I Play the Grownup Who Secretly Wants to Buy an Arcade

Coming from the salon after a very expensive root touch-up and shine treatment (I have to hide the gray), I walk back to my hotel room while contemplating on what I will have for dinner.  Something light maybe – I have a really nice Australian Moscato chilling in the fridge along with some of the best herbed goat cheese I’ve had in a long time.  I look forward to chilling out while catching up on some work when I hear the familiar pinging and cheers coming from my formerly favorite place in the world – the arcade.

There was a time, not so very long ago – around 12 years in fact – when I would give anything to be at the mall on a Tuesday night at 7pm with money to burn and a machine to defeat.  I was a video game addict. 

There was one machine I was particularly in love with – Dance dance Revo (you dance with  your hands, not so much your feet).  It was gorgeous.  It was high-tech.  No moving parts (except for menu selection) and amazing motion sensors that let you sweep, clap and hop your way into the most satisfying game scoring system I’d ever encountered.  If you’re good, you get an A, if you’re absolutely on, you get an S (either for Super or Superior -- I’ll never figure out).  It appealed to the nerd in me.  It appealed to the dancer in me.  It appealed to the gamer in me. 

No other game in my life dominated as much as Dance Dance Revo.  I had an intense but short love affair with Final Fantasy, a drawn out, reliable but ultimately repetitive relationship with Diablo I and II and a sort of unhealthy obsession with Star Craft I (I wanted to be Kerrigan, Zerg Queen).  But nothing, nothing occupied my mind and my arms and my wallet more than Dance Dance Revo.  I can still sing all the songs from memory.

In my adult life, I’ve had a lot of cards that show status, membership, being elite – but the one card I am most proud of is the Gold Time Zone arcade card that I spent years and thousands of bucks on to get.  You couldn't just buy a gold card – you had to earn it.  And earn it I did.   For a brief moment of glory, my name was actually on the top 10 roster of that game.  AMD emblazoned for maybe a day.  If there were camera phones back then, I would have taken a photo and posted it as my cover photo forever.

I said to my naive 20 year old self, if I ever grow up and earn enough money (USD 10,000 to be precise), I’d buy myself my very own Dance Dance Revo machine.  Yes, I actually researched how much it cost. 

And now, more than a decade later, I’d like to think I’m making a decent living.  I’m about to move to another country will I will earn more than enough to buy my own machine.  And I ask myself – honestly and frankly – would I buy a Dance Dance Revo machine if I could. 

I think back to why I was so obsessed with that game in the first place.  At the time, I was a student in a course I wasn’t sure I liked – and later on was working in a job I wasn’t sure was for me.  I needed an out, a way to just let out the pent up music in me, the drive to get a “good job” even if it was from an animated screen or a mechanical voice.  I needed my name on the screen, my name on a list, proof that I did good, that I existed and somehow made a mark – no matter how fleeting or frivolous.

Today, whether by luck or by design, I do all of that and more in my daily life.  Somehow, I’ve found myself in a field that I love.  Working with people who, like me, want to make a mark and a difference.  Working in a place where I can dance and sing and perform. 

I realize that the game was my escape, was my joy.  I pass by the arcade, checking with myself if I feel the tug of the music, the stale  smell of spilled soda and day-old popcorn and sounds of zombies rising from the grave (Dawn of the Dead III – left of the DDR machine).  I don’t feel the tug.  I feel a smile on my face – nostalgia, most like.  I walk, grinning, back to my (temporary) home.  I don’t miss the game.  I’m already living it. 

I'm still keeping the Gold Card though.

(Photo from the Timezone website)

I Finally Get Inked

Approximately a year ago, I went ahead and did something I had wanted to do for a long time, I got myself a tattoo – two tattoos really.  See below. 

A couple of things below about my tattoo that  I tell people who ask.  To note, I prepared it in FAQ format since – for some reason – folks frequently ask the same exact questions.  We really are more alike than we are different.

Question:         What does it say? 

Answer:           It says “give” and “thanks.”  They’re on my left and right wrists respectively.  My best friend wrote it for me – I really like her handwriting.  She and I are not allowed to break up as best friends – apparently white ink tattoos are impossible to laser off.

Question:         Why is your tattoo in white ink?

Answer:           Inasmuch as a tattoo is frequently associated with tendencies to rebel, I’m actually not that rebellious.   I still have to do a job – a job I love – so I still have to appear respectable, hence, not too obvious tattoos.

Question:         Why does it say what it says?

Answer:           I believe that gratitude is the secret to success. That and a walk-in closet -- which I already have.  The more that I have given thanks for things in my life, the more spiritual resiliency I seem to have to face every day with a positive attitude.  Bring it, universe. :)

Question:         Did it hurt?

Answer:           Of course it did (in my head I interject “moron” after this sentence).  It’s a friggin needle going in and out of your skin.  It bled too.  And scabbed.  And peeled.  And oozed fluids.

Question:         Why did you do it?

Answer:           Best question ever.  Best because I answer it differently each time.  It may mean because I was motivated by many things or it may mean that I wasn’t sure of my reasons for getting it.  Whatever the answer I give, my favourite question is the next one

Question:         Are you happy with your tattoo?

Answer:           Damn right I am.  Better yet, I’m thankful for it. 

I want to get new ones soon.  The new ones – when I finally get them – will require their own post and set of Q&As then.  

I Give In and Start Blogging

I always told my friends that if I ever started a blog that they should just kill me.  I like talking like that, making sweeping statements, famous last words that I end up eating in the end.  Too much judgement, too much decisiveness is not necessarily a great thing.  So here I go – starting an actual blog.

A few reasons I’m starting a blog:

1) A good friend and boss told me once that you are the stories you tell.  I like that.  I’ve never written down all the stories I tell – it’d be interesting to note what I end up writing in the end.  I sometimes think I tell stories tabloid style – sensationalistic and shocking!  Does that mean I am a sensationalistic person?  Am I okay with that?  I dunno, maybe not.  Hopefully, by the end of this exercise, I find out.

2)  I’m a great/horrible secret-keeper.  Mostly because I love sharing.  I’ll keep a secret well and good but I can never hide the fact that I am indeed hiding a secret.  I’m not saying I’m about to reveal secrets via this blog but a least this will give me a venue for sharing.

3)  I tell stories for a living.  Triumphant stories, inspiring stories, sad stories and boring stories.  I firmly believe that the most effective way to be your best version at any activity is practice, practice, practice.  This blog is for that – storytelling practice.  This may end up being random, this may end up being all over the place, but this will exist, and it will (occasionally) rock and perhaps frequently tank.  But I put in my practice and my best effort.  You hear that, muse?  I put in my part! 

A few reasons I’ve been apprehensive about blogging for so long:

1) I have a lot of friends that have really good blogs.  And I know some folks with really really bad blogs.  In my head, the difference between great and horrible is that swirling vortex of self-absorption and self-righteousness.  When blogs become too self-absorbed, then, at least in my book, they start sucking and becoming less relatable.  I can be really really self-absorbed if I let myself be – hence I fear the potential of creating a horrible blog.  In the end, I’m still doing it.  I may suck, but at least I tried. :)

2) I’m frequently appalled at the words that come out of my mouth. Come, let’s all be appalled together.

3) I think putting yourself out there for the whole cyberspace to be judged is immensely scary.  Someone can screencap your work and edit it with a red marker and send it back to you with a big “don’t ever write another word again, woman.”  But then again, what if it turns out great?  What if the interwebs gives me a big fist-bump for awesomeness?  What if the general populace gives my blog a glance and then it goes *meh?*  What if my typing improves?  Hey, that’s the best outcome I can hope for at the least.

So here’s to my latest story. I promise that some stories will be random, some will be shallow, some will be pointless, some will definitely suck but maybe, a few will be really really really good. :)

(photo from Pinterest)