The Reality. Of Gaming With Friends

Playing games is an integral part of our society. It allows for interaction in a field where real life does not need to intrude. Escapism , imagination, action, competition, co operation, validation, these are what people look for when they play games. And that's fine to a degree. My problem is when you game with the same people again and again.

Let's compare. I'm have two groups of friends with whom I play games. 

One group are RPGers. There are maybe ten of them and so there is an ever changing field. The games played are varied, from Board games like Settlers and Rummikub, to D&D style engines, like Apocalypse and Blades in the Dark.. Everyone is up for a new game and everyone encourages everyone to take a lead. They are huge nerds and are proud of it.

The other group is a small group which doesn't change. The games played are either Munchkin, Goldenye, Pokemon Stadium, or Mario Kart. The game dictates who will play, since players refuse to play anything other than the game they like. Also there is very clearly a group of winners and losers within that group. They are huge nerds and are proud of it. 

A larger variety of games is one thing. Being able to use my mind instead of relying on hand eye coordination is another. Playing games where losing is not a thing versus losing is a thing is yet another. No one likes losing, and I am not that big a fan of winning either. Winning is overrated unless there is a real world benefit. This goes back to my gambling problems. And so, my winning would have a real world consequence to my competitor. Which means, when playing with friends, they suffer when I win and I am not a big fan of that. Playing in the seance group is cool, because losing with friends is a bonding moment. I am proud to see my friend lose, suck it up, when he is obviously pissed, jog on and find some way to have fun.

My major issue is players who do not want to play games. I am talking about the player who suggests one game, and only That game. I'm talking about the player who refuses to play any other game. I'm talking about a player who owns one game, and pWns all who try to play against that person, and tells them it's okay because they are just really good at this one game. When you have someone who only wants to play one game, and it is a game at which they are dominant, there are multiple gripes I have. 

Firstly, you're limiting the player pool, so your refusal to play limits the enjoyment level of your friends. More people playing varies the texture of the game, allows people to take a break, and gives champions a chance to bow out gracefully. 

Secondly, you're dismissing the other games, thus reducing the other players' life choice values. When you say I don't play that kind of game to someone who wants to do that, it's dismissive. You're saying that you are better than that game, and therefore you are better than those people who want to play that game.

Thirdly, when you dominate one game and you only want to play that game, it suggests an id issue. You define yourself as a winner. You do not want that definition to be brought into question. When you only do things you are good at, when you shy away from things you are not the best at, you are placing yourself on a pedestal. No one gets to be on a pedestal. I regularly do things that I am not good at. I do them because I enjoy being with people, and that is more important than being the best with people. Of course that's my id, and I am recognisant of it. That's why I also try to try new things whenever I can. It led me to roleplaying, which I am so thankful for. It led me to sports I would never have played otherwise. Softball and Ultimate Frisbee both gave me a lot of pleasure. If I had never played because I could not be the best, or in the high percentile of great players within a small pool, then I would have missed out on becoming a more rounded human being. I would have stunted my growth within and without. 

Losing sucks, but only for a while. Winning all the time is fun, but only for a while. Try new things, especially when suggested by your friends. They're suggesting them for a reason and if they're your friends, it is probably a valid reason.

New Year, Old Man

Lets see if I can remember how to do this.  Haven’t written in a while so this is going to be streaming consciousness , off the cuff stuff. Last night was New Year’s Eve and it was a shitshow. It started off pretty badly on a personal level, but since that was resolved in ninety minutes of conversation with a coffee, I am not going to go into details here. And the following two hours were also pleasant. They were spent with a couple of old friends, a few new friends , drinking dancing and relaxing.

 

No.

I want to talk about the next couple of hours.

The Daegu Party hours. The time period of 3 to 5 is where the party animals come out to play. I don’t just mean the usual suspects of people who you first think of being at the centre of a good  time. I mean the Inner Party Animal. The Beast that Lurks in your darkest shadow. If they are out at that time, on any night, people have a tendency to just lose their shit. Otherwise respectable people become hard core and , ultimately, ridiculous.

Rejoining my friends at a cellar bar, the location was irrelevant. People were drinking. People were dancing. People were kissing. People were crying. Men were taking off their shirts and jumping around together in loose , messy circles. Men were holding other men back from hitting other men. Men were sat down, staring at other people having a good time. Some men were staring at women, some men were holding women, some men were laughing at women.

Jesus. Was I ever this awful? I am not even talking about the misogyny, although, fuck, I cannot believe that behaviour is still condoned in 2015. I am talking about the lack of fun. It just didn’t seem fun. It seemed intense, focused on proving to peer groups that this was a valid lifestyle choice, that this was the best way to go through a night. It seemed a little desperate. It seemed a little scary.

I left the party. I threw up a little in the street. I am not perfect. But I found a little corner that was not a shop front and upchucked because I had to. I walked the streets of Thursday and Kebab for a few moments. Snapshots of activity. Six people walking abreast, arms linked, forcing people to either side of them as they sang a song and kicked trash along the street. People running after other people, grotesque angry faces and fists raised. A woman walking alone arms folded and shivering, tears streaking her make up. A man making ‘Fight me’ eyes at me as he rolled past. Another man telling me the rumours were not true, he did not want to fight me.

Fight. Fight. Fight. Everything seemed so violent. I have never felt scared walking down Daegu at night. I have run away from people who wanted to hit me and I have sat down away from people who have punched me. However, those were specific things that led to a specific reaction. That was all personal. Last night seemed to have an edge of Impersonal Violence. I felt uncomfortable. I felt in danger.

Listen, I am sure some of this is due to the alcohol. Some of this is due to the cold. Some of this is due to the fact that I am getting older. Some of this is definitely due to the fact I now go out and do not know even a quarter of the people downtown. I understand that. Strangers are treated strangely, are regarded with strange eyes.

I understand all that and I still think something is amiss. In fact, I think we are so far from where we should be, we should ask for direction.

A police presence would not go astray. Responsible Barmen would not be a bad idea. Remembering the Line, ‘Nothing good happens after 2AM’.

Or I can just accept the fact my Inner Party Animal has Officially Retired. It has moved to Party Animal Homes, where it now looks forward to riding the Gym Bike, playing board games and hosting dinner parties. Where the prospect of sharing a wine bottle appeals more than downing a pitcher of beer. Where snuggling one person at 7PM at home sounds infinitely more appealing than hanging with my boys in a club, repping my crew. Jesus, that sounds hackneyed and childish.

Okay, Where are my pipe and slippers?

Life Hacks to Downtown Daegu

Downtown Daegu can be so hard, you know? If only there was some way to make life easier and less, you know, stressful. You know?

1) Get served at Gogos quicker. 

Go inside Gogos. Order at the bar and save 25 minutes on waiting time for death cocktail. 

                  There are so many cars trying to get through right now.

2) Need a poop?

Don't poop in bars. They're awful cesspools.  Go to one of the coffee shops. Do NOT go into galbi restaurant toilets. They have giant spiders and poop stains from yesteryear. 

       You, on a Saturday night , when you look up in a restaurant cubicle in Galbi Alley.

3) Live music venues are for live music listeners. 

Don't go watch your mate in a band if you're going to complain about the shitty audio. Ain't nobody got time for that. Go to your super classy Club Klassy Fokkers, where the audio is surely to their credit.

                      

                           Commune's was not ready for their brand of Speed Metal.

  

4) Learn when curfew is happening. 

Bar serve times will drop off dramatically. Also, the chance of you getting into trouble for referring to the Red Six as a 'Rounders team for silly little girls' drops off significantly.

          

                              Shrugging your shoulders and saying 'Sports, eh?' will not help.

5) Do not pee in the street.

We are in the city, in the 21st Century. Take the obligatory three steps into an alley or up a closed business's stairwell to do your business. 

                     

                           This guy only pees on the finest establishment's stairwells. 

     

6) Do not ask for baggy drinks to be made stronger more than once. 

Respect yourself.

        

           This guy asked for a stronger June Bug. He has been in a coma in this position for a week.

7) Keep that shit to yourself. 

 If you find a lovely, quiet mellow bar, do not tell anyone else about it. When you want to leave the over bass and under thrill of the other bars, you'll be thankful for the hour spent alone at a bar reading your book. 

        

    "Yep, definitely at Thursday's, as well. Get me a shot. I'll meet you by the pong table. For realzys."

8) Choose sexual partners accordingly.

If you are looking for a hook up at 3AM, ask yourself honestly what level of self respect do you have. If the answer is a lot, I honestly don't know what to tell you. Well done, I suppose. For the rest of you troglodytes, you have Who's Bob.

          

                                 Ladies, the Walk Of Shame is named as such for a reason. 

9) Taxis choices.

When getting a cab home, decide at the start if you trust the cab or not. If you do, slump into unconsciousness. If you don't, give him directions. Do not start shouting at him frantically halfway through your journey. Be better than me.

         

                  Also, do not confuse this for a taxi cab. Be better than my Mudfest friends.

10) Budget your drinking effectively. 

Daegu Drivers are three parts soju, three parts OJ, one part cider. Bamboo soju will do nicely. Captain Q is easy, the Chinese glass liquor should be avoided at all costs. Trust me. Trust my fractured liver.

        

                                                    Seriously, can we help this guy?

The Five Worst Habits I Have Encountered in Korea

I have lived in Korea for the better part of a decade and there are many great things about it. If I didn't like it here, I would have left a long time ago. However, you cannot live in a place without picking up some personal issues, some pet peeves about a place. Ask any group of foreigners to talk about living in Korea and at some point they will have a bitch and moan about the place. Don't worry Koreans. We bitch and moan about our home countries as well.

               The Japanese will not shut up about this guy. We get it. He's annoying.

The five Issues I have chosen are annoyances. They are not major societal issues, such as rampant alcoholism, overt sexism, wife beatings, casual racism or even wilful ignorance of the police to deal with crime. Those would be massive problems. I'm sure glad we don't have to deal with any of THAT.

No, these issues are things that are part of the daily grind, things that really should not cause a facial tic or images of rendering individuals limb from limb dance in front of our eyes. But they do. for example....

Gum Smacking

                                                          Ugh, you are the worst. 

When did this even become a thing? Gum chewers always knew their place in society. Better to be seen and not heard, they were what smokers became to try and better themselves. Instead they learned chewing gum can be a status. A status that can be declared in horrible clarity. Popping gum is the sort of thing that belongs in the fifties, along with segregation and uncomfortable bras.  Even then, it belonged to those girls that wanted to be sexy but we're only ever going to be fourteen when you were eighteen. Why am I seeing , and more importantly, hearing fifty year old women chewing gum? 

The Solution The people who chew gum on the bus seat next to you, mindlessly making that gum snapping sound again and again? They deserve to be reminded how annoying it is. So face them and click your tongue. Click it in time to them chewing their gum. When they stop and stare at you, keep clicking your tongue right at them. Tilt your head and stick it out a little. Click your tongue. Become the stuff of their nightmares. 

Eye Avoidance

If I am taking to you, please be invested in the conversation as much as I am. Don't look at your phone and don't point at something in the sky, then when I look where you're pointing, run away. But most of all, don't look away from me. Korean custom has a person looking away, averting their eyes . Cool. Here's the thing. I would like you to adapt to the situation. I am clearly trying to get eye contact with you. It is clearly important to me. So when you go out of your way to continue ocular avoidance to be respectful, you're actually being disrespectful. Also, let's be honest, this eye avoidance is a crutch to bad behaviour. When a kid acts up in class, then looks away, when an ajosshi overcharges and looks away, when an ajumma runs for a seat, barges you out of the way and looks away, that is not out of respect. That is out of shame. And shame does not cut it for me. I want respect. I. Want. Respect.

The Solution shaving mirrors. One in each hand. Wave them in their eyeline forcing them to look at you. But, take advantage of the sitch. When they look away, Dr on your face. Red lipstick, black kohl, just mess your head up. When they stare into the mirror, they'll see a rainbow night daemon. They'll scream and, hopefully, do something go amusing. Like jump out of the bus window. Bring makeup remover and clean up daintily, staring at the rest of the bus passengers, smiling. Maintain eye contact. 

Littering

        

                                 The man is a super hero and he's struggling. Think of the fish!

I have a friend who is Texan and a liberal. The genetic coding of a man who loves big sky, has weapons knowledge and hates anti environmentalist litterers is a sight to behold in Daegu. He has followed kids who dropped cans and candy wrappers down a street and gave it back to them. It's beautiful, man. Littering is unforgivable, even with the proviso there are no dustbins trash cans anywhere. For a society that realises it has almost no natural resources, it is criminal to take your land and cover it in non-biodegradeable seagull chokers. When I see kids dropping all the wrapping off a triangle gimbal, I want to pick the kid up and throw them into oncoming traffic. That's wrong, of course. Probably. 

The Solution wear an official long outfit, complete with hat and badge. Follow litterers and demand on the spot fines of 20,000 won. When they can't pay ( I'm thinking children here) give them a ticket saying they must attend a court in the next 90 days to explain exactly why they were right to litter. Make sure the ticket has wet ink, so that when they touch it, it gets on their hands and cannot be washed off. Stand there as they realise the situation, then give them a long, slow, thoughtful nod. They'll get it. 

Arm Crossing 

                         

                              Literally the only time I'm happy to see this happen.

To be clear, but this is not folding the arms. This is making an 'X' with your arms as a silent , final way of saying 'No'. You lazy bastards. You can say No. You can be nice about it. I'm not a bloody vampire. I'm a human being. I have demonstrated I speak at least a modicum of Korean. We can have discourse of a sort. You just immediately saying No to a situation, before it has even played out for a second? That's rude, rude in a way that makes French people tap their Gauloises into an ashtray in a thoughtful manner.

The Solution Grab those hands and spin the offending person around, thus forming the first step to a sexy bachata. Break down their lack of communication through the medium of dance. Hold them close, look over your shoulder provocatively, let them know you want them to reconsider selling you that vintage shirt, even though it is clearly too small for your ludicrously portly frame. Spin them with the fiery passion of a person who understands it is a family restaurant but you just want to eat some samgyetang by yourself. 

Infantile Nationalism

    

                                                       Yes, I do. Do you like potatoes?

When I tell my students they can ask me any question, they go for the same things. What is your favourite colour? What is your favourite food? Where do you come from? That's correct, I'm happy with that. My kids have basic vocabularies and are only a few moments removed from mewling shit factories that never sleep. However, adults need to grow their question base. They ask questions like, Do you like Korean food? Do you like Kimchi? Isn't it super hot? The answers to these questions are yes, sometimes, and no. When these questions still come up, I start to feel like there is a Census is going around. Every Korean stranger I have spoken to, the first three things they REALLY want to know are these things. Sure, they'll ask about your age and nationality but they really want to make sure you dig their food. They want you to love it. They want you to be blown away by how awesome Korea is , and their food is the easiest manifestation of that national id. I'm trying to think of one Israeli, one American, one Frenchman, one German, one Englishman, who has been so concerned a stranger to their shores enjoyed their stay.  Koreans are as arrogant as other nationalities; I just feel other nations are more laissez afire with their nationalism. Americans will scream Murrica! At the drop of a hat, but that is mostly tongue in cheek. Americans know their nationalism is silly and infantile , and that knowledge gives them perspective. Can you imagine a Texan asking an Englishman if he likes hamburgers? No, because the Texan would not give a fuck. 

The Solution when asked these questions, cross your arms, look away, chew some gum, and throw the wrapper in the floor. They'll soon get the message and leave you alone.

I Have Enough Friends

I just sat down to eat at Burnham's Burgers for my lunch today.  I was alone but quite happy to watch YouTube as I ate my egg mushroom burger.  As I am munching on my food,  I see someone I know who is alone as well.  We have known each other a long time.  We exchanged pleasantries and he sat down away from me with his back turned.  When I finished I said goodbye and he said goodbye and that was  it.
I reflected as I walked away,  shuffling with fake confidence on my still improving right knee.  What was I to that person? What was that person to myself?  Friends? Friends would sit down and eat together. We would enquire into each other's lives.  We would talk about minutiae, or deep thoughts. I felt no such compulsion to be at the same table in the same way he felt no desire to share with me his innermost secrets.

But we are not enemies.  At least,  I don't think we are.  I know he is part of a group of people who regard me with emotions ranging from disdain to indifference.  Bit he has always been cordial and polite.  I have never heard of him saying a bad word to anyone,  much less about me.  He doesn't roll like that.

So what exactly are we to each  other?  Colleagues?  The TESOL Community is now far too large to be friends just because you're both foreigners in a strange land trying to do an unappreciated job. Acquaintances? We have both been part of sports leagues and dramatic events.  And yet, we never hung out.

We are Facebook friends,  that number you can either  choose to let define you or not.  People you have known your whole life,  or people you met at a bar last night are giving the same station.  Yes,  you can partition your friend groups in Facebook.  No,  I don't do that.  Who has the time and the inclination to breakdown their association?

And yet.  What am I to that guy? Probably nothing important. If I was,  I reason,  he would try to get to know me better.  The fact he hasn't tells me he has no pressing desire or need.  He has enough friends.  Good for him.

If you asked a younger version if me if you could have a finite number of friends,  he would have scrunched up his face and snuffed the suddenly confusing air. Too many friends,  are you kidding me? Nowadays,  I can say I have enough friends.

I am confident with my picks.  I have multiple circles that are interwoven and autonomous.  I have different interests represented.  I have respect and love and joy and connection.  I can lose touch without fear of losing friendship.  I have colleagyes and Acquaintances as well.  But really,  I don't worry about being just another Facebook friend in the crowd.

I have enough friends.

The ELT's Guide to The Godfather.

If I have learned one thing in my time in Korea, when Anne wants something it is usually a good idea to do it. I am joking. But not really. She has been my mentor since I was a week old TEFL n00b and I am lucky enough to consider her to be my best friend. SO, if she wants The Godfather's guide to ELT, you had better believe that is happening.


Cue the violins, and Puzo fonting....

Michael Corleone: Fredo, you're my older brother, and I love you. But don't ever take sides with anyone against the Family again. Ever.

My classroom is my home and my students are my family. Rule two in my classroom is no fighting. If they hit each other, or call each other names or act in a way that I find akin to bullying, I stop them and explain that we are a team. We live or die as a team. Seriously, like Ben Stiller says, There is no time for no Lauryn Hills.

If your student are your family, don't kiss them.

Peter Clemenza: Leave the gun. Take the cannoli. 

This adlibbed, off the cuff remark occurs after Clemenza's man has killed someone. The gun is no longer needed. The food is still a necessary part of Clemenza's day. Pick and choose your ELT weapons in a similar fashion. Do not get tied to one set of lesson plans. It gets boring for both you and your students. By choosing only the correct ELT tools for each individual lesson, with its individual issues, you can make the individuals learning perform better.

Don't shoot kids. THAT should be on EPIK orientation.

Michael Corleone: [to Sonny] It's not personal, Sonny. It's strictly business. 
Some kids are little shits and that is just how they do. It's not about you and it's not about your lesson. They act that way to everyone they meet. Some kids are dumb. It's not about you or your lessons. Let's be clear, you should ABSOLUTELY do everything in your power to make these kids perform better. However, when that bell rings, you have to remove them from your mind. They removed you from their life equation;you have to do the same.

"Ohhhhh, I had a rough kickin it in class, kids out here are kicking my ass, But I clear my head when I'm playing banjo, yes my name is Marlon Brando-oh."

Sonny: We don't discuss business at the table. 
There is a time and a place for everything.Planning a lesson when you are in the classroom with your kids and during the time you should be teaching is disrespectful. It is disrespectful tot the kids who are there to learn, to the person paying your wages, to the ELT community who are only ever associated with the lowest common denominator of teacher. It is also disrespectful to yourself. Take the time to plan properly and do it at an appropriate time and place.

For example, this is the wrong time and place to start the screenplay for The Godfather.

Tessio: Can you get me off the hook, Tom? For old times' sake?
Tom Hagen: [shakes his head] Can't do it, Sally. 

If you have rules in your classroom, enforce them. If your favourite kid breaks those rules, enforce your rules. No one gets a bye. I don't care if a retest has them  start to cry. I mean, I care, I'm not a monster. However, I care more about the justice that is perceived by everyone else in the classroom. You slack off on how you enforce rules, pretty soon the whole classroom will feel justified (correctly) to slack off as well.

Though you should make sure your rule enforcement tactics are age appropriate. This is good for Middle schoolers, maybe?

Emilio Barzini: [during a meeting with the Five Families] Times have changed. It's not like the Old Days, when we can do anything we want.  

The Old Days. Long Time Ex Pats gathered around a bar table will reminisce about how great the Old Days were. Don't blame us, we're old with bad back and creaky knees. Time was, being an ELT teacher was rare. Being a foreigner in a Korean city was rare. Job retention was high and job security was good. Everyone loved a hagwan teacher. Now, academies close all the time, the job market is shrinking even as the teacher influx has swelled. You are no longer a hot commodity. Owners and managers look at your work ethic, your work output and your skill set and compare it to literally thousands of others.

"Even you, Al Pacino can be replaced," lied De Palma as Brando wondered where he left his keys.

Michael: My father is no different than any powerful man, any man with power, like a president or senator.
Kay Adams: Do you know how naive you sound, Michael? Presidents and senators don't have men killed.
Michael: Oh. Who's being naive, Kay?

There is a high likelihood your boss is an arsehole. He does not care about your well being, whether it is making you work if you have a sore throat and runny nose, or if it a refusal to turn on the air con despite your sweat is clearly making a mini ocean around your desk. Suck it up. If you are doing this job in this country, chances are no matter where you go, you will have the same trials and tribulations. This comes with a warning. Some managers are not arseholes. They are nefarious criminals who should be challenged in a court of law. Know your rights and compare with other teachers, both in your hagwan and in your community.  Most criminal bosses work on the fact you don't know any better and the fear of isolation in a foreign country. Stand up to them. It is not as if they are the mafia.

Kiss my ring, you son of a bitch.

A Very Public Apology For being Myself

So, look, here's the thing. You know me. You know a version of me. Everyone has a version of me in their group of social interaction, be it in  the workplace or in the classroom or in your actual free time. I am that guy people say is the 'the life of the party' while raising their eyebrows. Possibly in a manner suggesting said title is really the whole joke.

I never thought it was a joke, being a popular , enjoyed person. I took it in a deadly serious manner. I hate anyone not liking me. For mem that is a throwback to preteen and teen me, a shy, uncomfortable character that slunk in the shadows. I would throttle that version of me if I could, stomp on his head until I heard his teeth chip and break. I would set him on fire. I push myself on so many ocassions to talk to strangers, to listen to others talk about things that are not interesting or listen to genuinely unpleasant or worse, boring people. I needed their approval so much I gave mine up completely. Love me, my persona screams, if only because of how good a job I am presenting of loving you.

And that situation developed. People threw out terms like 'King' or Mayor' of Daegu. Honorifics which are truly horrific. And I lapped it up. I pretended to not notice the half smirks guileful people would throw at each other. I valued the love too much. I would wave a strangers when they waved at me, forgetting that we had already met previously and in their minds at least, I was  an acquaintance, a friend. I played a  part to perfection.

So now I find myself seeing my actions. And I loathe myself. I am stuck with empty vessels as acquaintance, unable to distinguish the people who are truly my friends and who is just playing along wiht the game started in my head and now played by everyone so much better. My confidence is paper thin, my skin less so. My ego is stretched wide like a balloon and needs only one acute observation to pop me into nothing. My every action is now scrutinised by my id , my super ego, my fake ego and by a committee of sub egos who all have a turn clamouring for attention.

And now I have so many ways t express myself to my new found lifelong friends. Hello, Facebook. Hello, Blogger. Sometimes they say hello back. I now have spent so much time on my friends. I have invested in them.; Surely it is time for them to invest in me. Surely they will all want to know about my day. Careful though, I better make it funny. People like my posts. I cream myself at the pleasure of seeing likes on a post increase over time. Of being witty and it being recognised. Not for the elctronic media the world of half smirks and rolling eyes. Here, it can be taken anyway I desire. Here, I am an urbane G-d.

And then I hurt myself. And it was a while ago. And I am down about it. I don't really feel like making a joke anymore. I feel lke being honest about my feelings. I feel like saying I feel awful, that my knee is punding acid into my foot. That I cannot stand up and i am afraid I will never do it properly again. That I may not run or jump or climb a tree again. These fears cloud my mind and blur my vision with tears of irreparable damage in potentia.

And I write these things not because I want the likes anymore but because I want to be heard. Because I want to be respected. because I want to be liked. Suddenly it is not the substance of the matetr but the matter which created the substance that needs appreciation. Because honestly right now, I feel no appreciation.

And no one cares. Not really. Not in the all consuming way I want them to care. Becasue that's insane. No one can care for you like a lovesick perfectly obedient, individual, clever, carefree, wise, sagacious, witty, fun way golem. They can send you commiserations but they re long distanced, weak by the time of arrival at your soul. They can visit you but you know they will go away again. You know it and they know it. It is part of the tacit arrangement.

All my friends have failed my ideal. And that is because my ideal is fractured, through decades of feverish study as to what is necessary to be popular, to being wanted. To having that transform into a ghoulish need to impress but never realizing the other half of the equation. To be impressive. And so, the reality comes to pass that I reach out to my friends in a way they find cloying, irritating, or worse, boring.

My apology is this. I am sorry for failing my friends in the hour of my greatest need. I shall, from here on in, not tell you a single thing about my day being terrible until it is something you ask for. I will not talk about things that upset me in my life. I shall not venture opinion on source material until it is asked for. I shall not ask for help in any way physical, mental, spiritual or emotional because it is clear you would not ask the same of me, even though I would have given it gladly. By repressing myself, maybe I can stop the microIDs, control my personality and make it a human being once more. Maybe I can find out what I want to listen to, to care about, to appreciated. And then I can gain the respect I deserve.



See, old me would have thrown a question at the end right here saying something like, Does any of this make any sense? I think new me would ask the same question.



Does any of this make sense?