Dec 14
I have written three paragraphs in Word in an attempt to invite discussion on a subject whose debate has been coursing through my head for much of the day. Sadly, I find myself writing, rewriting, and ultimately deleting entire sections of the document that I find offensive. The phrasing is stupid, the grammar atrocious, and even the flow of the writing is ugly. I don’t think that it’s going to work out. Rather, I’m writing directly into this webpage in hopes of finding a clearer voice with which to assert my opinion.
To summarize my previous, generally boring introduction is to say that I spent most of my waking hours across the past few days doing work for my real world job. When that work was finished I devoted myself to leisure, investing the entire day in TV and video games. The TV itself was nothing special, although Diddy finally made his band. The video games, however, brought about varying levels of emotional distress.
Although I am generally a reserved and patient person, competition invokes in me an unseen reserve of aggression and hostility. Often times, depending on the circumstances of the contest, the only acceptable result is to win; shame and embarrassment are the necessary rewards for anything less. My opponent’s claims that “it’s just a game” fall on deaf, and often steaming, ears. While in the grips of the game, everything becomes personal; from the chance swings of a random event to the unsportsmanlike dancing of a taunting roommate. Conversely, when the gods favor me, fate’s invisible hand guiding my green shell towards my opponent, my golf ball towards the hole, I instantly lose memory of past transgressions and the taunter becomes the taunted. My dance moves shake the foundation of our apartment, the “Whoo! Whoo!“s of the LittleWyvern Pain Train echo throughout our living room.
Ironically, I don’t think it has ever been said that I’m not a good person to play games against. Although my victory dances, steeped in self-adulation, are enough to make even a sleeping baby angry, my antics when losing more than compensate. Last night my roommates and I threw down in a game of NBA Street. “Threw down in a game” is quite obviously a euphemism for “played for 4 consecutive hours”. The session only ended because I threw my wavebird to the floor and stormed off into my room, slamming the door behind me. When Matt knocked on my door and started to talk I interrupted him by declaring, “Don’t talk to me. We’re done for tonight.” For my part I went to bed amidst a fit of frustration and anger. As for Matt and Bill, I could hear the laughter outside my room for at least fifteen minutes.
I don’t know why, but the more I lose and the angrier I get, the more hilarious it is to everyone else. Personally, I don’t see what’s so funny about Ben Wallace not being able to block a jump shot while uber srcub third-string bench warmer can drain fadeaway 3-pointers all night long. I just don’t see the humor. I don’t think it’s funny to lose by 12 points because the computer decided that you don’t deserve any rebounds. I can appreciate a good joke as much as the next guy, but where is the comedy in losing 3 Mario Party duels and going from first place to last place within the last five turns of the game?
I don’t really know where this is post is going anymore. I intended to write a post questioning why I get so involved in the games that I play. I intended to make a commitment towards being a little nicer when I am winning, a little calmer when I am losing. Those were my intentions, but now I don’t really feel like it. Even the recollections of my recent losses are too frustrating to rise above.
While watching TV yesterday I played a little online Euchre on my laptop. I understand that my family likes to pretend that I’m not the best euchre player of them all, but at least I’m not as incompetent as the suck bags that I always manage to draw for a partner. Seemingly out of nowhere I yelled at the ceiling and punched the sofa cushion, scaring Bill as he played poker online.
“Whoa… what happened? Another outdraw on the river?”
“No,” I replied. “My d-bag partner ordered hearts with only the right and the ten.”
“What?”
“Watch this… When this guy over here plays the jack of diamonds we lose. Wait for it…. and there it is.”
I slammed my laptop shut and stormed off into my room. It didn’t matter that I was playing for fake reputation points on a public Yahoo server under an account that I hadn’t used in more than a year. My partner cost us the game and I couldn’t have been more upset.