(no subject)
Andrew's birthday party Friday night was awesome. I hear. I wasn't really there for most of it, but that was awesome, too.
We showed up on the early side, as preparations were being made to play Andrew's newest game. It's his, and it's not done, so all I'll say about it here is that I've tried really hard to get tired of it, and never have managed to. It's super nerdy and super social at the same time. Most games can't hold that balance. If I had the chance, I'd abandon this post right now and go play some more.
So anyway, a group of us played the game until things got too crowded and loud and partyish to really continue. Then there was some mingling. Someone was doing psychic readings based on facial features. He seemed obsessed with my eyebrows. I sat down on the couch next to Eric. He'd been in the game playing group and we had laughed together there, so my shy bits felt reassured and willing to initiate conversation.
We got to talking, so into the conversation that the rest of the room just faded into background noise. One thing led to another, and we wound up in the back bedroom together, where we...
...played SCRABBLE all night.
I've been to several parties lately that turned all naked and sexy by the end of the night. This was not one of them. If it had been, I wouldn't have noticed, because I was deep in conversation about the relative merits of ZIN(E) C3 vs. ZINC(s) H4.
Lately Scrabble's lost its shiny new luster, and so many other things have demanded my attention that I haven't been studying. Which means I haven't been getting better. The game's no fun if I don't get better. I don't get better if I'm not having fun. It was a feedback loop I couldn't escape by myself. Eric booted me right out. He recognized right away that my casual approach and lack of competitive nature are holding me back, keeping me from bringing the necessary intensity of focus. I've been setting my sights too low.
"You need to get mad," he said. I think he meant angry, but I'm no good at that, so I'll take his advice, but define "mad" as "crazy." I can do crazy. He told me stories of the beautiful plays he's seen. We talked through every play, and he pointed out areas where my thinking process is holding me back. Little things all over the place -- 10% improvements here and there that can add up to huge numbers. Assumptions I make without realizing it, usually-helpful rules that I don't allow myself to break when I should, bad habits I've picked up along the way.
So that fire is under my tail again.
We showed up on the early side, as preparations were being made to play Andrew's newest game. It's his, and it's not done, so all I'll say about it here is that I've tried really hard to get tired of it, and never have managed to. It's super nerdy and super social at the same time. Most games can't hold that balance. If I had the chance, I'd abandon this post right now and go play some more.
So anyway, a group of us played the game until things got too crowded and loud and partyish to really continue. Then there was some mingling. Someone was doing psychic readings based on facial features. He seemed obsessed with my eyebrows. I sat down on the couch next to Eric. He'd been in the game playing group and we had laughed together there, so my shy bits felt reassured and willing to initiate conversation.
We got to talking, so into the conversation that the rest of the room just faded into background noise. One thing led to another, and we wound up in the back bedroom together, where we...
...played SCRABBLE all night.
I've been to several parties lately that turned all naked and sexy by the end of the night. This was not one of them. If it had been, I wouldn't have noticed, because I was deep in conversation about the relative merits of ZIN(E) C3 vs. ZINC(s) H4.
Lately Scrabble's lost its shiny new luster, and so many other things have demanded my attention that I haven't been studying. Which means I haven't been getting better. The game's no fun if I don't get better. I don't get better if I'm not having fun. It was a feedback loop I couldn't escape by myself. Eric booted me right out. He recognized right away that my casual approach and lack of competitive nature are holding me back, keeping me from bringing the necessary intensity of focus. I've been setting my sights too low.
"You need to get mad," he said. I think he meant angry, but I'm no good at that, so I'll take his advice, but define "mad" as "crazy." I can do crazy. He told me stories of the beautiful plays he's seen. We talked through every play, and he pointed out areas where my thinking process is holding me back. Little things all over the place -- 10% improvements here and there that can add up to huge numbers. Assumptions I make without realizing it, usually-helpful rules that I don't allow myself to break when I should, bad habits I've picked up along the way.
So that fire is under my tail again.