When I was 15 my dad bought a PlayStation. Partially because he had read that playing video games was good for aging people’s dexterity and mental acuity. Partially because he thought it may be something we could enjoy together. Growing up I had pretty firm media rules in my house. These were instated by my mom. Certain shows were banned, TV was meant for non-school nights, at one point we didn’t even have a television, and certainly no video games. My dad had been wary to introduce them to me, wanting to honor my mom’s parenting tactics, but at this point my mom had all but abandoned her previous crunchy ways, my 8 year old sister and I watching Vampire Diaries on any given week night.

We started with Uncharted. This game is part of why I will always be pro-PlayStation. I just think the intellectual properties exclusive to PS are superior to XBox. It was an excellent introduction to gaming as the shooting, platforming, story and characters were all fabulous and not particularly difficult. My dad and I quickly discovered we had quite different “gamer styles.” In the beginning, we would both scurry up the stairs to the computer to consult YouTube for tips and solutions. By the end of my first full play through, however, I had developed somewhat of an intuition, and I had a great enough disregard for perfection that allowed me to plow ahead when my dad would elect to take caution or consult his Gamer Guru “Major Slack.” My dad crafted extensive notes for whatever game he was playing– pages and pages of step-by-step instructions on how to best approach each stage of a game, noting any hidden treasures, and erring on the side of stealth over disruption. I, on the other hand, sped run most operations. My preferred method for taking over Far Cry enemy bases was driving into them in a large vehicle, running over as many people as possible, before hopping out and shooting the rest. This tactic was highly inefficient, back up was always called, but it was fun and my style.

Eventually we moved on to Mass Effect. Mass Effect is unique because each choice you make is crucial to the final boss fight and how you play in one game will impact the next. Unlike other adventure games where the console will wait for you to get something right, sometimes nudging you in the proper direction if necessary, there are many instances in Mass Effect where you have one chance or even one moment to make a decision or take an action that could completely change the trajectory of the story. During the tutorial portion of the game you are told that you will be prompted at certain moments to make choices that will earn you either paragon or renegade points. These points correspond to a rank of morality with paragon being awarded to “good choices” and renegade being granted to bad ones. As you build your moral profile in one direction or the other, you unlock more choices and special dialogs with other characters. So, for example, if you garner a lot of renegade points, you may be able to commit more ruthless acts or make unethical deals. I’m not sure how (though I am not surprised), but I completely missed the low down on this. And so, when options flashed on my screen, I reacted no matter what. Sacrifice yourself for someone? Yes. Punch a civilian in the face? Yes. Deliver an inspiring speech to your crew? Of course. Have sex with someone’s girlfriend? Absolutely. Throughout the game you have different missions which are directly linked to the outcome of different members on your team. If you fail a mission, the related crew member will most likely die, sometimes causing a ripple effect and harming others as well…. we will get to that… 😥

I am pretty sure I passed every mission, except one. For Samara’s mission you had to go meet up with some alien chick named Morinth and say just the right thing. Well, to this point I had gotten all the paragon and renegade points I could, and so I was just…neutral. This then prevented me from accessing certain reply options saved for only the saints and sinners of the game. I don’t recall exactly what happened, but I do remember my dad laughing at me as I picked a very obviously wrong thing to say, myself exacerbated and offended by his sneers as I had no other choice! I bombed the mission and when the boss fight came, Samara failed to maintain a force field, which ended up killing JACK! JACK THE SEXY LESBIAN HUMAN. Ugh it was so sad. Look how hot she is:

Fuck… anyways this was all a metaphor for how I am a “true neutral” individual and am average at everything and therefore am nothing. I am sorry to use this next example, it is a bad example, but I am having a #toughtime with #foodandmybody which is #theusual but it is #gettingreallybadagain, so it is top of mind. In my workout class today, I look to my left and see a girl who is probably 5’9″ and 100 pounds. To my right, a girl who is JACKED. Not Jack though. RIP Jack. But she is so strong looking. I am jealous of both of them, naturally. To be like the first girl, I’d just have to starve myself. To be like the girl on the right, I’d have to pound protein and lift heavy. It is pretty simple either way. But you have to choose and you have to stick with it. I am the product of indecision, or rather the inability to follow through. I live each day, or even each hour, as a different person with different priorities. I make choices based on fleeting thoughts and feelings, not goals or values. I can’t even choose to live a life of someone with no food or fitness rules.

The same extends to rituals of cleaning, hygiene, hobbies, friendships, learning, goal setting of any kind. I am allergic to habits. I cannot do anything with regularity other than disappoint myself. It is quite pathetic because while I can whine about how horrible this all is for me, the truth is I do it because it is the easiest thing to do. I am not sure how to develop discipline. Walking down the street is like a live runway of people I could be if I felt enough drive to be someone for more than 30 minutes.

I think this is why people like me at first. I am easy to project onto initially. I have a shallow enough understanding of all worlds for me to relate to any kind of person for a short while. I can talk sports, Dungeons and Dragons, fashion, existentialism, pop culture, literature, food, honestly anything, as long as you don’t expect anything beyond a first paragraph of wikipedia level of expertise. I can be kind, cruel, vapid, thoughtful. I know it is human to not be so singular, that it is normal to contradict yourself from time to time, but this feels more extreme, like no behavior is in accordance or counter to my being because my being is undefined.

It has never sat right with me that your good qualities are you but your bad ones aren’t. Like when I think something nasty or vile it is an “intrusive thought.” “You are not your thoughts” therapists or pastel instagram slides will say, but they only mean that when you think something rotten. If my cruelty is not me, how could my kindness be? It is confirmation bias and ego wrapped into one cream cheese covered pill of self enablement. But I digress, this may need to be its own thing.

If you want to be stylish, you have to put effort into how you dress. You want to look a certain way? You have to take the time. You want to be smart? Read, listen, watch shit. You want to be good at something? Practice. But instead, I just make any choice that comes my way that is as easy as hitting a button on a PlayStation controller regardless of the implication or outcome.

I keep starting to write things and given up when they reach the inevitable refrain of how much I dislike myself. I think, “people don’t want to read this.” Or at least they don’t want to read this again and again. I try to think of ways to come to different conclusions. I try to think of things I could write about that are more light hearted or kooky. But that would be dishonest. I rarely begin writing with the intention of reiterating my insecurities and mental woes. But my brain is wired so that all roads lead to self deprecation. I don’t find that charming or interesting. I don’t consider myself a tortured soul. I’m just stuck in a loop and I have been for a very long time. Also people read these which is so sweet and means a lot to me, but it is also incredibly vulnerable and weird. But it is not even like I am divulging something deeply hidden. My sadness is not secret or suppressed. In fact, it seems like the most “me” part of me. And so by not sharing it to people I feel like most of the time I am performing some other person, or playing up a very specific facet of who I am. But I think to divulge my whole self would be so completely overwhelming for someone. I’ve had my whole life to grow accustomed and I myself am overwhelmed by it all.

Anyways, the other day my boyfriend was over and he picked up my PlayStation and resumed his game of Uncharted. It has been sweet and nostalgic watching him play through it. There’s a part of the game where you are on a jet ski being shot at, navigating waterfalls and dodging explosive barrels. It took me forever to get through the first time and perhaps longer still when I revisited the game a few years ago. It is by far my least favorite section. I was eager to see how my boyfriend fared. Part of what made it so challenging was controlling the vehicle at high speed and shooting at the barrels ahead of you faster than you could approach them. As he began the high speed chase, he did something unthinkable. He stopped. He drove the jet ski a little ways, paused, shot the barrels and the men above, and then kept driving. I genuinely had never considered this an option. That instead of charging ahead at full speed, flailing my way through a mess of explosives, I could wait, think, act, proceed. Hmm.