Anniversary Apology

I met my friend twenty years ago. We were just talking and I brought up the fact that all the good things I have in life stem from her presence. I paused and reflected on that statement. If true, it means that my gratefulness is woefully under-represented by my actions. In other words, I should be worshipping the ground she walks upon for all that she’s given me. If she did nothing else starting today, I’d still owe her for the last two decades.

She was my first and only girlfriend, my first and only best-friend, she taught me how tasty food could be. And after growing up in such a negative family environment, she showed me that “family” could be a term of endearment. She was the adoring and dutiful mother that our little baby needed. And of course my more cheerful outlook on life is plainly due to her guiding influence. Having been a pessimistic realist, I now believe in the goodness of life and all sorts of fanciful things.

Because of this, I have most certainly taken her presence for granted. She has carefully crafted the majority of meals I’ve eaten. I literally can’t enjoy food without her around. And most importantly, she not only listens to my inane philosophizing, but responds as though she cares. I have never met a better cook, or a more clever person, nor a better listener — she remembers everything. People, including babies and animals, tend to adore her.

What that initial statement made me realize, is how little gratitude I show toward such a vital component of my life. It’s sheer disrespect on my part, and I’m taken aback by it. I should be demonstrating my appreciation daily — hourly in fact! I asked whether she’d rather have a thank-you or an apology — I think her response is obvious. And so I wholeheartedly apologize, and repent for the horrible way in which I selfishly took her presence for granted.

But mere words are not enough, I must change my ways. In my future dealings with her, I must trust her opinion much more than I already do. What she thinks best, probably is. My patience towards her must be an endless well. When she speaks I must silence my own mind and simply listen. I must recognize the ingredient of love she mixes into every meal. Every bit of criticism that crosses my mind must be checked by the infinite delight she’s infused within my being.

I apologize to you, Michelle, for being so late in my understanding of the totality of your greatness. Happy Anniversary!

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Saturday Stirrings

I tend to think that people fit into nice, neat categories. Whenever there’s a differentiation of traits, I attempt to determine my fit within the specified groupings. Whether it’s the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator where I’m an INTP, or the Chinese Zodiac where I’m a Rabbit, or the other Zodiac where I’m a Sagittarius, or the four elements where I’m obviously an Air element, or politics where I’m probably a progressive. Or Hogwarts, where I’m kind of a Ravenclaw but settled for the more relaxed life of a Hufflepuff.

Even being from New England, I associate with its colonial, doggedly independent, and zealot-filled past. Speaking of which, Thanksgiving is soon upon us, a time when we celebrate a bunch of true-believers that left everything behind in order to worship the Almighty in their own way. A group so determined and trusting in God, that they arrived woefully unprepared for what was to come. This was not a hearty band of survivalists, but regular folk simply expecting things to work out for the best.

I think half died soon after arriving and the other half survived thanks to a native that returned to his homeland after being forcibly taken to England. Imagine arriving in the New World and some dude walks outta the woods speaking English and shows you how to procure food. And, there just happens to be an abandoned village in which you can live (the previous inhabitants died of disease). WTF?! That’s Providence for you (not the city, but God’s protective care). Interestingly though, Providence, Rhode Island was a city founded by an exile because the Puritans of Massachusetts were too puritanical.

The cook in my house isn’t a fan of turkey so we’re having roast-chicken and root-vegetables (carrot, corn, and waxy potato) instead. We’ll probably have some homemade cranberry sauce, stuffing, butternut squash, and of course pies. Yes, many mini-pies, I believe we’re scheduled for apple, blueberry, strawberry, and toffee-pecan. I like this time of year. I’ve been listening to my Christmas-music playlist since mid-October.

I’ve noticed that I always write the strangest, most uncharacteristic things on Saturdays. It’s been happening since I started writing this blog many years ago. I don’t know what it is about Saturdays. My schedule isn’t really affected by the weekends, I’m just overtaken by a different muse. Well, here’s to Saturn’s day, a merry god ruling over a golden age of peace and effortless prosperity. And here’s to the week’s end when the cycle is soon to begin again — yet for now we rest.

Game Pace

If I play a game very conservatively, trying to manage my damage, then it’s not very fun, especially if I’m taken out abruptly by something unexpected — all that caution and care for naught. But if I play a game too carelessly, dauntlessly rushing in with guns blazing, then it’s over too quickly, I never get to experience any depth of gameplay.

So there’s a balance to be had. I have to pace myself. But it’s difficult to pace oneself unless you know what you’re up against — how difficult are the challenges and where’s the finish line? An easy game allows you to adjust to conditions as they become known. A hard game doesn’t tolerate mistakes, but expects you to adapt to its conditions by repeatedly playing from the start.

A lot of games depend on players playing them over and over — you win some, you lose some. Whereas some games are open-ended and meander along with rules and victory-conditions that are more malleable. Maybe life is all things to all people, perhaps for some it’s a harsh game with zero tolerance for error — perhaps for others it’s an open-ended stroll through a lighthearted landscape.

It seems as though we place these conditions on ourselves. From early on I used to take the game-of-life oh so seriously, setting many limits on what I could do, believing in harsh consequences for mistakes. But now that I’ve dismissed all that super-seriousness, I’m surviving just the same. Life was only as hard as I believed it to be.

As for pacing, maybe life adjusts to whatever amount we’re willing to give. If we’re in it for the long-haul, then we have a long life with a detailed narrative to match. If we’re here for high-intensity then BOOM, we’ll get it. Like every game though, we likely play again and again, perhaps selecting different perspectives each time.

What’s frustrating about a game is not usually the game itself, but our insistence on a particular outcome. If our goal is to simply enjoy the game no matter how it proceeds, then there’s not much to stress about. But yeah, it sometimes takes maturity and creativity to figure out how to extract the fun from a certain point-of-view.

Cannon Fodder

As someone that invests in the idea of simulation-theory and the virtuality of existence, I’ve been busy doing research by playing a MMOFPS (Massively multiplayer online first-person shooter game). It took me a few weeks, but I recently reached my goal of getting into the top level. The top level is highly competitive in its own right and contains higher leagues, but I don’t care about that, I just wanted to get into the highest numbered level.

There were times when I wanted to quit because I was fed-up with being cannon-fodder for higher-powered players. I eked out an existence by capturing points for my team while they did the bulk of the fighting, and other times I hid behind stronger teammates. But as my capabilities grew, there were times when I stood out front crushing those that dared stand before me.

Overall I had a pretty quick rise through the ranks. But this resulted in me being matched against tougher and tougher opponents, usually in a league or two above me. Although I know what it feels like to be the top guy in a match, I’ve been squashed like a bug many more times.

Was it hard-work and grinding through the lower levels that allowed me to reach my lofty goal? Somewhat. But like a lot of these games, there’s a lottery system. I won things that helped me progress at an accelerated rate. I don’t know if the lottery was rigged in my favor to entice me to keep playing, I simply accepted those wins as my very own good luck.

Another factor beyond my control is the matchmaking. Why am I teamed up with certain people while pitted against others? An algorithm controls my fate. No matter how good I think I am, I get crushed when placed amongst the higher league players. But other times I do the demolishing, it simply depends on the matchmaking. Of course when I win, I chalk it up to pure skill but when I lose it’s due to terrible matchmaking (which it is).

Regular life appears as though it has lottery-like resource dispersement. It has a matchmaking system that introduces certain people into our life while fading others out. We’re pitted against opponents in regularly occuring contests. There are preset goals we’re expected to achieve. Our character even comes with a particular set of attributes.

There are times in regular life when we feel like cannon fodder — and sometimes we want to quit because of it. In games, oftentimes our character is battered and tattered and limping through the virtual-world, yet we persist. So in life we must also persist. We must find the fun amidst the turbulence and keep progressing until we collapse.

There have been times when it was obvious my team was going to lose, we were smashed from the start, yet we stuck it out — fighting relentlessly until the buzzer — and we won. What a feeling that is, to be so close to defeat yet pull out a victory at the end of a hard-fought battle. It’s intense, minutes feel like hours and the prize is so much sweeter.

Of course, sometimes my team did lose badly, but it was that context that became the foundation for the elation that would occur with subsequent wins. Every narrative must have its ebb and flow, that’s simply how it works. We can plainly observe narratives taking place all around us, which proves life’s fictional nature.

It’s silly to yell at the screen when things don’t go as expected. We watch shows and ride rides specifically because of the rollercoaster inducing effects they provide. Essentially, I wanted to lose again and again just to increase the tension so that I could maximize the feeling of triumph.

So when life feels at a low, it’s the same thing — tension is building for the purpose of an eventual payoff. But realize that the outcome only comes when we stick around to see it. If we quit, it’s over — the tension and its reward dissolve back into the aether of potentiality.

Yet why doesn’t the gameplay always align with our preferences? Why are we taking part in contests that we can’t sync with? Why are we riding rides that turn out to be too fast? Why are we involved with stories that are too intense? That’s because there’s an exploration and discovery period where we’re supposed to figure out our perfect fit. Basically we’re shopping and experimenting — and that in itself can be fun.

For instance, when I started playing the MMOFPS game, I clicked with certain combinations of weapons yet couldn’t effectively use others. Even though some weapons were clearly effective at defeating me, I just couldn’t use them myself. So to determine which weapons I was best with, I had to try them all out. It was a turbulent time when I lost a lot, obviously — yet overall, the experimenting was entertaining.

We come into this game not quite comfortable with our role, so we spend time testing things out. And we must remember that every contest seems silly when overanalyzed. We mustn’t judge a mechanism of triumph. For instance, I feel triumphant playing an MMOFPS game. Someone else might feel triumphant overcoming a disease. Every life is full of triumphant episodes, even though outside observers might not appreciate them as such.

Wind and Waves

Believing that I’m a single perspective of an infinite being means that arguing has become pointless — I’m really only bickering with myself — what’s the point. Now when argumentative opponents present themselves in my head, I don’t engage. It’s nonsense that I don’t need. I’ve stopped wrestling with paper tigers of my own design.

Minds don’t need to be changed, people are just players in a grand narrative. But it’s dreamlike in that my mind will see what it wants, forming patterns to fit my interpretation. If I want a fight, I’ll find it. If I foretell a bad-day, I’ll have it. If I truly seek the calm seas then my mind must be stilled first.

Beaten Down

When are we the happiest while playing a game? During our triumphant victory. In other words, it’s when we’ve been beaten down to the point of almost losing, then the tables turn and we march on in as a conquering hero. The greatest elation we feel in games or stories is when the character we identify as beats the odds and wins.

Therefore, if life is a simulation, then it would purposefully design for this condition to be a common scenario. And in fact the most lauded contests we witness always portray this underlying concept, whether it be sports, games, movies, politics, social justice, war, or medical issues — people are always struggling to overcome.

The world is a triumph generator. But for triumph to occur, there must be obstacles and oppression — and we can readily see this to be true. And we want this to be the case, we don’t want to eliminate obstacles or oppression, we want to be beaten down by them to the point of feeling crushed so that we can eventually feel the joy and glory of overcoming them.

As these are manufactured scenarios, the outcome is rigged. Yet so immersive are these scenes, we often surrender to the hardship. We figure we’ve lost, there’s no hope, we’re losers meant to lose, mere cannon fodder for the true victors. Nay, for it is always darkest before the dawn. When we hold onto hope through that lowest point, the sun rises, bursting through with its resplendent light.

We win.