An In-Depth Study: The Game

Cannot be seen,
Cannot be felt,
Cannot be touched, heard, or smelt
Cannot be won,
Cannot be fun.
What am I?

THE GAME.


For many long years (in reality about twelve), 'The Game' has been a subject baffling the best of philosophers (cause it's stupid). Everyone's playing it, but no one ever wins it - and its curse only lifts after death (stupid, I say).

Excuse me a second, Reaper seems to have a (talent) problem with inserting (clarifications) unhelpful parenthetical (facts) INTERRUPTIONS. Shutcha ghostly mouth.

As I was saying, the game has been a mystery for quite a while. I first learned of it a couple years after joining Boy Scouts, where I was introduced to the most mood-killing device of all time - yes, The Game.

What are the rules to the game?
1. Everyone in the world is playing The Game. (Sometimes narrowed to: "Everybody in the world who knows about The Game is playing The Game", or alternatively, "You are always playing The Game.") A person cannot not play The Game; it does not require consent to play and one can never stop playing.

2. Whenever one thinks about The Game, one loses.

3. Losses must be announced to at least one person (either by using a statement such as "I lost The Game" or by alternative means). After a player has announced a loss, some variants allow for a grace period between three seconds to thirty minutes to forget about the game, during which the player cannot lose the game again.

A method of finishing 'The Game' is that whenever the President of the US, the Pope, or the Prime Minister of the UK says 'The Game Is Up', The Game automatically terminates and you are free. But this method also detracts from the torture of having to play the game for all your life, so it is commonly discredited.

The origins of The Game are uncertain. One theory is that when two men missed their last train and had to spend the whole night on a platform, they tried not to think about their situation and whoever did first, lost. Another is that it was invented in London in 1996 "to annoy people". The reported earliest known reference on the Internet is from 2002.

The Game is an example of ironic processing (also known as the "White Bear Principle"), in which attempts to avoid certain thoughts make those thoughts more persistent.

Welcome to The Game. Now, my well-informed reader, begin a long life of torture and failure. Why? Because, ladies and gentlemen, I lost The Game. 

(the stupid one)

Sharrap.

Day 2

MAY 26:
5:00 a.m.: Fall out of bed.

5:01 a.m.: Crawl over to alarm clock and turn it off.

5:05 a.m.: Get dressed.

5:10 a.m.: Climb into hunting stand.

5:10:05 a.m.: Forgot gun.

5:15 a.m.: Take shot of antifreeze.

5:20 a.m.: Take potshot at annoying squirrel who decided to get up early.

5:20:01 a.m.: Gun barrel shatters - misfire.

5:25 a.m.: Angrily set dynamite traps. Go back inside.

5:30 a.m.: Not sleepy. Turn on the telly.

5:35 a.m.: Wife stumbles downstairs and demolishes television, then heads back upstairs to get some more sleep.

5:40 a.m.: Dynamite traps go off.

5:43 a.m.: Definitely killed something. Can't tell what it is.

5:50 a.m.: Shovel dirt into holes in lawn caused by dynamite.

6:30 a.m.: Annoying squirrel apparently wasn't the one who set off the trap. Bummer.

7:00 a.m.: Toast bread is moldy. Coffee is gone. Wife is mad. Day is off to a horrible start.

7:01:01 a.m.: You don't say.

8:00 a.m.: After makeshift breakfast of ramen and milk, head off to store to buy new telly.

9:00 a.m.: Find out ramen wasn't supposed to taste like cherries.

9:00:05 a.m.: Vomit breakfast over dashboard.

9:15 a.m.: Head home.

10:00 a.m.: Favorite football team loses game. Have choice words with new telly.

11:00 a.m.: Wife gets up, says she won't make you a sandwich.

12:00 p.m.: Contemplate setting dynamite trap for wife.

12:01 p.m.: Dismiss idea. Wife would probably scare dynamite.

1:00 p.m.: Favorite baseball team loses game. Demolish new telly in fit of rage.

2:00 p.m.: Arrive home from store with new telly.

2:05 p.m.: Decide not to watch any more telly today.

3:00 p.m.: Mow lawn.

3:05 p.m.: While on mower, discover active land mine.

3:10 p.m.: Rushed to hospital.

4:00 p.m.: The good news is, the shrapnel was all extracted. The bad news is, you have cancer.

4:05 p.m.: The good news is, the hospital has a telly. The bad news is, you just demolished it because it looked at you funny.

6:00 p.m.: After numerous prescriptions, appointments, and remunerations for broken hospital property, head home.

6:30 p.m.: Wife has finally made sandwich. Perhaps life isn't that bad after all.

6:30:05 p.m.: Actually it is, because it was made with the moldy bread.

6:45 p.m.: Stumble to couch in pain. Contemplate the meaning of life.

7:00 p.m.: Have animated debate with telly. The stupid thing is looking at you funny again.

7:01 p.m.: Too tired to demolish telly. Settle for turning it on and off multiple times, mumbling "That'll teach you to give me the cold shoulder, you useless hunk of junk."

7:05 p.m.: Telly replies "You're having a bad day. Shut up and go to bed."

7:05:05 p.m.: Throw controller at telly and run upstairs like a scared (and furious) rabbit.

8:00 p.m.: Log on to internet.

8:30 p.m.: Lose all hope in humanity. Log off internet.

9:00 p.m.: Contemplate suicide.

9:01 p.m.: Remember that gun is already busted. Blast.

9:05 p.m.: Remember you still have a stick of dynamite left.

9:10 p.m.: Light the fuse.

9:10:10 p.m.: It's a dud.

9:11 p.m.: Scream in rage and dash into kitchen frantically.

9:11:05 p.m.: Grab kitchen knife and slit throat.

9:12 p.m.: Wrong throat - at least she'll be with you in the afterlife!

9:13 p.m.: Join wife on floor, bleeding out.

9:15 p.m.: See white light - everything fades.

______________________________________________________________________________

5:25 a.m.: Wake up. Look around.

5:30 a.m.: Realize you're still in your hunting stand.

5:31 a.m.: Gun is still busted.

5:35 a.m.: Bird poops on your face.

5:40 a.m.: Aim and fire.

5:40:05 a.m.: Gun is broken, idiot.

5:45 a.m.: Crawl back in bed. Something's missing.

5:46 a.m.: Ah, right. Wife isn't there.

5:50 a.m.: Find wife on kitchen floor.

5:51 a.m.: Am I in heaven?

5:51:05 a.m.: Blink. Wife isn't there anymore.

5:52 a.m.: You're not married, idiot. Go back to bed.

6:00 a.m.: Collapse in bed.

6:01 a.m.: Remember it's actually Sunday, not Saturday.

6:01:05 a.m.: ...

...

...

Snap.

Day 1

MARCH 23:

7:00 a.m.: Alarm rings.

7:00:05 a.m.: Reach over and fumble for snooze button.

7:05 a.m.: Alarm rings.

7:05:05 a.m.: Smash alarm clock into four pieces and bury them in the corners of the earth.

7:30 a.m.: Realize you're still in bed.

8:00 a.m.: Get out of bed.

8:05 a.m.: Do devotions.

8:30 a.m.: Decide to exercise tomorrow.

8:45 a.m.: Eat breakfast.

9:00 a.m.: Decide how much time to waste today.

9:15 a.m.: Find out laptop has virus.

9:15:05 a.m.: Smash fist into laptop screen.

9:17 a.m.: Bandage bleeding knuckles and hook up monitor to laptop.

9:20 a.m.: Start school.

11:00 a.m.: Get off Facebook.

11:05 a.m.: Start school.

12:00 p.m.: Get off Facebook. Eat lunch.

12:30 p.m.: Finish lunch. Go to store.

2:00 p.m.: Come back from store.

2:05 p.m.: Plug in new alarm clock.

2:30 p.m.: Start school.

3:00 p.m.: Curse social media for its nonproductivity and swear never to use it again. Start school.

4:00 p.m.: Get off Facebook. Perform exorcism on laptop.

4:30 p.m.: Meteor demolishes satellite dish. Start school.

5:00 p.m.: Eat dinner.

6:00 p.m.: Family devotions.

8:00 p.m.: Finish school.

8:30 p.m.: Grounded for smashing laptop screen.

8:31 p.m.: Go outside. Since fist is already hurt, yell insults at dog.

8:35 p.m.: Dog starts yelling insults back at you.

8:35:30 p.m.: Decide you've been on Facebook too much today.

8:36 p.m.: Remember you have term paper due tomorrow.

10:00 p.m.: Finish term paper. Stumble to bed and collapse.

10:01 p.m.: Forgot to brush teeth.

10:01:05 p.m.: Screw it.

10:02 p.m.: Lie in bed and contemplate the meaning of life.

11:00 p.m.: Can't fall asleep.

11:01 p.m.: Get up and brush teeth.

11:05 p.m.: Fall asleep.

8:00 a.m.: Wake up.

8:00:30 a.m.: Wonder why alarm clock hasn't rung yet.

8:01 a.m.: Look over to see smashed alarm clock.

8:02 a.m.: Check phone. Date says March 23.

Graduation is upon us

It's an interesting experience, to say the least.

I, as a homeschooled teenager, am in somewhat of an awkward position. I'm advanced in grade for my age (I'm writing this as a senior). But I am and am not graduating. I'll be a senior for another year, because they apparently didn't count an online course I took in 9th grade. So I'm walking, but not graduating. Yeah, it's confusing.
The thing is, I feel stuck in this sort of limbo phase where many of my friends are leaving to go to college. Sure, they'll still be around, but it feels as though my life is fading bit by bit. I'm stuck out here on a limb, all alone, as everyone I've traveled with goes on ahead; and all I can do is wish them well. I also have a job that occupies about a fourth of my time. I'm doing some serious college surfing, and I'm still undecided as to what path I'll be taking. I'm reaching my hands into the world that is separate from the care of my parents, and I can't help but feel how small I am.

For all of you that are still in high school, this is how graduating feels like. It's a scary thing. We may look cool, kids, but our responsibility is not.

In my life, I've moved quite a few times to different states. Each time, I've had to sacrifice that part of my past in what I've left behind. It feels like snipping small pieces out of your heart, let me tell you. Of course, I know from experience that after a while you make new friends. Things return to normal.
That doesn't make the passing any less painful, however.

I love to make people laugh. The notion that my words or actions spawns joy or hilarity in someone is something that can warm my heart like nothing else. I'm no professional comedian. But sometimes, the sarcasm and wit that I say is really forced.
"Man up," I can hear Reaper saying. "The world is no place for a baby."

Yeah, I know, pal.

A world full of people trying to deceive, attack, and corrupt me?
Look at that, fear. See that? See what's standing between me and you? Just the Creator of the Universe.
"For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." ~Romans 8:38-39

Yeah, fear. Yeah, world.
Bring it on.