Thursday, March 26, 2009

Border Skirmish

Dear Reader,

Hi. I'm enjoying writing to you again. I hope you don't mind how rusty I seem to be at this. I'm choosing relatively mundane topics to get back into the swing of things. Then again, the majority of my days are an assemblage of little meaningful moments, and to what end should I blog other than to capture the tiny freckles of memory that would otherwise fade with the winter of age?

Recently, I've gotten addicted to a game called Lux (http://www.sillysoft.net). Well, more accurately, I should say I was "hooked" on Lux by my friend Dave, who is an insistent chap when he feels he knows I need and/or would enjoy something. He's been after me for almost a year now to buy a $25 license key so we could play online together, and finally (after a year of me saying I'd get to it) he surprised me and just bought me a key to use, in my name and everything. (As I said. Insistent.)

Lux is basically a computer version of Risk, which, for those of you who have battled me on the Map of Destiny already know, is one of my favorite games. Lux has all kinds of different maps in addition to the standard "Risk" map. There is a Nazi-era Germany map, a Roman Empire map ("For Gaul!"), even a "Siege" map where you duel other players in and around a well-defended castle. Getting someone out of the Castle Keep is a real challenge, let me tell you. The game makes for very quick gameplay, has good graphics and sound (who doesn't want to see a country literally explode in the flames of victory when you conquer it? Take that, Kamchatka!), and is frankly addictive. All that's missing is the trash-talking at the table, and the game designers have thoughtfully included a chat-window for just such revelry. I highly recommend you check it out.

Not all of my skirmishes today were so digital. My wife and I are not... what's the word... lukewarm people, and when it's on, oh, it's on.

I'd call today's tussle a border skirmish. Diplomatic talks broke down. Someone threw a firebomb. All of a sudden there were bodies everywhere. Explosions. Not everyone can talk about their marriage like a war on terrorism, I know, but against a wife as well-armed as mine, you don't mess around. My wife can kill a man at 20 paces just by telling him the truth.

So, we fought. She stormed out. I stormed... well I stood still and didn't storm anywhere, but I felt tempestuous. My angry clouds were swirling. Chance of precipitation was in the 80s.

I heard the door downstairs slam shut, and I huffed around the apartment for awhile. You know when you get so angry that you can't stand still? You just feel all agitated. Not even really thinking. Occasional violent urges. The odd thought. "I really should drop off my dry-cleaning," followed by a pang of hunger and then more anger.

I was in a huff. And then the strangest quote came into my head from Mr. Rogers. It's from a song that he read to a tough-as-nails senator when Rogers was part of the group defending PBS to the senate. Here are the lyrics:

What do you do with the mad that you feel
When you feel so mad you could bite?
When the whole wide world seems oh, so wrong...
And nothing you do seems very right?

What do you do? Do you punch a bag?
Do you pound some clay or some dough?
Do you round up friends for a game of tag?
Or see how fast you go?

It's great to be able to stop
When you've planned a thing that's wrong,
And be able to do something else instead
And think this song:

I can stop when I want to
Can stop when I wish.
I can stop, stop, stop any time.
And what a good feeling to feel like this
And know that the feeling is really mine.
Know that there's something deep inside
That helps us become what we can.
For a girl can be someday a woman
And a boy can be someday a man.

(watch Mr. Rogers read it to the senator here)

So, I thought of this song. "What do you do with the mad that you feel / When you feel so mad you could bite?" I didn't have any clay. I'm too lazy to make dough unless it's from a tube. I don't have any friends to play tag with, and I was in my skivvies and didn't feel like getting dressed to go run around. So I did the only thing I could think of.

I rearranged the apartment.

Not the whole apartment, mind you. Just the bedrooms. I suppose you could say I'm passive-aggressive, but you can't argue with my taste in throw pillows.

We live in a two-bedroom apartment, and for the entire time we've lived here we (and our stuff) have occupied/slept in/messed up one room while the other sat pristine, preserved like a shrine, for guests. It's like owning a restaurant with a beautiful seating area - candles, tablecloths, artwork on the walls, live music - and only ever getting to eat by the sink in the kitchen.

I moved my piano in there last year and my wife used the closet, but otherwise the guest room just sat there looking inviting, warm, and comfortable while our bedroom was overcome by the rubble of everyday life - scraps of paper, speakers, boxes, checkbooks, video cameras. We did this, we thought, out of respect for guests. It's important to both of us that people come visit and feel at home when they do.

Sometimes I would escape to the guest room and wonder, "Why is this space used as a glorified closet?" So I did it. I took the plunge. I moved the bed around, moved the piano, and I put my computer desk in the guest room. It took three hours. I was sweating bullets.

And my wife nearly killed me when she came home. But spaces have energy. Rooms have energy. Not to get all feng shui on you (which always makes me hungry for General Tso's chicken...mm), but I am a firm believer that spaces elicit powerful reactions on an unconscious level. Our shitty bedroom is a source of tension in our apartment. It's covered in my possessions - my pictures, my posters - and it is not charming, quaint, or relaxing. The computer desk in here made it feel like a dorm room, and the clutter made us try and avoid it. And to top it off, we had a wonderful bedroom right next door reserved only for guests that we only got to look at and never use, a constant reminder of how our bedroom should feel.

So I still need to figure out how to fix up our bedroom. Ironically, the guest bedroom looks even more inviting than before and our bedroom looks like a bomb hit it. Hm.

We fought. I redecorated. We fought about the redecorating. Minor skirmishes. Trade disputes. Arguing over land rights. It's "Risk: Home Edition," and today, Kamchatka moved a computer...

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