"The Fascist v. the Faulty," (or) Me and My Cell Phone

This is me.

This is me with my mostly-destroyed "phone."

I dropped it a few days ago, and the face plate popped off and refused to be resecured, despite my best coaxing.

Since then, it seems like every time I turn around (or drop it again?) some new piece unfixes itself: the keypad, the volume button on the side, the strip of plastic over the microphone. The screen followed — I somehow managed to reattach it, but it's still rather fritzy.

Did I mention that sometimes, if I hold the beast just right, my skin completes some circuit and I get a tiny shock to the face? It stings a little bit, but I'm hoping it'll prove to be some weird form of facial (as per here). Hey, as long as it's going to be shocking me, may as well remove a few wrinkles — am I right?

This phone is just the latest in a long line of nemeses I have acquired. Most are electrical gadgets, ranging anywhere from old laptops to older sewing machines. Others are things of which I simply can't keep track (toothbrushes, class notes, keys, and combs being at the top of that list).

I'll admit, a lot of this is my fault. I'm definitely not the gentlest with my belongings.

It's possible that this beastly gadget may have been helped along the road of destruction by my two-year-old niece, who put it through a rack and an iron maiden (and possibly some water-boarding, as well). I can't deny that I allowed her to handle my phone fully knowing the torture she was likely to incur. I also may have dropped it in the snow, lost it on a number of occasions, stepped on it, sat on it, nervously fiddled with it (i.e. pulled it apart), etc.

But I can't officially confirm or deny any of this, of course.

I'm like the tyrannical despot that demands too much out of her citizens, then tramples all over them while living the life of luxury. My belongings are just bound to turn against me eventually.

When I get a replacement, I'm planning to take this "phone" apart, mount each layer side by side, and frame it. You know, as an example to all other subjects thinking of staging a coup. And maybe out of some minor desire for revenge (sweet, sweet revenge).

Maybe some day I actually will lead a luxurious life; then I'll be able to afford things nice enough to be worth taking good care of.

Until then, I'll just keep the bamboo shoots ready and the guillotine well-oiled.

Confessions of a former WoW-Head

There is something about me that most people don't know. I don't readily admit to it, and it is with some consternation that I am putting this in print for all to read.

Here it is: I played World of Warcraft (WoW).

Sadly, it is true. For two years of my life, I was a WoW-head.

It all started in my junior year of high school.

I have always been a gamer, from Roller Coaster Tycoon to Diablo II. When I hit high school, however, my gaming interest slowly trailed off.

Then I heard some of my guy friends discussing their varied and epic adventures within the World of Warcraft. It sounded fun and exciting—and I hadn't really gotten into a video game for a while. So I decided to give it a whirl.

The game is, of course, a lot of fun. It is designed to be that way. It is filled with challenges, beautiful landscapes, and interesting characters. Perhaps its best selling point is, however, that you play it online with other real people. You can fight against, befriend, duel, trade and train with them. The social aspect is what makes it great.

I wouldn’t say I was hooked at first, but playing WoW definitely became my first choice of ways to spend my leisure time.

Eventually, though, I did become more involved with the game. While I had originally started out playing the game with my friends IRL (in real life), I soon branched out and befriended other adventurers I met in-game as we joined up to complete quests and battle the Horde scum.

And that is when it happened: I got sucked in.

Suddenly I found myself turning down offers from my real friends to go bowling on a Saturday night because I had to meet up with my guild to run a raid.

L33t speak started leaking into my everyday vocabulary. A couple of times I caught my self saying something was “twinked out;” after a particularly good dinner, I told my mom she had truly become an Artisan Cooker (she didn’t get it).

As I fell asleep at night, images of running through Ironforge or capturing the Lumber Mill in Arathi Basin would flicker across the insides of my eyelids. I almost felt more at home running around a player vs. player arena as my pink-skinned Night Elf Hunter, Barbiecue, than I did anywhere else.

image courtesy Paul Kwon

I'm not saying I was some pale mindless zombie who lived only to play WoW. I didn't hole myself up in my bedroom for days at time, hunched over with a headset perched atop my head, surrounded by piles of empty soda cans and moldy pizza boxes.

Looking back, though I can see that I had become desensitized to living in the real world. I didn't feel that great about myself, and my priorities had turned a bit fuzzy.

I played WoW from my junior year in high school up until I started school at BYU-Idaho. I wish I could say that I came to my senses, and stopped playing of my own accord, realizing how much of my time it wasted. Sadly, this was not the case. I stopped playing simply because the internet censor in the dorms blocked the game, and it seemed like a waste of $15 a month to keep my subscription.

It was something of a relief. In the six months or so that followed, some incredible things happened. I developed talents (some of which, like painting, I didn't think I had), worked in church callings, studied hard, and earned grades I felt good about. I made a boat load of new friends and even dated a little (gasp!).

During that time, I was reminded how vital and vivid living in the real world was compared to the insubstantial offerings of the pixelated world I had played in.

It was easier to feel good about myself when boosts to my self-esteem came from relating to and serving others in a meaningful way, or getting a good score on an exam, instead of whether I had Most Damage Done, or the number of quests I completed. Nothing I ever did in WoW begins to match the satisfaction of creating something real and beautiful with my hands.

As I listened to Elder Bednar As Elder Bednar outlined how these things can have desensitizing and harmful affects at the last CES Fireside, I knew exactly what he was talking about. I found myself looking back on the hours spent, not just with playing WoW, but with other video games, Myspace, blogs, Facebook and Youtube videos. I couldn’t help but wonder how many great opportunities those things have kept me from taking advantage of.

After all, this life is amazing and full of joy. It is designed to be that way. Heavenly Father filled it with challenges, unique experiences, beautiful landscapes, and fun and interesting people along the way.

Perhaps the best selling point of this life is, however, that it doesn’t fade after a computer or console is turned off. The things I gain here, like my body, memories, experiences and family will be mine forever.

That is what makes living IRL (in real life) truly great.

Note: This is an editorial I wrote for the Scroll. Let me know what you think. Criticism (or praise? ;D) welcome.