting about it — and I gradually started to get to know a few other members of this group, including one who runs an immensely entertaining (if you’re an FFXIV player, anyway) account highlighting the hilarious, bizarre and rude things some players put in the game’s “Party Finder” system, essentially a bulletin board allowing you to recruit members to help out with pretty much anything the game has to offer.

Coincidentally, one of the people I got to know through this group was someone I’d seen around during the game’s “Hunt” system, whereby large monsters occasionally spawn in various areas and large groups of players promptly dogpile them and kill them considerably quicker than I imagine the developers intended. Their character, one “Emi Katapow”, had caught my eye for one reason or another, though I forget exactly why now: perhaps it was their wearing of the yukata costume, which was once my character’s attire of choice; or perhaps it was the fact that in my brief encounter with them at the time, they seemed like a nice person. FFXIV’s community is, on the whole, pretty good — with a few exceptions — but pleasant people to be around still stand out somewhat.

It so happened that Farah and Emi were both online this evening, so I had the opportunity to play a little with them, accompanied by a number of Free Company-mates who came along for the ride. We tackled “Turn 7”, aka The Second Coil of Bahamut, Turn 2, and failed miserably to defeat it, but we had some fun regardless; even with the lowered difficulty of this encounter, it can still be a challenge to make it through successfully, particularly if you’re with an unfamiliar group that you might not have run with before. No-one seemed to mind that we didn’t clear, though; for many, getting a full group together to challenge Coil is a seemingly insurmountable challenge unless you have a “static” — a group of people who meet regularly specifically to take on this difficult content — and so our little failed trip into Melusine’s lair may have provided a rare opportunity for some of our number to try their hand at some of the toughest fights FFXIV has to offer.

Anyway. Even with the enjoyment of earlier, I’m still feeling a bit shitty about the week just gone by, and so I’m headed in a bedwardsly direction. I plan on sleeping in tomorrow and doing absolutely nothing of note all weekend. That sounds like a fine idea right now.

1779: A Quiet Night In After a Night Out

I’ve pretty much come to accept by now that I don’t really “do” big social occasions. And by this I mean that I generally don’t have a lot of desire to “go out” in the sense that people tend to use the non-specific phrase “go out” — that is to say, going to a pub, sitting and drinking and not really doing anything interesting or exciting.

It was my work Christmas meal this evening. Andie and I both went along and we had an enjoyable time. The food was very nice, the home-made cakes for dessert were frankly ridiculous in size (the entire cake was literally the size of an average human head, and a single slice offered roughly as much “cake” as you would get in about ten normal-sized slices anywhere else) and the entertainments laid on by two of my colleagues, who had clearly spent a significant amount of time planning the evening together, were fun.

Once all that finished, though, and we were into the “freeform” part of the evening — the part where you’re supposed to lounge around, sip your drink and make small talk with the people around you — I felt absolutely no desire to stick around whatsoever, and neither did Andie, so we made our excuses, headed back home and were safely in our own house with the heating on well before 9pm.

I’ll hasten to add at this point that our lack of desire to stick around for the “freeform socialising” that follows more organised and/or structured fun was nothing to do with the people we were with. On the contrary, I like my colleagues very much: I enjoy working alongside them, I have a decent relationship with them in that we can chat about stuff other than work as well as have a good old complain about whatever has gone wrong with our respective jobs (95% of the time through no fault of our own) to a sympathetic ear, and I do enjoy having the opportunity to go out and socialise with them outside the office, which can, as anyone who has worked in a large corporation will be able to attest, feel somewhat oppressive at times.

No, my desire to scarper after the meal and the activities were done was more to do with the fact that I simply don’t find socialising for socialising’s sake to be very fun or enjoyable. In fact, in most cases, I find it to be the exact opposite of fun and enjoyable: a feeling of anxiety starts to build up in my mind as I subconsciously count the seconds of silence that have elapsed between me and the person standing closest to me, and I start running through potential conversations in my mind before rejecting all of them on the grounds that they might make me sound like I’m “trying too hard”. Ultimately, I tend to just end up sitting in a corner feeling thoroughly miserable and, frankly, why would you voluntarily put yourself through that when the door is right there?

Socialising with a purpose, though? I’m fine. I love a board game evening or an afternoon of Mario Kart with friends. I enjoy a post-performance meal after a show that we’ve all participated in — though it’s been a good few years since one of these now. In other words, I appreciate opportunities to socialise where there are things to do — enjoyable things, that is — in lieu of unmemorable, instantly forgotten small-talk, and likewise I appreciate opportunities to socialise where there are ready-made conversational topics like “how did the show go?” or “we sure showed that giant plant monster who’s boss, huh?”

I’ve come to accept this part of myself over the years. I just worry a bit at times that other people might not be quite so understanding.

1299: It’s Four O’Clock in the Morning

Good morning! I’ve just got in. (Well, I got in about half an hour ago, but whatever.)

I’ve been “out” this evening. I recall writing a post a while back about how I don’t really “go out” any more in the way I used to — that’s “go out” in the sense of “going somewhere to imbibe a lot of alcoholic beverages then stumble somewhere you probably won’t remember in the morning.” And yet this evening I found myself doing almost exactly that. (The only part lacking was the “lot of alcoholic beverages”, since I was driving.)

It was my friend James’ stag night this evening, you see — an event which is continuing over the weekend. This evening was intended to be a fairly conventional night out — a nice meal, then maybe a couple of drinks somewhere, then back home in preparation for other stuff tomorrow. Since we’re all considerably older than we used to be, we weren’t particularly intending on doing anything “big” or time-consuming like clubbing, but somehow here I am at nearly 4am having just rolled in from what ended up being a rather long night.

The specifics? Not a chance. What happens on the stag night stays on the stag night and all that.

Suffice to say, though, I was surprised how much I ended up enjoying myself, and it was largely down to two things: the company, who were pleasingly laid back for the whole evening, and the venues, which, while hastily chosen in all cases apart from the restaurant we’d booked, turned out to be entertaining, pleasant places to hang out. And by that — yes, I’m aware how old I sound when I say this — I mean they were places where you could actually hold a conversation with the people you were with, rather than having to bellow small talk into each other’s ears — something which I always find to be embarrassing and surprisingly exhausting.

On the whole, I think James had an eminently suitable start to his stag night, weekend, whatever you want to call it. The evening took a few twists and turns I don’t think any of us were expecting when we started, and I think everyone had a good time. I also think most people involved were surprised that we all still had what turned out to be a lengthy night out in us — it’s nice to know that we’re perhaps not as decrepit as we might have perhaps thought we were.

I do quite urgently need to sleep now, though, despite the amount of Coke I’ve imbibed over the course of the evening. I can have a lie-in tomorrow morning, at least, then it’s Doing Stuff that is Probably a Little More Sedate Than This Evening tomorrow afternoon and evening. For now, adieu.

#oneaday Day 137: Say My Name, Bitch

I have something of a — what — phobia? I’m not sure it’s that serious, but I have something of a thing about saying people’s names, for some inexplicable reason. It might be something to do with the fact that I never really liked my own name or the way my voice pronounced it when I was a kid (hence my habitual shortening of it to “Pete” everywhere in the world these days) or it might just be one of my many strange and inexplicable neuroses.

I can’t even pin down why I sometimes find it difficult to say the name of the person who is standing right in front of me and who, in most cases, I know quite well. Perhaps I worry I’ll mispronounce it (granted, it’s kind of hard to mispronounce most of the names of people I know, though I have no idea how to say the surnames “Ohle” or “Honea” to this day and worry if I ever meet the people in question face to face I’ll pick the wrong possibility and make a big tit of myself) or perhaps I just think that someone’s name is somehow a window on their soul, a piece of their person that is, well, personal.

I don’t mind people calling me by name, though, that’s the weird thing. And I’m aware it’s silly to feel odd about saying other people’s names — particularly if you’re calling out for someone. “Hey! You!” really doesn’t cut it in a room full of people — although to be honest, I’ve never really been one for calling out anyway, as I generally much prefer to just go over to the person in question and speak to them, as yelling just draws attention to 1) you and 2) the person you’re yelling at, who may not be grateful for the attention.

Of course, it’s easy to go the other way and start calling people by their name far too much. Then it gets a bit weird, people start raising their eyebrows and wondering why you’re “acting suspiciously”. Saying someone’s name too much is often seen as a sign of guilt, like you’re trying to avoid accidentally referring to the person as someone else, like an ex, or a hilariously deformed person you saw on TV that you can’t get out of your head while you look at your friend, however awful a person that makes you.

Maybe it, like so many socialisation things, is something you just need to practice a bit. It is, after all, one of the things about “growing up” — the moment when you stop calling adults “Steven’s mum” or “Mrs. Stevenson” and start calling them “Geoff”. (Steven’s mum’s parents didn’t like her much.) Perhaps there’s still some sort of residual hang-up in my mind about that, like so many things.

Ah well. One more to add to the list.

#oneaday Day 91: Boozehound

It’s a curious thing, alcohol. Some people enjoy it, others don’t. One thing we seem to be afflicted with a bit in this country is the assumption that alcohol is somehow necessary to have a good time, like it unlocks a magical gateway to some nether realm of ultimate happiness.

But does it, though? It certainly lowers inhibitions and makes people more open to the idea of acting like a dickhead — and, by extension, amusing everyone else. This certainly leads to lots of memorable evenings — it occurred to me last time I was out with a bunch of people that a lot of stories start with “there was this time we were all really drunk” and end with someone being sick or falling over or hurting themselves.

Good nights don’t necessarily need alcohol to be good. You just need something to happen to be memorable. This depends a lot on the chemistry between the people you’re with. With the right people, you can have a thoroughly silly night without the need to get a sick bucket afterwards.

The people I was out with tonight are some of my oldest friends; people I’ve known since high school. While our nights out often involve a bit of drinking, we certainly don’t need drinks to act like dicks and yell “COCK” at each other.

Which is, you know, nice.

I have a lovely weekend ahead of me so I will say goodnight for now. Stay frosty.

#oneaday, Day 187: Flying Solo

Ever been out on the town by yourself? It’s generally a miserable experience, particularly if you’re not the most sociable of people in the first place. And by that I mean the sort of person who doesn’t generally talk to strangers at the best of times.

I’ve done it a couple of times, though not for a while. It generally goes something like this:

Step 1: Claustrophobia

You’re in your house/flat/bedsit/hovel/cupboard. You have been stuck in said accommodation for some time now. By yourself. It’s getting rather tiresome. Perhaps you’re living by yourself. Or perhaps you live with people you don’t get on with. Or perhaps you live with people who are never there. Whatever the reason, you’re in by yourself, you’re fed up and you feel like the walls are closing in a bit. So you decide that it would be a really great idea to go out. Even though none of your friends are free, because you only decided to go out a minute ago and when you texted them a minute ago, half of them didn’t reply and the other half politely requested that you give them a bit more notice next time. So much for spontaneity.

Step 2: Confidence

You get dollied up and step out of your front door. You’re going out! By yourself! Feels good, doesn’t it? You’re not tied to social conventions that require you to be in a group of at least 3 people (less than 3 and you’re going “with” someone, which is perilously close to “date” territory)—you’re doing things your way!

Step 3: Adventurousness

You’re out by yourself and there’s no-one with you to judge you. Perhaps you’ll try something you’ve never done before, because there’s no-one you know to mock you, laugh at you, berate you or tell you you’re doing it wrong—or worse, do it better than you. Perhaps you decide to try smoking, because you’ve never done it before, or perhaps you talk to a random stranger in the street, or go down a road you’ve never been down before or—hell!—go to a pub or club you’ve never been to before.

Step 4: Arrival

You arrive at the place you decided to go to. You purchase yourself a drink and find yourself a good “spot” in which to observe the action. If this is a pub, this should be a table with a good view of everyone else who is there with their friends. Or possibly a stool at the bar, where you can turn your back on the rest of society. If this is a club, this should be a seat at the edge of the dance floor, where you can look longingly at the people who are probably having more fun than you.

Step 5: Realisation

“I’ve come out by myself. That was a really stupid thing to do.”

Step 6: Depression

You stay in your spot, watching everyone around you actually having a good time—or so you believe, anyway; in actual fact they might be having a miserable time, just dancing while they do it—and slump into a bit of an alcohol-fueled depression.

Step 7: The Second Wind

You decide that no, you’re not going to let this defeat you. You get up and maybe decide to try a dance by yourself.

Step 8: The Bad Idea

“That was a terrible idea. Now everyone is looking at me like I’m an idiot.”

Step 9: Time To Go Home

“I hope the bouncers and the people on the door don’t recognise me and realise I’ve only been here fifteen minutes.”

Step 10: Regret

“That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I’m never doing that again.”

But you will. Just to see if it’s any different next time.

#oneaday, Day 83: Crafting War

The reason why World of Warcraft is still fun eludes me. According to the game, my “main” character (i.e. my highest level one) has been playing for something like 18 days. That’s 18 days total time logged in, not I started playing 18 days ago. 18 days… that’s… (counts) 432 hours, or over four runs through Persona 4. And yet somehow, despite the clunky animation that all MMOs are cursed with, its inconsistent attempts at storytelling and its overwhelming focus on killing things repeatedly… it’s still fun.

There are many things which could cause this. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re constantly being rewarded. Recent non-MMO multiplayer titles like Modern Warfare 2 have cottoned on to this, rewarding players with points, perks and unlockable things just for playing the game normally, not necessarily being the best at it. WoW is the same. Do quests, get experience. Kill monsters, get experience. Whatever you do, you’re achieving something that will better your character and make your experience more fun. And since Blizzard added an extremely robust Achievements system with the Wrath of the Lich King expansion pack, there’s always plenty of things to do, even if you don’t fancy level-grinding. Perhaps you could go back and solo some dungeons that used to give you trouble. Perhaps you could work on your crafting skills. Perhaps you could take part in one of the entertaining seasonal events, ending up with some sort of kooky reward. Perhaps you could delve into the infinite world of Add-Ons and customise WoW’s interface to make it into the game you want it to be. (For my part, I’ve completely rejigged the interface and use an excellent system called Soundtrack which allows you to assign custom music to zones, monsters, special events and battles).

Or perhaps you could spend your time interacting with other players. That is one of the key things about a multiplayer game, after all.

I play on a roleplaying server – Darkmoon Faire, if anyone’s interested – and this means several things to me. Firstly, it means that there are people out there who sometimes like to forgo the levelling experience for the sake of some in-character conversation. Anyone who has played a tabletop roleplaying game will know that some of the best moments come from the inter-party banter and improvised storylines. RP in WoW is no exception and while, yes, you do get a few teenage lesbian Night Elves around the place sometimes, and yes, you do get some people who don’t know when to stop with the melodrama sometimes, for the most part RP on Darkmoon Faire is mature and entertaining.

The other thing about an RP server in my experience, though, is that those same people who like to RP tend to be the nicer, more articulate people that there are. People who write in full sentences, know how to use capital letters and punctuation. People who don’t abbreviate everything just for the sake of it. And, hey, people who are polite.

I know a big part of my WoW experience is the people I get the chance to talk to while I’m playing. And while most of them are streets ahead of me in levels, experience, time played and skills, meaning that I rarely get the chance to actually play alongside them, the fact that I can chat to them on the channel they’ve set up, or turn up to the regular improvisatory RP sessions that are held in newbie-friendly areas makes the whole experience more worthwhile socially.

But still a massive waste of time. 🙂