Dungeons & Dragons & Depression

Excluding my flower inspiration message, it’s been three weeks since my last post. One might think that I haven’t had anything to say, that nothing noteworthy has happened in my life or crossed my attention for the last several weeks. The opposite is true. As of this writing, I have 49 post ideas in a file, with 20 posts already started, some even mostly completed, that I haven’t bothered to upload.

Depression saps energy, takes up a lot of mind space, and is also damn boring. Medication has its uses, but comes with its own set of issues. Coping without medication involves frequent exercise, activity schedules, journal-keeping, and doing CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy) exercises. All of which have been proven effective, and take a buttload of time to complete.

I’ve found that if there’s one thing more difficult than fighting against depressive lethargy, it’s prioritizing the time I have left to me. There are a lot of things I want to do with the remaining time in my day: back exercises; write blog; write novel; write current short story; edit other short story; work on assignments for How to Think Sideways; learn more about graphic design; learn more about locksmithing; do vision exercises; learn more about current events, electricity, meteorology, geology, and car repair so I don’t have to be embarrassed when these subjects come up; go on adventures; practice drawing; search for new job; search for new apartment; research yurts instead of searching for apartments; and practice drawing.

In other words, it’s the same dilemma I run into when I make a Dungeons and Dragons character. More often that not, I play skill based characters, like rogues and bards. Choosing between the many skills is both annoying and difficult. And for every single skill on the character sheet, I can come up with some kind of excuse for why I need that skill.

What good is Hide if you can’t hack your Move Silently check? Points to both!

Handle Animal? If we run into an animal, this will be so useful.

Bluff? Well, what if I have to lie to an animal? And if it has the same number of points as Diplomacy, I don’t have to worry if I’m lying or telling the truth!

Use rope? I’ve absolutely got to be able to use a rope. Every nerd remembers how important Samwise thought it was to have rope. But what good is it if it just sits limp in my hands because I can’t fathom the deep mysteries of how to operate it?

Disguise is a particular weak spot for me. I always imagine that putting points into disguise will result in something like this:

When in fact I don’t tend to find a lot of opportunities for Disguise at all.

And on, and on. Every single skill has some kind of useful appeal, except Listen and Spot, which are generally ignored by the bulk of my group. The end result is a character who has two points in everything except Listen and Spot, and consequently, never does anything because someone else in the party specialized in whatever skill check is needed, and is the more logical choice to make the check.

I’m sure by now you think you know what direction I’m going with this fairly obvious analogy*, but you’re wrong. I’m not going to compare the minutes in the day with a character’s allotted number of skill points, or state with flashing lights-obvious double meaning that true strength of character comes from prioritizing, choosing what is truly important over what is simply nice to have.

No.

Here’s my take-away from all this soul-searching and blogulating and youtube video-seeking: Put all your damn points in Disguise. In D&D and in real life.

But of course, you’ll need a few in Bluff also, so you can speak in disguise. And Diplomacy, in case you have to tell the truth. And Escape Artist, in case you get locked up anyway by the guy who was the sheep.


 

*Because you’re crafty, and you put due skill points into Knowledge: Obvious Analogies that Show up on Blogs.

Awful features of cookouts

Cookouts are a hotbed of danger, awkwardness, and yard games. It’s bad enough trying to sit comfortably at a sun-baked picnic table splattered in bird shit, but really, that’s only the beginning. With Labor Day in just two days, I figured that the penultimate entry of Humidfest 2014 would be an opportune time to discuss some of the unsavory qualities of outdoor barbecues.

A lake!

You are in less danger from the many drunken boaters on this lake than you are from every single thing that happens at a cookout.

Purposely attracting yellow jackets

Soda is a mandatory part of every barbecue ever. This is stupid, because it attracts yellow jerkbags jackets to the picnic table, placing everyone in grave danger.  Bumble bees and honey bees are just in it for the pollen. Yellow jackets are like the asshole Aqualish in the Mos Eisley Cantina who picks a fight with Luke Skywalker for no damn reason. Or, because fighting. Basically, the fact that they were in the same location is enough. Either way, Obi Wan Kenobi slices his arm off, and it’s all good. Unfortunately, I live in Massachusetts, and there is no Obi Wan Kenobi here to come kill the yellow jackets with his lightsaber. So, it’s only common sense not to have soda at a picnic, when you don’t have a Jedi to defend you from the consequences.

Potato salad roulette

Unless it’s garlicky, olive oil-soaked Italian potato salad, potato salad is something that mostly sucks anyway. So that’s already a strike against both it and summer, which is when it comes out of hibernation to give us salmonella.  Enter potato salad roulette. How long has it been out? Are you willing to risk it? YOUR LIFE IS ON THE LINE.

Undercooked hamburgers

When meat is ground, the bacteria sitting on the outside mixes with everything else in squishy meat curls. That means that the inside of a hamburger needs to be cooked to well done. No, it’s not 1000% percent definite that someone will get food poisoning if they eat a bit of meat that’s still pink. But is it worth the risk? Not really, in my book, and I happen to prefer my burgers blackened anyway.

Most of the cookouts I’ve been to in the last two years have had undercooked hamburgers. And not all cooked by the same person either. There have been four culprits. If I so much as mention that the meat is undercooked, I’m told it’s ok, and I’m over worrying. It’s like being the only person in a movie who sees the whole conspiracy, and everyone is just trying to silence me.

Volleyball

Gym class volleyball always turned me into an exemplary Apathetic Loner Girl, Daria style. In my eyes, the other kids didn’t seem to grasp that there was no reason to get excited over, or invested in the outcome of the game. To me, it was perfectly acceptable to watch the ball fly by instead of bothering to try hitting it. The gym teachers didn’t care, but my team mates were not cool with this, and they let me know. With gusto. Or zest. Also, yelling.

Volleyball went from a slightly fun game that I had no enthusiasm for, to something more akin to post-traumatic stress disorder.

Plus, it’s not something I want to attempt while suffering the consequences of potato salad roulette.