Sometime during my junior year of high school there was a momentous shift in my psyche. There's a moment like that for everyone - the realization of freedom when you hold your first driver's license, or the feeling of pride and responsibility at your first job. But my moment of epiphanic maturity was more unique - it was when I realized that I wanted to hang out with girls more than I wanted to play videogames.
During freshman year of high school, kids quickly and justifiably came to call me "gameboy", as the machine was my only real friend. Even throughout middle school, my mother and I battled over the game system in a sort of nuclear arms race. I'd pretend like I was doing "homework", and she'd ground me and craftily hide the gameboy in increasingly obscure places. I in turn spared no effort in scouring the house and stealing it back - repeat ad nausem.
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This was the weapon with which I saved worlds. And escaped from mine. |
Sad? Perhaps. But honestly that impulse hasn't changed; it's just disguised and buried underneath layers of experience that tend to provide a fuller experience of life - like music, nature, or relationships. But the nerd inside hardly dormant - it only bides its time, awaits moments of weakness, and jumps out in random conversations. It's part of who I am, and - in case you can't tell - I
relish that. While there have been drawbacks, videogames were a stepping-stone to much of the good in my life today. But that's a different story entirely, and is just a lame transition to the fact that I want to talk about Pokemon.
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Solid relationship advice. |