Showing posts with label Games. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Games. Show all posts

Monday, 14 September 2015

Confessions Of The Noncompetitive Kind

Today's revelation will probably come as a huge shock. Wait for it. The truth is,  I don't have a single competitive bone in my body. I know, right?!! Who would have guessed? 

The fact that I'm a spectacularly unsuccessful blogger and undomestic goddess with no career whatsoever would never have given that away. Winning! 

This probably explains why I've never enjoyed games of any description: board games, sport games, card games, PlayStation, Xbox and anything else that I've never heard of and don't want to. I also abhor Candy Crush, Farmville, Stick Run and all Facebook games. So there's actually no point in ever sending me gaming requests if we're Facey friends. Just saying. 

The thought of sitting  at a Poker Machine mindlessly dunking in shit tonnes of cash makes me want to poke my eyeballs out. Come to think of it, I don't even take any interest in competitions or giveaways or even purchase lottery tickets. I don't even have a 'you've got to be in it to win it' attitude. Weird.

I don't get into any sport whether it's playing or spectating. I've tried, but I just can't drum up even the smallest amount of enthusiasm or interest in anything. Not for soccer, rugby league, AFL, tennis and especially not cricket. Bats, balls, BORING! 

On the positive side, it's helpful to not actually give a flying fuck when the State Of Origin or Grand Final is on. I couldn't care less who wins or loses. While every one else is sobbing into their stubbies or lamenting their team's wooden spoon status, I'm thoroughly unconcerned. Meh.

However, for success in life in general it would probably be useful to have a bit of fight and competitiveness. After all, we do live in a competitive society. 

I don't know why, but I've never been some one who thought about life in the sense of setting goals and having ambition. I've just drifted along aimlessly. I've always been an off with the pixies space cadet. This isn't exactly helpful in life. I often dislike this trait and wish I was more of a go-getter. More driven, focused and disciplined. 

Maybe it's just that it's hard to strive for something when  you're not exactly sure what it is you should be striving for. It sounds weird but when you struggle with basic things in life like I always  have (anything from talking, to driving to feeling comfortable in my own skin) all you really want is to be 'normal'. Whatever that means.

Apparently you're supposed to hit 17 and suddenly have all the wisdom of the ages and have the utmost clarity of what your calling is. Or something.

But I was so ridiculously shy, quiet, awkward, introverted and just plain old weird that everything seemed out of my reach. I knew emphatically that I did not want to be a teacher. Imagine a whispery voiced Ness attempting to control a room full of children ( I often can't manage my own three, but that's another story. Shut up). So that was out. A careers adviser suggested that I study journalism since my English teachers felt I had writing ability. This seemed absurd to me. I figured that to be a journalist you had to be pushy and possibly even aggressive. So that was out. I couldn't be a nurse or anything in a medical setting because I'm squeamish. So that was out.

I thought, one day I'll wake up and have the confidence or ability to do these things at an certain age. I too, can be mediocre Mrs Average. Have a run of the mill office job, friends, a car, a house, a husband and two point five kids (even though I've never quite understood how you can have point five of a child, but then again, I've never been good at maths)  and be a socialising, multi-tasking soccer Mum. Technically I can tick a few things off that list, but the job remains elusive, while the multi-tasking and socialising with ease are still somewhat fraught and difficult.

The only thing I ever knew with any certainty that I wanted to be was a Mum. Imagine my chagrin to find that I am quite hopeless at the above description. Okay, I won't say hopeless. That's a pretty dire 'all or nothing' word, but it's all challenging for me.

You'd think that being dreamy and whimsical would be helpful to become a writer, but I reckon focus and discipline would be much more helpful. 

I can get lost in writing and forget everything. It would be better to be able to do it for an arbitrary amount of time and then switch attention to other tasks, something I struggle with. Additionally, in order to succeed as a writer you have to be competitive and good at self-promotion. I SUCK at self-promotion. 

Mr 6, on the other hand, is extremely stubborn and competitive. He can't stand losing. I'm not sure if this is good or bad. He's not above making up his own rules in an underhanded attempt to win noughts and crosses. I do put aside my aversion to games in order to play with my little man. 

I suppose I can always comfort myself with the old tortoise and hare fairy tale. The idea that 'slow and steady wins the race'. This is an apt analogy for some one like me who is definitely slow and steady and hates the old 'come out of your shell' cliche. The fact that this is a fairy tale and therefore hogwash is completely irrelevant.

There are times when I witness the behaviour of competitive parents at children's sporting events and come away rather bemused. Of course I want to encourage and support my boys, but wailing at them and berating them like a deranged and possessed demon? Um no, I don't think that's helpful at all.

These days the trend at schools is to give all children participation certificates at school events and not highlight winners and losers. Even though I totally missed out on any sort of competitive gene, I'm not sure I agree with this. This is in spite of the fact that I was always the reject that nobody wanted on their team when sport captains were made to choose their team mates. I still remember the one and only time I did receive a sport award at school assembly and how special I felt. Sadly it didn't propel me into becoming a competitive, driven 'winner' but I suspect nothing ever will.

Just for shits and giggles I looked up the synonyms (the same) and antonyms (opposite) for the word competitive and this is what I found:




Killer instinct

Therefore I've come to the conclusion that all of you competitive folk can have your dog-eat-dog, aggressive World. I'm happy in my own little passive one. There are unicorns, cakies and rainbows over here and strictly NO GAMES!! 

Just a random doge meme instead. 

For no other reason than Mr 6 finds them hilarious and the doge doggy looks vaguely like our dog Cookie. You're welcome.

 Plus, we are having tacos for dinner tonight. See? I can be organised and driven when there is food involved!!

Meanwhile, when I logged into Blogger the other day to write this post, I discovered that some one had stolen my old blog spot address and was passing it off as their own with one of my archived posts. Maybe I'm winning at life after all if some one wants to pretend they're me complete with the ubiquitous bogan status!

So I guess I'll just keep plodding and dreaming through life and let all of you winners and strivers get on with it. As you were.

Linking up with Kirsty, Alicia and Eva.

But before you go please tell me:

Are you a competitive person?

Thursday, 6 December 2012

Weird and Wonderful

I frequently wonder what it would be like to live in a ‘normal’ house.  With a ‘normal’ family. Because it tends to become a tad, um, shall we say, interesting, around here.
Take for instance some incidents that happened over the past week or so.  One day, the usual mountain of lego  was obscuring the living room floor.  I ordered the boys to clean it up.  Fights and mayhem ensued.

“You know what, Mum?” cried Mr 4, amidst all the hollering.
“What?” I replied.
“You’re Mum!” he laughed “you’re funny!”

Then he turned to his brother, segueing abruptly “I don’t love you!” he informed him vehemently. Mr 8 promptly burst into tears.

I ignore the washing up to play with the boys,
or just ignore the washing up to do anything that
isn't washing up really.
After smoothing that over, I then coaxed Mr 11 into a bath.

Trudging  back into the kitchen, I surveyed the usual truck load of washing up. Ignored it and headed back to the computer.
Some time later, I meandered back into the bathroom.

An over powering stench greeted me. Mr 4 grinned at me from the toilet. Which he had filled to the brim with toilet paper. Among other things.

Meanwhile, Mr 11 was soaking blissfully in the tub.
Fully clothed.

I booted him out and hastily bustled a slightly putrid Mr 4 in.  
When I wander back to the bedroom, I find Mr11 now flinging himself backwards and forwards with wild abandon, apparently head banging to some kind of rock music which is only in his mind.

Completely nude.

Also in the past few weeks, all three boys have started a game called making 'huts'. This involves positioning coffee tables and chairs in certain positions in the living room, then draping blankets over them. They then crawl in under their little self designed hidey hole.

Or they will congregate in our bedroom and do somersaults on the bed. Or decide to play 'tips' or hide and seek. Sometimes I am coaxed into joining in.

Mr 4 will be beside himself with glee.

"You hide here!" he cries, pointing behind his bedroom door "and I count!"

Trying to explain that it kind of defeats the purpose if he tells me where to hide is a fruitless exercise.  Ditto if he yells out "I'm in here!" and alerts me to his hiding place. Which he often does.

Meanwhile, Micky Blue Eyes will have one of three reactions to such pandemonium.

They are:

1.       He is a grumpy old man. Completely and utterly over such frivolity, insisting that it be curtailed immediately.

2.       Distracted indifference. He is too busy looking up old 80’s bands on Youtube, like Journey and Foreigner (if I’m lucky) or footage of Tsunamis or other natural disasters if I’m not.

This means he will yell at me approximately every 12 minutes or so to come quickly and look at some horrific doom and gloom thing that frankly isn’t extremely helpful to when you tend to be a bit wobbly (anxious) at times.

3.       If you can’t beat em, join em. He will join in with the boys antics, perhaps even roughing them, thusly hyping them up even more. Quite handy when it occurs at bed time, as is quite common. Something I never do.
Except for the other day when it was heatwave conditions and I looked up from folding laundry to see Mick spraying Mr 11 with the hose while he bounced on the trampoline. Gleefully I ditched the clothes and hurried outside where I proceeded to join in.

Next thing you know I was bouncing around being sprayed and whooping and laughing. Mr 8 joined in.
“This is the life! Wheeeee!” he shouted, arms and legs flying, soaking wet. 

It felt so good to be so utterly silly and ridiculous and just laugh. To see the boys so full of joy.

At which point I decided ‘normal’ is over rated.

When was the last time you did something completely silly? What ridiculous antics happen at your house?