Ever since starting full time work (or as I call it, killed slowly by capitalism), I've noticed that every other month or so (sometimes oftener if I really hate my job) I just need a day off. I'm not talking about Saturday and Sunday – those don't count! I mean I day where I should go to work but don't. I think this helps me feel like I'm not a total slave to the system and that I'm in control of my own life. This sense of empowerment is illusionary, but it really helps me get through the next two-months of tedium. It's been a rough week. There have been a variety of pressures at work that made it even less attractive than usual. Its not at all surprising, then, that yesterday when I woke up I decided that in an act of moral protestation I would boycott work. I may or may not have enough sick hours to cover a whole day of absence, but I do not care. There are principles at stake. I'm a man of principles and ideals, especially in regards to this issue (I'm currently in the process of filing for “conscientious objector” status in the workforce). And so to make a long story short, I didn't go to work yesterday.
In keeping with the theme of rejecting any useful or productive activity, I spent the day doing nothing but playing video games. I think I got seven or eight straight hours in. Thats more time playing games than I've had in the last two weeks put together. It actually got a little tedious by the end, but I was trying to prove a point to myself. And anyway, the upshot of it all is that now I'm so sick of games that I won't need to play them for a few days. This is a good thing, because I've decided that video games are bad for me.
No, I'm not trying to say that games are bad in general, just that they are bad for me. Its not because they take up time that I could be using to socialize or write the great American novel. Its not because they make up an inordinately large amount of my monthly budget. The problem is that they make me very very frustrated. I have, on various occasions, thrown the control or keyboard down in rage, pulled at my hair, screamed at the top of my lungs, banged my head on the floor, and otherwise thrown a very unattractive tantrum. The strain has been detrimental to my system; I know my poor heart can't take much more.
I know what you are thinking (because I'm psychic): Why get upset over something so trivial? Its a very good question, I know. Nothing else I can think of produces such a violent reaction. I'm going to a call-back audition tomorrow for a part I have been looking forward to auditioning for since last fall, and if for whatever reason I don't get it I won't be nearly as frustrated as when I fail at a computer game. I just can't explain it.
Imagine this: you are required to climb a tall, rotating pillar to the top a cliff (sounds reasonable, right?). In addition to its spinning movement, the pillar sports huge, very sharp protuding knives that you must avoid in your ascent. One false move, one touch of a blade and you fall all the way down to the bottom and must start again! Imagine you have attempted this climb over thirty times, and you still cannot make it even half way before screwing up. I was in this situation in a game yesterday, and let me tell you I was weeping with frustration and an enormous sense of inadequacy. I mean, if I can't even climb a spinning pillar of rotating knives, how am I going to accomplish anything in this life?
I make it all the worse by screwing myself over so often. On another game I tried playing yesterday (to take a break from the rotating knives) I kept making life needlessly difficult for myself. I kept forgetting to save my game, and I would make a mistake and die only to realize that the last time I saved was over thirty minutes ago. This happened many, many times. On each re-attempt, I would swear to myself that when I made it to a certain point right before the danger area, I would save. Its the logical thing to do. And each time I would once again barge right in without bothering to save and end up failing. Upon realizing that I now have to do the last 20-30 minutes over again, I really lost it. I ran around my room in a panic, pounded the walls, and collapsed on the bed sobbing.
Why do these games produce such a reaction? Am I really judging my self-worth based on my ability to maneuver a little electronic man through various artifical obstacles? Does it remind me that I'm no more adept at guiding myself around the various pitfalls of life? Or I am simply venting frustrations from other things in a non-confrontational way? And why am I so stupid that I can't remember to hit the SAVE button? It takes three seconds!Anyway, I did end up beating one of the games yesterday, but I was pretty worn out by the time I did. It was then that I got to thinking that perhaps I need to take a break for a while and put my life back into perspective. After all, when your recreational activities cause as much stress as work, there's something wrong with the situation. I used to tell people I played video games “to relax,” but it became very obvious yesterday that, if relaxation is my goal, maybe I should take up yoga instead.
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