I’ve thought about winning today. You who read this blog don’t see it, but I’m a very competitive person. That which I decide to compete in, I do to win. I suspect that it is the old ‘chip on the shoulder’ that is behind my competitiveness.

Mr. Game & Watch as he appeared in Super Smash...
Photo credit: Wikipedia

Like, the other day before my disease struck, we had Stephen over at our house, and when Stephen is here we often play on the XBox. It ended with me lying on the floor to get a good angle to shoot him properly before he shot me. “You get too much into games,” he says to me at one point months ago.

Yes, I like to win. Now, computer games is one thing, but translate the need to win to life itself, and things get blurrier. Winning requires a metric to measure things with. It requires a goal, a process, an end. When I get to the end, I can test if I have achieved the goal or not. If I have, I have won. Right?

The problem is, and have been ever since I failed to get into Cambridge, that I don’t have any specific goal now except to graduate. I’ve been over this many times before, so I won’t dwell on it, not more than to use it as an example here.

If my life was a game of roulette, I would be sitting at the table with a huge pile of chips in front of me already. With Mark, with the house, with school, with my friends, with most things I have a pile of winnings. I’m young, I’m healthy, I love and someone loves me. What more could anyone want? Isn’t that supposed to be it?

The instinct is to sit on that pile, and enjoy that pile, and think that I’ve already won everything I could win. However, that makes me idle and lethargic, and non-adaptable. Do you understand what I mean? If I want to win, I won’t win anything when I sit and gloat with what I already have. I’ll become fat and indolent and boring.

And… my competitive nature makes me restless for something that’s out there which I can’t see or know. That was what I was thinking about today, how I can nurture my competitive side in a way that I don’t deteriorate to become a lethargic mess. My little projects, like the magazine and the books and the computer game is, I supposed, meant to give me a goal to focus on. So I can win at something. But is it enough?

Mark is my sounding board for these things; I can lob a verbal ball at him, and then we can realise that it’s four in the morning and we’ve talked all night. He’s my anchor and my rudder in many ways. But I’m going to Sweden in a few days, and in between the social necessities I will have to do there, I’m going to sit down and really think about all this.

When, or if, I reach any conclusions or decisions, then we can talk to the early morning hours when I come back.