There is strategy. And then there is Magic strategy. I have no idea which is better. There are those games that teach you tactics in some sense (chess is my prime example here), and others that are just for getting where you need to go (some video games that I’ve played). How that made sense, I’m still working out myself. Regardless, I find those games that involve a lot of thinking to be very enjoyable, whether you’re playing against your friends or against strangers. Naturally, friendly battles are more… er… explosive in character. If I were to go into the dynamics of Magic: The Gathering wars, doubtless, much would be lost in translation. At any rate, battles were fought, with a mixture of strategy and overall cunning.
There were 7 decks for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone… wait, no, that’s wrong. 6 decks to mortal men, doomed to play until they fell weary… or something like that. 9 rings to mortal men, but 6 decks of cards to us teenagers of destructive nature. All homeschoolers, unsurprisingly, on a very beautiful Columbus day, enjoying the merits of… anti-sunlight/computer screenism. RPG wars – surprisingly unviolent for our group – played out rather dramatically with us being a variety of adventurer archetypes. The scenario hinged on our decisions of becoming heroes or villains, with the Dark Knight principle given by Two-Face: “You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” We were up against dark forces beyond our control, secret organizations lurking in the shadows, gang wars on the verge of plunging a world into chaos, and surprisingly enough, something about damsels in distress that required more brains than brawn. Unfortunately, we turned out to be the er… damsels in distress… but not damsels… because we’re all manly men… but not men… because we’re teenagers… well, not all of us – oh forget it. As of yet, the endgame remains undecided.
Departing that dour world of dark depression nearly 4 hours hence, we took up arms in the form of cards, our words filled with venom as we sang the war cries of… Take On Me? By A-ha? Forget the venom part, that song is just awesome. And oh yes, it’s a war-cry because of that epic title. What? We’re 90’s kids. We can sing 80’s songs if we so desire. Lots of harmonization happened. We battled upon the stones of war, our miniature armies of little puny cards clashing across the carpet. Tapped humans swung with all their power, for the glory of the king (me). Yes, it was that energized gametype: Usurper!
Two assassins born to kill a king; one rogue battling for the power of the everlasting ring; two guards, the ones who are always very nearly victorious; and one king, whose death could be anything but glorious.
Yes, I’m in a rhyming mood (thanks Spectacular Spider-Man).
My faithful guard saved the day, and it is him who I have to thank for surviving this long. So onward!
Service is very good. Service is your way of giving back to a community of people. Yesterday, we began to build these um… “care bears” – for lack of better wording on my part – for my friend’s Stars & Stripes Project. For those who don’t know what Stars & Stripes is, it’s the highest rank in American Heritage Girls. It’s a boss organization, go check it out when you get the chance.
So, we constructed these “care bears” for young kids to have, which is pretty cool, and I believe there’s also a collection drive for pregnant mothers, to get them things to assist with… well, their lives. The process involved cutting, sewing, stuffing, and all other manner of technical things I have yet to fully understand. I cut cloth, sewed (manly sewing, mind you), and stuffed bear patterns. It was… difficult for me – probably because I’m clumsy with small needles – but rather enjoyable, I will say that. Fortunately, I had another associate present who was also a guy, thus we were sonicking things with a mini sonic screwdriver until 14:00 hours. Good, excellent things. I should write more about it at a later date. Service is an excellent topic of discussion.
And finally –
Ah, those glorious parentals to whom I owe pretty much everything, and who in turn owe everything to God. They’re celebrating 25 years together soon! 25! It’s crazy. In a world full of men and women who fail to be faithful to one another, it’s a miracle to have well… parents who you can rely on to be your moral grounding. I know they can seem a bit overbearing, and sometimes unsure of themselves, but they really are wise (future me, if you’re ever doubting them, read this blog post, and you’ll know you’re wrong) and inspirational. There are those people who say brainwashing happens at the home, and that people should listen to the world rather than family. If this were the case, who could you ever trust? If you can’t even rely on your family to teach you – really properly teach you – then where are you? Lost in the storm, to use a figure of speech. Trust in your family. If they truly want what’s best for you, then you won’t go wrong.
25 years. Commitment has power within it. Love bonds with all its grace and blessing. Mushy though it is, that kind of connection is unbreakable. Whatever happens, bad or good, that connection still exists. You can’t destroy it. There’s a part of the husband and wife forever within each other. It’s a superpower.