After my last post, a concerned friend hit me up on gtalk to tell me that I perhaps wasn’t being dodgy enough about my secret location. After all, she had no trouble hunting me down! And indeed, based off the information that I gave, I would expect that anyone with more than a passing familiarity with the WoW blogging community would be able to figure it out.
Fortunately, I’m mostly trying to keep my distance from some people that know of my blog but who aren’t otherwise plugged into the rest of this world. And I’m hopeful they gave up reading months ago, but only time will tell.
But the fact still remains that I’m very adamant about not going back to Azuremyst. I count up the number of people I’d like to never see again, even virtually, and realize I could just about put together a 10-person raid group with the names on that list.
It seems very dramatic to assert that any of these people are real enemies of mine or anything like that, although some of them have seemed very unwilling to bury whatever hatchets might exist and just move on. My last year in WoW was one of my purposefully seeking out different servers to play on and get away from the stress and drama, only to have people find out where I was and follow me, so that even my alt-time had a shadow cast over it. Some of that, I believe, was purposeful and some was likely purely coincidental, but the end result was the same. And this year, despite my not really playing and not really blogging, has been the year of my getting publicly attacked and blamed for shit that happened a year previous to the other person(s) writing about it.
And no, this isn’t about WOE UNTO ALAS, PEOPLE DON’T LIKE ME.1 This is about how difficult it is to look at things like this objectively when you feel somewhat stalked and harassed and when you’re the subject of angry rants out of the blue.
I understand the angry rant. I’ve written more than one or two, usually while in the middle of some situation. But a year later? I might have some strong feelings about a person or an issue, but I’m hardly likely to write about it like it’s currently poisoning my very enjoyment of life.
So while I was able to mock and dismiss these separate year-later blamefests wherein I was pointed to as the source of all evil in someone else’s gaming life, I do find myself troubled by the whole concept of there being an aversion so extreme on their end that they want to name my name and point fingers and an aversion so extreme on my end that I want to leave that server, change my name and never be found.2
But the popular saying about failed relationships is that maybe you’re the common denominator in all of yours. I’d be lying if I said that this was something I like to think about, but it is something that I have given some serious consideration. That’s where it’s hard to be objective. I can admit to having made mistakes, some more egregious than others. I can admit that I was always highly visible in my guilds. I’m certain I disappointed some people along the way.
four shit, five years of doing (and a few of those spent writing about) the leadership thing, I still don’t believe I am any closer to figuring out how to be any good at it. I don’t know at which point in the social contract it’s on me to take blame and at which point I’m more or less innocent of wrongdoing.
So I’m writing it down in the hope that maybe seeing the words on the page will help to resolve my recent thoughts into some sort of sense. That I might have a moment of enlightenment about how to better handle the baggage I carry. I want to put it down. I want to walk away. I’ve even thought I did leave some of it behind, but occasionally I’ll find that the suitcase I thought I left by the wayside a few years ago was actually just repacked into a different suitcase and then strapped to my back where I couldn’t see it.
I feel like the metaphor is starting to fall apart or was never very good to begin with, and I’m not seeing a point on the horizon. I still don’t know what to do – if anything – with the carcasses of failed relationships and I think my metaphors are about to take a turn for the morbid. I’m not even sure if this little ramble makes any sort of sense to anyone looking at it.
Maybe it’s just that as much as I like to think a move is like a fresh start, it really isn’t. Coming back here to write about everything only solidifies that notion. Maybe the answer isn’t in hiding myself away from my past but in learning to really accept it and move it.
What do you guys think? Have you ever tried to start over only to find out that it didn’t go entirely the way you had hoped?