Good Game
The worst feeling in the world can be when you realize it's game over. When the referee blows that final whistle, when the buzzer sounds, when the super mario song tells you you just died and ran out of lives. You were trying so hard, working as hard as you could... to achieve something. To get there. To reach your goals. And then, tragically, it was all cut short. You died. You were losing 2-1 -- you wanted to score the equalizer. It was a tie game -- you wanted to win. There was something more to do, something left to prove.
It's always this way until you're in the championship match and you're up by a goal. That's the only time it's okay for the ref to blow the whistle, for the ref to say - "you win"... here's your trophy, add it to the rest, you earned it, you deserve it... by the way - "good game."
I look into my dog's eyes, and it's almost there. the whistle is going to be blown soon, to tell her, "good game"... but she wants something more - another cookie, another laugh, another ring of the doorbell. something to tell her she's wanted, she's loved... she has made an impression, she will leave her mark. she wants to understand, she wants to go for a walk - that's a funny smell, what is it, i love it when you scratch my back like that, keep going, woah, there it goes - that stupid squirrel, i'll catch you some day, and you will pay... and that postman too, stupid postman. i love you.
Good game Kisha. Good game
"Although the most acute judges of the witches, and even the witches themselves, were convinced of the guilt of witchery, the guilt nevertheless was non-existent. It is thus with all guilt."
- Friedrich Nietzsche (1882)
Why is it that sometimes the simplest little concepts need to be written down before they are considered to be genius?
I was sitting in my car today, at a traffic light on the way to York University. I was about to rid myself of my Honours Essay, which turned out to be 93 pages in length, and had made me very, very tired in its production. I was feeling a rare concoction of feelings, now that I think back. The recipe would have consisted of a large bag of butterflies for my stomach, some visine for extra wattery eyes, a bad case of insomnia, some deep cold for application to the brain in hopes of inducing numbness, an extra bright flashlight aimed at my face to allow for intense squinting, a horse named charlie to kick both legs as a punishment for days of inactivity, and a case of redbull to cause a bit of shaking in the limbs. It wasn't pretty. But I remember looking out the driver's side window of my vehicle as I sat there, frozen in time, jittery in this surreal position that I had only imagined in the preceding months--and I had imagined it to feel much better than it did. And then there they were. Snowflakes.
Tiny, little, cute, frigid, icy, white, god-forsaken, good-for-nothing, SNOWFLAKES. In the middle of April... DAYSSSSS after it was 24 degrees. Figures, no?
But here's the point of this post, and it's a good one I assure you. In my moment of total absent-mindedness and the unwanted reminder that I live in Canada and not Cancun, I automatically thought of updating my facebook status with some clever little quip about how it's snowing in April. Thankfully, I look out for myself, and I make sure to give myself the least amount of armaments when I'm out on the road. My severe lack of a 'smart'phone meant that I had no means of updating my facebook status, and thus saved my 500 contacts from having to read another fact about the obvious conditions of our shared surroundings. But more importantly, what technology has allowed us to do now, is in the absence of another person to annoy with redundancies about... the weather, for example, we use facebook as our 'buddy' to confide in. Except, when we post on facebook, we have a vision of about 10-15 people reading it and totally lose sight of the fact that there are upwards of 500 lives which could possibly change upon stumbling on our comments about snowflakes.
Oh the fun of social networking.
