Well … sure. A lot of what I write turns up here. I even try poetry sometimes. Also, I read, garden, and hike. I really love exploring new places.
But, also, I’m the Directrix’s bodyguard as well as her aide, and can’t really depend on sheer strength unless I’m willing to inhabit a body much, much larger than the one I’m used to. But moving well, and precisely, takes a lot of practice.
Also, I’m still a “Crystal” sect practitioner, and as neat as the pod is for certain of the purposes behind physical training (learning to treat body and weapon as a single instrument is a lot easier when you can just jack in and poof you’re a starship), that … um.
It kind of feels like cheating, to me? … maybe I’m just a little old fashioned that way. Or, well, also, I don’t feel like getting too used to such a powerful feeling is maybe very good for me. Stuff looks a little different to a knife weighing less than a kilogram than it does to a million kilos of armored hardware loaded with hull-burning laser cannons or “small” nuclear warheads. (And that’s on the small side, ship-wise.)
And … well. Then there’s also nothing that reminds you you’re alive quite like being out of breath, a bit battered, and trying to get out of the way of some large person swinging a cleaver at you? Sure we have backup clones and really kind of amazing medical tech, but, well, that kind of thing’s been one of the more, er … vivid? … bits of human experience going back maybe as long as there have been people.
Along, I guess, with sex and power (of which ISK is a subset). So … well. I guess as a class we’re often kind of mixed up in not-very-subtle human things?