Normally, I try to wax all artistic, but not today. I'm gonna' strip as much pretense as I can for such a sappy subject.
Now before I go on, I'd like to say, for the record, I'm not a hippy. Not that I have anything against them, but even my own mom can call me an asshole and mean it.
Anyway:
There are three names I can remember from grade school, aside from my best friend who I keep in contact with today.
But three names and faces alone stick out among every other face I went to school with every day for years.
You know how many people I've been inexcusably unkind to?
Three.
Coincidence?
Think again.
And trying to use my young age (I'm talking about grade school shenanigans here) as an excuse isn't holding water.
If I wasn't mature enough to know the implications, they sure as shit weren't old enough to understand why someone was being cruel, and certainly not capable of dealing with such hostility in a healthy way.
So maybe chew on that the next time you've got a decision to make. If it's in response to something that really gets under your skin, or has somehow hurt you, know that being unkind gets deeper under your skin and does way more damage to you in the long run.
Then again, don't expect perfection. Allow yourself a slip, a snap, because then you might have the courage to say you're sorry if it's not such a big deal. It will only not be a big deal, though, if you have a long track record of kindness, otherwise the people around you won't and shouldn't give you that kind of breathing room,
I wish I could go back in time and say sorry when it would have made a difference.
That's all. Nothing grandiose. Just be fuckin' nice, y'all. Sounds simple, couldn't be more complicated, if you were to be honest about the amount of happiness you inject into the world. It costs you absolutely nothing to tell someone they have nice hair or their outfit looks good or that you appreciate them or that they're funny or whatever. It can cost someone else everything with just one simple act of cruelty.
So hold yourself accountable, for real. No delusions, just kindness.
Saturday, January 24, 2015
Sunday, January 11, 2015
why Oregon Trail is bad for me
my best friend's mother was a teacher at the grade school i went to
this gave me access to her classroom-- and the holy grail-- videogames you'd normally have to line up for to have a turn to play during recreational periods ("freetime" they call it, coffee and cigarette break methinks now, in retrospect)
and man, we'd play weird ass games
like, you'd take photographs of dinosaurs. that was it. just, pictures of dinosaurs. and we'd compete like madmen trying to get... pictures of dinosaurs...
and then there was the good ol' Oregon Trail
i think every twenty something knows a few things by autonomic means. just say the word 'Goonies' and you'll tug a heart string or two on accident. Oregon Trail fits into this category, even if to a smaller degree.
so when i found it on the internet yesterday (a facebook friend linked it, so i guess *i* didn't find it, but whatevs), rendered in all it's former nostalgic glory, i let out a little squee that made me question my masculinity a bit.
...aaaaannnyyyway....
i sat down after dinner and my niece went to sleep thinking it would be a fun way to unwind
i couldn't have been more wrong
...see, in middle school, i hadn't really developed a sense of sympathy. i'd always pick a 'banker' as a profession (because fuck yeah, i'll take some more money, do you know how many rivers you have to cross?)
that wasn't an option, not with my current political beliefs. so i picked farmer, to be noble and shit, but those folks are generally economically trodden, so i had a whopping four hundred dollars to spend.
i'm already regretting this
off to buy supplies.
i can already see that i'm not going to be able to feed my family, and now guilt is kicking in.
i think it's important to mention that i might not be fully sober at the moment.
so i use my paltry paycheck to buy less than the pesky store manager is recommending i bring, and i can see that this is going to be a tough ride already, but whatever, we need'a get to Oregon!
'cause, you know, Manifest Destiny and shit. and indians. something about indians.
but bullets are cheap, so thank heavens for that. lots'a hunting is in my future, i see.
off we go... but it's gonna' be a slow road.
see, in fourth grade, as i mentioned, my brain wasn't all wired to it's most mature extent. sympathy and empathy are hard for people, so i guess it makes sense that it generally is the last to develop.
i used set that damned pace to 'grueling', set my rations to 'paltry' and i was happy even if i was the only one who made it out alive so long as i got to do that fun little rafting section at the very end, where you guide your wagon down a river and all that noise.
but 26 year old matt doesn't roll like that anymore, i guess
every single notification about my children and wife wracked me with guilt. i'd rest for several days for things like a broken arm (which in Oregon Trail land is kind of like having a runny nose, considering how many goddamned times 'Bessie' got dysentery)
that's another thing, i started feeling guilty over the names i picked for my family.
my wife was Jessie
my kids were Bessie, Lessie and Messie.
i bet there was a better name fit the rhyming scheme but i was hasty, and i regretted my laziness later on with every notification i got.
then, the hunting
so, i let the ball drop a bit and wasn't paying attention to how many pounds per day of food we were eating, since i couldn't bring myself to let Bessie, Lessie and Messie eat a paltry meal. the rations were set to 'full', and hell or highwater, i was gonna' let 'em eat...
...or not...
so, we got to zero pounds of food, and i kind'a didn't notice. two whole days went by! (which in the game goes by in about five seconds)
then the hunting...
every other damned day!
every other damned day!
but i was so compelled to feed my family, i bypassed my veggie instincts and killed so many deer, bears and rabbits i might as well be Daniel Boone or somethin'.
never a bison, though, that's just fuckin' wrong. those suckers are like 850-1000 pounds, and you can only carry 100 pounds back. that's wasteful, man. and though they're the slower moving targets and the biggest by far (so they're easier to hit, which is useful 'cause moving around and shooting is hard as balls on this platform)
and you'd only need to hit one.
so deer and bears seemed the most morally and sustainable targets, but they're not that common and hard to hit, but whatevs, man, right is right, right?
right!
it's getting close to midnight now...
rivers, bandits, random misfortune, trading scenarios all keep playin' out
still scrambling
wish some of these fuckin' kids could help, but whatevs, i guess i should've worn a condom
fuckin' pope
by three o'clock my computer runs out of juice
it was my fault, i wasn't paying attention to the fact that she wasn't plugged in
...where did this family go? did they make it? did Bessie recover from her bad case of the measles?
i guess some things aren't meant to be known, and some are meant to just fucking stay in middle school
see: Doug, the cartoon. you might think it'd be great to re-watch as an adult, but you're wrong. very. very wrong. at least for the first season, my brain didn't have the stamina to make it further.
i think i'm gonna' play another round tonight. maybe i'll bump myself up to a carpenter though.
i say that, but i know i'm picking a farmer.
this gave me access to her classroom-- and the holy grail-- videogames you'd normally have to line up for to have a turn to play during recreational periods ("freetime" they call it, coffee and cigarette break methinks now, in retrospect)
and man, we'd play weird ass games
like, you'd take photographs of dinosaurs. that was it. just, pictures of dinosaurs. and we'd compete like madmen trying to get... pictures of dinosaurs...
and then there was the good ol' Oregon Trail
i think every twenty something knows a few things by autonomic means. just say the word 'Goonies' and you'll tug a heart string or two on accident. Oregon Trail fits into this category, even if to a smaller degree.
so when i found it on the internet yesterday (a facebook friend linked it, so i guess *i* didn't find it, but whatevs), rendered in all it's former nostalgic glory, i let out a little squee that made me question my masculinity a bit.
...aaaaannnyyyway....
i sat down after dinner and my niece went to sleep thinking it would be a fun way to unwind
i couldn't have been more wrong
...see, in middle school, i hadn't really developed a sense of sympathy. i'd always pick a 'banker' as a profession (because fuck yeah, i'll take some more money, do you know how many rivers you have to cross?)
that wasn't an option, not with my current political beliefs. so i picked farmer, to be noble and shit, but those folks are generally economically trodden, so i had a whopping four hundred dollars to spend.
i'm already regretting this
off to buy supplies.
i can already see that i'm not going to be able to feed my family, and now guilt is kicking in.
i think it's important to mention that i might not be fully sober at the moment.
so i use my paltry paycheck to buy less than the pesky store manager is recommending i bring, and i can see that this is going to be a tough ride already, but whatever, we need'a get to Oregon!
'cause, you know, Manifest Destiny and shit. and indians. something about indians.
but bullets are cheap, so thank heavens for that. lots'a hunting is in my future, i see.
off we go... but it's gonna' be a slow road.
see, in fourth grade, as i mentioned, my brain wasn't all wired to it's most mature extent. sympathy and empathy are hard for people, so i guess it makes sense that it generally is the last to develop.
i used set that damned pace to 'grueling', set my rations to 'paltry' and i was happy even if i was the only one who made it out alive so long as i got to do that fun little rafting section at the very end, where you guide your wagon down a river and all that noise.
but 26 year old matt doesn't roll like that anymore, i guess
every single notification about my children and wife wracked me with guilt. i'd rest for several days for things like a broken arm (which in Oregon Trail land is kind of like having a runny nose, considering how many goddamned times 'Bessie' got dysentery)
that's another thing, i started feeling guilty over the names i picked for my family.
my wife was Jessie
my kids were Bessie, Lessie and Messie.
i bet there was a better name fit the rhyming scheme but i was hasty, and i regretted my laziness later on with every notification i got.
then, the hunting
so, i let the ball drop a bit and wasn't paying attention to how many pounds per day of food we were eating, since i couldn't bring myself to let Bessie, Lessie and Messie eat a paltry meal. the rations were set to 'full', and hell or highwater, i was gonna' let 'em eat...
...or not...
so, we got to zero pounds of food, and i kind'a didn't notice. two whole days went by! (which in the game goes by in about five seconds)
then the hunting...
every other damned day!
every other damned day!
but i was so compelled to feed my family, i bypassed my veggie instincts and killed so many deer, bears and rabbits i might as well be Daniel Boone or somethin'.
never a bison, though, that's just fuckin' wrong. those suckers are like 850-1000 pounds, and you can only carry 100 pounds back. that's wasteful, man. and though they're the slower moving targets and the biggest by far (so they're easier to hit, which is useful 'cause moving around and shooting is hard as balls on this platform)
and you'd only need to hit one.
so deer and bears seemed the most morally and sustainable targets, but they're not that common and hard to hit, but whatevs, man, right is right, right?
right!
it's getting close to midnight now...
rivers, bandits, random misfortune, trading scenarios all keep playin' out
still scrambling
wish some of these fuckin' kids could help, but whatevs, i guess i should've worn a condom
fuckin' pope
by three o'clock my computer runs out of juice
it was my fault, i wasn't paying attention to the fact that she wasn't plugged in
...where did this family go? did they make it? did Bessie recover from her bad case of the measles?
i guess some things aren't meant to be known, and some are meant to just fucking stay in middle school
see: Doug, the cartoon. you might think it'd be great to re-watch as an adult, but you're wrong. very. very wrong. at least for the first season, my brain didn't have the stamina to make it further.
i think i'm gonna' play another round tonight. maybe i'll bump myself up to a carpenter though.
i say that, but i know i'm picking a farmer.
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