Master of None

Dear Journal,

I’m not very good at this sort of thing. Christie, my cousin, said I should keep a journal of sorts. Said it’d be good for my mental and emotional health or something. So here it is. My name is Jack Allen Swanson, and if you don’t like what I have to say, well...why are you reading some random private journal, anyway?

I’m from a little town on the outskirts of Spokane, Washington, USA. I’m in my mid-twenties, and I game professionally. Yes, you read that right. I go to tournaments, I compete, and occasionally I even do well enough to bring home some cash. Game depends on the year, usually. Look, I don’t like sticking to the same thing forever. I’ll get bored, alright? Maybe it’s why I don’t routinely win championships or anything. Maybe I’d even be able to afford more than sandwiches and canned soup on a regular basis. But whatever. Gaming is about a lot more than just winning as far as I’m concerned. Don’t judge me.

When I’m not making enough money to live from doing that (which is most of the time, in case you hadn’t guessed already), I get temp jobs or what-have-you. Retail, food service, yadda. Doesn’t really matter. Even if I could stay longer at a given job, I usually don’t. I can’t stand this samey, repetitive crap. It’s mind-numbing. Call me lazy, call me unmotivated, call me whatever you want. I just can’t stand doing the same thing over and over and over again. Beginning to see a pattern here? Variety, spice, life...blah, blah, blah.

In fact, on the whole, my life is not exactly what most folks would call glamorous. I don’t have a fancy car. The one I do have barely runs. I can barely afford to pay the bills. But I manage, and what I have is mine. I’m proud of that. My folks would rather I’d have some salaried job with a degree or whatever. Suffice to say I don’t often bother going to family gatherings anymore. It’s just a chance for practically everyone there to berate me about not doing enough or not having enough. ‘No, Mom, I don’t have a girlfriend.’ ‘Yes, Dad, I’m still in that crappy little studio apartment.’ Most of them live down in Phoenix, so at least coming up with excuses to avoid them is usually pretty easy.

Christie is pretty much the only one in my family I still talk to on a regular basis. Like I mentioned, she’s my cousin. On my mom’s side, if that matters. Neither of us had siblings, but we might as well be brother and sister. She lives closer to me, over near Seattle, and she likes to check in just to make sure I’m doing okay. We catch up. We play some games. She doesn’t judge. Sometimes her boyfriend comes to visit, when she has one. Except for the last few times. Then it was her girlfriend. She didn’t say as much, but c’mon. I’m not blind. I haven’t said anything, though. If you think our family gets on my case...well, let’s just say that I don’t see any reason why both of us need to be estranged.

And that pretty much catches you up on the status quo. Things stay pretty quiet around here, and I like it that way. Loud means drama, and, as you might’ve already guessed, I don’t much care for drama. It’s why I like hiking. It’s very quiet. Oh, sure, you’ll occasionally see other people on the trails, but usually the most you’ll get is a smile and wave and then everybody continues on their merry way. That’s just fine with me. Give me trees and a breeze over hustle and bustle any day.

It’s the little things.