G for Ginormous

I give greetings from a gentleman generally good-natured and genial. From genesis to goodbye, I'm given to go gliding into glaciers of gloom and generously gifting guys and gals globally with my great gab, generating giggles, guffaws, grunts, and, granted, even groans from the general public. A goofy guardian of gods and goddesses, I grant my grace and genious, grouped with my giddy gait, wherever they are genuinely needed. Great Scott!, this gram has grown gigantic. 'Get to the grand finale', you grumble. 'We have the gist of it.' Good then. I'll go by G.

Are you like a crazy person then?

I dunno where that came from. Just popped in my mind during work. I had a lot more of it, too, but I had issues with overlapping. *Shrugs.* I think it suits me pretty well, don't you? Meanwhile, I discovered a disturbing truth when I did my last name:

Lo and look! A loner, a loser, lost in a loose-linked line of limitless events. Lord of no land, longing only to be liked, leeching love from lads and lasses long-distance like a little lice-ling. Lots of leeryness lingers locally. Let's leave it to its lonesome, and label it L.

I dunno, I think both are appropriate for me, at different times. You'll notice that the G one was bigger than the L, so that's saying something. Also, when I do T, my middle initial, it gets even more silly, and somewhat egotistical again, more along the lines of G. So I'd say the good outweighs the bad.

I just beat Tetris DS. The marathon mode, anyway. I got past level 20, and then I won. That was odd. I mean, on the one hand, I'm proud of myself. I beat the game. Yay me, right? I'm a Tetris master. But I dunno, the DS version was kinda overly easy. I had it set on ghost piece, for starters. And even at the higher level, where the pieces would suddenly appear on the pile, you had a few seconds to scoot them around and rotate them, so it wasn't too hard to get past level 20. *Shrugs.* Also, this hurts a lot of the mystique that surrounds Tetris for me. I'm used to playing the kind of Tetris with only two possible outcomes:

1. You Lose, or
2. You Quit.

Tetris itself is supposed to be infinite. It is the ultimate test of man vs machine, and the ultimate example of our greatest weakness. There's an infinite supply of blocks being generated. The question of if you will be beaten doesn't even come up. It is inevitable. You will be. The only question is WHEN you will be beaten. We cannot defeat the unflinching consistancy of the machine. But in the same situation, our greatest strength is also revealed. We play it anyway. We know that eventually we will lose. But we attack the bricks, and hold out as best we can, denying the logic of the situation that tells us it is pointless to attempt a problem that is un-solvable.

Agent Smith: Why, Mr. Anderson? Why do you do it? Why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you're fighting for something? For more that your survival? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know? Is it freedom? Or truth? Perhaps peace? Yes? No? Could it be for love? Illusions, Mr. Anderson. Vagaries of perception. The temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose. And all of them as artificial as the Matrix itself, although only a human mind could invent something as insipid as love. You must be able to see it, Mr. Anderson. You must know it by now. You can't win. It's pointless to keep fighting. Why, Mr. Anderson? Why? Why do you persist?

Neo: Because I choose to.

So there it is. Our power is our choice. And really, we aren't playing Tetris against the machine. The machine has won before it began. It is no longer a competitor at that point. It is merely part of the environment. And we aren't fighting it any more. We compete with ourselves. Tetris does more than generate infinite blocks. It keeps score for us. And each time we play, we hope to better our scores. By bettering our scores, we better ourselves. Or maybe we do better than the next guy. But our unending competition, our refusal to see inevitablity and instead see a victory in a defeat, that is one of humanity's greatest strengths.

Of course, now that I've BEATEN the game... that's lost to me. Tetris is no longer unbeatable. It's been nerfed by Nintendo. It will give in after a while. Tetris isn't supposed to beat in. Tetris is supposed to be constant. Without that... without the constant dropping of the pieces, how can I be sure of other consistancies?

That was fun. I should play more Tetris, eh? But only on my SP, the classic Tetris, where the blocks never quit dropping, there's no hold button, only 1 "Next" window, and when a piece is down, it's DOWN. *Nods.*

Edit: Btw, I'm doing laser tag again tomorrow. My callsign? "Mr. Anderson"