But I admit. I wasted countless hours on gaming. But at the same time while I have more remorse about it overall... I still had a blast playing games. There are somethings you just can't experience or replicate in real life that you get playing games. And somethings i don't regret at all despite all the negative impact it had or the positive that could have been.
Its not so much videos games as much as wasting time all together. T.V., and surfing the web has also consumed a lot of my time. But while I learned and benefited a lot from it about 30% I could do without having spent. But I guess all things comes with a handful of crap on the side.
Moderation though is a very valuable thing and those who master it have won the game of life ;p
He makes a good point and I like the way he worded his arguments. You can't discount what he says. He sees and values the positives in games but makes us aware of the serious degenerative impact videos games have on our population. It keeps us dumb and complacent just like much of the media these days.
Life repeats itself. We all go through the same iterations and each have our own way of encountering things. Its interesting to see the different or similar way humans respond and express themselves over the span of time.
This video reminded me the following essay. I recommend it. Twas a great read.
Basic Black by Arthur Black. Was written in 1981, back before video games were the leading form of diversion.
Chapter on TV:
"I hope you'll excuse me if I sound just a little cocky today but I'm going through those first insufferable stages of somebody who's just given up a bad habit.
Insufferable for everybody else I mean- surely you've run afoul of the brand new non-smoker. The one who smiles so much that his teeth go dry; who usually greets you doing deep knee bends and arm excercises to 'open up the old lungs a little' - whose conversation is limited to up-to-the-minute personal health bulletins and long tirades about people who smoke anywhere more public than their bedroom closets.
Well that's the stage I'm in right now, which is why you might detect a touch of smugness. Except that it's not smoking i've given up. Nooo...nothing so simple.
Not drinking either... that would be child's play. Not throwing dice or snorting cocaine. Not betting the ponies or fast living. Conquering such petty vices wouldn't be worth mentioning.
No, the habit I’ve broken is a good deal more pernicious – infinitely more insidious than that. It’s held me in its thrall for 25 years – a quarter of a century! – but no more. I feel like a born-again human. I’ve just thrown my TV set out of the home.
Actually, not ‘just’… I’ve been without a television for a little over two months now. It was taken from me by and Act of God. I was just sitting in my living room one evening. Outside a thunder storm was raging with mighty peals of thunder and great jagged rips of lightning providing a sound and light show for the sheets of rain that were hammering the earth. But I didn’t see any of that. Didn’t see it because I was sitting in my darkened living room in that classic TV posture, the zombie hunch – watching a Blue Jays baseball game (talk about having nothing to do!) on the television.
It was a mediocre game that didn’t deserve to be in anyone’s living room, and I guess that’s the way fate read it, because suddenly there was an awesome crack, like a Giant Redwood snapping right overhead. The windows lit up and the TV went dark.
And that was it. My TV was dead. The dd thing was, I felt like Sleeping Beauty, or something … waking up from a trance. As soon as I figured out that my tv was definitely on the blink, I felt … released.
I went over and opened the front door and watched the storm. The ball game had been lousy, the storm was great.
Course I was in the first flush of conviction there – you know, like the first hour or so after you decide to quit smoking? It’s easy, and you’re all full of confidence and optimism … It’s the second day that the withdrawal symptoms start to take their toll. The next day I found myself absent-mindedly scanning the TV guide… flicking the TV on and off on and off to see if it had somehow and miraculously mended itself overnight. It hadn’t. And I felt nervous. I mean, what to do you do in the evenings if you don’t watch TV?
Still, for one reason or another, I never did get around to taking my television in to be repaired for about a week… and when I finally did, I just sort of forgot about it. Weeks went by and my evening gradually transformed themselves into something quite unusual. I found myself listening to records I’d bought months ago but never taken the cellophane off [talk about oldschool]; I began to read books I’d been meaning to read since high school. I even found myself engaging in conversations with my family. A phenomenon formerly limited to such exchanges as ‘Well, whaddya think – Masterpiece Theatre or the Rockford Files?’ [these were some of the main evening television shows on TV at the time (now classics), as you might have guessed.]
The thing about life without TV is – it is life. You feel alive! You feel alive! You’re not spending three, four maybe five hours a day sitting passive and quiescent, bathed in the unearthly glow of a TV screen, being force fed on visual pablum.
‘Bubble gum for the eyes’ Frank Loyd Wright called it. Certainly seems like that once you get away from it.
Anyways I decided to get serious about my new life. I cancelled the cable service and I still haven’t picked up my TV, even though its ready and the calls from the repair shop are getting increasingly snarky.
I guess I’ll have to pick it up, but I don’t know what to do with it. Put it out in the Glad Bags on Garbage day? Have it bronzed? Burry it in the garden? Stuff it and mouth it on the wall?
Whatever I do, I won’t be plugging it in.
Maybe I’m in at the beginning of a trend. I’ve run into three or four people who have given up on TV recently. And Lord knows the new fall TV schedule doesn’t offer anything to make you regret the decision.
If you decide you’d like to try life without Snarky and Hutch, the one thing to keep in mind is this; Not having a TV expands your life; you’re not doing without something. Not having a Tv gives you more time and more zest to use the time. There are thousands of things to do – read The Mayor of Casterbridge; phone up a friend; write some letters; paint a picture; play your harmonica and if you’re really lucky – watch a thunderstorm.
You’ll never see anything like that on Monday Night Baseball. "
This video reminded me the following essay. I recommend it. Twas a great read.
Basic Black by Arthur Black. Was written in 1981, back before video games were the leading form of diversion.
Chapter on TV:
"I hope you'll excuse me if I sound just a little cocky today but I'm going through those first insufferable stages of somebody who's just given up a bad habit.
Insufferable for everybody else I mean- surely you've run afoul of the brand new non-smoker. The one who smiles so much that his teeth go dry; who usually greets you doing deep knee bends and arm excercises to 'open up the old lungs a little' - whose conversation is limited to up-to-the-minute personal health bulletins and long tirades about people who smoke anywhere more public than their bedroom closets.
Well that's the stage I'm in right now, which is why you might detect a touch of smugness. Except that it's not smoking i've given up. Nooo...nothing so simple.
Not drinking either... that would be child's play. Not throwing dice or snorting cocaine. Not betting the ponies or fast living. Conquering such petty vices wouldn't be worth mentioning.
No, the habit I’ve broken is a good deal more pernicious – infinitely more insidious than that. It’s held me in its thrall for 25 years – a quarter of a century! – but no more. I feel like a born-again human. I’ve just thrown my TV set out of the home.
Actually, not ‘just’… I’ve been without a television for a little over two months now. It was taken from me by and Act of God. I was just sitting in my living room one evening. Outside a thunder storm was raging with mighty peals of thunder and great jagged rips of lightning providing a sound and light show for the sheets of rain that were hammering the earth. But I didn’t see any of that. Didn’t see it because I was sitting in my darkened living room in that classic TV posture, the zombie hunch – watching a Blue Jays baseball game (talk about having nothing to do!) on the television.
It was a mediocre game that didn’t deserve to be in anyone’s living room, and I guess that’s the way fate read it, because suddenly there was an awesome crack, like a Giant Redwood snapping right overhead. The windows lit up and the TV went dark.
And that was it. My TV was dead. The dd thing was, I felt like Sleeping Beauty, or something … waking up from a trance. As soon as I figured out that my tv was definitely on the blink, I felt … released.
I went over and opened the front door and watched the storm. The ball game had been lousy, the storm was great.
Course I was in the first flush of conviction there – you know, like the first hour or so after you decide to quit smoking? It’s easy, and you’re all full of confidence and optimism … It’s the second day that the withdrawal symptoms start to take their toll. The next day I found myself absent-mindedly scanning the TV guide… flicking the TV on and off on and off to see if it had somehow and miraculously mended itself overnight. It hadn’t. And I felt nervous. I mean, what to do you do in the evenings if you don’t watch TV?
Still, for one reason or another, I never did get around to taking my television in to be repaired for about a week… and when I finally did, I just sort of forgot about it. Weeks went by and my evening gradually transformed themselves into something quite unusual. I found myself listening to records I’d bought months ago but never taken the cellophane off [talk about oldschool]; I began to read books I’d been meaning to read since high school. I even found myself engaging in conversations with my family. A phenomenon formerly limited to such exchanges as ‘Well, whaddya think – Masterpiece Theatre or the Rockford Files?’ [these were some of the main evening television shows on TV at the time (now classics), as you might have guessed.]
The thing about life without TV is – it is life. You feel alive! You feel alive! You’re not spending three, four maybe five hours a day sitting passive and quiescent, bathed in the unearthly glow of a TV screen, being force fed on visual pablum.
‘Bubble gum for the eyes’ Frank Loyd Wright called it. Certainly seems like that once you get away from it.
Anyways I decided to get serious about my new life. I cancelled the cable service and I still haven’t picked up my TV, even though its ready and the calls from the repair shop are getting increasingly snarky.
I guess I’ll have to pick it up, but I don’t know what to do with it. Put it out in the Glad Bags on Garbage day? Have it bronzed? Burry it in the garden? Stuff it and mouth it on the wall?
Whatever I do, I won’t be plugging it in.
Maybe I’m in at the beginning of a trend. I’ve run into three or four people who have given up on TV recently. And Lord knows the new fall TV schedule doesn’t offer anything to make you regret the decision.
If you decide you’d like to try life without Snarky and Hutch, the one thing to keep in mind is this; Not having a TV expands your life; you’re not doing without something. Not having a Tv gives you more time and more zest to use the time. There are thousands of things to do – read The Mayor of Casterbridge; phone up a friend; write some letters; paint a picture; play your harmonica and if you’re really lucky – watch a thunderstorm.
You’ll never see anything like that on Monday Night Baseball. "
