Cam (as Mr. Peterson): ROONEY! GRRRRRRR I want my daughter out in front of the school in 10 minutes by herself!
Rooney: Yes, Yes, Yes, Sir!
Ferris: How can we pick up Sloane if Rooney is there with her?
Cameron: I said for her to be there alone and you freaked.
Ferris: Now, I didn't hit you. I lightly slapped you.
Cameron: You hit me. Look don't make me participate in your stupid crap if you don't like the way I do it. You make me get out of bed, you make me come over here. You make me make a phony phone call to Edward Rooney? The man could squash my nuts into oblivion. And-and-and then, and then, you deliberately hurt my feelings.
I've been giving serious thought into picking up my IGN-validated Geek Union card by purchasing an unnamed computer-based RPG after watching some of those WoW videos (damn what a busy interface!). The raids, the 15 year old guild leaders that spill their cases of used Red Bull cans like their life depending on getting that uber-cloth sleeve of banishment for defeating Monocule the Sighted, or the simple competition matching reaction times and accuracy with fellow Blademasters and Sorcerers.
Each time I feel that pull of spamming a Twin Blade reactionary swing after a successful parry (go read your Electronic Gaming Monthly if you understood that, dork) I am reminded at home what a slippery slope those games can be to a person with my addictive personality. Guild raid at 11pm lasting until 4am???? No problemo! I have to be there to be the main assist for a gank squad raid on some nOObs while dinner is on the table?? rAwK oN!!!!
Unfortunately as I fell further and further down that pixelized pit, the gap between the unintentionally funny guy in the video yesterday and myself was my ability to walk away, otherwise that could be me shouting at my computer monitor while Teamspeak assisted the group members over headsets with shouts of "heal me!" "peel this assassin off!" "I just jerked off to the new hentai video Cooking Mama OhLaLa!".
Being introduced to poker has been nothing short of a blessing as I have a little bit extra income, a little bit more self-confidence, and a few more people that I call my friends. Even that suckout artist Smokkee.
I've met people that in no way would I have had as much in common with those that I killed Trolls and Orcs with several years ago. Sure, some of the older players I would have felt comfortable grabbing a beer with, but the chats on IRC and IMs didn't reflect real life, and that was ok for the time due to my deep battle with depression and illness.
Avoidance.
Parry.
Now, I use words like "rebuilding" and "happiness" to describe a normal day in the neighborhood. While I'm not whistling a happy Mr. Rogers style tune each day, I'm learning to become o.k. with showing a geniune smile versus one that appeased the masses. You could read countless books on depression and recovery, but I'd bet a drink at the MGM Sportsbook bar that the biggest struggle isn't climbing out of that black hole, but stay on top of it and reminding yourself its ok to feel good. Maybe its a buried Catholic guilt thing for feeling confused about multiple days where I don't feel like shit. Things that would have had me ducking for cover under a desk, now just roll off after a quick rant and resolution. Except skulling my new lob wedge from 30-40 yards out, that brings out a rage in me that only an attentive beer cart chick can quell.
While you won't see me hoping aboard a float in a Chi-town parade belting out golden oldies, I sincerely hope you won't see me sulking into dark areas like at the last WPBT event or receiving two wheeled transportation assistance. I am truly blessed to call several of you my friends.
Group huggles?
Thanks for dropping by, now enjoy your weekend as I will be donning my stretchy pants and acquiring some grass stains while playing in the first softball tourney this weekend for my new team.
Winner gets a bid to go to Vegas.
I like.
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