Dear Christopher Copeland:

Congratulations! We are pleased to inform you that you have passed the Certified Information Systems Security Professional (CISSP®) examination

Reference: The Story so far

Shady Rest – Chapter 7: Back We Go

If you are not familiar with the story or have forgotten about it, try starting from the beginning: Chapter 1: Awakening

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Judging by the smell, I figure that the dog couldn’t wait to get outside this morning and … “recycled,” leaving her with an upset stomach. The commute, of course, circles around the morning’s activities and the phrase “piss poor” emerges to describe the morning, along with the nugget of wisdom that no creature should ever consume their own waste. Then, the subject of people who claim the health benefits of drinking one’s own morning urine.

The comedy of the situation, disgusting and absurd, suddenly hits me and a tune emerges from my lips. After the 2nd or 3rd time the kids cover their ears to keep from having the song in their heads all day (good luck!).

Singing, as if a drinking song:
“If you don’t wanna have a piss poor day, drink rich piss in the morn-ing!”

… sometimes you have to giggle.

With no regrets, I took Friday night off from the game, besides it being the day after Thanksgiving so it was easier than other time might have been. I decided, from what I had heard about the other gaming day, to try on Sunday this week to see if I like it better. We could rearrange our weekends to have the chores and homework done so that we could play on Sunday afternoon instead of Friday evening.

This week, however, the kids were not ready for a Sunday game, so I took the grocery list for the week (so I could help out by picking up the week’s groceries on the way back from the game as a payment for playing  in the afternoon) and my gaming backpack, and off I went to play.

Walking in, I didn’t see welcome on the faces of my friends there, but surprise at my appearance on a different day. After about 30 minutes of casual conversations and discussions about options, it was clear that they didn’t have a place for me at their table. I was told about planned things for after football season, and how they looked forward to seeing me Friday night.

So with a smile on my face, but a weight in my heart, I returned to my car, passing a fellow player arriving at my departure, and went to the grocery store.

My family is the #1 importance in my life. As I was sitting in the hall on that April afternoon hearing the wind growl, the limbs snap, and the trees begin falling on the house, I knew that the people I held in my arms, at that moment, were the most important in my life. As I began to idly wonder what was it going to feel like, or if I would feel anything at all, when the roof caved and the walls crushed me where I lay sprawled on the floor, I came to the calm realization that my family would be fine and they could and would go on, and for my part in helping get the kids started on their way to adulthood and happy lives, I could feel good and content.

This year I am thinking that we need some new, different, National goals for this time of year (because we are all not busy enough). Firstly, we need to define what this “time of year” is – The Holiday Season Months (THoSMos) run from the 3rd week of October, just before Halloween, to the 2nd week of January, when we are starting to remember what year it is when we write checks.

We have the existing acronyms:

• NaNoWriMo – National Novel Writing Month
• NaBloPoMo – National Blog Posting Month

Some new alphabet soup for you:

• NaEnTHoSMos – National Enjoy The Holiday Season Months, where we put all this extra stuff aside (and as much of the everyday work as we can manage) until after New Year’s and enjoy the time with our friends and family… the reason for the season, after all.
• NaHESaSotHBiMos – for those of us that are stretched a bit thinner in the wallet than others, we have National Have Extra Sex and Save on the Heating Bill Months
• NaCLYC – the traditional National Christmas Light Yard Competition or as it is also known, MCDeCaBeSFroS (My Christmas Decorations Can Be Seen From Space -or- “I just paid off last year’s power bill! Flick the switch, baby.” )
• HHMHO is hard to pronounce, as it sounds like a grunt or muffled sneeze, and is also known as the time of year when dressing for dinner means putting on sweat pants,  Happy-Happy-Merry-Happy-O is the description of our holiday season: Happy Halloween, Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, OH MY GOODNESS! I Can’t believe I ate so much. I, hereby, resolve to lose all this weight and I’m never going to do that again (until Halloween).

I need to rant a bit so, since I have your attention…

I LOVE Role Playing… Role Playing Games: Dungeons & Dragons, Pathfinder, etc.
(The OTHER kind of role-playing is a topic for a different day)

I love getting together with friends, old and new, around a table strewn with paper, pencils, dice, miniature people and a large map, where we can pretend we are other people or creatures, chat, cut up, giggle at our own jokes and create some shared memories of fun and danger in an imaginary world. It is the “pretend we are other people” part and the resulting conversations and comments, sometimes very interesting conversations, that I play for. Those evenings where everyone around the table can put their lives on hold for a few hours and sink into the game, fully; Those special times when we all can “click” and have fun – those are the times I treasure.

Too often now, the games have all the same things, save one – the fun. The RPG sessions on Friday night have become Roll Playing instead of Role Playing, where the people try to play their characters – their ROLEs, but the game master is only concerned with the ROLL of dice and creating as deadly (or challenging, if they cannot be truthful about it) an adventure as they can.  The Game Master has gone so far as to tell some Players to stop acting in Character. If I wanted a game where I was just struggling against ever-increasing odds until it defeats me, I’d play video games. RPGs are an expensive hobby, with the books, the learning, the time in preparation and playing and if it is not fun, then why do it? I do it for those magical evenings when it all comes together – those memories that you recall, even many years later with fondness and nostalgia, as good times.

For too many weeks, I have had the Friday evenings that have been, at best, mediocre and , at worst, disappointing. I leave grumbling and swearing that I will not do that again, but sometime during the intervening week, I remember the fun times and get excited about playing again. I talk myself into going and then I am even more disappointed when I have less fun than the week before.

I have played these weeks with different people, with different characters, and different adventures – the only constants are myself and the game master. Since I cannot morph into someone else, that only leaves the Game Master. I find myself at a decision point, again, but this time I am so dissatisfied that I feel the need to share, instead of grumble, and make a decision:

1. Do I return on Friday night, but bow out if I am offered only the Game Master I am not enjoying?
2. Do I express my dissatisfaction with the Game Master to the owners of the store and see where that gets me?
3. Do I express my dissatisfaction by trying to make the game as “unfun” for the game master as it is for me?
4. Do I refuse to go at all and try to find my fun elsewhere (another group, play at home, etc.)?
5. Or do I return on Friday night, grumble and try to make the best of a bad situation?

I am undecided. I could use your help. What would you do? (I’ll let you know what I decide and how it goes.)

This one is an easy one!

The happiest moment in my life was on 27 April 2011 about 5:30pm once we heard the tornado move past and we were all (me, my wife, our 4 kids, the 2 dogs, and the dragon) unharmed. The relief almost leveled me as the storm had done to the area around us. I had thought, when the trees fell on our house, that this was “it” and someone was going to be hurt or killed – but instead the scariest moment gave way to the happiest.

Many times, I have wondered how my life might have been different, had she lived. My father moved us from Absalom, where he was a guard and courtier, when I was only nine. We easily settled into life in Eastern Cheliax where my father accepted the post of constable for a farming settlement on the eastern shores of the River Keld.

Life was hard and good. We laughed, worked, danced and I grew. Life was very different from court in the big city; struggling, fighting, & the hosts of Chelish warriors readying for a war that never came. My father told me, “Life can be glorious and dangerous. You have to learn to take care of yourself.” He taught me how to fight. I would train and exercise alongside my father and this helped me harden my body into a weapon.

When I turned 14, my father called me into his room and opened the chest he kept at the foot of his bed. From it he took a bundle of violet silk that matched my eyes. He told me that this had belonged to my mother and now that I was a woman, it was time I had it. I had thought that the silk scarf was the most beautiful thing I had seen, until it parted to reveal the sword therein. I didn’t know how to use it then, but now I am quite good with my mother’s sword. You can tell it is of elvish make, it is lighter and the magic almost guides my hand. I am almost never without the violet scarf, which I usually wear tied around my waist, as a belt and sash.

The local healer taught me her art of alchemy and herbals. I learned how to brew restorative and healing teas, collect herbs to treat most ailments and make polstices for more injurious wounds. When she died, I took over for the village and surrounding countryside – I was 15. I do not think my father knew that the herbalist was a witch, and I learned her art in that, too.

My father’s words stay with me:

• When you can no longer live proudly, die proudly.
• That which is done out of duty is beyond right and wrong.
• Those who cannot hear the music think those that dance insane.
• Live dangerously, for what does not kill you, only makes you more powerful.