I have never been a gamer. All these years, my children, specifically my sons, have tried to get me interested in playing 'video' games. It started with my older son. He wanted me to try everything he played, like Runescape and World of Warcraft and others. My daughter tried to get me hooked on every version of Sims. Then my younger son tried once again with ZooTycoon and, later, Rockband and GuitarHero.
All to no avail. I couldn't see the point. Why sit and play a game for hours while my to-do-list became more delayed and eventually longer? In the end, the effect would be pandemonium in my life and the life of my home and family.
Sure. I would politely try. After all, I didn't want my children to learn negative patterns from me. The burden was on me to teach them not to be quitters, poor sports, or, worse yet, somehow learn from me not to engage at all. But it would end there. I would go politely on my way and let them play their games, happy for the silence.
I realized that part of my fear of learning to play the games didn't stem so much from the fear of wasted time, but the fear of all the buttons on the game controllers. As the games evolved, the settings and options increased and became confusing to remember and manipulate.
Not too far fetched if one considers that my first 'video' game was Pong. It consisted of two long vertical dashes down each side of a very small television screen. In the middle of the screen was a horizontal dash. Many of you reading my blog may recall it. Pong led to PacMan. PacMan was originally designed in the same linear fashion; all of which occurred before the advent of our current age of outstanding video graphics.
Video games have continued to evolve to those one can play on a phone. I have tried to stay away from them, for some of the same reasons I stayed away from my children's games many years ago. Time consuming and confusing.When I got my Android, though, my younger son showed me how to go to the Marketplace and download free apps. The first game I found was Solitaire, obviously. He then tried to talk me into a game called Angry Birds. My daughter concurred and showed it to me. But it was too confusing, too fast moving.
Recently, a friend turned me on to Words With Friends. Now I am hooked. Addicted. Constantly drawn. Multiple games going on; two with the same person (not suprisingly the same friend who introduced me to it!). I find myself continuously checking back for updates, or just to review the board to see what moves could possibly be made on my next turn.
It wasn't until today that I realized just how obsessed I am. I was in the doctor's office, waiting for the doctor. Somehow, between turns, I forgot to pay attention to what the nurse said as she walked out the door, so engrossed was I in figuring out my next 30-point word. Before I knew it, the doctor walked in, only to find me engrossed in my phone and not having changed into the robe. OOPS! But, I didn't stop there. As I left the exam room to go get my blood drawn, and continued through the rest of my appointment, I realized I wasn't all there. I was missing directions and even left my receipt at the nurse's station. The receptionist had to call me while I was driving home.
This game has invaded my empty time: the times when I am sitting at a light, or waiting in a doctor's office, or in a line, or just watching TV. The many small free moments in my day when I review my to-do list in my head and mentally check things off or plan for tomorrow. All of the time I normally just spend letting my thoughts and feelings ramble, as I am wont to do, have quickly been consumed by the pursuit of the next big word and the next win.
I am slowly figuring out how to play the game in the most effective manner, and earn more points. But, what remains elusive is corraling how much of my rambling thought time is consumed in the process.
The constant playing of Word With Friends has not done much for my record. Right now 1 win, 6 losses. Not great for an SAT instructor and technical writer. So, out of pride alone I will keep playing until I start winning....more.
So, download the app, find me, and invite me to a game. My user is kimb111.
See you in the game!
Tuesday, April 26
Friday, April 15
Disadvantage of Selling Your Home In A Buyers Market
The best time to sell a home is in a seller's market. The seller can dictate many terms and usually get very close to the asking price. Many other advantages...but mostly just more flexibility.
Selling in a buyer's market is a different situation. Not advantageous: lots of other homes on the market and excessively discriminating buyers. Combining this with an unsteady economic environment results in a situation fraught with distress for the seller.
By far, the worst part of selling in a buyer's market has to be a process called staging. In a post about Home Staging, Elizabeth Weintraub of About.com describes it as "...illusions...the way David Copperfield would sell a house." She further says "it makes home buyers want to buy it" and "it's all about dressing the house for sale...adding the small details." It even has an association related to it: Real Estate Staging Association (RESA).
Sounds great, eh? It may be, until you are immersed in it. The stager who came to my house was very pleasant. She brought her daughter with her, and of course my real estate agent joined our little party.
After the pleasantries, she got to work.
She told me to remove my prized cathedral photographs from the living room wall. She said the buyer needs a cleaner view of the beautiful patio and pool. I did not object; nevertheless, I could not resist informing her that those were not just something I had bought at Bed, Bath & Beyond for $55. I had taken those myself, in various cities in Europe. I made sure she knew how much I prized them.
She told me to remove my Holland mementoes off my piano and my armoire. She said the buyer needs to see a clear visual space so she can form a better view of what could be. Again, I did not object; however, was she (or even the "buyer") aware that one of those tiles is over 250 years old? Or that those large matching tile mosaics and copper tea kettles are antiques that I bought in various antique shops and markets in The Hague and in Delft.
She told me to rearrange the furniture in my childrens' bedrooms. She said it will open up the room and give the buyer a better image of what the room could hold. Still not objecting. OK, maybe a little when she made us, and my son, shift the bed in my daughter's room...2 inches. She did not seem to care that the bed was already precariously assembled and that the movement might dislodge something that would result in the bed dropping to the floor one night at 2 a.m.
She told me to remove my family photographs from the hallway leading up to the second floor. She said that any images of family life distract the buyer, possibly even forcing her to lose focus on the goal.
OK...enough. That is where I drew the line. We still live in this house and I refuse to take down my family pictures because someone does not have the vision to look past them. If that is the case, they do not need to be buying my house.
There were many other changes; most superfluous and more annoying than heart-wrenching.
As the stager went through my house room by room, view by view, I couldn't help but get the feeling that my personality was being suppressed in my own house in order to elevate the capability of the potential buyer. A buyer who, in my opinion minute after excruciating minute of this staging ordeal, was appearing to me like a sheep, a lemming, or any other animal that can be categorized as not having a mind of its own. A follower, a herd animal, that has to be told what to think, coddled into seeing a vision that has been artificially created for her.
As I delve deeper with the stager into corners and nooks of my home, a home I have spent time organizing into a meaningful pattern, inserting who I am and what I believe into every element of its design, with the stager who is bound to reverse and overwrite that pattern because buyers cannot see past it.
I couldn't help but think that in this buyers' market that every house has to be a model home, devoid of personality, perfect, creative in a lackluster way. But, if this is what we have to do to our homes in order to sell them, what does that say about the buyers out there that expect that? Like a drug, they have lost creative thought, imagination, any ability to look past a veneer and into the structure and to apply their own reality to what they see instead of being confused by trying to squeeze their blue accessories into the gold room in front of them. Instead of opening their mind and empowering their individuality, they now are forced to rely on their environment conforming to them. But, not only are they forced, but somehow at the same time they can demand that.
Staging endows them with the ability to tell their broker that everything was fine with the house but I couldn't figure out how to make my pink oriental rug fit into the red dining room. Hello.....it's called paint.
Really people. This is what is going on. Sheep are taking over. Sheep who cannot think on their own; sheep who latch onto a sheep dog or other leader, who does have the vision, and can stage their environment for them. But does that really mean they have more power. Just because they can pay cash for the purchase?
They may be able to command the attention of the market, of the agents, but bottom line they have sold their souls to do so.
Selling in a buyer's market is a different situation. Not advantageous: lots of other homes on the market and excessively discriminating buyers. Combining this with an unsteady economic environment results in a situation fraught with distress for the seller.
By far, the worst part of selling in a buyer's market has to be a process called staging. In a post about Home Staging, Elizabeth Weintraub of About.com describes it as "...illusions...the way David Copperfield would sell a house." She further says "it makes home buyers want to buy it" and "it's all about dressing the house for sale...adding the small details." It even has an association related to it: Real Estate Staging Association (RESA).
Sounds great, eh? It may be, until you are immersed in it. The stager who came to my house was very pleasant. She brought her daughter with her, and of course my real estate agent joined our little party.
After the pleasantries, she got to work.
She told me to remove my prized cathedral photographs from the living room wall. She said the buyer needs a cleaner view of the beautiful patio and pool. I did not object; nevertheless, I could not resist informing her that those were not just something I had bought at Bed, Bath & Beyond for $55. I had taken those myself, in various cities in Europe. I made sure she knew how much I prized them.
She told me to remove my Holland mementoes off my piano and my armoire. She said the buyer needs to see a clear visual space so she can form a better view of what could be. Again, I did not object; however, was she (or even the "buyer") aware that one of those tiles is over 250 years old? Or that those large matching tile mosaics and copper tea kettles are antiques that I bought in various antique shops and markets in The Hague and in Delft.
She told me to rearrange the furniture in my childrens' bedrooms. She said it will open up the room and give the buyer a better image of what the room could hold. Still not objecting. OK, maybe a little when she made us, and my son, shift the bed in my daughter's room...2 inches. She did not seem to care that the bed was already precariously assembled and that the movement might dislodge something that would result in the bed dropping to the floor one night at 2 a.m.
She told me to remove my family photographs from the hallway leading up to the second floor. She said that any images of family life distract the buyer, possibly even forcing her to lose focus on the goal.
OK...enough. That is where I drew the line. We still live in this house and I refuse to take down my family pictures because someone does not have the vision to look past them. If that is the case, they do not need to be buying my house.
There were many other changes; most superfluous and more annoying than heart-wrenching.
As the stager went through my house room by room, view by view, I couldn't help but get the feeling that my personality was being suppressed in my own house in order to elevate the capability of the potential buyer. A buyer who, in my opinion minute after excruciating minute of this staging ordeal, was appearing to me like a sheep, a lemming, or any other animal that can be categorized as not having a mind of its own. A follower, a herd animal, that has to be told what to think, coddled into seeing a vision that has been artificially created for her.
As I delve deeper with the stager into corners and nooks of my home, a home I have spent time organizing into a meaningful pattern, inserting who I am and what I believe into every element of its design, with the stager who is bound to reverse and overwrite that pattern because buyers cannot see past it.
I couldn't help but think that in this buyers' market that every house has to be a model home, devoid of personality, perfect, creative in a lackluster way. But, if this is what we have to do to our homes in order to sell them, what does that say about the buyers out there that expect that? Like a drug, they have lost creative thought, imagination, any ability to look past a veneer and into the structure and to apply their own reality to what they see instead of being confused by trying to squeeze their blue accessories into the gold room in front of them. Instead of opening their mind and empowering their individuality, they now are forced to rely on their environment conforming to them. But, not only are they forced, but somehow at the same time they can demand that.
Staging endows them with the ability to tell their broker that everything was fine with the house but I couldn't figure out how to make my pink oriental rug fit into the red dining room. Hello.....it's called paint.
Really people. This is what is going on. Sheep are taking over. Sheep who cannot think on their own; sheep who latch onto a sheep dog or other leader, who does have the vision, and can stage their environment for them. But does that really mean they have more power. Just because they can pay cash for the purchase?
They may be able to command the attention of the market, of the agents, but bottom line they have sold their souls to do so.
Thursday, April 14
Solitaire
I love to play Solitaire on my phone when I am waiting, as in the doctor's office or a long line, or bored. Usually, I win 90% of the games. When I don't win, I just re-deal and try again. It keeps me entertained and satisfied...as long as I am winning.
Today, I hit a losing streak. I had played at least 20 games while waiting for my oil change. I had won only two. None of my past proven strategies worked; instead, they led to dead ends. The cards I needed were not where I needed them nor when I needed them. I got stuck over and over and was forced to continually begin a new game.
I don't mind losing, because I see it as an opportunity to learn and, ultimately, to win. However, losing at something I am normally good at just irritates me. Even worse, I knew the computer program was dumbing down each successive game so as to keep me playing. After all, that is one of the bases of addiction. Keep it easy and simple, don't let it hurt too much, and they will keep coming back.
As the game kept getting easier, and I continued to lose, I could not help myself from trying to make a connection between losing this game and living my life.
I wondered if this is how God works on us, our lives, and the lessons He wants us to learn.
I thought about the issues I deal with in my life. Not only the pedestrian issues that ebb and flow throughout a given day, but the more pervasive problems. I have a few whoppers that have been hanging on many years for dear life, trying to pull me down into their chasm.
Perhaps those whoppers are still there because, like my game of Solitaire, I have not figured out the correct combination of moves necessary to unlock the mystery, solve the problem, and move to the next.
Like a skilled game designer, God continues to allow me to press restart, in the form of each new day.
But, I wonder, does He keep introducing the lesson over and over? And does He change it up a bit each time, possibly dumbing it down? I know He occasionally will throw a new card in the deck: a fleeting epiphany or a new friend to spin a different perspective.
However, He never allows us to re-deal the deck. We get the cards we are dealt; what we do with them is up to us. Or does He? Maybe the re-deal is all in how we perceive our lives, our situations. He continues to guide us to intercept those issues hanging out there in the balance that He knows are critical for us to move on in His plan.
I know He never gives up on us; unlike many teachers and educators, even parents, spouses, and friends, who sometimes shrug their shoulders and throw up their hands in exasperation. Turning their backs and walking away from the problem. God does not do that. He knows our hearts, our capabilities.
Thank God He is not human.
But, like the game of Solitaire, we sometimes play out our lives in solitude, seeking a winning combination. As in any game, a few such combinations exist. All we need is to figure out which one works. God has designed a few failsafes and fallbacks that help us perservere, keep us coming back to Him. Once we recognize them for what they are, we can turn the game from a loss to a win.
Today, I hit a losing streak. I had played at least 20 games while waiting for my oil change. I had won only two. None of my past proven strategies worked; instead, they led to dead ends. The cards I needed were not where I needed them nor when I needed them. I got stuck over and over and was forced to continually begin a new game.
I don't mind losing, because I see it as an opportunity to learn and, ultimately, to win. However, losing at something I am normally good at just irritates me. Even worse, I knew the computer program was dumbing down each successive game so as to keep me playing. After all, that is one of the bases of addiction. Keep it easy and simple, don't let it hurt too much, and they will keep coming back.
As the game kept getting easier, and I continued to lose, I could not help myself from trying to make a connection between losing this game and living my life.
I wondered if this is how God works on us, our lives, and the lessons He wants us to learn.
I thought about the issues I deal with in my life. Not only the pedestrian issues that ebb and flow throughout a given day, but the more pervasive problems. I have a few whoppers that have been hanging on many years for dear life, trying to pull me down into their chasm.
Perhaps those whoppers are still there because, like my game of Solitaire, I have not figured out the correct combination of moves necessary to unlock the mystery, solve the problem, and move to the next.
Like a skilled game designer, God continues to allow me to press restart, in the form of each new day.
But, I wonder, does He keep introducing the lesson over and over? And does He change it up a bit each time, possibly dumbing it down? I know He occasionally will throw a new card in the deck: a fleeting epiphany or a new friend to spin a different perspective.
However, He never allows us to re-deal the deck. We get the cards we are dealt; what we do with them is up to us. Or does He? Maybe the re-deal is all in how we perceive our lives, our situations. He continues to guide us to intercept those issues hanging out there in the balance that He knows are critical for us to move on in His plan.
I know He never gives up on us; unlike many teachers and educators, even parents, spouses, and friends, who sometimes shrug their shoulders and throw up their hands in exasperation. Turning their backs and walking away from the problem. God does not do that. He knows our hearts, our capabilities.
Thank God He is not human.
But, like the game of Solitaire, we sometimes play out our lives in solitude, seeking a winning combination. As in any game, a few such combinations exist. All we need is to figure out which one works. God has designed a few failsafes and fallbacks that help us perservere, keep us coming back to Him. Once we recognize them for what they are, we can turn the game from a loss to a win.
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