Imagine that drow have their own version of “Charlotte’s Web” (with like a rothe or something instead of a pig I don’t know), except at the end it turns out the only reason Charlotte saved Wilbur is so that she could eat him herself. And there’s a tacked on moral like “males are little more than animals to serve the glory of Lolth”, or “never trust anyone who offers you help ever”, or “if you’re weak, you will be killed eventually”, or something like that.
Alright, so my crew and I started out our first Pathfinder campaign with Feast of Ravenmoor, and we’re inside of a creepy town in the swamp full of cultists and dark secrets. Long story short, our alchemist got caught by the cultists after he went for some nookie with the blacksmith’s daughter in the fields after the feast, and it turns out she was in on all of it. Last night at the feast, they served flay leaf, which all of the villagers and our shadowcaller ate, knocking them out for the rest of the night once they went home. Our cleric received a divine message from Ra that our friend was in danger, and we ran out of the mayor’s manor where we staying to rescue our alchemist, (I’m playing a Dwarf fighter, btw) after killing a giant deformed monster sent to kill us by the cultists, to go find our friend. On our way there, we ran into the first farmer we met, Viorec, who was running to try and warn us, after he started suspecting weird things in the village, and didn’t eat the flay leaf at the feast. After asking a few questions about the village which Viorec always just thought of as the odd but normal customs around Ravenmoor, I cut to the chase:
Me: “There’s some creepy cultist bullshit goin’ on in yer’ village, that’s what! You remember that parasite that fockin’ burst out of the pig at the festival?”
Viorec: “The pig thing happens all the time.”
Me: “Wha - that ain’t normal! What’s this festival for?! Who is this woman and her druids from generations back?”
Viorec: “The townsfolk have always just done the festival for Desna!”
Cleric: “Whatever they’re worshiping sure as hell ain’t Desna.”
Me: “Alright, tell me about Shelly (The blacksmith’s daughter), what happens to her being the Lady of the Festival, and what happens the winners of the festival’s events.”
Viorec: “Well, everyone just has the feast, has a good time, we head home and we have vivid dreams until tomorrow. I mean, yeah, the winners usually leave town or get sick, but -”
Me: “The winners leave town or get sick?” (Said more as a statement than as a question).
Look at this little 16 month old piggy! He’s soo cute! He eats a whole food vegan diet of fruits, veg, and barley! I fell In love while him. He loved the attention he was getting by everyone and he loves doggies!
“You’re at sort of a crossroads now. Things are going to change,” my mom assured me over the phone. I was bawling. You know, the ugly crying that makes your face puffy and your eyes bloodshot and your sinuses full of snot. I cry once or twice a year, and rarely do I ever have one of these ugly cries.
I had just hung up with Dr. S, my mentor whose job I took over in 2015. It was a really awkward conversation in which I just blurted out, “I don’t really know how to get into this, but I need you to know that I’m really not happy here.” I told her I was very grateful for the opportunity to take over for her and for everything she had done for me, but this job is killing me and I need to leave. We ended up having a lengthy conversation where I outlined all the reasons why I could not stay.
The next day I talked my other partner. He seemed angry, though he wasn’t entirely surprised. I wondered: if neither of them was surprised that I was unhappy, why had neither of them addressed it with me before? Why had neither of them asked me how I was doing or asked what could be done to make the job better?
Both of them were understanding, but they were both patronizing in their responses to me. I think they both think that I’m still in the naive pre-med mindset and that I don’t realize that this job is hard. They both even implied that my loneliness here was entirely my fault and that I wasn’t participating in community events (you know, because going to funerals, visitations, local restaurants, church services, civic club meetings, festivals, and freaking pig shows don’t count as participating in community events). I was also told, “don’t think any other job is going to be any easier,” and “family doctors don’t make much money anywhere in this country,” as if working 60 hours a week with no support for a bottom 5% salary is the norm… It has also been suggested that my goal of practicing full spectrum family medicine (which I did in residency) is really unrealistic.
“You need to focus on you now. Don’t worry about them. Find a job you love and move as soon as you can. I don’t like seeing you like this.” I know my depression and dissatisfaction over the last year have really worried my mom. I think my ugly cry that day was really the release of a great burden. I already feel more free knowing that I have more options than staying here.
I came here believing God put me here for a reason. I still believe that. I have come to realize that God’s reasons aren’t always to make us happy in the short term. But by bringing me here, he has certainly taught me to depend on him more in my loneliness and sadness, and he is continually teaching me to work on my boundaries. I think this experience is going to make me a better doctor and stronger person in the long run, even if it was a miserable desert of a year.
“Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.”
In the summer of 1996,everything in his life changed. He had just turned 20. The band(his band) were offered a three-album contract with the London record label,Acid Jazz. At one of their Cork gigs, he met his future wife, Yvonne, an art student. While hitchhiking around France,he called home—his parents told him he had failed his first year of law studies, but Kiernan had finally cast him in a play. It was called Disco Pigs.
When Murphy was in his fourth year,Pat Kiernan, a former pupil who had become director of the local Corcadorca theatre company, came into the school to run some acting workshops. Murphy improvised a Foreign Legion story, complete with comedy French accent. The experience gave him a buzz, “a rush down my back,you can’t get rid of it”.
“August 1996 was the big one. I was the cockiest little bastard on the planet!” Acting was “the most exciting thing in the world. I had nothing to lose. I didn’t realise the brilliance of the writing or the brilliance of the directing. We were just doing this for three months, going to the Dublin Theatre Festival. On the piss every night, go straight from rehearsals to rehearsals with the band, go and sleep at Yvonne’s flat, fall back into rehearsals the next morning. It was just great!”
After the good reception at the Dublin Theatre Festival, Disco Pigs was going to the Edinburgh Festival and on to London. Kiernan asked Murphy if he wanted to be involved. Murphy, having been denied his rock ‘n’ roll dreams, thought, “Right, I’m gonna be an actor now.” In January 1997 he gave up his legal studies.