A spoonful of shame

Recently one of the girls I used to know back in Australia (Natalie, who now lives in London), created a Facebook group for Forest, which was (is?) a talker program that is entirely responsible for me moving to Australia. Well, kind of.

A talker is like a MUD, except that you’re not generally oot and aboot slaying textual beasties or performing ASCII-driven acts of derring-do. You just… talk.

The reason I got to know so many Australians there is because it was created by a group of seven friends, guys who were all CS students at UTS at the time, and members of the Programmers Society (ProgSoc), which hosted Forest for yonks. Those guys became Forest’s “directors”. A most powerful position, indeed. πŸ™‚

So while the population of Forest was global — off the top of my head I can recall friends from Australia, South Africa, the UK, the US, Hong Kong, and Canada — there was a large “native” population. I was a spod there for some time before James and I became aquainted (aka George, aka eXile, aka one of the directors… Ooh, ahh…) πŸ™‚ Ultimately I moved to Sydney because of him.

Aaaaaanyway, So Natalie created this Forest group on Facebook, and I am recognizing a few of the names of people on there so far. And it’s weird. And nostalgic. And… mortifying!

You see, first I had to get one of my old friends to remind me what my name had been — I totally blanked. I remembered my original name, but I had changed it and so ended up existing under each about half the total time I was a spod there.

So along with the others who were posting their former handles to the group’s wall, I posted mine. Then a guy (who I vaguely remembered), asked if I hadn’t used the other name, too. I confirmed that I had, but that since I had enough trouble remembering the more recent one, I figured that was enough. πŸ™‚

So… yeah. The names. Good Lord. No, neither of them is “sockmonkey”. I think I’d still be okay with it if one was.

Lasher and basilique.

Oh yes. An Anne Rice character and the French word for basilica. And yet, somehow, I was never goth…

Of course, nowadays Anne Rice’s writings make me cringe about as badly as those names do, but back in the day I was a big fan. And basilique I chose after James came here to Canada to visit, and while in Ottawa we went to the Basilica (James is very Catholic). I just thought the word was pretty, and it had good memories associated with it.

One wonders who I’ll be in another ten years or so, and how embarrassing “sockmonkey” might be. πŸ™‚

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