Quote 292

I don’t know why my body is so intent in sabotaging my brain, when my brain is perfectly capable of sabotaging itself.

- Beth’s mother, Queen’s Gambit s1 e3

Quote 291

Only an academic would state the obvious and pass it off as wisdom.

- Going Postal, Terry Pratchett

Glow

A few weeks back, I watched Rocketman, a biopic about Elton John whose career has spanned decades.

The actor was perfect for the part. The musical-ish segments were a pleasant surprise. Such a delight, I was grinning from ear to ear at one of the numbers.

The psychoanalytical components were classic. Dad never hugged him or showed affection. Mother told him flat out that he was a disappointment. Dad ran off, had a new family, and somehow was able to show affection toward the new sons.

The void and the desperate search for approval and love. The self-abuse, the tumult and agony. Oh, so familiar.

Remember the VH1 series "Where Are They Now?" I used to jeer at how all the stories were similar. One rises to fame. One doesn't know what to do with the attention. One fails to manage one's finances properly. One abuses alcohol and drugs. One falls to ruins.

On one hand, it is humbling to be reminded that the cliché "Money doesn't buy happiness" is but true.

On the other, must they all be doomed to suffer this fate?

(Spoiler alert) I am glad Rocketman was not such a story.

Toward the end (spoiler alert), I was quite moved by the visual of present-day Elton consoling child Elton (before he was Elton) by lowering himself and gently holding the latter. It stunned me because I distinctly recall that was exactly what my therapist had asked me to do. 

I wasn't able to. To this day, I come by a childhood photo of me, and often feel disdain. A lot of adults deemed that child dumb. How could she not be? How could she be worthy?

There was a scene leading up to the happy ending in which (spoiler alert) Elton put his foot down and stood up to his parents. 

"I won't allow you to speak to me this way [with disrespect]," he said.

That was yet another thing my therapist had asked me to do. I couldn't. Real life is complicated. We have a cultural divide to boot.

There will always be a chasm between my parents and me. The anger is gone now. I can be at peace. I can love them, flaws and all, from across the divide. 

Quote 290

What no one tells you is that sometimes, even if you've figured yourself out, you'll have no one around you to share what you've found.

- "Visitor", Bryan Washington

Breeze

 I quit my game cold turkey today.

It wasn't the first time I had been obsessed with an online RPG. Last was Cafe World by Zynga. The former no longer exists. Zynga still does.

This time it is Taonga: the Island Farm by Volka Zavod.

You have to know that categorically I am not into video games. Growing up, I took pleasure in watching my brother W play, first on our first computer, a Macintosh. Later, Atari. I did not have what it takes to play: guts, perseverance, grace to lose and learn from your mistakes. When we graduated to handheld games, trying to keep the lions from escaping from their cage literally made me scream.

I preferred to enjoy the excitement from the sidelines. That was kind of my stand on life as well.

Fast forward to decades later during the year when I was decidedly unemployed and just taking it easy. It was the early stage of dating RJ. I was madly in love and high on life. Between newspapers, magazines and the worldwide web, I never ran out of things to read. I was never bored.

But something clicked when I came across Cafe World. They start you off nice and easy, to be sure. "Achievements" came readily and quickly. Instant gratification. Before I knew it, I was hooked. (I am aware that I have blogged about this experience before.) 

Yes, we know that I have an addictive personality. These companies know what's up, what it takes to reel you in.

As you level up, tasks become more and more difficult, then impossible. Until one day, out of desperation, I paid real money. Once you cross that threshold, it's a danger zone. How far will you go? 

Days went by. Then, one day, out of the blue, I realized that it was all very absurd and not worth my time (or money). I quit and never looked back.

Recently, though, when I researched out of curiosity and found out that Cafe World is now defunct, there was a sense of loss. Just goes to show it is insane to invest in an online game. The empire that you spend months building can vanish at any time and you've got nothing to show for it.

Ten years since Cafe World, of all places, I saw an ad of Taonga on dictionary.com (a site that I frequent). It was Sunday, September 13, a fateful day, as it turned out. The ad featured a puzzle. It read: Can you solve this to rescue the animals? And at the bottom of the entrapment device was a chick and a calf, very adorable. The protagonist is brunette, slim and curvy in the right places, but not in an obnoxious Hollywood way. She was... relateable.

I thought, Yeah, I can rescue the animals. How hard can it be? I'll spend an hour, tops, and move on.

The nature of the game was not even close to what was advertised (I should mention that I am the last person to fancy a farm-themed game. I laughed at FarmVille.) But, once I was in, it was such a whirlwind, with easily achievable goals as bait, and you're being thrown bones (in this case, diamonds) left and right. It took only one day for me to be officially sucked in.

Before long, it was very obvious that Volka makes revenue with gamers who are willing to shell out real dough. I silently judged and secretly mocked the fools who would pay real money on a fake archipelago.

Until one day, a very attractive offer presented itself. One that may never reappear, once gone.

I thought, What's $4.99? Small price to pay for [insert ridiculous imaginary item in game]. After all, what's money if it can't buy happiness?

And that was the gateway drug. I am very ashamed.

So ashamed that, I have never told anyone, including RJ, whom I tell everything.

So there was a classic spiraling down. As expected, as one levels up, more and more time (and money, optional, only if one allows) is required to keep up with the game. It ceases being fun. It becomes more of a chore. But one thinks, Oh, but I can't stop now. I've come so far!

And the game still treats you with just enough rewards that fuel you to advance. There's stuff to look forward to, a sense of purpose, a reason to get up in the morning.

Yes, very pathetic. I know.

That's just it, though. There will always be another quest. It never ends. You are never truly satisfied. It is a bottomless pit.

Buddha said desire is the root of all misery.

The rising pressure of the game coincided with a particularly challenging period at work. We have a new account full of demands that has been stressing me out tremendously. I look forward to 5 p.m. everyday because that's when the work day ends and my game night begins. And SIP due to the pandemic makes it all possible. I don't even commute! Transition in a sec!

Then, in the past two nights or so, I finally approached a breaking point. Spending over two hours per night making fake flour just does NOT feel right. That's time I could be spending sitting next to RJ, enjoying his company and a good convo instead. At this point, TV seems more productive.

RJ, God bless him (I do not believe in God), has never, not even once, derided me for my apparent addiction to the game. I think maybe he knew that sooner or later I would come to my senses.

Another jolt back to reality was my credit card statement, of course. I had a ballpark figure in mind. I didn't want to know. Have always been an escapist since childhood. I convinced myself at least I am not eating out or buying things as much, so having this expenditure was *maybe* justified?

It is not the worst. It is not meth. But bad enough.

With any toxic relationship, if you are lucky, you eventually arrive at the point of no return. Last night was it, nearly 3 months after I had started. Today, a Sunday again, makes 84 days, to be exact.

Not having to rush to prep things as soon as I rise, not having to set my online alarm clock as a reminder to finish the next task, being able to sit elsewhere, doing something else, something actually pleasurable, maybe even educational... I feel so liberated. I feel light. I feel like myself again. I am going to read the New York Times this afternoon like I did every Sunday before the stupid game came along.

Good riddance, Taonga. Here's to hoping you were the last for me.