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| I've been in a few chess tournaments over the past 30 hours. On Friday, I drove to Tyler, Texas and met up for a chess event with a friend. There ended up actually only being four participants - three entrees and a house player. I won two out of three of the games, but I was off; I realize that I didn't take it that seriously [and that I had been up all day and driven 2.5 hours to get there] but most of my moves were regrettable immediately after making them. I also played disgracefully in the larger tournament event that was hosted today in Shreveport, Louisiana. I won my first match, but it was not a convincing exhibition of skill; the gentleman I had the honor of opposing simply didn't take advantage of the frailty in my play. The second match proved to me that I could in fact perform more poorly than the first.
I played white against a player from Texas, Mr. Harris [I had previously played him in the first tournament I entered in Shreveport back in September upon my arrival to Louisiana Tech.] I had just taken two weeks off from playing consistently before attempting to 'warm up' with a few games with Robert the day yesterday - I had arrived at this relatively larger tournament event having done nothing to prepare myself for the games mentally or by practicing. I should have been punished for the play I then exhibited, but alas, I survived a lost position to quickly struggle with another. After the third instance in the game where I should have been slaughtered, it transposed to draw... then to a lost position again, and then a draw, and at last I lodged my rook between his and my sixth rank passed pawn and Sir. Harris did so resign.
I was however successful in losing my third match of the tournament. This player I have beaten many times before, though I would not claim I surpass him. T. Beckham - the 'top dog' of the usual crowd of entrants. We trade licks in casual games and blitz play, and at the last tournament we drew our match, but this was not a day to actively claim to be at my best. I know what I normally play and what it might be that he might normally respond; it was then that I played a move in my opening of this game that I had never played before at any tournament OR ever against him. 1. c4. I knew upon drawing back my shaking hand that I may just be making a mistake; I do not know any of the lines or structures well enough to play the English. In a pit of sheer self-conscious weakness, I quickly corrected with the move, 2.d4 --> as if to say, "Oh, my mistake. Please though, don't punish me." Ugh - I was tired either way and in no way did I retain the physical energy to put all that much effort into the match. Long, long story summarized, I did lose.
Game four did not matter. It did, but it did not to me. It was as if I had resigned myself to a poor game before playing. I was quickly doubling in my fatigue and after so many hours... eh. Fredrick Karlson had lost to me in the last tournament. I recreated the formations and structures I had watched on a chess video the night before against his 1. d4 last time and actually won quite convincingly. He expressed to me how he had thoroughly reviewed our last game... I only know one response to d4, and as non-existent fate would have it, I again played black, and he again played d4. In my attempt to alter the exact lines I played last time, I made a horrible blunder... he took advantage of it and I played the remainder of the opening by throwing out pawns in hopes to waste his time with taking them all. It was clear that by the middle game I was playing simply to humor my opponent with a game; I would casually attempt to align my pieces on particular squares in dire hope that if for a second he allowed it to happen, I could manage a draw. A problem with his play was the lack of development. I formulated some counter-attack options as his own forces drew closer to my king. In the end, I childishly masked a rather large attack with a smaller one; he took my 'hung' rook after a series of checks by his queen. Had he calculated more thoroughly, he might have seen the mate-in-three from my blunder of a knight move just before he took my rook, but I suppose he assumed the game won and that rather than calculate, grabbing material was more important. It was unstoppable from that point. One move after another, I had a forced mate in every combination or variation of play with my queen, knight, and two bishops. I didn't believe it before I played it out in my head. I took that win to place second with three out of four wins in the tournament.
I should be ashamed, but I realize that I was not at my usual level of play. And so, I have motivation to never allow the fortune of my opponent missing my weaknesses to decide my tournament results.
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| Keeps those things separate.
You cannot mingle these things and thoughts of life, two worlds apart as they are. You must not diminish positive association by delusion of any sense of priority or balance. You do not know me there; I cannot exist whilst you aim to submerge yourself in the nostalgia of that once-home. Vacation as though time is no more, or rather as it once may have been - no distinction required. Nothing is required of you there. Things that should not burden you even seem to weigh on your heart, but maybe it is that you leave that here as well? Where am I even, left behind in the stillness of this place that is only to be retreated from. I too return to my nest of homelier happenings and vehemently express my sorrow that I have done the same. Such priority we have to hold these things apart; to keep such articulation about their very depiction. Such priority does not seem to exist in the analysis of more than what simply may seem to be of pertinence.
We are to return to our prison of self-proclamation and leave behind the venues of our adolescence. | | |
| They exist awkwardly among others even of familiar roots. They are as fake as they are anything else, and they believe this is what makes them real. They are posing to be as others who pose just as they do, and know nothing of aspirations above the same plateau on which they [all] stand. This primitive world of false existence becomes reality the more they each want it to be. It is a world of unknowing external validation; of unremitting critique. They are real to one another and believe that their experience is indicative of grandeur. Because they exist in a lucid and depressed fabrication of any world outside of their own, to exploit this in altering reality by means of drugs merely reinforces the notions that make their system of logic seemingly legitimate. | | |
| Toliver: 20:05:00
I suppose it was my own doing: I was aware that I was the only individual sitting at a table alone, but when he approached me, I checked again to make certain.
"How's it going, man?" He started. No real way for me to gauge how quickly this situation could have gone sower in so many ways. For some reason, my initial inclination was the presumption that he was most likely a member of some religious group fulfilling some quota or compulsion to speak to weary and unsuspecting individuals about the suspected reasoning of his internal drive to do so. I quickly looked around my table again to make sure I had nothing atop it to confirm the potential idea that I would be an ideal candidate for witnessing practice or that may have in some way provoked and/or challenged the foundation of said the/ideology. But from the way he continued to approach me, I concluded this was not the case. He continued, but his voice more quietly, "How'd you like to earn a little extra income while you're in college."
No name-tag. No marked apparel with familiar symbols or slogans. There was no way I could have known how long he might have stood across the room in search of the best target to approach. Possibly following some basis of principle such as an analysis of one's clothing, personal belongings in plain sight, or even that a lone one is statistically more susceptible to advertisement than a group; possibly some internal algorithmic logic he himself may have been unaware of. Either way, I see no realistic way for me not to have already made up my mind that I was not going to allow him to waste any more time than it would really require for me to get rid of him. I finished my chess game and logged off of ICC.
"Not interested." I said, though relatively quietly.
"What's that?" - He hadn't heard me.
"What are you representing?" I said; I had quickly reconsidered my stand. Not to mention this was actually quite a brilliant opportunity to practice my 'pretense-of-interest' facade - I could always use rehearsal.
I was seated, but from his stand to my side, 5' 10" in height is an estimation that I would consider nearly approximate. Slim waisted and veined arms; Short, spiked hair and a goatee that most likely required three weeks of his time to form. Light-toned polo with an unrecognizable logo atop his left Pectoralis major. And to note, the faint, yet recognizable tell of an amateur's insecurity mixed delicately with the masculine aroma of hollow confidence he sprays on before going out each day. But no, I had decided to give him a moment of my time - one among many which may have otherwise gone unproductively allocated.
Perhaps I was too quick to judge this individual's intentions; perhaps I am often too quick to conclude things based on limited perception. I adjusted my hat. I let free the mouse in my right hand [having selected the system clock at the bottom, right-hand corner of my laptop's display], leaned back and faced my acquaintance. I am, though, fairly accustomed to the criteria of facial expression that I may willingly indicate that one may press onward with one's presentation with my attention: I indicated this at that time. Yes, I had successfully prepared myself entirely for this venture of knowledge; yes, I had made the correct decision to hear him out. I was content with the circumstances.
"I want to tell you about this new kind of energy drink."
I felt as though my senses had betrayed me. I shan't again disregard my initial thoughts so easily. I allowed him to speak for ten seconds short of three minutes, including a request for possible brochures, information packets or business card. I humored another human being yet again with my attention. He briefly explained that there was an informational meeting in the library and that he wanted to extend his personal invitation to me for this event [which was open to all students.] This person never asked my name; he never introduced himself prior to representing his material or offered the traditional, cultural or formal courtesy of extending his hand as he first approached my table. The meeting began at 20:30.
I write this now: Tuesday, the third of November, 2009 Anno Domini; 20:31. | | |
| One seems to wear hats frequently as of late; more often recently than any given particular period of time previously. It is more specifically in fact the same hat under usual circumstances, though it is not unheard of that one may occasionally partake in the whimsical selection of the alternative. What is this seemingly developed enjoyment of said article of apparel? What is this new and captivating addiction to informality and conformity to ostensibly adolescent displays of fashionable taste or adornments? Can the sun simply be in one's eyes more often lately than in years of prior exposure? No. | | |
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