Must...have... .

It's interesting how our priorities change as we grew older.

When I was about say, nine, the one thing that mattered was Dragonball cards. There was no reason to it. The cards were being sold. All the other kids were getting them. You had to get them.

They served no purpose, either. You bought packs of them and hoped to see shiny holographic designs on a few, which made them Golden. And you could take those and tell all your friends you GOT A GOLD ONE OMFG NEH NEH NEE BOO BOO.

We just didn't understand why the stupid adults didn't see them as the precious artifacts they were.

That died out eventually. Then it was video game consoles. Little pastel eight-bit graphics were the coolest and days were spent at the houses of those who were fortunate enough to have consoles. The number of control-pad combination moves I had memorized, then. Ah.

Then an aunt quite kindly got me a computer. It was arcane stuff to everyone else, but somehow I got my hands on a copy of Ultima Underworld. Must have come with the package. It was my world for gods know, that little 8 x 6 cm of game window. Those were the days when gameplay sold games.

The damned things just never come with a balance player interest and plot length and complexity. RPG after RPG, I lost interest looking for TEH VITAL KEY OF INTAR DIMENSIONAL TRAVEL or the MAGIC ORB OF DOOM, hidden in the secret room of a secret dimension, that you HAD to have to progress in the game. So at about...14? I discovered Magic cards.

It's one of those things. Players are endlessly taunted for being geeks, but it's really an extremely fun game. Prohibitively costly though and after four years or so ripping open pack after pack to see what Uncommons and Rares I got that I could use, sell or trade, I put a lid on it. Yes, I would approach creepy-looking strangers with greasy hair, coke-bottle glasses and acne that looked like it was alive. And say, "Wanna see my cards?"

Let us put that behind us.

"But what of women? The sweet, sweet girlies?", I hear you ask ever so silently. Of course I appreciated a pretty face as well as the next man. But as far as I was concerned, women, like chicken pox, were something that happened to other people. I eventually got the chicken pox, though. And some clueless girls did take up with me. More, "Oh. I suppose so." than "Kiss me you fool." stuff, but we can't all be charmers.

Rightfully, I should be at the point where I've worked out what I want in life and am busy climbing the corporate ladder to get to it. But no, not really. The bills are being paid, with a little left over for the odd (alright, constant) fag and beer and that's about it.

Some people are very driven. Driven everywhere, they are. As above, they know what they want, and they'll stop at nothing to get it. I've got to the "fuck it and be content" stage. I've got a modest income, am not in debt and hey, it's not so bad. Oh sure I have the occasional pang for wealth beyond the dreams of avarice, whatever Avarice dreams about. But it ain't broke, yet.

Sorry, Izzard and Holt. T_T

In case I don't get back here before the 25th, have a merry Christmas. The proper sort, with the fireplace roaring and friends over with a chilled one. Not the crass commercial one, even though it's at a 40% discount.