New Apartment, Who Dis?

Alright, I'm in. Minus the bed, couch, 90% of planned decorations, a strong feeling of financial stability, a piece of our coffee maker that allows us to make full pots, and any sense of real accomplishment, Ashley and I finally moved into our own place. Just a few weeks back, my computer was in my mother's basement, feet from my bed, and each time I sat down to write I felt a strange and looming pressure to come up with something important to say.

 Not that I had anyone reading, or anyone who needed what I was going to provide, but because I needed to prove myself as somebody worth listening to. That, when living in my childhood home, 3 dinners a week provided by my mother, my job less than 5 minutes away, I had not fully become an adult. I had no real sense of responsibility, so everything I tried to make, or write, or sing, perform, edit, all of that needed to be manifested in my own head as something worth doing. That even though I was fine, I had no risk of starving, I was gaining valuable skills at my job, I had a loving girlfriend and the opportunity to travel, go to concerts, tournaments, etc. There was something I didn't have. I'm seeing the effects of needing to pay rent, I guess.

Parents reading this will probably laugh. I don't have real responsibility, they might say. I suppose I can't compare to those of us raising kids, and I don't really want to. The idea of having children, I would guess, becomes more appealing to a 28 year old than to a 23 year old like me. I feel responsible enough to pay rent, electric, groceries. I couldn't imagine paying for a useless kid, though.

And here's the point that will begin to push me, money. What I was missing before was a real budgetary requirement, a sense that I can't really do whatever I want, and in that limitation I think I will find growth. I hope I will, anyway. We are set up for stability, but not necessarily abundance, and so now it's time to buckle down and figure out my way to thrive.

But before that, even, I have to tackle the same questions that I've had since graduation. What are my goals? Why do I write, or practice improv, or compete in Melee? How will I support myself and remain happy? Do I need to monetize hobbies to live a fulfilling life?

I feel happy now, but it's a spectrum, you know? Like, scale of 1-10, I could say I'm usually anywhere between a 5 and 8, sometimes an 8.5 on a great day, 3:30 in the afternoon when I go on one of my mid-work walks. Those brief joys come often enough, and when they do arrive I make a point to stop and literally breath it in. I have no idea where that capability came from, but I'll take it as a strength and move on. I try to realize the happy times, however fleeting.

So again, I need to ask myself of my goals. Do I try to maximize those moments? Or keep myself from getting too down, perhaps spiraling, perhaps leaning on food, alcohol, or gaming to cope. Do I work on getting my work on, becoming more strict with myself and my work ethic? Should I bring back my patented white board accomplishment board, start impressing myself with what I can get done in a week?

About 6 months ago I feel like I had this same conversation with myself. What is the right way forward? I was trying to calculate everything -- what were my strengths, what can I leverage into a business, or a following, or a revenue stream. I feel like I'm in that same place now, with a new context and 6 months more life experience. I still don't feel like I have an answer. I do think I have a strategy, though, but I've had plenty of different strategies that I've either abandoned or never really committed to in the first place.

I think my problem is long-term thinking. I keep trying to place these benchmarks at times that feel appropriate, X months from now I'll have done Y, but they never really come into fruition. I think it's time to slow down, keep my head down, and start getting down to business. Short term goals will define this era of my life, I think. Let's think weeks, days, maybe even hours. How can I make this time the best it can be, from 10:21 AM until Noon, and see what I can come up with. That feels more right than any other strategy I've had in the past. Now it feels like I can actually have fun.

So I guess I'm in the wilderness again. That's ok. When I started this blog, my long term goals were such that this moment, now, is still early in the game. I think I'm three minutes into the first quarter. Maybe even two, if you count college as a series of pre-game stretches.

I feel confident that I can do something good. That I can craft a life where I'm excited for each Monday morning, not Friday night. That I can continuously build myself and explore different avenues, create different things, learn different skills. A life where I feel secure and safe, and can spread that feeling to my friends and family. There I go, thinking long term again.

It's hard not to.

I think that's what this blog is for, though. It's whatever gets me thinking in the first place, I gotta stick to what's going on in my head. That's the only way. And right now, I want to stick to now, but I can't help think about later. I'll work on that.

At first, I wanted to end it here. This felt long, I took a shower in the middle (Guess where and enter a sweepstakes!) and I didn't want to keep getting stuck in the bog of not understanding what the hell I'm trying to say. I felt satiated, like I completed my daily benchmark, and that if I spent the next hour or so playing games on my phone, that I was entitled to do so. Why feel bad? I wrote today! I can catch up on my Clash of Clans, get that star bonus baby!

I wonder if that will ever stop. Maybe I'll be a gaming addict forever.

Here's a truth that I'll need to bring up eventually, I've been toying with a gaming addiction for as long as I could remember. I triumphed when it was most important, fortunately being provided with a loving family that forced me out of the gaming chair when it was most crucial, and I luckily got into a college while spending a ton of my time in high school playing games. I didn't bring a computer to college, thank god, and it was there that I finally cauterized the pulsing urge to level up in World of Warcraft or rank up in League. I got out when I needed to, and when I found melee, I found that it was the best outlet for my dormant urge to play games.

So that's when I became a melee player, and to this day it defines me. I spend a small amount of time each day playing, and it fits neatly into my life. It's social, requiring two people next to each other for real competition, and because of this I've made some of my best friends through the game.

This isn't about melee, though. I want to play more games.

I've wanted to for a while. It's a bit shameful, really, since gaming is looked at as a form of escapism, not something to try to do more of. When you mention to your family (or god forbid your girlfriend) that one of your life goals is to play more video games, you must do so with your head hung in shame and an apology letter in hand. They see it as saying "I like my job, but I really wish I could watch Netflix instead!" It's just the way it's seen, and so there's work to be done to really articulate what I mean.

I don't want to live an "easy" life. I don't want more leisure, less responsibility, or greater freedom from the stressors of the world. I don't want to escape reality, living instead in the limitless digital playgrounds endlessly pumped out of the gaming industry.

I just want to have a lot of fun. Gaming is a lot of fun.

And now, with streaming and Youtube the way that it is, I see an opportunity for myself. Not the opportunity to make a living, I think that's a pipe dream still, but an opportunity to at least point to something I'm doing and say "See? This is not a waste of time. People like this. This is going somewhere" It's not that I want to be a full time streamer (Because I do, who doesn't?) but I do want to play games, and through streaming I can find my voice, or connect with people, or just show my dad on a weekly basis that I'm still alive.

Most of all, I can play games again, and hopefully be able to have pride in it. To say to those who might not understand "Yes, I'm gaming, but I'm also performing." 

And maybe this is all a justification. It probably is. Ever since WoW classic was announced, I've been thinking about playing and streaming it. Why not? Then, when my first viewer comes in, my first comment, my first conversation or follow, I can point to it and say "See? People like this. I'm doing something important."

And it's all shallow. I know it's shallow. Because truthfully, I should be able to play whatever games I want, as long as it's not taking over my life. Right now I sound more like a hoarder who's trying to keep their second favorite dart board from being thrown away. "No, look! This is vintage! I can put that in my beach house, once my 8-year old daughter marries rich and we get a beach house!"

Maybe I'm living in fantasy already? Before I get the chance to log in to that world, I have my make-believe brewing in my head already. Maybe I need to dodge and duck reality at any stage I'm in, and my lofty goals are nothing more than a distraction from the inevitable problems I can face at any moment.

Maybe gaming is something to be ashamed of. With the problems going on, why would I spend this time streaming games and not, say, volunteering for a political campaign? Shit, I'm doubting myself. Is this another trap, always thinking that my time could be spent on more important things? Did I discover this thought myself, or were the seeds of doubt sowed by society at large? Should I ignore this shame, or use it as a driving force to make my efforts worthwhile, pushing them passed the point of an excuse to have fun and, instead, as a true higher purpose of living?

Just because I want to do something, and have for a long time, does that make it really the right thing to do? Will I trick myself into thinking it's more important than it is, or more lucrative than it could be, or that I'm even talented enough to make it worthwhile at all? Is this really an opportunity, or rather an existential threat, a chance to double down into something with no future, beginning the cyclical collapse into despair that can only be spotted from the outside, prompting my loved ones to reach out in concern, which leads me to dismiss them because they can't possibly understand who I am or what I do? Is that possible, or did I just avoid it by exploring the possibility at all? Or maybe the opposite, and I just willed it into existence by breathing life into this horrific, hypothetical tragedy?

Didn't think it was going to that place, did you? See? I already feel different. Like I could seriously write about this crazy shit all day, and even though I know it's going nowhere, at the same time I know it's important. Before you stress about me, I'm fine. I like going into that dark place. Feels like a real rush!

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I needed to move out. It was limiting beyond what I could even understand. And now, even though I'm limited in other ways, I know that I'll be alright. When I just look at what's right in front of me, this is what I can do. I can make rambling, depressing, and honest blog posts. I can begin to discover who I really am, not what my 5-year plan is.

I feel like I'm learning how to lift up the dams in my mind, and just allow the free-flowing thoughts to come through as quickly as they can materialize. This is good. I know it's good, and it will be useful in whatever I do. What I need to do now is work on everything else, not becoming distracted with where that water will end up, or who will drink it and want to buy a million cases of it. Once this water escapes, it's out, and it will end up wherever it may, and that must be ok with me. Maybe when I'm 28, I have my first kid, a much more expensive apartment, a more important day job, then I can start worrying about who's buying that water. For now, I just gotta learn how to get those rain clouds over the reservoir, and keep out the bugs.



I love extended metaphors, because after a while you either need to abandon them or seriously risk losing the entire train of thought. The bugs are shitty writing, in this case. The rain is productivity. The people drinking are literally just my parents.


I know something now that I didn't know when I first wanted to end the post. I love writing. I need to keep doing it, for as long as possible, until I die most likely. That's the truth of it all, and the only thing I really know for certain. This change of pace, a beautiful scenery behind my desk instead of a cold basement wall, this is what I needed apparently.

Next time I'll be more concise. Or maybe I won't. I still can't control the rain.