#which is frankly insane and makes for such a rewarding reading experience

[juvinadelgreko]

crowning ronan lynch the undisputed pining king

[flowerlaundry]

I managed to rank 39 for The Temptation of Apoptosis event! 😭 also yes, I am a Shiramitsu twins and Nagi oshi...

It was my first time seriously tiering for any event so I figured I'd talk about my experience...

a grueling 10 days and i can say…i’m pretty happy with what i achieved!!! Watch me do it again!

Frankly, i have only intended to grab 1 Toi and max Ryui out…but i ended up maxing then both 🫨

it’s not my first time tiering in events (i got SIF and Enstars under my belt…) but it’s my first time seriously aiming for a high tier and I'm super happy that it was for something i was really anticipating ever since i got into 18TRIP (over half a year ago now?!) 

The end of November was not good to me at all (for a variety of reasons that I won't delve into) so when I saw the announcement that the L4mps feature was happening at the beginning of December, I had my eyes peeled. I told myself I'd work hard for the L4mps event (especially since they’re my favourite unit and 3 of my faves are in it). i was seriously thinking it’d be a Yodaka-Toi event but i was bamboozled…seeing the words Aomori set off my fight or flight response. IT WAS A SHIRAMITSU TWINS EVENT?? Was this god’s reward for me for enduring another ass November?  I seriously was not expecting for them to go to Aomori this soon after seeing Ryui get cucked in the main story 😭 it felt like D-day…

Initially i did 30 pulls on the gacha, but the greed got to me. i wanted to max out Kinari so i did more pulls on the first day of the event and… ahh, orange head Akuta came 😊 i figured since i was close to pity, I'd might as well continue and i…ended up with 2 more Akutas on the 100th pull. maybe it was an omen.. I was ready with my 130% bonus (isn’t that insane..)

At the time I didn't realize how beneficial the fast boost pass was so i was hard at work doing the Yukikaze 4AP town stage and I'd do the event stage every 100 tickets I got…the grind is so painful. After 8 grueling hours, i got my first Toi!

i really was not planning for a day 1 rush but i was motivated- nein, influenced by other day 1 grinders so i pushed myself 😭

There was a bug where Toi and Ryui ended up using the other's emblem for the trip-revo thing, I wish it was intentional though...

i seriously did not think I'd be able to do it considering the last time i went for more than 1 mil was the l4mps seasonal (which was funnily enough, Ryui-focused and i was rushing at the end, thank you very much!)  but I did it! 

Now truthfully I could have just taken my time for the rest of the event…but the ego i got from breaking into the top 40s got to me. i’d initially planned to stay within the top 1000 but seeing my rank at the time encouraged me…what if i could stay in the top 100? i was determined. well, actually greed got me. i might just be a greedy person..

Fortunately I have quite a lot of downtime at work and I spend a lot of it at a desk (my coworkers are usually the ones doing the heavy lifting), which makes spamming the game easy. People don’t realize how great these types of simulation games are for the working society class…I don't have time nor energy to continuously tap the screen in tune to the beat…i’ve grown past that stage of my life (<- is not that old)…

Now at this point, I bought the fast pass boost to see how it works and. well, i should’ve bought it at the beginning of the event 😭 my lord it makes the grind easier, highly recommend it if you aim to get all rewards or tier in events.

you can see me get hit with the realization here lmao

I took a small break to read through the event (using whatever tools I had, a struggle..) 😭 i nearly died and was in agony and thought i’d be late for work (I was kinda early actually). I’ll need to reread it properly, I have many thoughts about it.

i managed to max Toi on day 6! i felt like i could’ve shed actual tears.. but i didn’t because I was working haha…I had Falling into Eternity on loop to aid me in my tiering woes.. I'm very excited for the full version (during Christmas too? omg…) I decided to slow down a bit for the following two days and it seems like the others around me also had the same thought, but the tiering urges got to me… this tiering shit is too serious.

I can't exactly remember how many points I'd allocated each day, but it was probably around 2-3 million points per day? It was a constant refresh-AP-and-spend-10AP-on-the-YKKZ-event-stage cycle, thank you fast pass <3

Speaking of things that are too serious...the time bonus feels like it's nearly impossible because this was literally the best I could do 😭

Anyway, the last time i tiered for anything was for the EP:Link Eichi in 2019, the final ! event…which was 5 years ago omg. At the time I had just started uni with only an allowance to work with, so I was pretty limited in what I could do. Now as a working full-time adult, it feels like the possibilities are endless…! It’s still important to budget oneself…!

Throughout the week I had maintained t40 and I wanted to keep it that way. A particular reason why i wanted to stay at T40 was because i like the evenness of tens, but maybe it’s also because i was the 40th person to get a maxed Toi. Feeling a bit sentimental lmfao… I also considered rank 42 for the so-called ‘meaning of life’ or 44…because four is death in east asian culture (i’m so sorry toi…) but somehow at the last second, i managed to get T39?! just barely at the edge of T30…I'm honestly still so shocked… I was just slightly bummed it wasn’t an even number (oi!) but then I remembered the queen…the diva herself— Hatsune Miku and how 39 can be read as sankyuu (thank you) so now I'm not bummed out! 🙏 

I’ve read the note from the #1 ranker of the event and I feel like I learned quite a bit! Even with just using google translate, you can get a good grasp of what they did for the event so I highly recommend taking a look if you ever plan on tiering for another feature event! (Ev3ns in winter is too soon..!)

From the note, they mentioned saving their tickets until the last hour before splurging them all. I personally used up my tickets whenever I got 100 (sometimes 200) so maybe this is actually a viable method.. I also hadn’t considered playstyles in 18TRIP but the more I think about it, the more I see it… I’m impatient though so maybe saving my tickets might not be the best route for me. They also mentioned how they ended up being unable to spend their last 60 tickets in the end so maybe splurging tickets 2 hours before end might be a good route, I also struggled to use up my remaining AP and tickets (but I did it…somehow!)

Tiering...is kinda like a strategic game, isn't it? You have to analyze your opponents and how they react/play and act accordingly. They mentioned how they could take it easy since their opponents weren't really moving during the weekdays. I fear this won't be possible for some of the more popular characters...

Now the actual amount I spent…I don’t want to think about it. I had to look through my records and I spent approximately 60k yen for this event. Honestly, if you only wanted one copy, you can easily halve this amount as long as you have some dias in reserve. The 10k bento pack is like…the most worth it pack alongside the beginners pack (if you haven’t already bought it). I personally bought the 10k bento pack, my 2 remaining beginner’s packs and 3 of the normal 10k packs…so I see where it starts adding up ahaha. Remember to spend responsibly!

I didn't actually lose any sleep while tiering. I'm a person who prioritizes resting after all + I do need to get up early on occasion for work...I think it helps I'm only an hour behind from Japan, which means my overall schedule would sync up to theirs in a way.

Despite the pain and agony I felt (in more ways than one), I'm most definitely going to try doing something similar once a Ryui feature event drops...I just hope it's not too soon lol. As much as I'd like to do it for Nagi...I can feel the bloodbath so maybe a T1000 is more viable for me...

As much as I'd like my wallet to hibernate, the next gacha is Nagi and I had to spark his Bday SSR💔 hopefully he's nicer to me this time around...but afterwards, I WILL hibernate until next time.

Until next time... 🤞Sanpachi Kamikita Nice Trip!🤞

[badaseyebags]

private lessons ⋆｡°✩ chapter 1 ⟢

fluff, suggestive, smut in upcoming chapters

word count: 1,2k

warnings: aged up bada (she’s in her 30’s), age gap (reader is an adult!!!), very obvious power dynamics, dom!bada, student x teacher themes

author’s note: hello guys i am back with a series and i will try to update regularly, please be patient and give me some feedback. thank you and have fun reading! -booger 🍞

you knew it was wrong, and you knew your fantasies wouldn’t actually come to life, so why did it feel so thrilling? you look at yourself in the mirror as you’re smoothing over your clothes, exhaling shakily to mentally prepare yourself to meet up with your tutor. you seriously need to stop getting your hopes up.

you were an A+ student who never even had to study, acing your tests without any real effort. all you had to do was pay attention during class and you had nothing to worry about. so why exactly did you need a tutor? well… you see.. your teacher was temporarily gone for god knows what reasons, and you’ve gotten a substitute teacher for the time being.. and your grades dropped drastically, not because you suddenly stopped caring about school or because you missed classes, no no, quite the opposite.

the problem was your insanely attractive substitute teacher. Mrs. Lee… she was so tall.. so handsome.. so pretty.. and so strict. the second your eyes landed on her you knew you were done for. you felt so guilty for the emotions you yourself couldn’t even control, although you haven’t done or said anything wrong (yet). so why exactly were you feeling this way? oh right, having zero experience and drooling over your teacher who’s 10+ years older than you is probably a good enough reason. you and your twisted mind.

you had no issues in any other classes, being the nerd you were you quite enjoyed them. but as soon as the bell rang and she walked into the room, all your focus was on tall figure. oh how you wish she would tower over you- she was speaking but you couldn’t hear a word she was saying, just her voice. you didn’t see the notes she wrote on the blackboard, letters blending into the background. all you saw was her hands. as if you suddenly forgot to read, the veins on her large hands being much more interesting to study. the length of her fingers and the way she moved them had your mind flipping a switch. every word that left her mouth just flew past your head and all you could do was just stare with a blank stare, more like blank brain.. no thoughts head empty, just Mrs. Lee and your stupid imagination.

you didn’t see an issue in this, it was almost like a new hobby. patiently waiting for her class at the end of the day as if it were some kind of a reward. spacing out with the image of her right in front of you. damn, talk about inspiration. the issue was… you weren’t as smooth with concealing your so called innocent crush on her, which you failed to realize.

with the way you gulped each time she called your name or the way your cheeks turned red when she found out you’re spacing out and not playing attention once again, or the way your eyes would linger on her as she walked across the room, never leaving her for a second, as if they were glued to her.

it was all a bit too obvious to her. at first she found it funny, she was used to both men and women falling for her. however she wouldn’t have expected someone much younger then her to be so infatuated with her, especially to such a high level you were displaying, thinking you’re hiding it so well. reality was rather different. and quite frankly entertaining for her. especially you being her student, making it even more entertaining for her to watch.

you would of assumed she’d be married by now, there’s no doubt people are chasing her left and right, but she was actually not interested in settling down just yet, deciding to focus on her career and hope she finally meets the right person along the way. someone who she could be herself with… as in someone she could have complete control over. bada craved dominance, and while some people were into that, they were often caught off by the level of it that she desired. she wanted all of it. no, she needed all of it. it made her giggle, thinking your actions are cute and nothing more, she was your teacher for now after all. it’s not like you were underage or anything, but in her view it was simply unprofessional and inappropriate. not you basically eye fucking her every class she taught, but the fact that she enjoyed it much more then she wanted to admit.

she wanted to mess with you a little, play with your little brain and have some light hearted fun. not in a way where she uses you for a night and goes back to teaching you, she wouldn’t have the heart to do that, right? she just wanted to find a way that would entertain her for the time being. she loved teasing you and seeing your reactions, she found it cute how flustered she could get you just by pointing out your own behaviour. a part of her really did feel bad seeing your grades drop more and more, and it being indirectly her fault. if she wasn’t so dedicated to her work and didn’t take her time to learn all about the students she will be teaching temporarily, she wouldn’t have known you’re actually one of the top students. which is also why she was keeping an eye on you from the beginning, confusion clouding mind seeing you not match the expectations she’d set for you prior teaching you.

was there a mistake in the system? were those grades she’d seen not yours, perhaps someone with the same name as you…? she wondered after her first time teaching your class. the second time she’d notice you fidgeting and having trouble speaking when she asked you a question. hmm.. it must be anxiety, she thought. you did seem very nervous about her being your new teacher, maybe you were just this shy because you don’t know her, that’s all.

she realised all her theories were proven wrong as you spent the following days with flushed cheeks, eyes blinking up at her in concentration. looking away quickly as soon as she looked your way.

she thought she was partly responsible for this, so she was kind enough to offer you some tutoring sessions after school. when she told you to stay behind after dismissal and proposed the offer you panicked, just then realising how distracted you must of been during class for this to turn this bad.

you frantically shook your head not wanting to accept because 1) you didn’t want to be an inconvenience and waste her time due to failing and it being totally your fault. (the part you told her)

and 2) you’d definitely pass away being in the same room as her… all alone… in her house.. being much closer to you.. with her trying to explain to you what she said in class 200 times while you just drooled over her, as if it’s not going to be even harder for you to focus. ( that’s the part you didn’t tell her)

cat got your tongue when she assured you that it’s all okay and she would be more then happy to give you private lessons, and proud to see you do better. you swallowed hard as she asked for your number, arranging a meeting for the weekend, patting your head before she walked out telling you she can’t wait.

oh you’re screwed, so damn screwed.

[unsafepin]

We Appreciate Power by Grimes, Artificial Intelligence and Propaganda

“We Appreciate Power'' is a 2018 single by Vancouver art-pop musician Grimes, featuring American singer HANA. “We Appreciate Power”, in Grimes’ words, explores the idea of a pro-artificial intelligence propaganda girl group that seeks to normalize and popularize the idea of AI overlords. It highlighted the 21st century obsession with future capabilities of AI and the anxieties concerning it, but the impact of “We Appreciate Power” lie not only in the public interest of AI, but in the centuries-old twisted fascination with propaganda, trust in a system of power, and the overwhelming need to be on the right side of history.

The overt theme in “We Appreciate Power” is that in the future AI will become advanced beyond human understanding and will come to rule humanity, as becomes immediately apparent in verse two - “People like to say that we're insane / But AI will reward us when it reigns / Pledge allegiance to the world's most powerful computer / Simulation: it's the future”. It also becomes very clear that the message Grimes is trying to send with the song is that humanity should not resist and instead “pledge allegiance” to protect themselves against destruction by the hands of the AI, an idea rooted in a thought experiment labeled Roko’s Basilisk, originating from LessWrong forums in 2010.

Roko’s Basilisk is an incredibly complex concept, exploring theoretical capabilities of an omniscient, omnipotent AI and is, speaking frankly, existentially terrifying. It is fascinating that Grimes chooses to explore the state of society just on the brink of such an AI being developed.

Propaganda in pop music is not a novel concept, neither in a satirical nor earnest context. A catchy, cheesy Russian hit “A Man Like Putin” (Такого как путин) expresses the desire to have a lover like the Russian authoritarian leader - strong, dependable. It’s almost laughable in its honesty, I personally did not know propaganda this obvious still exists. However, the authoritarian state Russia has become under Vladimir Putin would not exist without his pervasive cult of personality, so perhaps it's only natural such a song can exist in an non-ironic fashion. In stark contrast, Pussy Riot’s song “Track About A Good Cop” uses almost identical language to “A Man Like Putin” in its chorus, but its tone and verses make it clear it is challenging the police state of Russia.

So with the themes of Grimes’ work, built on the premise of cultural anxiety around quickly developing AI and the tradition to satirize grim scenarios, it is fascinating she’s in a relationship with Elon Musk. Musk needs no introduction and the whole world was as perplexed as I was when they announced they’re a couple. I started writing this essay before this information surfaced and this changes its whole course.

In a capitalist society, charismatic innovators and CEOs took over the role of kings and leaders in being publicly revered icons, whose opinion is gospel and ideas are always marvelous. The millionaire, despite expressing concern over the development of DeepMind AI, wants to greenlight (anti)utopian projects like NeuraLink, which would, in his word’s, help achieve “superhuman cognition”. Musk and his numerous companies certainly proved to have ambitious projects, although the engineers and regular workers behind Musk’s brand seems to remain hidden behind his cult of personality amongst STEM types. Flashy scientific developments push the fact that Musk illegally discouraged his Tesla employees from unionizing out of the news cycle. So every driverless car, brain chip, underground tunnel announcement serves as a type of propaganda - it creates the image of an eccentric innovator and erases one of a self-interested CEO.

So is it really an insightful satirical statement when Grimes sings “What will it take to make you capitulate? / We appreciate power / We appreciate power / When will the state agree to cooperate?” when her significant other is violating worker laws whilst constructing technology that can alter the human mind? “We Appreciate Power” as a work in a vacuum stands as a critique of pop-culture propaganda, but as soon as you remove it from its air-tight chamber it can liberally be interpreted to be as earnest as “A Man Like Putin”.

Penelope Scott’s breakout hit “Rät” (Its original name being “Elongated Muskrat”, a joke on Elon Musk’s name) is written precisely about this experience of becoming disillusioned with the futuristic promises of tech companies. She, unlike Grimes, takes a completely earnest approach to criticism so it cannot be misread as anything but damning of how technology develops at the cost of human decency. “When I said take me to the moon, I never meant take me alone / I thought if mankind toured the sky, it meant that all of us could go / But I don't want to see the stars if they're just one more piece of land / For us to colonize, for us to turn to sand” perfectly encapsulates the feeling of sudden clarity that the world tech magnates such as Musk offer us is a dystopia, rather than utopia.

History is written by the victors. And as the 21st century audaciously marches forward, Grimes’ “We Appreciate Power”, with its ironic intention removed, can very soon be read as being one of the artistic works being on the ‘right’ side of it

[peppersjam]

My Top 10 Albums of 2019

2019 presented me with a handful of incredible events and memories (I turned 30, I got married, etc.), while also serving me a big challenge (my partner is temporarily living on the other side of the country). In a poetic world, these things would have a significant impact on the music that I listened to and loved, but no, not really. This year is pretty on the nose for me, music-wise. Oh, except that I got really into Taylor Swift in the second half of the year.

Before we hop into boring Steve's boring top 10 list, let's revisit the 2018 list. The only album on the list that I barely listened to in 2019 was Cardi's Invasion of Privacy. Everything else gets at least semi-regular spins, although I'd elevate Historian, boygenius, and Big Red Machine above these others.

My biggest disappointment this year was Charli XCX's CHARLI, which is a solid album, but it didn't grab me nearly as much as Pop 2 did a couple years ago. It hasn't stuck in my rotation.

Runners up:

Bon Iver - "i,i" (I love it when I listen to it, but for some reason I'm not often compelled to listen to it)

Ariana Grande - "thank u, next" (Staple of early 2019, but fell off)

Carly Rae Jepsen - "Dedicated" (Great, but I'd rather listen to E•MO•TION)

Taylor Swift - "Lover" (Some true standout tracks, like Lover and Paper Rings, but too many cloyboys and CRJ rip-offs)

Weyes Blood - "Titanic Rising" (I could see this growing on me over the years, like a Radiohead record)

And the pre-2019 albums that should've made my respective yearly lists:

Beyoncé - "4" (2011)

Beyoncé - "BEYONCE" (2013)

Big Thief - "Capacity" (2017)

Big Thief - "Masterpiece" (2016)

Perfume Genius - "No Shape" (2017)

Snail Mail - "Lush" (2018)

Taylor Swift - "Red" (2012)

10. Big Thief – U.F.O.F

Early in the year, I "discovered" Big Thief. I don't know how I missed them before. Specifically, the song "Masterpiece" got right up in my brain and has been hanging out there since. Then Big Thief gave us U.F.O.F. which was yet another great Big Thief album. See #3 below.

9. Andrew Bird – My Finest Work Yet

Look, I'll stop putting Andrew Bird records on my end-of-year lists when he stops making them.

Andrew Bird turned a corner with the release of Are You Serious where he basically acknowledged that he was now going to work with other people and write scrutable songs. It was a good album, but My Finest Work Yet refines this Andrew Bird 2.0 and delivers some of his... finest work yet ("Sisyphus," "Manifest," "Olympians"). While I still prefer earlier Andrew Bird (A Nervous Tic Motion into Fake Palindromes into Measuring Cups... my gosh, that's 10 incredible minutes of music), I understand why he's moved on to something else.

8. JPEGMAFIA – All My Heroes Are Cornballs

I've been in a rap rut. Kanye is putting out self-indulgent gospel albums. Chance and Drake are boring now. JAY Z is working with the NFL.

But the rut is mostly a lack of imagination on my part. There's a lot of rap out there that hasn't made it through my naive filter, and I want to seek more of it out in 2020. Case in point: JPEGMAFIA. He's weird, political, funny... all the things that the aforementioned rappers aren't (or at least, aren't anymore). All My Heroes Are Cornballs is the most hypnotic rap album I've listened to in years. The glitchy beats and effortless flow makes it impossible to turn off mid-album.

7. BROCKHAMPTON – Ginger

GINGER is a proper follow-up to the SATURATION trilogy. While Iridescence had some good tracks on it, the overall experience was jarring (not without reason, given what the group was going through with Ameer). GINGER reads (ok, plays) like an album in a way that the Saturations never did. While it may be spiritually linked to the Satursation, it's a complete departure sonically. Even though it's more constrained and less bombastic than their hits from that era, it feels much bigger and, ahem, More Important. That might not be to the taste of some of their fans, but I'm happy to have both versions of BROCKHAMPTON in my music library.

6. Lana Del Rey – Norman Fucking Rockwell!

Music publications couldn't get over the fact that on NFR!, Lana, yes LANA DEL REY, was wordsmithing at a high level. Is it that hard to believe that someone would become a better poet as they gained more life experiences, inching closer to the mystical 10,000 hours? Some of the praise may have gone a little overboard (and, frankly, seems rooted in a narrow, misogynistic view of Who Can Do Music Good™️™️™️), but I agree with the underlying principle of the praise: that this is a collection of well written and well performed songs. It has my favorite album closer of the year, "Hope Is a Dangerous Thing for a Woman Like Me to Have - but I Have It." I get chills just thinking about it.

5. Clairo – Immunity

I enjoyed my first listen.

On my second listen, I wondered if it was maybe too simple. I didn't listen again for several months.

But then, when I was working from Pittsburgh the week before Christmas, I listened again. And I couldn't stop listening. It's simpler music than many of the albums on this list, but it appeals to me for the same reason I had a fixation with Snail Mail's Lush this year: it's incredible that songs that sound so "simple" (and I truly do not mean simple in an insulting way) can still be different than anything we've heard before, and can still transfix us in new ways. Behold ye, the power of combinatorics!

4. Vampire Weekend – Father of the Bride

Channel Orange to Blonde was 4 years. There's nothing you can do to get your favorite artists to make music faster. There's some beauty in that... that if an artist is financially successful enough, they don't need to rush.

Modern Vampires of the City to Father of the Bride was 6 years (i.e., 20% of my lifetime). But at least there are no duds here, and "Harmony Hall" might sneak into my hypothetical favorite-songs-of-all-time pantheon.

3. Big Thief – Two Hands

Oh, but then a few months later, Big Thief gave us another album. They started working on it right after they finished U.F.O.F, which tracks based on every interview I've read with Adrianne Lenker. She talked about the insane touring and album release schedule they've been on in the past four years, but her point wasn't "I'm getting tired," but rather "let's see if I can do this forever." I saw them play at The Fillmore after they released Two Hands and I got the sense that Adrianne has to make and perform music. She was uncomfortable engaging in the standard nearly-identical pleasantries that artists share with the audience. She was shy. She was surprised to find that we were hanging on her every word and chord. It was relatable. She's the closest to a genius I've seen in an indie rock band in the last several years, although I'm sure she'd hate anyone calling her that.

That genius produced Two Hands, an affecting indie rock record that practically demands that you close your eyes because you need to experience it and only it.

2. Tyler, the Creator – IGOR

This year, I listened to IGOR over and over again. The hooks, verses, beats, and vibe are all infectious. Boring Steve says "hey, look, it's just a great album." I don't have a deeper thought about it. I eagerly await Tyler's next project.

1. Nilüfer Yanya – Miss Universe

This year, like 2009 a decade ago, was an exciting year to be an indie rock fan. Vampire Weekend and Bon Iver cemented their elder ("elder") statesperson statuses, Big Thief came into their own as a true force of nature, and acts like Clairo and Nilüfer made me extremely jazzed about the Ghost of Indie Future.

Nilüfer has a unique and delightful voice that punches through some really fun songwriting and arrangements. Like, what a dumb, awesome lyric:

Although I cannot tell if I'm paranoid

Or it's all in my head, it's all in my head

Miss Universe is her debut full-length album, and it's a lovable and off-kilter thesis statement for what I assume will be a lovable and off-kilter music career. I can better explain why some of the other albums on this list are great, but suffice it to say, the system rewards unique performances.

[wahbegan]

Golden Dawn Reading for Kristin

All right here you go, a reading for (heh) @maryreadings courtesy of Aleister Crowley and the book of Thoth. This is the Golden Dawn Reading, which is literally the biggest pain in the ass in the entire world, BUT also reveals the most helpful information. Now, lemme just start with a lil diagram of how the cards are read

As you can see from my incredible drawing, the first 15 cards drawn are read in a spiral configuration because symbol of infinity and life and blahblahblah point is. I won’t refer to them by the order in which I drew them, but instead their placement otherwise it gets fucking confusing

The middle three indicate the state of the querent (i.e. YOU), the three on the upper right are the path you’re currently on. The upper left, depending on whether they compliment or contradict the upper right, are either an extension of that path or an alternate path that you may take if certain decisions are made. The lower left gets into your head, the psychological/emotional reasons your shit the way it is, and the lower right are “karma” cards. Things which are, essentially, unavoidable. 

It’s my first time and Crowley’s Unified Theory of Everything as put forward in The Book of Thoth is insanely dense, convoluted, and frought with symbolism, i’m just going for the most basic divinatory meanings of the cards or I’ll dig deeper if I have to. Helpfully, for the minor arcana, they’re kinda spelled out. The trumps though hoo boy that’s...that’s some other shit. Anyway, point is, first time doing this for real, be gentle. This ain’t your granny’s Rider-Waite reading.

I’ll break down three at a time following the same spiral so you’ll get yeah Your shit, your possible future shit, a different or maybe the same possible future shit, the role your heart has in your shit, and finally your ABSOLUTELY DEFINITELY GOING TO HAPPEN future shit.

Let’s begin.

Cards 1-3: The 3 of Swords (Sorrow), The Queen of Disks, The 9 of Wands (Strength)

Your present state as indicated by the 3 of Swords is sorrow, melancholy, fear, abandonment, but frankly I don’t need any cards to tell me that. HOWEVER, The Queen of Disks indicates a sort of motherly, nurturing presence watching over you that can guide you. This can be internal of external, and the card may be telling you to stay grounded and to have compassion, to take care of yourself and of those around you. Your hard work is paying off. Also, the 9 of wands indicates the ability to overcome exhaustion and what you may think impossible if you can be introspective, if you can draw on your inner reserves of strength and find balance and harmony, you can achieve what your heart is set on. You’re in a state of sadness and fear, essentially, but you’re stronger than you know and need to draw on your inner strength and on your inner “motherly” in this case it just means nurturing calm down nature to take care of yourself.

Cards 4, 8, and 12: The Tower, The Three of Cups (Abundance), The Two of Disks (Change) 

Ahhh, ooh boy. Okay. The path you are currently on. So, one possible future starts out with The Tower. Destruction, ruin, turmoil, anger, grief, depression. The Tower basically signifies nothing good in Thoth. However...whatever experiences may come, you can grow from them. Out with the old, in with the new. The third card seems to imply that’s what will happen, but more on that in a second. The 3 of Cups is kinda weird, it doesn’t fit as neatly as the other two do. It represents the birth of something (good), a time of, well y’know abundance, all the captions on the minor arcana are basically one word super-simplified summaries of divination meanings, a time of joy and spreading your joy with others, it’s...unambiguously positive and it’s strange that it’s right next to The Tower. Except...Change. The Two of Disks means nothing’s set in stone, that your fortunes are in flux, that you need to keep your feet on the ground. That harmony will be found by following the currents of life. If I had to guess at all three together, I’d say that following some ruinous event, keeping your feet on the ground and accepting the change and adapting will lead to a state of happiness and abundance in this possible timeline.

Cards 5, 9, and 13: The Ace of Cups, The Hermit, The 7 of Cups (Debauch)

The Ace of Cups is a chance for your cup to be filled, emotionally speaking. It’s about opening your heart and letting love in. In this future you open yourself up, you become vulnerable, you let your love flow through you. The Hermit usually means withdrawing from people or a situation to get a better insight into it, but the main thing of it is illumination. Finding inner wisdom and realizing a truth. Then the 7 of cups...”indulging negative behaviors” feeding into things we know aren’t healthy for us. Addictions of any kind, self-destructive behavior...poisoning yourself. This future seems to be a different path than the first one, one that will happen if certain decisions are made, one you may have some level of choice over. Whereas your first path started with grief, anger, and ruin but led to change and abundance, this started with love and ended with indulging negative emotions, self-destruction. The Hermit seems to represent the turning point at which you realize what you’ve poured into your cup is poison.

Your paths therefore, are...what? A traumatic conflict that comes to make you grow as a person or a love you come to realize is poison? That seems to be it...seems to be.

Cards 6, 10, and 14: The Princess of Disks, The 3 of Disks (Works), The Moon

Now, onto your mind. The Princess of Disks is someone in touch with nature ha again didn’t need your cards Aleister buddy but thanks for the confirmation, someone peaceful by nature and therefore who deals poorly with conflict. Someone benevolent and empathetic in touch with what’s truly important to them, following and protecting that no matter what. Devoted, protective, nature-bound, conflict-averse, empathetic. You know what matters to you and what matters to you MATTERS to you. Works means, well, working hard and dedicated, and should be...in this position, since it’s not about the future per se, I think it speaks more to your belief that your work should be rewarded. That you work hard at what fulfills you, and you want to reap the rewards of your works. The Moon is a REALLY fun one to get in this position though because the Moon basically means you’re a lunatic. No, no, that’s wrong, but it does indicate deception, in this position I’d assume self-deception, traumatic memories, repressed problems from childhood, and deep problems with your shadow self. You are empathetic, protective, peaceful, and in touch with what matters to you. You work hard and want to be rewarded. But your shadow and your past lie unaddressed, and you deceive yourself.

Cards 7, 11, and 15: The Prince of Cups, The Emperor, and the 9 of Cups (Happiness)

These I feel are the only category that should all be interpreted one at a time, as they represent three distinct forces that are beyond your control, unlike the previous two future sets. Now, the Prince of Cups is creative, passionate, driven, and has a lot to give, but is not an integrated whole of a person and can be reckless and secretive...the court cards seem more used to describe people than the future, but for divinatory purposes, the Prince of Cups here seems to mean...here, from the Book of Thoth: such people good will, sincerity, and right mating are the essentials of success; their danger is overweening ambition.

That was the main thing I could find in terms of forces beyond your control...beware the power of your own passion and ambition. The volatile power of your drive for what you seek will always affect you.

The Emperor, however, is all about responsibility. Self-sacrifice, discipline, surrender to a greater cause. Both of these cards speak much more about the character of a person than the outside world, and you got both for forces beyond your control you need to adapt to. Very interesting. Although...although, The Emperor here could mean a drive in you to be self-sacrificing and/or a leader and/or responsible will always affect your fate...OR it could mean that the need for you to step into such characteristics will affect your fate. I think it may be that second one.

Now this, this is a lovely note to end on. The Nine of Cups is one of the most unambiguously positive cards in the Deck of Thoth. Fulfillment. Getting what you want. It was the very last card in the spiral, the end of your journey, so to speak, but...it did show up eventually. I believe you’ll always find happiness. Apparently, so do the Graeco-Roman and Egyptian Gods

[nevada-got-screwed-over]

Taglist: @averagejoey2000

Original Inspiration / Masterpost

Chapter 2 / Chapter 4

Theta!South AU. I Guess.

Chapter: 3

Words: “lunch? never heard of her.” (2,801)

She had always liked the ocean. The sand, the waves, the salty sea air, even those annoying gulls screaming overhead. Once their parents had put up the beach umbrellas and set out those creaky chairs with their joints perpetually full of sand, South would take to the waves. She only ever left for food, water, and the occasional reapplying of sunscreen, if her mother managed to catch her. North hated the water but was happy to build sandcastles with towers and moats all day. They always ended up sunburnt red, no matter how much sunblock they used.

No matter how much she thought, she could only come up with a single solid plan where at least one of them lived. It ended with one of them running to safety, the other left behind. The warthog barely made it to the coastal base before sputtering to death just outside the wall. The only escape was a single Banshee, which seated one.

Obviously, since Wash had Delta, he should leave. And South would get a chance to make the monster who killed North bleed. Maybe even kill it. But, she would probably die. If North, with his excessive planning and carefully laid traps, couldn’t take down the Meta, she didn’t have a chance. Not alone.

They could fight the Meta together, head on in an unfamiliar base with no previously prepped traps or snares. And, not to doubt Wash, but the last time South knew him, fought with him, he frankly kind of sucked at the whole Freelancer thing. He was a decent shot, could hold his own when needed, had those snazzy EMPs, but didn’t stand out the way other Freelancers did. If the Epsilon Incident was anything to go by, she wasn’t sure he was even that good anymore.

There was another plan, buried deep in her self-loathing of even thinking such a horrible thing. She wasn’t going to leave someone else to die, not like North –

The incessant ping of wasted bullets hitting pylons stopped as Wash called her name.

“South, I need you to test something,” He said, Delta hovering nearby. South had been only half paying attention to their conversation. Washington clearly had no intention of deviating from the model Command had predicted, but South had her own schemes to attend to.

“I have concerns about our next action,” Delta piped up, stepping forward from where he was projected. South always wondered how much sense of space the A.I. units had in their projection. “Agent South Dakota was never rated for something like this,”

Her heart skipped a beat. Rated? As in rated for an A.I.? The only reason she was acting her part as Recovery Two was to keep tabs on the Meta for Command and to get the end reward of getting rated for her own A.I. implant.

“What have you gotten me into, Wash?”

“I didn’t get you involved in anything. It did, when it went after your brother.” Maybe she had gotten herself into this mess, taking the deal with Command, becoming Recovery Two, letting them use her own damn brother as bait-

“Agent Washington believes that something is hunting the Freelancers, one by one.” Delta explained, tone evenly paced and clear. He kind of sounded like a school teacher that always confused South and North. She hated that teacher.

“In the last month I’ve been ordered to the sites of five dying Freelancers to recover their intelligence units for the Project.”

“Why you?” She already knew why, of course. She had read the files, been briefed on Wash’s role in her mission, and even asked this same question to Command when they first mentioned it. But she had a role to play. For now.

“Agent Washington’s experience with Epsilon makes him a prime candidate-”

“Epsilon? The batshit insane A.I. fragment that killed itself inside his head? You even went nuts yourself, from what I was told. Weren’t you certified Article 12 for that? Unfit for duty?”

South knew it was exaggerated. She was there after he had received Epsilon, and she was there after the A.I. was removed. He didn’t seem all that different, besides the comas. Just quieter than usual. But Command didn’t trust him, so neither could she.

“The people who certified me were the same people who uncertified me, when they needed me. Funny how the system works.”

“Regardless, Agent Washington is a logical choice. It is highly unlikely he would steal an A.I. for his own purposes.” Delta’s voice grated on South’s nerves, but it was better than Wash’s half-serious half-cryptic entirely excessive round about way of explaining things.

“Then why does he have you?” South asked, genuinely curious.

“Every Freelancer I’ve seen in the past four weeks had three things in common, the first being that their A.I. was missing. I think Delta was fluke-”

“Correct,” The fragment interrupted. “My assignee was killed in an unrelated firefight.” South was still grieving North, now York was gone too? And Delta didn’t have the, the decency to at least say his codename? Washington didn’t seem to care either, and it kind of pissed her off.

“Still, didn’t think you’d be so comfortable getting an A.I. in your head, after what happened,” 

“Technically, I’m not in his head,” Delta explained. “I offered, but he insisted on exporting me to storage. We aren’t synced the way A.I.s are with their assigned Freelancers, and therefore, I’m not ‘in his head’ as you put it.”

“Oh,” South said, something in the back of her helmet humming softly. She still didn’t trust Wash.

“Right. The agents were dead too by the way, except for you. The other agents were also alone, but that doesn’t make the difference any less important.”

“That’s two. What’s the third thing they all had in common?”

“What enhancement did you get?”

“Bubble shield. Same as North.”

“Can you make one now?”

“No, never could. Can’t use enhancements without an A.I. Wash, unless it’s a last resort. I always thought of it as keeping around a backup for North. Oh, wait, did he-?”

“The third thing they all had in common was that their enhancement was removed. It’s almost as if whatever killed North completely ignored you, and I want to figure out why.

“The Freelancers are being killed, South. At least the ones with synced A.I. units. And someone, or something is stealing those units and the armor enhancements they can power.” Wash explained, Delta nodding in affirmation.

“Now Agent Washington is escorting us back to headquarters as quickly as possible-”

“No, I’m not.”

“Why?” Delta asked, genuinely confused. That was as good of evidence as any that the two weren’t synced, Delta would share Wash’s thoughts otherwise.

“We don’t need to run. I’ve been following the trail of this thing for a while now, but once I got you, Delta, that changed. Now we’re the ones being followed. South was left behind as bait to slow me down.” He turned to the other Freelancer. “This thing has killed four different Freelancers, including North, South,”

“All with higher rankings than Agent Washington,”

“Thank you for that helpful reminder, Delta,” Wash snapped, turning back to South. “That’s why I’m not taking it on by myself. I need someone else to help me protect Delta.” So, they were doing the ‘pretty much 100% chance of total mortality’ plan, huh?

“Ah, I see now,” Delta said, monotone voice almost emulating feigned enlightenment, though it was likely sincere. “So that is why you want me to implant in Agent South Dakota.”

“Excuse me?” She stuttered, looking between the two.

A.I. implantation. That’s why she took this stupid deal with Command. Why she begrudgingly used her brother and his A.I. as bait. Why he died. And now Wash was giving her Delta, completely off the books and against Recovery Two mission protocol models.

But if she had Delta, if something went wrong when they were against the Meta…it would be her bloody corpse strewn on the concrete, not Wash’s. And given the already slim chance of surviving a head on attack from the Meta in uncharted territory, undersupplied and outgunned…

She stole a glance at the Banshee. Last resort. The horrible plan.

“The only way to properly protect me in combat is to allow me to integrate with your armor. Agent Washington will not allow me to do that.”

“I can’t, and I – I was never even rated for implantation, Wash.” Something in the back of her helmet was buzzing again.

“Make up your mind fast, it’s here,” Wash said, turning to the base. South felt a wave of dread. They couldn’t be out of time, not already, she wasn’t ready, she didn’t have a plan, not with Delta involved-

“My motions sensors-”

“Are going to be useless, it stole North’s motion trackers and can hide itself from the system.” Wash said, making sure his rifle was loaded. “South, get Delta in your head and flank left. We stand against this thing now, or-” A rocket came out of nowhere, exploding against the wall above Wash, showering the two Freelancers in dust and bits of rubble. “Move!”

South reached out to Delta, the glowing green form flickering in the ash that rained down from above. She thought only the Omega unit had been observed in remote transfer to other implants, but she wasn’t surprised Delta had picked up on the trait. She hesitated for a split second, a thousand thoughts running through her head, but she reached out nonetheless. In another second Delta would share those fears and concerns.  

“I should warn you,” Delta said, monotone voice fading briefly before becoming startlingly loud as he integrated with her armor’s systems. “The first implantation can feel a little…odd.”

---

The world flashed, alternating between a haze too bright to see through and an oppressive darkness that clouded out even sound. She closed her eyes, but that didn’t help much. Her ears were ringing, millions of calculations, probabilities, and statistics flooding every thought in agonizing cacophony. She barely kept herself standing as the influx of information sent the world spinning.

North said sharing thoughts with Theta took a bit to get used to. The A.I. always had anxieties, fears that no amount of logical reassurance could quell. At the same time, North’s own thoughts being Theta’s made even simple tasks complicated. Those brief, meaningless thoughts that every person constantly processes and recycles, repeated in the back of his mind as Theta echoed the data those ideas held. It took North a few weeks to get the fragment to stop echoing his thoughts.

Now South understood that horrific echo tunnel that kept North awake for days on end, both A.I. and Freelancer keeping the other from rest with their individual thoughts crammed into a single mind.  Delta’s calculations, statistics, some irrelevant to the current predicament and some fine tuned to every piece of rubble and equipment within 50 meters of their location, overlapped with his conscious voice.

“Agent South Dakota, can you hear me?”

“South! I need you out here, now!” Wash’s voice was a whisper, the rattle of gunfire distant and distorted. She opened her eyes, the world a haze through her HUD. Delta’s projection blocked the center of her line of view, making the world even less focused.

“Try to keep breathing,” Delta advised, South releasing a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. “Hearing my voice internally can be jarring at first. I am told it helps to focus on something concrete. May I suggest-”

“Will you shut up for a second?” South snapped, world slightly more focused as she struggled toward where she had heard Wash. “That might help,”

“Technically, I’m not talking.”

“Delta, please!” South hissed, the ghost of a whimper in her voice betraying her legitimate discomfort. Delta could feel it, being inside her mind. The A.I. was silent for a moment, though the background chatter of statistics and probability didn’t stop.

“My apologies,” Delta said, the agent taking a few deep breathes to clear her vision and steady her world. The background noise was still overwhelming.

“Can you stop that?” She thought, words caught in her throat.

“I cannot stop running these calculations. I apologize, but in battle, it is imperative that you be aware of every potential-”

“South, where are you?” Wash shouted, voice hoarse against the explosions in the base courtyard. South was lucid enough to try and find the source of his voice.

“Are you feeling better now, Agent South Dakota?” Delta asked, voice still too loud.

“I’m feeling better, thank you,” She said with a breath, the courtyard regaining its familiarity. “How many enemies?”

“I do not detect any on my sensors, but the gunfire would indicate there is a single adversary.”

“South, now!”

“On my way!” South shouted back at Washington, now able to tell where he was. The background noise of Delta’s calculations was still distracting.

“Can you please quiet it down? Or something?”

“I normally export data results to the extra storage unit in my assignee’s helmet. Your’s, however, is full.”

“What? Never mind, just, be quiet. Please.” The noise didn’t stop.

“I’m here Wash.” She said, crouching behind his cover, the concrete wall peppered with bullets.

“Good. I need help on the left. This guy moves fast, so you need to be alert, South. South? Are you okay?” Wash’s voice faded in and out, Delta’s data cutting in.

“Injuries noted...Decreased chance of combined survival...Increased probability of individual escape...”

“She is having difficulty with my presence,” Delta said, projecting outside of her HUD.

“How difficult?”

“Patient has trouble-”

“I can do this. Let’s catch this bastard already,”

“No,” Wash said, firing back across the courtyard at the apparently invisible opponent. She hoped he was about to say they were going to kill the monster that took North from her.

“Then what are we doing?”

“See that ship?” The Banshee. The horrible plan. She wasn’t about to run away, not when she and Wash could take down the Meta. Delta wouldn’t shut up.

“Statistical probability of individual survival: 68.4%. Probability of combined survival: 23.4%. Probability of successfully neutralizing target based on previous encounters: 1.2%. Mission success probability with combined survival and target neutralization: 0.0047%.”

“Quiet,” She thought to him, focusing on Wash. South hoped his plan didn’t involve one of them being left behind. Him being left behind.

“Get to it and take off, get yourself and more importantly Delta back to Command. I’ll cover you as best I can.” South did not like this plan. Before she could object, Delta piped up again.

“Agent Washington, is your armor adequately compensating for your wounds?”

“You’re hit?” South asked, though she wasn’t surprised. She had definitely heard ‘injuries’ somewhere in the oppressive chatter in the back of her mind.

“Just twice,” He said, Delta immediately flooding South’s head with a new wave of statistics.

“Agent Washington has sustained wounds to right shoulder and upper thigh. Blood loss Class II, shock and unconsciousness likely within next 3 hours, immediate effects include reduced reflexes, tachycardia, etc. It is unlikely he will be able to provide adequate cover fire for statistically acceptable chance of individual escape. Statistical probability of individual survival reduced to 34.7%.”

“Shut up,” South thought, the data conveyed in less time than it took for Wash to continue his sentence.

“Movement on twos. On my mark: sync,”

“Calculating alternative routes to increase survival probability to acceptable limits. Analyzing past encounters. Completed. Conclusion: your incapacitated presence did not significantly affect the Meta’s attack of North because you had nothing of value to it. An extra bubble shield and no A.I. meant you were effectively useless to the Meta and killing you would be a waste of its limited resources.”

“Shut up!”

“Agent Washington, however, is still in possession of his unique armor enhancement. You and he are equally balanced in terms of value to the Meta, one A.I. and one unique armor enhancement. There is no statistical difference to show that the Meta prefers A.I. fragments or armor enhancements. This encounter could be used to determine a potential preference. Best course of action: incapacitate Agent Washington and escape. Statistical probability of individual survival based on alternative: 78.9%.”

“But-” South said aloud, the numbers spilling over from the background to cloud her active thoughts. She had to do it. They had to do it. The plan was logically sound. They were the priority, not Agent Washington.

“Probability of 100% survival of both host and Agent Washington: not applicable.”

“Sync!” Wash shouted, South suddenly cold. Her fingers twitched at her rifle’s trigger.

“Sync.” She responded, lips numb, the word repeated on so many missions it had long lost meaning.

“Move!”

“We have to do this, there is no other acceptable alternative.” She really fucking hated Delta’s voice. She also hated that he was right. Wash moved forward, to draw the Meta’s attention while South was supposed to break left for the Banshee. South raised her rifle.

A single shot went off above the indiscriminate spray of bullets in the courtyard.

---

I mean, logically, that was the best course of action. I guess. Oh well. Also in case you were confused: thoughts between A.I. and South will now be italicized. Hopefully that’ll make some of these scenes with the AI communicating telepathically as other characters talk verbally less confusing. If it doesn’t, I’ll try writing the scenes differently. We’ll see how it goes.  

[foxofthedesert]

Arrow FanFic | Dinah x Laurel | A Christmas Miracle

Part 4 – The Miracle (AO3 Link)

A vicious chill threads through the alleyway outside the Carmine Kanigher Shelter, sending waste detritus of modern civilization skittering in every direction.  Mice and rats flee for cover as fat flakes of snow begin to fall.  Soon the entire area will be blanketed in a carpet of fluffy white powder.  A Christmas Miracle for Star City courtesy of a recently reunited father and daughter duo of certain...arctic talents who are in town for the first of what will become the annual Team Flarrowgirl – a universally reviled portmanteau courtesy of one Ralph Dibney – Christmas extravaganza.  

Pushing off the cinder block he’s occupied for the second time tonight over the past few minutes, Marv adopts a toothy grin.  He already worked his seasonal miracle, which if his best friend Nora’s spotty accounting of history unrelated to her dad can be trusted is taking place right about...now.  Nervously, he lifts the sleeve of his jacket to check the vitals monitor on the modular biometrically keyed device wrapped around his wrist, finding all readings back within ideal parameters whereas only hours before they were fluctuating wildly.  Just to be sure his efforts were indeed successful, he pinches himself in several places to ensure his central nervous system is still functioning correctly that he is still corporeal and has not disintegrated due to a seismic shift within the causal domino chain that will eventually result in his birth less than six years from his present location in spacetime.  

As a reward for a mission accomplished, he sifts through the menus on what Nora calls their Vibe-rators – bless the innocent, adorable, perpetual child that she is, Nora has yet to grasp why nicknaming the gadgets that in honor of their esteemed inventor, their beloved Uncle Cisco, was not quite the honor she thought it was – and quickly deactivates the artificial aging matrix produced by some seriously shway tech that, savvy as he is, even he doesn’t fully understand.  He also unilaterally decides to never adopt the pseudonym Marv ever again.  

Honestly, what was I thinking going with that? Quen shakes his head, chuckling ruefully as the answer dawns on him. There is a longstanding Christmas Eve tradition in his house of watching Christmas movies all evening until everyone is too tired to keep going, and this year they are breaking out amongst other titles both of Macaulay Culkin’s Home Alone films.  Double-dipping those gems before bed is, in his opinion, just about the perfect way to cap off a perfect Christmas Day with his family.  Which is why he has to get a move on or he’ll be late and his Moms will not be happy.  Nor will Aunt Sara and Aunt Ava, who are actually supposed to drop by this year instead of ducking his Mom’s invite with some lame explanation of a temporal anomaly that needed fixing like, pronto.  Come to think of it, Maya, his older sister by a year and a half, is coming back home from a work thing in National City for the annual Lance family Christmas and will almost certainly use his tardiness as another excuse to hit him.  And Quen can’t have that.  She has enough reasons as is without adding valid cause. Plus, his damn shoulder has been abused enough by his sibling’s iron fists, thank you very much!

Glancing back toward the street he’d watched a younger, more hardened version of his softer mother approach him from, the familiar tug of welcome memory pulls him under its sway. His Ma is still a knock-out according to all his friends, who often break out an ancient acronym he chooses to ignore so as to not require a bleaching of his brain, so the age difference was not that jarring.  But it was beyond weird to see her so restrained and world weary.  

Of his parents, his Ma is the positive one, the tactile huggy, kissy, slightly smothery mom who sings while she cooks, dances as she cleans, and who cried – on camera! – at his graduation...every last one of the four so far.  So many wonderful memories of her flash by that he can hardly sort through them all. Her singing him to sleep while he was little and really, really sick while his Mom cradled him close to her chest and rocked him in her favorite rocking chair.  The absurd, bonkers, overboard, birthday bashes she organized for both him and his sister every friggin’ year until they were old enough to insist she dial back the adorable insanity.  The way she would stand to the side giggling uncontrollably at his ultra-competitive Mom once he got old enough to regularly beat her at basketball or soccer or video games.  How a few stern words from her spoke volumes more than a profuse tirade from his Mom ever could amongst one of the many lectures he endured regarding the vital importance of taking responsibility for one’s own actions.  How she always smells like an amazing blend of vanilla and cinnamon and can with a single enveloping hug and a lingering forehead kiss banish every iota of hurt, confusion, pain, and fear plaguing her children, even when they are fully grown adults.  His Ma is a lionhearted woman who loves with every last ounce of her strength, and it was more than a little disconcerting to witness her holding that ferociousness ransom in the obviously fading hope that a rescuer might appear to set it free.  Thankfully, he is a devoted son who is willing to brave her wrath to secure her happiness, which he did by pushing her toward a certain irritatingly complicated blonde.  

The various images of his Ma, heartwarming as they are, mingle with one of his other mom as he watched her first set foot in the shelter.  Looking for all the world like she didn’t know what the hell she was doing there, all the while unwilling to surrender an inch to fear or doubt, she was yet so fragile he was afraid to even breath in her general direction lest she shatter into a million pieces.  He had to get to know her first before he risked ingratiating himself to the point she would grant him permission for one stilted hug.  

He’d like to say that it shocked him to see her so walled off, the woman who carried and nourished him inside her body for nine months and then endured unspeakable pain to deliver him safely into the world, but it didn’t.  His Mom has always had trouble letting people in, which in combination with her frightening dark side could make her a foreboding person to approach.  From his first memories, he can recall glimpsing fleeting specters of what he’d witnessed in earnest while on this escapade in the past: a simmering rage and innate cynicism fueled by pain that only his Ma can assuage.  Once or twice he was the unlucky target to bear the brunt of an outburst that scared him witless, and scared his Mom even more – so much so that she would sequester herself in the bedroom or the spare bathroom until she calmed down or his Ma intervened to soothe the offended beast back into her thick iron mental cage.  He never really understood why his Mom got that way sometimes until just last year, about five months after his eighteenth birthday, when he learned about Black Siren.  That wasn’t a happy time for him, or for his Mom.  He had always known she had a troubled past, but that...that shook the foundations of his essential being, made him doubt his own moral and ethic core, and worst of all caused him to doubt his Mom’s ability to love.  It took both his Ma and his Uncle Ollie teaming up to knock some sense into him for him to get his head out of his ass and to stop avoiding and start talking to his Mom again.  

And now?  Well, now he’s glad he knows about Black Siren, because if nothing else, this trip into the past has given him a reality check as to just how awful his Mom’s life was to have molded her into the hateful person she was before his Grandpa took a chance on her that his Ma later picked up and ran with.  Once, and fortuitously, she got to the shelter early enough to join in a group session with the therapist that visits the facility once per week.  He had to sit there silently and listen as she got roped into sharing, then grit his teeth through the empathetic agony of her divulging a lot more than she had originally intended.  The things she went through before she met his Ma...Quen shudders at the very thought.  The silver lining to that intolerable experience is that at least he has a reference to work with dealing with her occasional mood swings.  

Also, this foray has given him a new, unique perspective into how much his parents love each other.  To have overcome so much adversity just to be together is, quite frankly, astonishing.  Nora has told him so many times that his Moms’ love story rivals that of any epic parental romance within the group of kids belonging to the venerated members of the Justice League, but he never quite believed her.  How could he when they were competing with the likes of Superman and Lois Lane, the Green Arrow and his Overwatch, the Flash and Iris West, and Supergirl and her mysteriously broody governmental handler all the kids simply know as their favorite Aunt Alex.  But those precious hours surreptitiously watching them interact in the kitchen and during the post-dinner clean up operation afforded him a view that, while slightly biased, was able to recognize that same divine spark between them that he sensed whenever he was around his friends’ folks.  It was nice, so nice that his heart is still soaring high in the clouds above, to be given the immense privilege of bearing witness to the event that will begin an inevitable spiral into his – and his sister’s – future conception upon a recovered Kryptonian Genesis ship.  And come what may, be it unavoidable tragedy like Nora’s Uncle Wally getting imprisoned outside the timeline by Abra Kadabra, or some catastrophic event like Darkseid himself descending upon his Earth tomorrow, he won’t be forgetting this adventure any time soon.  It has ignited in him a flame of hope that cannot be quenched and solidified a belief that will endure until his death that love really can conquer all.

“Well, I guess you guys will see me in five years and twelve months on the dot” he says, his gaze turning instinctively to the apartment in which he knows his parents to be making the first baby steps toward a future they have both risked life and limb to protect multiple times.  “Good thing it’ll be sooner for me.  Just hope you guys don’t kill me when I tell you where I’ve been for the past month...”

And with the press of a button upon his Vibe-rator – he snickers at the thought of the name – Quentin Nicholas Lance disappears from view to join his best friend for their return trip to the future.  He is not seen again until many years later. Twenty-four years,  ten days, seven hours, and thirteen minutes to be precise, which is two minutes late and of no consequence to anyone but Maya, who uses that as an excuse to hit him.  

Damn that punchy brat.  

Quen rubs his sore arm, but the smile on his face remains until he is engulfed by two pairs of arms that officially ring in another Merry Christmas for the Lances.  To his unending delight, in addition to a new Quantum Tablet, his Moms pulled some really big strings to get him into the Air Force Academy.  He can’t wait to tell Nora!  And as he rushes to dial his bestie up on his Vibe-device, he gives them both the biggest hugs he can muster up.  He doesn’t see how their eyes catch over his shoulder, glowing with love for each other and pride for their child and happiness over his happiness, but then again he doesn’t really need to.  He sees it every single day.  Nor would it have registered even if he had caught it.  He is far too excited to think of little else than realizing his dream of becoming a pilot.

Merry Christmas to me! He thinks as he hears Nora’s voice chime through the tiny, nearly impervious subdermal implants designed by his Uncle Cisco that were wired into his ears after a childhood accident his Mom still hasn’t forgiven herself for rendered him deaf.

“Hey!  You’ll never guess what I got for Christmas!”

Nora does guess, the know-it-all brat, but his enthusiasm doesn’t diminish one iota. This is, after all, the best Christmas ever.  And not just because he got everything he wanted, but because he got to watch his parents take the final steps in their journey falling in love.  How many kids get to make that boast?  Not any he knows of besides Nora.  

Quen has an extended family that loves him, a bright future ahead of him, a sister that would fight the world for him, and Moms who love him – and each other – more than he could ever begin to describe.  And that makes him the luckiest kid alive.

THE END 

[roaring-t-rex]

I Know What You Think of Me

Recently I received an e-mail that wasn’t meant for me, but was about me. I’d been cc’d by accident. This is one of the darker hazards of electronic communication, Reason No. 697 Why the Internet Is Bad — the dreadful consequence of hitting “reply all” instead of “reply” or “forward.” The context is that I had rented a herd of goats for reasons that aren’t relevant here and had sent out a mass e-mail with photographs of the goats attached to illustrate that a) I had goats, and b) it was good. Most of the responses I received expressed appropriate admiration and envy of my goats, but the message in question was intended not as a response to me but as an aside to some of the recipient’s co-workers, sighing over the kinds of expenditures on which I was frittering away my uncomfortable income. The word “oof” was used.

I’ve often thought that the single most devastating cyberattack a diabolical and anarchic mind could design would not be on the military or financial sector but simply to simultaneously make every e-mail and text ever sent universally public. It would be like suddenly subtracting the strong nuclear force from the universe; the fabric of society would instantly evaporate, every marriage, friendship and business partnership dissolved. Civilization, which is held together by a fragile web of tactful phrasing, polite omissions and white lies, would collapse in an apocalypse of bitter recriminations and weeping, breakups and fistfights, divorces and bankruptcies, scandals and resignations, blood feuds, litigation, wholesale slaughter in the streets and lingering ill will.

This particular e-mail was, in itself, no big deal. Tone is notoriously easy to misinterpret over e-mail, and my friend’s message could have easily been read as affectionate head shaking rather than a contemptuous eye roll. It’s frankly hard to parse the word “oof” in this context. And let’s be honest — I am terrible with money, but I’ve always liked to think of this as an endearing foible. What was surprisingly wounding wasn’t that the e-mail was insulting but simply that it was unsympathetic. Hearing other people’s uncensored opinions of you is an unpleasant reminder that you’re just another person in the world, and everyone else does not always view you in the forgiving light that you hope they do, making all allowances, always on your side. There’s something existentially alarming about finding out how little room we occupy, and how little allegiance we command, in other people’s heads.

This experience is not a novelty of the information age; it’s always been available to us by the accident of overhearing a conversation at the wrong moment. I’ve written essays about friends that I felt were generous and empathetic, which they experienced as devastating. I’ve also been written about, in ways I could find no fault with but that were nonetheless excruciating for me to read. It is simply not pleasant to be objectively observed — it’s like seeing a candid photo of yourself online, not smiling or posing, but simply looking the way you apparently always do, oblivious and mush-faced with your mouth open. It’s proof that we are visible to others, that we are seen, in all our naked silliness and stupidity.

Needless to say, this makes us embarrassed and angry and damn our betrayers as vicious two-faced hypocrites. Which, in fact, we all are. We all make fun of one another behind one another’s backs, even the people we love. Of course we do — they’re ridiculous. Anyone worth knowing is inevitably also going to be exasperating: making the same obvious mistakes over and over, dating imbeciles, endlessly relapsing into their dumb addictions and self-defeating habits, blind to their own hilarious flaws and blatant contradictions and fiercely devoted to whatever keeps them miserable. (And those few people about whom there is nothing ridiculous are by far the most preposterous of all.)

Although sometimes, let’s just admit, we’re simply being mean. A friend of mine described the time in high school when someone walked up behind her while she was saying something clever at that person’s expense as the worst feeling she had ever had — and not just because of the hurt she’d inflicted on someone else but because of what it forced her to see about herself. That she made fun of people all the time, people who didn’t deserve it, who were beneath her in the social hierarchy, just to ingratiate herself or make herself seem funny or cool.

Another friend once shared with me one of the aphorisms of 12-step recovery programs: “What other people think of you is none of your business.” Like a lot of wisdom, this sounds at first suspiciously similar to idiotic nonsense; obviously what other people think of you is your business, it’s your main job in life to try to control it, to do tireless P.R. and spin control for yourself. Every woman who ever went out with you must pine for you forever. Those who rejected you must regret it. You must be loved, respected — above all, taken seriously! They who mocked you will rue the day! The problem is that this is insane — the psychology of dictators who regard all dissent as treason, and periodically order purges to ensure unquestioning loyalty. It’s no way to run a country.

THE operative fallacy here is that we believe that unconditional love means not seeing anything negative about someone, when it really means pretty much the opposite: loving someone despite their infuriating flaws and essential absurdity. “Do I want to be loved in spite of?” Donald Barthelme writes in his story “Rebecca” about a woman with green skin. “Do you? Does anyone? But aren’t we all, to some degree?”

We don’t give other people credit for the same interior complexity we take for granted in ourselves, the same capacity for holding contradictory feelings in balance, for complexly alloyed affections, for bottomless generosity of heart and petty, capricious malice. We can’t believe that anyone could be unkind to us and still be genuinely fond of us, although we do it all the time.

Years ago a friend of mine had a dream about a strange invention; a staircase you could descend deep underground, in which you heard recordings of all the things anyone had ever said about you, both good and bad. The catch was, you had to pass through all the worst things people had said before you could get to the highest compliments at the very bottom. There is no way I would ever make it more than two and a half steps down such a staircase, but I understand its terrible logic: if we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.

Tom Kreider

[neon-serpent-llc]

Time to stroke my ego and elevate my opinions to untouchable facts with the fourth annual Whatever Awards! Now, don’t let me being a veteran AAA game developer trick you into thinking this list has any merit. My pointless, subjective list carries the same weight as The Oscars, that is to say, none.

Now read my absolutely important, objective list of Best Games.

Intentionally Hardcore or Accidentally Impossible? - ELEX One of my gaming guilty pleasures involves wonky sandbox adventures from Europe. Colorful worlds with unconventional RPG systems make for...unique game experiences. Which means unpredictability; something AAA games sorely lack.

This year’s prime example was ELEX, from the makers of Risen. Adding a dose of sci-fi seemed like an interesting twist on this already bizarre sub-genre, but it may (or may not) have gone horribly wrong. Because I genuinely can't tell if this game is monstrously difficult by design, or by accident.

The leveling system is heavily balanced towards quest completion, yet most quests involve traveling to areas swarming with tough monsters (who reward almost no experience for being killed). The combat is extremely stiff, so fighting them is an uphill battle to begin with, but presumably easier with better weapons. Yet you can't upgrade weapons (or even hold fancy weapons, like a blaster pistol) until you level up your character...which is almost impossible, since you finish so few quests. There's no good way to break in to this loop.

So my brief time with ELEX devolved into cautiously exploring the world and running away from all combat. And reloading often from the never ending stream of one-shot kills.

The Tale of Two Takes Award(s) - Nioh and The Surge Both games offered a take on the Soulsborne formula this year, with varying degrees of success. Without naming names, one was fast, fun, and interesting, whereas the other was slow, awkward, and frustrating. I liked the settings of each, and the core systems, but ultimately one I finished and the other I dropped after getting lost for hours in the second level. And for me to get lost is an almost unheard of feat. Remember, I make virtual mazes for a living!

Phrases to Retire Award, part 1 - Love Letter Every indie game on Steam is a love letter to some game from the past. Just once, I'd like to see a reply from one of the games that’s been called out.

Dear Face Xploders Xcelsior, Thanks for the kind thoughts. I tried your demo, and it kinda sucked. Please, don't write me again. Ciao, Castlevania.

P.S. Stop mentioning my name!

Too Much of a Good Thing Award - Prey Prey is a smart, rewarding game with confident, emergent design. Except for the last four hours of backtracking and more backtracking through monsters that repopulate at mach speed. Because of this, there is little motivation to fight them, only to flee, leading to a marathon of speed-run style tactics to get from point A to B, and back again. That said, the ending IS great, and makes everything come together as a whole, but it could have arrived much sooner. AAA games are so afraid to cut any finished content, (hey, that cost time and money!), but sometimes its necessary.

Way Too Much of a Good Thing Award - Miitopia Miitopia is a quirky, cute game with fairly standard JRPG design. And there's a good dose of humor in the unexpected interactions between Mii characters. Nothing close to the likes of Tomodachi Life, the insane, brilliant Mad-Lib generator, but still amusing.

This is a slow paced game, one that I burned through over the course of many nights, falling asleep in bed. But the thing is, this game is HUGE. It keeps going and going, world after world. Long after it has run out of new things to show you, there is just MORE. Even beating the game unlocks two worlds and an infinite side-quest system. As a kid, I never imagined that a game could be too long. Sorry, Little Me, but you were wrong!

Bad Habit Award - Hyperbole Headlines Everything is either the Best Thing Ever or the Worst Thing Ever. This reaches much further than the game industry, but some (not all) of our news sites have jumped fully onto this trend, which is the Worst Thing Ever, by the way.

I Forgot This Came Out Award - For Honor One of my only repeat awards, the "I Forgot This Came Out" Award is not meant to downplay the award's recipient, its meant to humbly remind us that hype and excitement mean nothing when it comes to standing the test of time. For Honor was a big E3 reveal for Ubisoft, a new IP set to redefine online combat. It had the world's attention. I tried the beta and it never clicked for me, but I know some of my co-workers adored it.

And then...it was gone. Like so many of the games we pour years of our lives into creating, they get their 15 seconds of fame, and nothing more. No end of the year praise, no all-time best lists. Just another momentary fragment of joy.

Best MMO - Destiny 2 No matter what Bungie claims, Destiny 2 is an MMO...and it's pretty fun this time! There's a deep-seated momentum to the gameplay. You never sit still as you dance through a progression of ever more colorful worlds. And strong art direction bleeds through everything. Compare that to my only memories of Destiny 1: sitting around, waiting for a FitBit to decode computers in dull, empty rooms.

Phrases To Retire Award, Part Two - Blowing Up My phone is blowing up! This game is blowing up! These awards are blowing up! They got two whole retweets!!

Remasterpiece Award - Final Fantasy XII Sometimes its sacrilege to mess with a masterpiece. Even the phrase "Who shot first?" evokes memories of defending Han's trigger finger. Yet, in videogames we buy remakes and remasters with the express hope that our masterpieces HAVE been messed with. They better have spruced up them graphics and tripled the FPS, re-recorded the voice-overs, let me fast travel, save anywhere, and given me a new epilogue for good measure.

Such is the case with Final Fantasy XII, a masterpiece to begin with, and much more so now with the addition of one clever feature: the fast-forward button. One click and the entire game runs at either 2x or 4x normal speed. I was certain using it would cheapen the experience, but to my surprise, it greatly enhanced it. By speeding up the tedious parts, players have more time to enjoy the tasty bits. It encourages deeper exploration of the world and its content.

One could argue, of course, that there should be no tedious parts, but I can think of few narrative-heavy games without some tedium built-in. Every second of the story can't be exciting, we need peaks and valleys. A sprinkle of tedium helps virtual worlds feel more lived-in and authentic. Pure games like Ikaruga can dispense with tedium because the story of Ikaruga is "shoot or die!"

It'll be interesting to see what happens with Shadow of the Colossus next (this) year. A ground-up remake of yet another masterpiece, but by a completely different creative team. Every line of code is new. If I told you I had the exact blueprint to replicate the Mona Lisa, I doubt you'd be excited to see my "remake."

Trend That Needs To Die - Loot Boxes They've been lame since day one and everyone finally seems to agree. Companies, just let us directly buy the dumb consumer junk we want!

Game that Most Impressed my Parents Award - Horizon: Zero Dawn My Dad is a classical landscape painter, so I like to show him vast game environments. While he was impressed by Assassin's Creed's Egypt, and Zelda's rolling fields, he was blown away by the sheer beauty of nature on display in Horizon. And my Mom also remarked that it was "very pretty." I made a brief attempt to explain robot dinosaurs to them, but ultimately concluded with, "look, its a videogame, ok?"

The Inverse Xenogears Award - Mass Effect Andromeda Xenogears, if you'll recall, started strong and remained strong...until disk 2 where, frankly, the game kinda fell apart. Many games fall into this mold, most famously Mass Effect 3 which ended on a particularly underwhelming note.

So what happens when I game STARTS on a particularly underwhelming note, but gains momentum and finishes strong? Such is the case with ME:A. The game sets up a simple, awe inspiring premise: humanity goes to Andromeda. We've finally reached a new galaxy. Things beyond our imagination await here, just you wait!

Oh, never mind. Turns out its just the standard bipedal dudes-with-guns waiting for us, behind cover no less. Also, some animations were weird. Buzz killed. Understandably, most people bailed out around this point.

But, given about ten hours, the game opens up. For one, you start visiting proper alien-looking planets, and the scope of the story broadens vastly. Around the same time you've gotten enough abilities to zip around the battlefield, never needing to hide for cover again. This is where the game should have started.

By the end, the fate of Andromeda convincingly rests in your hands in a truly bombastic finale that hits on every level. And your character is a bona fide joy to control by this point. This is easily the strongest ending in Bioware's history, overcompensating for the ME3 ending fiasco. Shame that most will never see it, and the stage that it sets will never continue. Mass Effect is likely dead now.

What's the Fuss Award - Player Unknown's Battlegrounds This game has been around for years, more or less, in various forms. So why do people suddenly care? Why this one? Nothing about it is particularly new. If anything, it seems like a slower, clumsier version of almost any other shooter that comes to mind. The Zeitgeist is weird.

Might have been game of the year, if I had more time to play it - Persona 5 Even though I've played ten hours already, I know I'm basically nowhere in this game. Which is more than I can say for Divinity 2, another supposed GOTY candidate that I've yet to even start. There were just too many good games this year. Who has the time to play them all, especially these 100+ hour behemoths?

Movie and music critics can easily keep up with new releases, but game reviewers are obligated to complete these massive games before rendering judgement. Most professional game outlets divide reviews across numerous individuals and even then these outlets only review a fraction of new releases. Is there a single soul on Earth that played EVERY Steam game released in 2017? Doubtful. Given this, is any "game of the year" pronouncement valid? At best, GOTY is more like "Best game I played this year, of the 5% of total releases that I actually played"

Phrases to Retire Award, Part 3 - Is a thing. Apparently, Microsoft Windows 3.1 is still a thing. Listen, it might have been cute if it was said once, by one human, and then retired for a decade. But instead it's said by every human, every second, about every THING. How is this a thing?

The Long-Lost Everything Award - Xenoblade 2 This game reminds me of all the best bits of ye olde games of yore: A huge, sweeping story that keeps evolving and unfurling with none of the cut corners I associate with the PS3 era (where every game got really short, and every environment got reused 200 times). A huge, sweeping soundtrack with countless memorable songs and none of the generic movie-orchestration I associate with games made in the west. A huge, sweeping overworld that's intricately hand crafted to match the story (living on the shoulders of Titans is escapism at its best), with none of the generic cities/fields I associate with, well, most open world games.

Mostly, this felt like a great, overlooked space-opera Anime that we've all somehow rediscovered 15 years later. That said, the fan service also feels fifteen years out of date, and is the only questionable bit from ye olde games of yore.

“Hey, I Have a Fun Idea” Award - Super Mario Odyssey The award is named after how the game was designed. Just a bunch of people sitting around saying, “hey, I have fun idea,” and then making that into a tight, micro-slice of gameplay bliss. This game is loaded with brief, memorable moments that are novel, and never overstay their welcome. As the last drop of fun has been reached with one activity, the game is already moving you along to the next...hundreds of times in a row. Now that's impressive.

Everyone's a Speedrunner Award - Ys VIII: The Lacrimosa of Dana Most games try to mimic real-world physics when it comes to character movement. A character's jump, for instance, looks wrong if it doesn't match what we'd expect to see in reality. Speedrunners know how to exploit these pseudo-physics to great effect, and use this knowledge to "break the game" by moving and jumping in ways unintended by the game's developers. Usually this type of movement is difficult to perform, and requires hours of practice to master single-frame animation windows and pixel-perfect jump arcs.

But not in Ys VIII! Just mash on the jump and dodge buttons and you'll soon become a whirling dervish of energy, constantly increasing in speed. It requires no practice, and feels exhilarating. The music's tempo matches the speed, and nothing ever slows you down, making it clear that this freedom of movement was by design. Brilliant!

The Armchair Architect's Wet Dream Award - Gravity Rush 2 Gravity Rush 2 is a beautiful game. Maybe too beautiful, as I spent most of my time slowly walking the streets, taking in the colorful architecture. And while this world is obviously an impossible place, most of the buildings still seem like they could work. In particular, I liked that the bottom of every island was explorable as well. I guess there are literally no places to hide when your main character is a badass, flying-cat superwoman.

Game of the Year Award (or Best game I played this year, of the 1% of total releases that I actually played) - Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Hardly surprising given that Zelda has won this award from...well, everybody I think, but there is no denying this game is just sublime. A profound sense of freedom and old-school Adventure permeates every inch of this vast world. And the game is greatly unpredictable, thanks to all the emergent physics systems built-in to the core gameplay. No two encounters play the same because of it, keeping this behemoth utterly engaging from start to finish.

Art of the Year Award - Nier Automata Videogames are an Artform, which we all (finally) know by now, but of course they're only one of many Artforms that fight for our hearts and minds: Movies, music, literature, painting, sculpture, and sandwiches made at Subway (hey, they're made by "sandwich artists," right?). And with this in mind, I offer up my first ever "Art of the Year Award" to the best damn Art I've seen in many years: Nier Automata.

It's hard to explain why this game packs so much of a punch, especially given that, at first glance, it seems like an easily dismissable fan service game. Do not be fooled! What starts as a standard sci-fi premise, becomes more and more involved both in terms of plot and philosophy. This buildup leads you exclusively in one direction, thematically. This theme is remarkably consistent, from the music to the side quests, even to the enemies you encounter. That is, until the credits of ending five roll (there are 26 endings, but you'll only need to see five to fully understand what I mean). Then everything gets flipped, so to speak, in what is EASILY the best ending in video game history. This turnabout is not only well earned, but it makes every second preceding it feel more important and absolutely necessary. In terms of vision, this is a Complete Thought, delivered in video game format.

Most importantly, Nier showed me that "art games" don't have to be boring. It's so fun to play! With my game, ULTRAWORLD EXODUS, I kept many exciting elements of movement out because I was worried players wouldn't pay attention to the message, which was the game's reason to exist. But instead, they paid attention to the lack of movement options, and missed the message anyway because they were too frustrated. Nobody wants a symposium, they want to smash giant robots. And hey, if someone is talking that philosophy stuff in the background, that's cool I guess, as long as I can keep smashing. This one will stay with me for years.

-----------

And that’s all; what an embarrassment of riches this year was! Feel free to disagree with me, because honestly, that’s the point. Your opinions will always hold the most weight, far more than mine, which suck. So, yeah, whatever :P

[friendshipsavetoxic]

Signs That Show Your Friend Is Toxic

Toxic friends complicate your life. These folks tend to be more than a nuisance, they are parasitic. Precious time slips away because you cope with their negativity; and you are left wondering why you should are feeling despondent. If you are ready to simplify your life, you can't condone these poisonous friendships no more.

 What Fixing Friends Can

They drain you. -- You feel psychologically and emotionally drained after spending time with them, rather than uplifted. (Read Emotional Blackmail.)

They're unsupportive. -- You're scared to inform them about new, significant areas of your life because they have been unsupportive or completely rude about your ideas in the past.

They're up to no good. -- They often partake in activities that are morally unfair.

Their values and interests are contrary for your own. -- Dissimilar value systems frequently mix like oil and water. This doesn't necessarily indicate another person is wrong, it merely means they aren't suitable for you.

They are unreliable.

They simply contact you when they need something. -- Maybe you never hear from these.

They are not satisfying you halfway. -- In case you're always the person calling your friend to create plans and moving out of the way to be together , but they never return your favor and try to go out of her way for youpersonally, there is a issue.

They're envious of you. -- Jealousy is:"I need what you need and I wish to take it from you" As they say,"You can not soar like an eagle if you hang with turkeys."

They always drive you to minutes of insanity.

My Story of Toxicity

Here's why I know how bad these friendships can be: I have been on both sides of the courtroom. Yeah, I've my share of victim stories about friends who had been friends only if I agreed with them gave them exactly the spotlight. I've got stories of woe about past friends who were fabulous and fun, given I did not attempt to cut into their time by (gasp!) Spending time and having other friendships. (You know, with a life out of them?)

 But the truth is I have been a terrible friend sometimes, and I recognize this. Previously I've failed several friendships by simply relying on the other individual to stay in touch rather than reaching out myself. A few of those friendships withered away over time because of my toxic behaviour. Bottom line: Toxicity is really a two-way road -- you have to be a fantastic friend too. (Hold this notion; we'll come back to it.)

 How to End a Toxic Friendship

In my experience there are two ways to end a noxious friendship: fast and or awkwardly. Neither is fun, neither is neat, and is simple.

 In the Event That You still wish to keep this Individual on your lifetime, just to a lesser level:

 Quit reacting to bogus emergency calls. -- In case you do not drop everything to choose their"I'm so devastated! My supervisor gave me a look that I believe he disturbs me and that jerk from advertising wore the same shirt as me" calls, but they'll find someone else that will. Or they will address this. Either way, it's okay to step back and eliminate the very first awake calling list to get non-emergencies.

Take positive control of unwanted conversations. -- It is okay to change the subject, discuss you, or even direct discussions away from pity parties and self-absorbed sagas. Be happy to disagree with them and deal with the consequences.

Prove that you will not be insulted or belittled. -- To be honest, I've never had much luck trying to call toxic folks out when they've insulted me. The best answer I've gotten is,"I am sorry you took what I said so personally." A great deal more effective has been finishing discussions with searing sweetness or just plain abruptness. The concept is clear: There is no reward for subtle digs and no other matches will be played at your end.

Be brutally honest. -- Some people truly don't understand their own hazardous trends or their inconsiderate behavior. You are able to really tell a person,"I feel like you ignore me until you need something." You can likewise be honest if their overly negative mindset is what is driving you away:"I'm trying to focus on positive matters. What is something good that we're able to chat about?" It might work and it may not, however, your honesty will make sure that any friendship which continues forward is constructed on mutually beneficial floor.

In the Event You Only Want to Totally end your connection with the Individual in query:

 Stop taking their calls entirely. -- If you're stuck seeing them on a regular basis, such as, for instance, a coworker, store things on a purely professional degree. Find a reason to depart and explanation yourself as necessary. It is passive aggressive to anticipate avoidance to handle the issue, but it is an important element. You can't cut ties should you still chat on a regular basis.

Firmly tell them you've had enough. -- If you have decided it is time to reduce a really poisonous influence out of your life, it is possible to tell them frankly (without being cruel). "I just can't be friends with you right now" isn't fun to listen to, but it's the benefit of putting everyone on precisely the exact same page.

Create new friends worth having. -- Seriously! Offer your time to buddies you associate with and enjoy. The long shadows of poisonous friends shrink considerably when you've got much better things to do with your time than worry about their negativity.

Finally, Be a Great Friend

It doesn't help to reduce toxic friends out of your life if you're not prepared to boost quality friendships. Frankly, I'm not trying to preach; this is something I am working on in my life. also you can send them daily friendship quotes(here it is) which helps you a lot!

 Make that initial telephone, offer a real glow, schedule an enjoyable outing with another individual in your mind, send this ridiculously amusing card for no true reason -- there are tons of ways to nurture your spirits. When you're surrounded by good friends and good intentions, it's amazing the way pettiness and toxicity only vanishes.

[evilelitest2]

Letters to my Grandmother: The Republican Bubble and Party Asymmetry

The Republican Bubble

So everybody knows that the US is a two party system, our politics are filtered through the democratic or republican perspective, those two parties control the political narrative, and all power is confined to these two parties.  And in many ways, the leaders of the two parties fundamentally agree on many issues, both parties are ok with campaign contributions, both parties are ok with Gerrymandering (until very recently) both parties are very close to the corporate class etc etc.  From about the late 70s onwards, there is a general consensus of what the parties will tacitly agree on (money in politics, interventionist foreign policy, neoliberal economics, free trade, socialism=bad, don’t address wages, deregulations etc) with a small area of fierce disagreement (Abortion, gun laws, taxes, gay marriage, prayer in school, Obamacare).  This has broken down in recent years, but for twice my life type, that was the default of American politics.  This is why people get disillusioned with the two party system, after all if you’re top priority is getting money out of politics, BIll Clinton and Obama aren’t going to do you any favors in that department.  

But it is important to understand that just because the two parties are opposed and share many similarities, they aren’t mirror images of each other, this isn’t the Capulet and Montague where they are both basically the same people but wearing slightly different colored outfits, these are fundamentally asymmetrical organizations, their fundamental build up is radically different and beyond a few basic elements, they are really quite distinct. I understand the temptation to see them as just the Right and Left wing mirrors of each other, like the factions in Princess Monokee, but I think this is a very...limited way of understanding these groups.

There is a great book called “Party Asymmetry” which talks about how the parties are fundamentally organized in an entirely unique way, their very makeup is distinct from each other, they are organized in fundamentally different ways.  Let me break some of these differences down

Firstly, the Democrats are significantly larger than the Republican Party, you might be tempted to think that they are each 50% of the population, but that frankly isn’t true.  You know that map of the US which shows the majority of the states as red with mostly the coasts as blue?  Yeah, well….most of the population live in those blue states.  Remember in 2016, the Democrats had surprisingly low democratic turnout, and the Republicans had shockingly high voter turn out and despite that, the Dems still got 3 million more votes.  The Republicans are a minority party, it’s just that the 18th century set up of the US political system means that parties are rewarded for having the most land rather than the most people.  And this is important to understand for the Republican psychology, they know full well that if democratic reforms are ever issued, then they are going to lose.  Like if you abolish the Electoral College, then the GOP will likely never win a presidential election, hence why they are so absolutely terrified of ever letting the democrats win.

Secondly, the Republican base is extremely….monolithic.  It is overwhelmingly white, overwhelmingly Christian, majority male, and most importantly for our purposes, overwhelmingly old.  The Republicans are a primarily the party of old white people though not exclusively (Hi Grandma I love you very much), and when your party is well...dying that puts them in a very unusual position.  Every year, elections get harder and harder for Republicans because more and more GOP voters die and more and more Democratic voters come of age, but here is the thing.  Elderly people are the most consistent voters, they will vote more than any other group in the US, while young people are the least reliable voters.  I’ll get into the reasons for another time, but just remember this, Elderly people vote consistently, young people vote inconsistently.  Actually elderly people are the best voters because they don’t just vote in the presidential election, they vote in the mid term elections, they vote for the governors, they vote for Senators, Representative, they even vote in the state legislature, I mean when was the last time you voted for your state representative.  However the downside is that appealing to old people usually comes at the expense of leaving anybody else.  Except my grandparents of course (I love you very much Grandmother).

Thirdly, the Democrats actually are a governing party, the Republicans are not.  What do I mean by that?  Well the democratic party, as a collective whole, wants to live in a multi plural democracy where decisions are made via compromise and the 4th estate is a major check on power.  There have been numerous reports that show that democratic voters approve of politicians who make compromises in order to produce progress or support the party most when it makes the country function day to day, and care what the mainstream news has to say. Imagine for a moment, that Obama was able to get a partial gun law passed that only banned a certain class of weapons with the help of some republicans, or if he was able to pass a major climate change initiative in exchange for allowing massive corporations to make huge amounts of money off of it.  Most democrats would be ok with that, and would applaud it as a victory.  If the NYT or the Washington Post, or CNN came out strongly against Obama calling him a dangerous liar, democrats would care, and listen, even those who don’t value those reporters would at least consider what they have to say.  If Obama insulted the Prime Minister of Australia on a phone call, most democrats would be upset.  In all of these instances they might mute how upset they are or reduce it if they felt it would give the Republicans a win, but there would still be effect.  This is not true of the Republican Party, because they don’t care about governance, at least the base doesn’t, not anymore.  They approve of their political leaders who don’t make compromise, who have the most inflammatory rhetoric, and who treat the Democrats as an opposing side in a war rather than simply an opposing party.  

   What does this add up to?  Well the Republican Party is...well it’s a culture.  Democrats are notoriously disunified compared to the far more organized Republican unity, and that is because being a Republican is an identity in a way that being a democrat is not.  Democrats are primarily unified by ‘OMG the right are completely insane we need to stop them before they destroy the country” but beyond that there isn’t much of a unifier, because being a democrat basically means “being interested in actually governance”.  It’s not just that Clinton, Obama, and Warren are all radically different politicians, they isn’t even much of an attempt to unify them except against a common enemy.  

Republicans meanwhile have a full identity, they have a subculture, they effectively are their own nation using the European sense of the term.  Republicans watch their own TV, listen to their own radio, they read their own exclusive newspapers, they have their own media, their own music, they have their own entirely exclusive world view.  The only voices who Republicans care about are those of...other Republicans.  If you ever meet “lifetime republicans”, you will notice how all encompassing the experience is, everything they do is either “Republican Approved” or its the so called “Apolitical Media”, aka stuff which works hard to not show much in the way of overt political bias.  Imagine the Republican base like an insular subculture, there is a lot of room for disagreement and alternative opinions within that group, but all of them rally together against any sort of outsider.  They don’t care about the mainstream press because they have their own alternative press, they have their alternative culture, they have their alternative understanding of politics, they have an entirely distinct world view and psychology, and one which means they only trust are others of their community.  Notice how frequent the claim of “Rhino” or “Cuckservative” is among mainstream Republican pundits, while only the far left has the whole “This person isn’t a Democrat”.  When Obama faced off against Clinton, neither was like “oh this person isn’t a real leftist”, they were instead like “I respect my opponent, but they are wrong”.  Meanwhile even before Trump showed up, Huckabee, Ryan, and Romney were all implying the other was a traitor who was secretly trying to destroy conservatism.  And there is no single kingmaker on the left the awy you have for the Right.  

The left and the right share a lot of traits, but their is no singular figure on the left who demands as much power as Rush Limbaugh or Sean Hannity on the right, there is no network that is the left wing Fox News, and the left doesn’t have an entire alternative unifying subculture that binds them together.  So why did the right go this way while the left did not?  Well I will explain that...next time.

Oh that was a great ending note, but I love running things, so this is my last notice on the difference between the two groups.  Republicans know full well that their way of life is dying out, that if the democrats can win like...two elections, that's it.  They are fighting for a way of life which is on the verge of coming to an end at any point, so they are always going to be more committed to this than we are, and that is why republicans need voter fervor so much, they know that their base will do everything you want voters to do as long as they can protect them from gay people getting married, black people not being shot on police whim, or poor people being able to live comfortable lives.  

[talinthas]

Gideon

it’s insane that there are people who don’t think Gideon is the embodiment of white. He believes 100% in that which is greater than him- his irregulars, the gatewatch, the boros army, the allies on zendikar, the gods- and fully believes that without the unity and structure of the whole there is no path forward. Gids has been adrift since losing his faith in Theros and getting his spark, and everything he’s done in the story since then has been towards the end of finding and rebuilding that belief in the greater. He’s maybe the perfect essence of White.

And really, i’m tired of listening to folks disparage the idea of being lawful good paladin protector or whatever. it’s tough to give of yourself so much, to put yourself out for little to no reward, simply for the satisfaction of knowing you helped someone else. Gids resonates with me because of his legit selflessness and desire to be the best support structure there is. He’s extroverted, vulnerable (emotionally, not physically), and willing to go to any length in order to make sure the group is happy.

This leads into yesterday’s magic story and a little personal context.

I read a review from a friend who saw the entire thing in an incredibly negative light, but to me as a believer, Gid’s experience with Oketra rang absolutely true. The review called it mind control, but in religious traditions, ceding control to the divine is the whole point. “Let Jesus take the wheel” as it were. But beyond that, it’s not just capitulation and mind control, it’s giving in to the force greater than yourself. it’s allowing yourself to feel awe in the presence of the primordial force of creation.

So let me tell you a personal story for a moment. In my early teens I was deeply ambivalent about religion, even atheistic if i’m totally honest. Being a minority religion in the states means that if you aren’t taught at home, you aren’t gonna learn it anywhere else. My parents came from India, so they were used to hinduism just permeating the atmosphere like background noise. There was no need to teach or learn because it was just absorbed into your psyche via cultural osmosis. In america, they kept that same laid back attitude, which doesn’t work because the background noise here is secular christianity. That means learning all about easter and hannukah and judeo-christian tropes and metaphors, and almost nothing about anyone else. Being a minority religion meant having to constantly reinforce your own beliefs, build logical defenses and find a way to survive in a strange milieu. My parents, and frankly my community, weren’t prepared for that, and didn’t do anything, so Hinduism was just a weird thing we did at home once in a while.

We went to India a lot in my youth, and one of the trips we took we went on a pilgrimage to a number of sacred shrines to Shiva, the jyotirlinga temples. The first one we went to was Somnath, in the far west of Gujarat. In many ways, its considered the most important of the jyotirlinga temples, and is home to a gigantic idol of the lord, and a bunch of other sacred sites.

As I mentioned, I was deeply indifferent towards religion, but I still enjoyed going to the temples and things to just see them. But as we got closer and closer to the site, i felt really strange. All i could think about was that temple, and the god inside. the closer we got, the more compelled i felt, the more i felt like a magnetic force was taking hold of me. We made our way over, and as we entered the precincts, my family stopped to take off their shoes and whatever, and i didn’t even bother. I tossed my shoes off behind me (which is a good way to ensure you’ll never see them again, frankly) and just took off towards the sanctum. I was like 13, and going off on your own in india, even in a temple area, is pretty stupid. I ran forwards, and somehow, this temple, which is one of the most popular and busiest, was strangely empty at that moment. I went through the outer courtyard, into the temple walls, through the inner courtyard, past the priests and pilgrims, and through the empty lines leading to the sanctum sanctorum deep in the heart of the temple. The crowds parted before me and i made it to the railing where the Shiva lingam was covered in a beautiful silver mask depicting the lord’s face. It was the first time i felt the real meaning of ‘awe’, the overwhelming reverence and power of the sublime force before me. The mask straight opened its eyes and stared into me, and i stood there for about five minutes entranced before my family finally caught up to me and the priests ushered me away. From then, i was a changed man, given over completely to the worship of this god, who wasn’t even my family’s god. We’re vaishnavs from a tradition that favors Krishna, and the worship of Shiva is completely different and primal in comparison. My parents were really confused, because while they were believers, their trip to this temple was more about seeing the sights than engaging in worship, the way Protestants might enjoy looking at a Russian Orthodox church without wanting to participate in the rites.

So when Gids saw Oketra, and she said to him, “You're one of mine, Kytheon Iora," i knew *exactly* what that felt like, what she meant, and what he went through. It wasn’t mind control, it wasn’t an evil presence taking over his agency, it was an acknowledgement that this divinity had chosen you, and flowed through you, and guided you. In that paragraph alone, i felt whisked back to the most profound experience of my life, and i knew immediately that the author *got it*.  Some go their whole lives without ever feeling that awe, or that calling, and that’s totally cool. But for me, as a believer, as a fan of gideon and lawful good paladins and everything that white mana represents, this sang out to me like the tolling of a harmonically pure bell. This is what Gideon spent his life searching for, and he found it, just as I did.

[evansclinchy]

A supposedly fun thing I'll probably do forever

One of my favorite pieces of writing I've ever come across - perhaps my very favorite - was a lengthy essay that the late, great David Foster Wallace wrote a long time ago about tennis. Well, he wrote many. To be more specific, this one was entitled "Tennis Player Michael Joyce's Professional Artistry as a Paradigm of Certain Stuff about Choice, Freedom, Discipline, Joy, Grotesquerie, and Human Completeness"; it was originally commissioned by Esquire in 1995, later republished in his essay collection, "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again" in 1997 and popped up again on Esquire's website shortly after Wallace's death in 2008. In 2016, it found its way into another anthology, "String Theory: David Foster Wallace on Tennis," released in May.

It's odd that I hold this particular piece of writing so dear, as I've never really been into tennis, at least not as anything more than a casual fan. And if you ask most readers, his piece on Michael Joyce isn't even considered his good tennis piece; Wallace the tennis writer is much better known for his "Roger Federer as Religious Experience," which ran in The New York Times Magazine in 2006. That was a once-in-a-generation writing talent at the peak of his powers chronicling a once-in-a-generation tennis talent at the peak of his, and there's nothing quite like witnessing greatness and greatness converge. That's what gets me about "Tennis Player Michael Joyce," though. It's not about greatness at all. Michael Joyce retired with a career record of 46–67 and only once advanced past the second round of a Grand Slam tournament. Wallace didn't write about him to profile someone great; rather, he was exploring what it's like to be good-but-not-quite-elite at something. He was probing into that weird gray area between futility and immortality, and I've always been fascinated by what he found. To me, the most profound line in the piece has nothing to do with tennis, at least not specifically. It's more of a general musing. "You are invited to try to imagine what it would be like to be among the hundred best in the world at something," Wallace writes. "At anything. I have tried to imagine; it's hard."

In the summer of 1995, Michael Joyce was the 79th-best tennis player in the world. Wallace dedicated 9,800-some-odd words, not including his trademark bevy of footnotes, to exploring the essence of his 79th-ness. He focuses on one match in particular - played early in the qualifying rounds of the '95 Canadian Open between Joyce and a college kid named Dan Brakus, whom Wallace describes as "a very good tennis player." Brakus is good but overmatched. He can serve 118 miles per hour; Joyce, meanwhile, can return that serve and then stay two steps ahead of Brakus the rest of the way, perfectly reading the geometry of each shot and outmaneuvering him point after point. "It's like watching an extremely large and powerful predator," Wallace writes, "get torn to pieces by an even larger and more powerful predator."

Joyce, meanwhile, is just as overmatched if not far more so when he takes on a real world-class player - like, say, Andre Agassi. It becomes apparent after a while that Joyce is a bit obsessed with the superiority of Agassi, who was in the midst of a 30-week run as the world's No. 1 player at the time. The word "Agassi" shows up 46 times in Wallace's profile, remarkable given that the profile isn't of him. Joyce spends his entire life pursuing greatness at tennis, yet he remains keenly aware the whole time that there's someone else on another level entirely, a level that he'll never reach. "Every once in a while," Wallace writes, "Joyce will look over at his coach next to me in the player-guest section of the grandstand and grin and say something like, 'Agassi'd have killed me on that shot.'" You get the sense that everything Joyce does is calibrated against this impossible standard. It's unreasonable and maybe borderline insane to compare yourself to the world's No. 1 at anything when you're No. 79, but Joyce seems unable to help himself. Among the Dan Brakuses of the world, Joyce is a god, but he always seems to have one eye on the bigger names above him. He's hopelessly stuck in the middle, and he's devoted every fiber of his being to reaching that middle.

So.

I play Scrabble. This is something I've put a great deal of my time and energy into for the last decade; my 10-year anniversary is coming up in May. It's something I've gotten pretty good at, all things considered. Of the 161,293 entries in Collins Scrabble Words between two and nine letters long, I've learned damn close to all of them (though plenty fall through the cracks in my brain, often at inopportune times), and strategically, I've developed a pretty good sense of what I'm doing (though lapses happen, and they can be quite ugly). I try to be self-aware about my aptitude and skill for the game and to stay honest about my abilities without being arrogant or - arguably worse - falsely modest. Right now, I'm ranked as the 36th-best player on Earth. This feels right to me. I'm confident I can beat most everyone outside of the top 40 consistently; I'm also mindful of how thoroughly outclassed I still am by many of those above me. Like Michael Joyce, I'm stuck in the middle.

Over the last eight months, give or take, I've come to realize how frustrating it can be when you're stuck in that good-but-not-quite-elite zone in Scrabble. To wit, I've had a string of good-but-not-quite-elite finishes at big events, dating back to mid-2016. At the national championship, I ranked second with two rounds to play, needing just one win to hold onto that spot for good; I went 0-2 and slipped to fourth. At the world championship, eight players cracked the playoffs, and I was competing in the eighth-place game in the final round; I lost and fell all the way to 16th. At a pair of mid-major tournaments in December, I went to sleep on the final night in first place; both times, I woke up the next morning and was beaten back down to second. At another pair in March, I suffered blowout losses in the late rounds that knocked me out of contention. Outcomes like this hurt, but they're also par for the course in my position. When you're almost the best player but not quite, you're sure to have plenty of results that reflect that.

These results are painful in and of themselves, but they're made even more so by all the effort it takes to achieve them. Being good-but-not-quite-elite is hard. You have to be born with a certain degree of aptitude to reach that level, sure, but a whole lot more than 36 people on Earth have that aptitude. The other pieces of that puzzle are a lot of hard work, a lot of mental energy and, frankly, a quite deliberate rejiggering of one's priorities in life. It's hard (impossible?) to reach the almost-top level of Scrabble without diverting a good deal of time and focus away from other things that are probably far more worthwhile. All of this just to be 36th, reaping all of the sort-of-glory-but-not-really-glory that comes with that.

Wallace writes at length about this same problem manifesting in Michael Joyce - and more broadly, in everyone who plays tennis at the same level. He argues that in a way, the problem is all of our collective faults for creating this culture - one in which we praise players for their successes while largely ignoring the process that makes them possible.

"Americans revere athletic excellence, competitive success, and it's more than lip service we pay; we vote with our wallets. We'll pay large sums to watch a truly great athlete; we'll reward him with celebrity and adulation and will even go so far as to buy products and services he endorses. But it's better for us not to know the kinds of sacrifices the professional-grade athlete has made to get so very good at one particular thing. Oh, we'll invoke lush clichés about the lonely heroism of Olympic athletes, the pain and analgesia of football, the early rising and hours of practice and restricted diets, the preflight celibacy, et cetera. But the actual facts of the sacrifices repel us when we see them: basketball geniuses who cannot read, sprinters who dope themselves, defensive tackles who shoot up with bovine hormones until they collapse or explode."

To equate my own struggle with those of any of the athletes Wallace alludes to above would be foolish. Obviously. I'm no hero, and luckily I can read decently well and need no performance-enhancing drugs. But on a smaller, less dramatic scale, I understand the rhetoric there and can relate to it. I think a lot about my sacrifices. I think about what I could have done with all the hours I've spent studying dictionaries and analyzing games. I ponder the choices I may have made differently if I'd prioritized "real life" more and focused less on preparing for the next tournament. There were job opportunities I didn't bother to pursue because I wanted more time to study (and more freedom to travel to tournaments). There were, to be candid, romantic relationships I allowed to stagnate because I wasn't as focused on them as I could have been.

I don't have any regrets, per se. My life's decisions are what they are, and they've made me who I am. I like myself, mostly. But this stuff is still interesting to think about.

It resonates with me when Wallace goes into depth about the impact of the sacrifices the Michael Joyces of the world make - specifically, how they tend to narrow the individual's worldview and dull his personality. He references the "vapid and primitive" quotes that athletes give in postgame interviews as a symptom of this - sporting people speak in dull clichés, he argues, not because they're stupid, but because they've channeled their intelligence into one very specific thing. This makes them great at that thing, but at what cost? That's the question. Wallace describes this life choice as "consent to live in a world that, like a child's world, is very small." I find it hard to dispute this.

I submit that in Scrabble, this world is even smaller. At least on the tennis court, you're playing a game that has some sort of connective tissue with the outside world. Millions of people have played tennis at least semi-avidly and developed an understanding for its complexity. Millions have also watched Federer on TV and seen the awesomeness of his abilities. They know he's on another level because they've seen it firsthand. They've watched him work his magic and thought to themselves, "Wow, I could never do that." Scrabble is different because so few people in this world can (or, should I say, choose to) grasp or contextualize what it means to achieve expertdom. The work that goes in behind the scenes - the countless hours of studying and analyzing - is anonymous and thankless and understood by painfully few. There aren't many people who know the drudgery of reinforcing for the 87th time that the word in AEGIMNSV is VEGANISM, or poring over the results of 2-ply simulations and reasoning out why this play is better than that one. And why should they? It takes a lot of discipline to keep learning words and a lot of self-flagellation to continually question your strategic thinking and challenge yourself to improve. Sometimes, this journey is exhilarating; other times, it's just lonely.

It's not that nobody understands the highs and lows you go through - but those who do, you're trying to kick their asses. That's the paradox here. There aren't many people out there who can fully, empathetically understand what it takes to win at Scrabble, and there aren't many who genuinely feel 100 percent happy for you when you win. The number of people who fit in both categories at once is mighty close to zero. So who are you playing for? Who, if anyone, are you trying to impress?

When describing the scene of a Canadian Open qualifying match, played between the world's 79th-best player and someone else below that level, Wallace writes that "The applause of a tiny crowd is so small and sad and tattered-sounding that it'd almost be better if people didn't clap at all." This sentence is depressing but wonderfully written, and it feels applicable across the board. It might be the Qualies in Montreal or Table 4 at the Nationals - the logic works just the same.

The difference is that the guy in the Qualies is playing for a chance to graduate from the Qualies and be something more. Wallace makes a point of the fact that even some of the all-time great tennis players began their careers in those sad, seemingly inconsequential play-in matches - even Pete Sampras, before he became Pete Sampras, had to compete at the Qualies level at first. There's a sense of satisfaction, I imagine, that tennis players feel when they make that climb from good to transcendent. But in Scrabble, what is there to transcend? Even if you're Nigel Richards - and last I checked, only one person alive is he - what are you fighting for? To prove to a small cadre of people who have mastered something that you've mastered it even better?

Plenty of people have given compelling reasons why they play. They play because they love the game and they love the people in it. The enjoyable gameplay and enduring friendships keep them coming back. That's all well and good, but it's not what I'm asking. There's why you play, and there's why you compete. They're two entirely different questions. That might seem to some like a small distinction, but it's one that's changed my life.

There's no shortage of past top players who have walked away because they've hit a wall and lost the desire to continue competing. One famously wrote in the early 1990s that he was quitting because "there's little satisfaction in beating someone whom one should beat regularly." More recently, one expert penned that "There are virtually no extrinsic motivators in Scrabble" while walking away; another quipped that "It's a law of diminishing returns," putting in more and more time to make less and less progress up the ladder. All of these are valid complaints, and compelling reasons to give the game up.

Me, I acknowledge all of the above statements to be true - and yet for some perverse reason, I use them to justify why I'm still here. A shrink would have a field day with this. Even though the games start to blur together and the results often feel proforma, I keep playing. Even though there's very little to keep motivating me - and almost certainly not enough to justify the amount of time I put in - I keep working at it. Why? I'm really not sure. At the risk of begging the question, playing Scrabble is what I do because it's what I do. I've come this far over the last 10 years, and turning back just doesn't feel right. I've already irreparably warped my life to center it around this dumb game; I might as well make the most of this bizarre situation.

At the end of his long essay, after a brief interlude to reflect on watching a few of tennis' bigger names like Jim Courier and Michael Chang and Mats Wilander, Wallace returns to his discussion of Michael Joyce. His closing paragraph describes Joyce as "a complete man, though in a grotesquely limited way." He asserts that "already, at twenty-two, it's too late for anything else; he's invested too much, is in too deep. I think he's both lucky and unlucky. He will say he is happy and mean it. Wish him well."

Those last three words - "wish him well" - have always haunted me a bit. It's unclear whether they're meant as a statement of Wallace's personal sentiment (as in, "I wish him well") or an imperative to the reader ("You should wish him well"). Wallace weaves back and forth between the personal narrative and the persuasive argument, and I've never been sure of what note he closes on here. But no matter. The point is that when you devote seemingly your whole life to a given pursuit, be it tennis or Scrabble or whatever else, it has a strange way of making your life feel both complete and incomplete. It's immensely gratifying yet intensely painful. At this point, I think that's the feeling I'm stuck with. Wish me well, if you care to. I'm not sure what difference it will make. I plan to continue on, until I inevitably someday collapse or explode. Or, you know, maybe something a bit less apocalyptic. We'll see.