I had an… unforgettable dinner this past Saturday night with the local live-action roleplaying players that I’ve been gaming with for the last handful of years.
I took a break from gaming with them last summer after my surgery, initially due to the inconvenience (I couldn’t drive, and the sling was uncomfortable), and then due to the fact that when I weighed the fun vs. the toxic behaviors the group has, I found I’d rather be spending my time doing things like building Future Proof Games.
The dinner on Saturday was to get folks face-to-face to talk about a big issue in the group: they lost their regular gaming location at the end of 2014. Some games have had to be canceled, but folks have been very generous. People have opened their homes to host a game or two, and one person rented hotel rooms for us to game in.
That night, though, I heard something pretty disgusting — a denigration of people’s generosity, at times in the same breath as an exaltation of their own (the below is paraphrased, in part to remove names).
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It’s been a loooong time since I posted some good reading.
- 5 Things I Learned as the Internet’s Most Hated Person | Cracked.com
- "I watched every avenue of social media suddenly blow up with messages of abject hatred from thousands of strangers. For the first five days, I couldn't sleep. Every time I would start to doze off, I'd be shocked awake from half-asleep nightmares about everyone I love buying into the mob's bullshit and abandoning me. The ceaseless barrage of random people sending you disgusting shit is initially impossible to drown out — it was constant, loud, and it became my life."
- They Are Not Trolls. They Are Men. | Make Me a Sammich
- "By calling these people “trolls,” we are basically letting them off the hook. It’s a lot like the “boys will be boys” mentality that helps to keep rape culture thriving, but it’s also different, because boys are expected to be human. By calling these people “trolls,” we relegate them to non-human status, and we make it clear that we don’t expect them to live up to the same behavioral standards as human beings." Keep reading >>
September 18th 2014
Tags: On Life and Love
Greg-the-cat, tired from thunderstorm-related anxiety.
Physical therapy has been progressing nicely. I’ve “passed” all my flexibility/range of motion requirements, and am focusing pretty heavily on strength while making sure not to lose the flexibility. I saw the surgeon Tuesday for a check-in, and they were a little disappointed at my strength at this point in my recovery.
September 13 was the 3-month mark for the surgery, though, which is when I’m supposed to be clear to resume some more interesting exercise. With surgeon and PT approval, I’m doing so. I’m taking things quite slowly, because if I do anything off-hours that leaves me too sore to move (or worse, injured!), then my PT work will be compromised. The plan is to do an activity, wait a day to see how sore I get, and then judge from that whether I should cut back or can ramp up.
My first activity was swimming. I’m not a skilled swimmer anymore — I can happily fake a breaststroke for a while (my favorite), but my smoothest method of traversing water is the good ol’ doggie paddle. I can do it forever.
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