If I were to categorize my 2018 in any way, I’d say it was the year of board games. Now, I have always been a fan of games. This is nothing new. But 2018 marked more structured playing time and more effort.

In the beginning of the year, I got to know a few vintage board games through a monthly event hosted by the historical society. Truthfully, those events haven’t always been successful and time spent playing games hasn’t always been worthwhile. But it has presented me with the opportunity to try new (old) games, and I even bought one after playing it there.

I was later introduced to Board Game Arena, a site where you can play a few games online, by a fellow Redditor. We no longer speaker, but I occasionally log on to play games.

During the summer, I attended a small board game con with my sister. The library was huge, which gave me a chance to try out games I’d heard of only. Unfortunately, I was incredibly tired, but I enjoyed the chance to play new games. It incited me to do it even more.

Fortunately, I was given that chance when someone local contacted me to let me know about a weekly event at our local game shop. To be honest, it’s a place I had spent very little time. I always felt a bit intimidated by it, I suppose. Partially because I am a woman and partially because I am so casual about so many geeky things. I like a lot of casual games (video and board) and sometimes read comics, but just have never really delved into them. People who are intent on geek gatekeeping would not likely approve of my level of participation, enjoyment, or knowledge of those things. I suppose I worried that people within the game shop would be that way.

However, the timing worked out well with family things being so tumultuous and knowing that my sister wanted to play more games, too. Plus, I was sick of vintage titles. We’ve only been able to attend a handful of times, but I’ve been able to try some games I’ve long heard of (Splendor, Dixit, Betrayal at House on the Hill, and 7 Wonders among them) and a few new ones (Everdell) as well as enjoy a few rounds of Fluxx or Munchkin, which are always popular.

Aside from playing more games, this has really given me the opportunity to get to know a space that’s actually quite welcoming and to meet some new people. It’s all illustrated how I feel about playing games — at least, at this point in my life. It also explains why some game nights have failed to impress upon me.

Basically, it comes down to this: I’m there to play games for the sake of playing games and any socializing is incidental. I have been leaning in this direction for a while, so this isn’t a surprise. However, five years ago, I was all about socializing. The tables were turned.

Many of my friends are still like that, which is fine… except when I want to focus on an activity or play something with more depth than a party game. Sadly, the people who are there to socialize seem to be those who struggle to pay attention to the game. They also seem to be the type of people who wouldn’t notice that some people are there specifically for the game.

I don’t think this is different from any hobby. There are always those more serious about the activity than the people. I’m not positive that it’s always the case, but it does seem like people who want to socialize struggle to recognize that there are people who whom that isn’t the point. Ironically, everyone who seems more intent on gaming (like those from Board Game Revolution) seems to understand that there are two camps of people (and look disdainfully down on the other camp lol).

It’s interesting to me something as innocuous as playing board games can shine a light on an issue that I am dealing with in life in general: people who are unwilling or unable to think about others’ motivations and take them into consideration. But it’s frustrating no matter the venue, I suppose.

I have a few, somewhat scattered thoughts, none of which is long enough to dedicate an entire blog post but each of which has lingered long enough that perhaps I should write something about them. So here goes.

The first was triggered by this post on Twitter.

https://twitter.com/yrfatfriend/status/1038933769690861568

I replied an entire thread worth of thoughts. But it basically boils down to:

• I’d be physically more comfortable, both by myself and around others.
• I’d feel less compelled to overcompensate for how I look in other ways (ie clothes, makeup, and hair).
• I’d have more confidence in the dating realm.

But there was one thing — an absolutely huge thing — that I forgot; I would view women, especially thin women, less as competition. I would judge them less harshly and experience fewer bitter thoughts.

These are not trivial matters. Nor are they fleeting. These are lifelong issues with which I’ve struggled, and they’ve colored my entire worldview. It’s significant.. and sad. it is also hopefully something I can work through in time (and I have made progress).

Another thought bouncing around my head is how is how anxiety is experienced so differently by others. I’ll admit, this is something I’ve been thinking about for some time, ever since I commented on a blog and the blogger responded quite negatively. She was expressing her anxiety and vulnerability, and I thought we could bond over my similar anxiety. I remarked on a coping strategy, which she took as criticism, no doubt because of how her anxiety manifests.

It’s somewhat ironic that this interaction has left me with such anxiety. The blogger in question is a person who I admire and who, in some respects, I think I could get along with well. While I thought it was a sure thought that leading with how my anxiety affected me in similar situations would serve as a connection point, I was wrong.

Aside from that, I’ve been considering how easy it is to be impatient when people react in certain ways due to their anxiety even though I am no stranger to anxiety myself. I suppose it’s easier to ask for others to be patient than it is to dole out patience myself.

Patience is something that’s been on my mind a lot recently. I do not find myself particularly patient with some friends and family, and my shortage highlights the fact that the only way I get through/survive these relationships is by expressing an exorbitant amount of patience. I always feel disappointed in myself during times when I feel unable to come through with patience. But perhaps I need to re-examine why I continue with these relationships if they’re such a trial, to begin with?

Finally, I’ve been thinking a lot about locations. My trip to Seattle reminded me how much I like bigger cities — places where restaurants are in abundance and open late, where Sunday doesn’t equate to closed, and where public transportation is an option worth considering. These conveniences were some of the things I really liked about living in Milwaukee. I enjoy how “metropolitan” I feel when I am in these places and doing the things that seem less out of place in them.

A few years ago, I was considering buying a house here. Now,  I am so glad that I didn’t. I am not sure where I want to go, but I am almost certain that I must leave, and my recent trip was a reminder of that.

So, there you are.

I thought. I blogged. I conquered?

I’m off to Seattle for a week!

Wish me luck and fun!

I have been watching more new (to me) TV as of late. When I saw that Sex and the City was on Amazon, I figured I’d give it a go. It was a big deal when it was relevant. And a cast of women in their 30s is still virtually unheard of. Perhaps it would better fit my life as a 32-year-old woman.

So I dove in.

And I do have some praise. SATC was so ahead of its time in terms of feminism and women’s right. Every time Miranda or Samantha demanded equality (whether it be financial or orgasm), I cheered them on. Same goes for the frank talk about abortions. Why are we backsliding, society?

The honest discussions about sex were so culturally important, and they remain to this day. Women talking about, even demanding their own pleasure? Whoa! Oral sex, toys, and bondage were all up for discussion. Awesome.

I cannot forget about the way that these women supported each other, even when they were not necessarily in agreement.

As I watched, I couldn’t help but try to figure out… who am I?

Since SATC is no longer a cultural phenomenon, the Internet isn’t littered with quizzes telling you which of the women you are. But it used to be, and it’s natural to consider. To no one’s surprise, Miranda resonated with me the most — in both positive and negative ways. She’s certainly pragmatic, but she can also be judgmental. Samantha’s sex-positive and feminist messages are also mirrored in my own behavior, but if I am being quite honest, I am not as much like her as I would want to be.

I am neither as prudish or romantic as Charlotte. Although, I do like her taste. Where it gets tricky is the comparison with Carrie. I might share some characteristics with the narrator and main character of the show, but I am likely blinded to them because I fucking hate her.

That’s right, boys and girls. This might as well be titled I Hate Carrie Bradshaw.

Honestly, I get it. She’s a trainwreck. Drama makes for entertainment. I am certain that some people tuned in every week for this reason alone. And yet, it didn’t make it entertaining for me. In the beginning, it was bearly, but I found myself watching and actively angry toward the middle. By the time I finished the series, I was just glad to be done and had no desire to watch either of the movies. In some ways, I am perplexed that Sex and the City was such a hit. Although, I recognize that preferences are personal.

It’s hard to get over the foolish decisions Carrie makes regarding Big. I know that love makes you do stupid things, but I had no idea that their love affair started literally in the first episode. Big is neither charming nor good looking, so this only further confuses me. It’s not just that I prefer Aidan. Carrie is consistently making poor choices, some of which seem to fall on the writers. I know I am not the only one who thought Carrie and Aleks were breaking up right before she moved to Paris?!?

And Carrie’s high-pitched squealing and giggle was the epitome of immature and inappropriate. I can only pray that the directors want this and it was not a natural part of Sarah Jessica Parker’s personality. To be quite honest, it was downright embarrassing for me as a viewer.

I also found it unrealistic how hard the writers worked to craft poignant lines in her column, but Carrie was rarely able to articulate anything off the cuff. I know, I know. When you have time to sit down, the words come more easily, more gracefully. But I couldn’t buy that Carrie was sometimes so eloquent while most of the time she was so clueless.

There are other ways in which the show remains unrealistic. Carrie’s life as a freelancer could not support her shopping addiction. And while it was discussed, it just did not seem an accurate portrayal of life in NYC.

Sometimes, even the things that were accurate stand out in not-so-positive ways. The frequency with which any of the characters light up a cigarette, especially in public places, its nigh unheard of in 2018. Thank your deity of choice. I’ve been enjoying a few shows made in the 90s and early 2000s, so it’s impossible to ignore the lack of cell phones or the severely outdated designs where they do exist. It’s actually nice in its way. But the smoking thing is a prescient reminder of how far we’ve come, and I couldn’t be happier.

Perhaps that’s what I got out of watching Sex and the City. Although specifics have changed, there are some evergreen ideas around womanhood, friendship, and love. The questions Carrie posts and attempts to answer in her column are those we are still asking. I just wish the person asking them wasn’t so abhorrent.

I consistently find myself wrestling with the concept of time, how something that is an arbitrary human invention and so dependent on the motion of the universe can be so inconsistent. It’s near impossible to reconcile the erratic movement of time, and sometimes that fact takes my breath away.

Time moves so quickly when I am awake through midnight and my days span two days when I am awake for 20 hours and sleep another 12. I hardly have time to breathe when my schedule is full and my life is a whirlwind of road trips, shopping, dinners out, and games played. Yet, I look back and wonder where I spent all my time. Where is my receipt?

Yet, when I it is 10 in the morning and I am wide awake and ready to do something right now with the knowledge that no one will be available for another seven hours, by which time I will be tired, time passes as slowly as it ever has. When I wait for someone to know at my door or for an ordered package to arrive, I check messages constantly, hoping that somehow these people or items will be able to travel through time and into my home.

I wonder how time can pass so slowly at those times when I am running errands and trying to add just-one-more-thing to my list while I know someone is waiting for me (spoiler alert: I will not make it on time). It perplexes me that I can be the person who is waiting, both anxious and bored and wondering just what-the-hell is taking so long.

I understand that time is about perception, and that our brains perceive time differently when we are in a rush or, even better, in the zone. I get the concept of flow. But I am still mystified by the passing of time, how sometimes it rushes and sometimes it trickles. I feel frustrated at my inability to control it, to keep up or to maintain my composure when it’s molasses-slow.

That I am in the middle of a hellish week, anxiety-filled and reducing the time I have to try to cope to a seemingly-few seconds, while mourning the death of one of my closest friends just over a year ago and recognizing that I was married more than thirteen years ago, is a strange convergence. It’s a place where I can recognize both the expeditiousness and the lethargy of time. I am confronted by the mystery of time from every angle.

Eventually, the moment of confusion will pass until it resurfaces in the future. At another time.