Waiting For Winter To Be Done

Song of the moment: My Favorite Chords The Weakerthans

So, I don’t know if I told you this, internetland, but I quit WoW. It’s a temporary thing, I believe- once I hit 80, it became a matter of devoting actual chunks of time to the game for group raids and instances. Which also means these chunks of time have to occur during peak traffic hours. And those are hours I don’t tend to devote to playing WoW. I play WoW at 3 in the morning when I can’t sleep.

Or, I did. I decided a hiatus was in order. I had pretty much stopped playing anyway, and there was no point in paying for the game while I’m not interested in playing it. So, I canceled my subscription.

Despite the fact that I knew it was a smart decision, there was still something depressing about doing so. I’m not sure why. After all, I don’t lose my characters or anything. The most that can happen is my guild will boot me for inactivity. Big deal- it’s not hard to find another one.

Of course, Dr. Riley thinks it was a positive decision for me. She tried to pull the “escapism” bit on me, but I argued with her that my propensity for large amounts of reading could also be categorized as “escapism,” it’s just more socially acceptable. She tries not to judge, but it’s becoming increasingly obvious that she doesn’t understand the geek/gamer culture… then again, most people I know don’t. People think it’s a phase and that we’ll outgrow it.

But what if it’s not? What if I always play video games and read physics books and watch the latest sci fi television series and collect odd card/board games? What if those are my bad romance novels/”psychological thrillers” and sitcoms and quilting circles? What if I’m 40 years old and still pwning n00bs on some MMORPG instead of going to some charity dinner with my coworkers who I hate anyway? What if (novel fucking concept here) this is who I am?

People come and go in my life. More so now than at any point in the past, I realize this. I’m watching my ties to my friends of nearly four years drop away with dizzying rapidity, and I’m strangely okay with most of that. Because I can’t fool myself into thinking there’s any type of permanence in my relationships with people.

Places come and go, too. I’m back in Wyoming for a time, but I know this isn’t where I’ll stay. I have wanderlust something fierce. Besides, I’ve already promised myself I’d live in New Orleans and Boston at some point in the future. I can’t let myself down. But I don’t put down roots. That’s not my thing. It makes it easy to up and go when I have to. Or when I just want to.

But there are some things in my life that have stuck around longer than the rest. A love of science. A passion for video games. A love for that whole culture that hasn’t dimmed with time, but has only grown. Every year, I allow myself to go deeper and deeper into this world that most “responsible, successful adults” think is childish and worthless.

Right.

The idea of what makes a responsible, successful adult is funny. Today, I was on my obligatory walk with my mother. She’s an ADD fitness nut (the sheer amount of exercise equipment she’s purchased and abandoned around the basement and garage can attest to this), and she’s been dragging me out to walk with her lately. I think it’s an attempt to bond with me. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother, but I share little in common with her (beyond her overbearing, bitchy personality and propensity for worry). It’s hard for me to carry an actual conversation with her. Thus, walking with her is like a slow torture. If I’m not engaged in a good conversation while out wandering the neighborhood, I’d rather be alone with my iPod. And my cigarettes (I can’t smoke when I’m with her… dammit).

Anyway, I’m rambling (I’ve had a beer and it’s went to my head- forgive me). Suffice to say, I carry the conversations on these walks. I’ve also recently made a vow to stop gossiping- especially to my mother, who doesn’t know the people I’m talking about anyway. I figure I don’t want to hear her stupid gossip about relatives and coworkers I barely know (and certainly don’t care about), so she probably doesn’t want to hear mine. By cutting out gossiping (my mother’s bread and butter), I’m left with basically nothing to talk to her about. I’d taken recently to discussing politics and such… and by discussing, I pretty much just mean talking at her while she nods. My mother doesn’t spend much time thinking about the world around her.

Exposition over. Sorry that took so long. The real story was today. Today, on what I hope is my last such obligatory walk, I performed a little experiment.

I didn’t say anything.

Okay, that’s a lie. If she attempted to start a conversation, I responded exactly the way she does- short, meaningless answers and nods. I gave her a taste of what it’s like to be me, to see what she would do.

Sadly, she performed exactly as I suspected she would. She told one story about work, got a minimal response, then was silent the rest of the walk. As hard as it was for me to be quiet, I did it. And when we got home, I started talking again. She commented on how quiet I had been. I told her about my experiment. Naturally, she got defensive, stating she thought I was upset and didn’t want to talk, so she’d been quiet. I pointed out that she just assumed that- I never said anything to actually back that up.

Of course, because I’m an ass, I took it too far and told her she relied too heavily on me to keep conversations up and that it’s taxing on me. She got pissed, we fought for a bit. I may have thrown in a jab or two about the fact that she supposedly watches the news every goddamn day and yet never has an actual thought on what happens around the globe beyond “we should kill all the child molesters because they can’t be rehabilitated.” She called me a liberal, godless hellion. So it goes.

I really have no idea how this post started… *scrolls up*

And, with this, I’m once again reverting to how I used to use this blog instead of how I’ve been using it recently. I’ve been trying very hard to move away from whining about my life (like every other emo twenty-something’s blog) and toward moderately thought-out posts and humorous entries and amusing filler.

Balls.

Bonus link of the day: Unknown artists lacking polish… but there’s some fun stuff to be had. And it’s all free.

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