I feel that it would be inappropriate for me to write this post without mentioning the September 11th attacks. Today, after all, is the 10th anniversary of that day for which there is no adequate adjective. I was sitting at a desk in sixth grade when the planes hit. Shortly afterward, the entire student body was brought into the gym where we were told of what had happened. So quickly had the teachers gathered information that they were not even sure if the destruction was accidental or intentional. How blissfully naive we were then.
Some students' faces were quickly overcome with tears as the awful questions started to appear in their heads. I would imagine that the only thing worse than knowing a parent had died that day would be not knowing anything at all. The school was located a mere 47 miles from ground zero, and many of the residents of our affluent suburban town commuted into the city each day for work. Our proximity to the attacks almost guaranteed that the answer to at least one person's awful question would be "No."
It seems as though it would go without saying that such an event had an enormous impact on my development as a person, but in all honesty, I don't know that that's true. I was certainly old enough then to still have clear memories of the time but too young, perhaps, to fully understand the magnitude of what was happening. Moreover, I was spared the worst of it: neither of my parents worked in New York, and none my close friends lost a mother or a father that day either. My interest in playing guitar didn't develop until a few years later, and my passion for writing a few years after that. I had neither melodies nor words to encapsulate whatever emotions coursed through me that day, and by the time I was capable of expressing myself in any meaningful way, all I had left was distant memories.
Contrast this with a particular Los Angeles resident by the name of Sean Plott, better known by his pseudonym Day[9], who makes his living providing expert commentary on StarCraft, a popular real-time strategy game. It seems silly to imagine that such a person, more than 2500 miles away from me, could possibly have any effect on my life, particularly since I have never even played StarCraft. And yet, somehow, he has.
I was first exposed to Day[9]'s broadcasts when I was linked to a video by a friend who is absolutely obsessed with StarCraft. I watched out of mild curiosity, and was pleasantly surprised to find it to be highly amusing despite me not knowing anything about the game. I found myself wanting to know more about how StarCraft works, which is about a trillion times nerdier than wanting to actually play the game, but I didn't care. I thought it was a fun challenge to try to decode the action as well as the bizarre jargon used to describe it. I kept hearing such deliciously enticing phrases as "scoot and shoot", "banshee harass", and "chrono boost", and I desperately wanted to know what they meant.
After some time, I succeeded in developing a fairly thorough understanding of the mechanics and language of StarCraft. I continue to watch Day[9]'s videos because of the potent life lessons that he extracts from his experiences as a professional gamer. It may not be apparent that playing video games can provide life lessons until one considers that Day[9] used to practice 14 hours a day before tournaments, a level of dedication matched only by Olympic athletes. A while back I wrote about my habit of changing up every element of my practice environment (temperature, amount of light, whether or not I am wearing clothes) so as to be mentally prepared to perform in any sort of unfamiliar setting. This, in fact, was directly inspired by one of Day[9]'s videos -- specifically this one. This is only one of many ideas and concepts that I have incorporated into my life as a result of watching his broadcasts.
The most recent of these little connections was, perhaps, the most meaningful thus far. Last week, Day[9] was asked what advice he would give to anyone who wanted to become a professional gamer. His response felt so sagacious and so relevant to what I do that it is worth transcribing here in full:
"My advice is kind of similar to my advice that I would give anyone pursuing any task, which is: make sure that you really enjoy it at the most basic level. For instance, there are many people who want to be amazing authors, who want to have New York Times bestselling books all the way at the top every year. But that's the end goal. If you want to be a really good author, you need to enjoy writing sentences, not enjoy having your book as the #1 on the New York Times bestseller list. You need to enjoy the most basic fundamental act of participating in it. There's a lot of people out there who want to become a full-time pro gamer because they like the idea of being of good, they like the idea of winning a tournament, but the individual act of splitting your workers or macroing or even just playing a game of StarCraft 2, they don't like as much. So find what makes you really really happy and do it relentlessly."
When I heard that answer, I immediately felt an enormous sense of pride and relief and sheer joy in knowing that I had made the right decision by making music a bigger part in my life, because I absolutely enjoy every basic fundamental act of participating in it. Yes, I enjoy the idea of performing in front of thousands of people. Yes, I enjoy the idea of being interviewed. Yes, I enjoy the idea of seeing my music influence other musicians. I will not pretend for even a moment that I do not fantasize about these things. But at the same time, I absolutely love every little part of being a musician. I enjoy changing strings and tuning them. I enjoy undoing each clasp on my guitar case, opening it up, and pulling out this beautiful organism that has been a part of my life for so many years. I enjoy transcribing my music into Guitar Pro. I enjoy opening up my iPad spreadsheet and typing "1" after I've finished my first practice hour for the day. I love all of these tiny moments, and I had never really understood the importance of that joy until I heard Day[9]'s words.
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I don't know how it is possible that I feel such an imperceptibly small connection with such an era-defining moment as the 9/11 attacks. I don't know how it is possible that I find the thoughts of some random nerd on the other side of the country to be so compelling. I don't even know what inspired me to bring these two seemingly unrelated things together here. I suppose that if you'd like to, you could draw some conclusion about what it means to grow and mature, or about the connectedness that the Internet offers that geographical proximity never could. I like the challenge of trying to infuse all of my posts with some sort of overarching message, but somehow I don't feel that anything I could add here would do justice to 9/11 or to Sean Plott. Make of it what you will. I'm going to go spend a few hours doing what I love.
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Week 11 total: 28.5 hours
Grand total: 269 hours
Required pace: 211.5 hours (+57.5)
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