My Dad could always be counted on for great sayings, home-spun pearls of wisdom and just generally being the smartest man alive. One of his favorites, spun whenever I would do something stupid, was always telling me he could "take me down a peg or two". The inference being that he was still the Boss. Which was never something I had any doubts about. The "peg" refers to the old school-house coat lockers, the older kids would hang their coats on the higher pegs and the younger kids would hang their coats on lower and lower pegs, since they couldn't reach the higher ones.
That paragraph is so rife with Eve references, it's going to be hard to pick just one.
This weekend I got taken down a peg or two by Eve. And I don't mean that in a negative way, I want to be clear on this up-front. But once again Eve just wanted Rixx to be clear about who is still the Boss. Which, again, was never something I had any doubts about. But Eve apparently feels that sometimes I need to be reminded. To be taken down a peg or two.
It is no secret now that Co2 is in Impass, after a successful campaign in Teneriferis, we've made our way down to Impass to run the reds out and set up shop. This continues the long streak of moves lately, in the last two months we've moved the Corp from Insmother, to the Spire, to Empire, to Providence (side move to Teneriferis) and now to Impass. (Honestly I don't know how our logistics pilots do it, they deserve so much more credit than they get.) But needless to say, we all have stuff scattered all over the universe. It has made participating in fleets and contributing difficult. It's hard to bring a Battleship to a fleet when you don't have one in the station, there aren't any on the market and your nearest BS is 34j away thru red infested space. But you make do with what you have.
And I didn't do all that badly. I lost a Nighthawk (ouch) and a Hurricane. But I also exploded 2 Munnins and a Flycatcher, I also killed a Scorpion and a Armageddon but didn't get on the killmails for some reason. The worst part was getting podded. The last time I was podded was on June 22nd, almost three months ago! I'd have been happy to go another three months, I'd gotten a tad over confident about surviving and had almost 200m in implants in my head. Double ouch.
And then this morning something happened which hasn't happened for a long, long time. I open my email to discover a personal email from one of the Alliance leaders pointing out that my Hurricane fit (while fine for some things) was a bad fit for the fleet we were in. Two things. First of all I know that, but it was the only BC I had at that moment and I did manage to kill three ships with it. That doesn't excuse flying the wrong ship in fleet though, I do know better than that. But secondly, I fly for an Alliance that actually looks at the death mails and writes emails to the pilots!? Wow. I have to say, despite the kick in the ass, I respect that.
So I consider myself properly taken down a peg, but not two. I still have a long way to go on my journey to be the best pilot I can be. I really need to stop doing crazy things just for fun, and apparently I need to be in a Zealot as fast as humanly possible. (Which is a story for another time.)
Right now I have more stuff to get moved and some new skill books to study.