Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am

This one's about games, aromas, and emotions.

"GAMES - Video Games, Board Games, Parlour Games...what's your pleasure?"

What's up you guys? I'm having one of those "me against the world" kind of days, and it feels like the world's winning. Everything's kinda pissing me off today, from news articles and opinions to, well, everything in between. Makes me wish I just had the herd mentality of going along with whatever enough not to care.

I could probably write thirty separate blog entries on all sortsa stuff today, and the three prompts I have aren't doing a damn thing for me. Go figure.

But I'll try to work something out somehow...I almost always do. I know I'm not in the mood for games today...if you start giving me some bullshit I'll be quick to sling it right back, and twice as hard. So head games are already out of the question. Facebook games? I got into a few when I was laid up with my busted ankle, but I could pretty much care less about most of 'em. Parlour (or as we say in the US, "parlor") games I assume are gambling, casino-style games, and I'm not really into those either...I always used to think parlor games were just whatever games you played in the living room, because when we were little that's what we called the living room: the parlor.

So I guess that leaves me with board games, and that's alright by me. I think board games are meant to be played when you're bored (I know...real big stretch there), but not compulsively like marathon Xbox binge sessions. They're more for social interaction than, say, Candy Crush. Some can encourage basic educational skills, which I guess can also go for video games, but all I ever really picked up from Grand Theft Auto was that it's ok to beat up hookers, shoot cops, and set cars on fire (wait, were we talkin' 'bout gangsta rap or the NFL?). Oh yeah...board games.

They're probably the least of all the evils, which means for most they're also the least fun if you've got better options on the table. That also means you've got to know how to switch things up and make simple board games more exciting. Inventing a drinking version of a board or card game has worked for me in the past. And for the really dangerous edge-living gamers, a strip version is almost always more fun than playing straight by the rules. Don't hate on me because I once came up with a strip version of Uno that I used to play with the batshit-crazy ex. And also don't hate on me that sometimes I "didn't remember " the exact rules from the last time her and I would play, which would then lead to me keeping more of my clothes on until it was time to, well, no longer keep anymore clothes on.

Life's all about perspective I guess, and making the best out of the situations you're put in. If that means...well, who cares what it means. You play the game to win, whatever game you're in, right?

"'Memories, imagination, old sentiments, and associations are more readily reached through the sense of smell than through any other channel.' –Oliver Wendell Holmes. Do you agree with this? Do you have a specific memory that is associated with an aroma?"

I guess smelling certain foods being cooked can remind me of different times in my life, in mostly a good way. The trouble is, after you've moved enough times and changed residences, maybe that dish you've made hundreds of times before doesn't have that same exact smell with the same elements of the environment around it that helped to coax good times in association with the meal. Know what I'm sayin'? I do, and that's what matters.

But really, besides food I'm having a hard time coming up with something positive and consistent. Maybe that's because more often than not we associate the phrase "What's that smell?" with something negative. Have you ever wanted to thunder-punch someone in the throat with a 2x4 because they shoved an unknown object under your nose and said "OMG smell this!", only to find out it smelled like a bunch of the hookers you killed in Grand Theft Auto came to life and then died under your front porch? If you want to ensure that you lose me as a friend, recreate that smell and then lure me toward the partaking of smelling that particular smell. Fuck you, and good day sir.

I think we've all at some point (if you've been at this blogging thing long enough) touched on memories associated with aromas. Holidays are popular, as well as childhood things. But senses under normal circumstances are mostly involuntary. I'd say the majority of us have the five senses in at least somewhat functioning order. Maybe not as well as they used to, but they're there. Smelling stuff is a byproduct of breathing that we have to actually try to not do, so maybe that's why it's not as easy as it sounds, associating aromas with memories. That's like seeing billions of things and being able to declare with absolute certainty which photograph over the last x-amount of years has been the most brilliant. Maybe one day it's one thing, and the next it's something completely different. I guess that's why I don't mind so much occasionally being asked the same questions repeatedly over time anymore.

"Anais Nin said: 'Something is always born of excess: great art was born of great terrors, great loneliness, great inhibitions, instabilities, and it always balances them.' Do you think emotional excess is necessary for creativity and writing?"

Here's the gist of what I think about this: you need at least some access emotionally in your creativity, but emotional excess isn't quite as necessary. Is it helpful? Depends I guess on what you're going for. But it's not a requirement.

I'm sure in the grand scheme of things there's a fair balance between the amount of creative types who've lived happy, mostly emotionally-sane existences as there have been tortured artists...I'm not willing to say that to be drawn toward forms of expression is to admit your wagon's missing a wheel or two. But maybe there's more than a smidgen of truth to the whole "writing what you know" thing.

And I'm not comfortable speaking for others about this, but I've always felt better writing from a perspective I'm familiar with as opposed to having to research and/or manufacture details. It's important to me that my narrative comes across as relatable but personal...even if you don't know it from me in general, integrity-wise I'll know, and I'll have to live with what I put out there if/when it ever comes into question.

I don't know if this actually fulfills the prompt here, but it satisfies my curiosity, so I'm gonna move on.

I'm from the near-end of that fabled generation in history...the cassette era. When it required actual effort to listen to music, and even more effort if you wanted to share it with others. I got my very first cd player maybe 20 or 21 years ago, and had I not moved I'd probably still have my dual-deck cassette stereo.

Gone too is the mixtape, having been replaced by the mix-cd and later the playlist (though neither sounds as romantic as "mixtape"). I'm gonna probably incorporate some of the Blog City prompt response into this story for "The Soundtrack of Your Life" , because the album that I'm speaking of is one of the more emotional- nay, emo- ones I'm familiar with.

And of course, it has to do with the crazy ex, because all the good emo stories involve crazy exes. Not that I was a boy scout in the relationship by any stretch of the imagination, for the sake of argument, but...wait, never mind. Arguing was like the second most popular thing we did together.

Anyway, this album was probably the last time I burned a cd onto cassette, because she had a tape deck in her car...mommy and daddy bought it for her so she could have something reliable to cart her kids around in, but they got the model with the most minimal of features. I guess there were enough songs on this disc that related to the entire relationship that I wanted her to hear, and since she wouldn't always have me and my iPod around, this was easier than loaning her the cd (which I likely never would've seen again anyway, given all the sweatshirts and pajama pants of mine she kept after we broke up...why do I always go for the girls who wanna keep all my shit after breaking my heart? ). Mind you, this is the same girl who once tried to steal my iPod after calling the cops on me over god knows what was being argued about that night, and the only thing that convinced the cop it was actually my iPod was that my name was engraved on the back, although he made me show him my license to prove that I was who it said I was...but that's probably another story for another time.

Anyway, that's really the deal here today...this being the last album I put on tape. And I've always thought of these two songs as one big long one anyway because of how the end of the first is banded so smoothly with the beginning of the second, so naturally I was kinda excited that I found a YouTube clip that had both of them. And it works well with the "games" and "emotions" prompts. And being frustrated at people, places and things beyond the grasp of my control has made hearing these songs much easier to deal with today. So off the great Brand New disc Deja Entendu, here's "I Will Play My Game Beneath The Spin Light" and "Okay I Believe You, But My Tommy Gun Don't".

"And we're silent but sure we invented the cure
that will wash out the memories of her." Lyrics.  
"Oh, my tongue's the only muscle on my body that works harder than my heart." Lyrics.  

This appeals to the conspiracy theorist in me, because it's full of ideas that maybe Stevie Wonder isn't blind  .

And not like you need me to tell you this, but you're probably brain dead if you think interacting with most major brands on social media   is gonna get you anything.

Ok, well, I'm gonna go do other things now, like avoid drama and negativity in confined spaces. Peace, what all the other boys all promised, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!