Loving this Game

I have returned, having seen much of southern British Columbia and some of Washington State.  I've had time to think and consider recent matters, and have come to a fully positive conclusion.

Silly that it should be so glaringly obvious, but let me explain how I bumped straight into what should have been staring me in the face.

We visited Butchart Gardens on Vancouver Island on Wednesday, obtaining the right sort of cloudy-sunny day for it.  Tamara can walk for a distance of a few thousand steps, but she struggles beyond that; as such, we'd made certain that I could obtain a wheelchair from the Gardens to use for our support, for as long as we were there.  This required that I fill out a form, acknowledging my responsibility for the chair, for the damage that might be done, for any accidents that might occur while using the chair and so on, given that the Gardens are full of steep slopes and it would be easy for such accidents to occur.

I never mind about such things, but I like to play with such regulations in what I consider a fully fair manner.  Therefore, when I returned the wheelchair, I demanded a receipt for the chair, explaining that since I'd been made responsible for the thing, I wanted to make it absolutely clear that I was no longer responsible now that it was returned.

This obtained a rather excellent response, as they were put on their heels, wondering whether or not they should comply.  "No one's ever asked us to do this before," said the 20-something girl to me, somewhat befuddled.

"That's because you've never met a lawyer before," I answered smoothly, letting her believe, absolutely, that I was a lawyer.

And so, she signed her name to the same form that I had filled out, and the date, and handed it to me ... asking, "How long have you been a lawyer."

"Oh I'm not a lawyer," I answered.  "I'm a writer."

This broke the ice, and soon she was explaining, to me, how this obviously proved that I knew how to research things.  I explained that there was no point in telling people, most of the time, that "I'm a writer," because most people automatically believe this means "I write, but I don't make any money at it."  She didn't believe that.  I assured her it was true.  "I've been a writer for 45 years," I said, "and for half of that time, I didn't make any money, and for the other half, I have.  But the reaction from people is the same."

This roused her into a praising speech about the importance of writers and why I shouldn't worry about what people think of me, etcetera ... which ended in her asking, "What do you write?"

I gave the standard, simplified answer, highlighting the part of my writing that I like.  "I teach people how to play Dungeons and Dragons."

"NO WAY!" was her excited answer.  She had me write down this blog and my email, and for all I know she's reading this today ... but I wish the reader here could have seen the look on her face at the moment she learned that the total stranger she was speaking to actually played and liked D&D.  It was ... enlightening.

The tag line on this blog reads, "I Love the Game of D&D."  And so I do.  And it's stupid to worry about why a campaign might disintegrate or go it's own way, however frustrating that is, or whatever it might portend about my finding other players.  I love this game.  And I'm going to go on playing this game, whatever that takes, whatever that makes me look like, whatever inconveniences that arise.  Or however people might believe that my choice to play this game, my way, online, offline, is right, wrong, odd, goofy or pointless.  Because I love this game.

It is something that, for whatever reason, is easy to forget in the midst of those who see, instead, an opportunity for drama, rather than an opportunity to play.

I shall be investigating new avenues of loving this game in the weeks ahead.