I leave for Omaha in less than three months. I figure since I’m going to be going for my Master’s in English, I need to get ready. There’s a certain amount of pomposity that goes with graduate school, and I feel like I’ve really got to work to achieve it. It’s time for a life-changing decision. I have to give up video games.
I know. I know. I’ve been playing games since I was five. That’s 24 years of digital eye-bleeding. I led Mario to defeat Bowser when I was six. I helped Link rescue Princess Zelda when I was eight. I wandered aimlessly around Zebes, having no clue where to go, when I was seven. Some of my oldest memories are wrapped up in video games. They’ve been there when my life was shit. They were there when my life was actually going well. Video games have always been there in some capacity or another.
But, no more.
See, I’ll be too busy debating Proust. And ask any college professor and they’ll tell you, you can’t debate Proust when you’re dodging green turtles. How am I supposed to read Longfellow with any level of understanding if I’m too busy reloading my shotgun to shove it down the throat of some newbs? I can’t. It doesn’t work like that.
So, don’t ask me about video games anymore. If you do, I’ll merely adjust my glasses slightly, sniff loudly and say, “video games? I do not have time for such things, sir. I happen to be thinking about Moby Dick. Deeply.”
Then, I’ll probably giggle because I just said ‘dick’ and ‘deeply’ and no matter how pompous I get, that shit is funny.