I stupidly bought quite a few Powerball tickets this year, along with a lot of other stupid people. Knowing the lottery is a tax for the poor, a way to dangle hope in front of a depressed populous to keep them marching forward, an action equivalent to lighting a small fire in your bank account and hoping some of the meaningful/meaningless money escapes the flame. The justification was simple enough, the want to dream for a moment away from the rent collectors. What does that look like? The end of a daily challenge to maintain one's piece of the pie.
I shouldn't care what that looks like, yet I do. I often tell people that it's not the end of the journey that's important. If you wanted to start playing violin it would be silly to pick up a Stradivarius as your first instrument. A more appropriate first step would be going to a local music shop, talking to someone who knows a thing or two about beginner instruments, asking them what the best resources are for lessons. Maybe they take an interest in what you're trying to do and tell you a secret you could never have come across without that minor interaction, a secret that propels you into the depths of a new passion, a spark that lights the flame.
So why do I dream about the end, winning a lottery, skipping the journey, jumping to the front of the line before I deserve it? I've spent a lot of time thinking about that this year. It comes down to which games I'm willing to play during this short life. I don't like the money game. It doesn't make any sense to me. To make money I take shortcuts, I lie, cheat, steal, break trusts, abandon every thread of my moral fiber. I apologize for doing that, anyone who happens to be listening. I'd much rather spend time doing things I enjoy before I'm either buried or reduced to a pile of gray ash. Haven't decided which I'd prefer yet.
A game I like playing is taking a picture for example. When evaluating which camera I want to buy next I wouldn't dream of looking at Hasselblads. That's a lie, I do look, I just know I don't deserve it yet. So I spend an inordinate amount of time evaluating the best value for money at as close to my current skill level. Right now that means getting some full frame with focus peaking and a mount I know is compatible with good quality manual focus lenses. I'm past needing or wanting speedy auto-focus, I'd much rather take an extra second or two practicing my throw speed and deciding exactly what part of the subject to focus on.
I feel the same way toward these lists. I know that with every passing year my nose for the things I love gets a little better. And luckily there's no ultimate best album. There's no cheating allowed or even possible, no skipping to the front of the line, it's all the journey. The only way it's possible to even feel like you've cheated is to live in a cave and then ask your obsessive friend what they liked over the course of the year. But, even then you're not going to get what you want. What you're going to get is a healthy dose of disappointment when you find out your friend likes trad doom just a little too much.
When I tell people to enjoy the journey it assumes they're currently playing a game they want to play, and aren't just learning arbitrary rules for arbitrary games, to satisfy rent collectors and get through the day unscathed. That yellow jersey you've been wearing for decades, covered in grass stains and sweat, the one you hate wearing should be discarded. Or at least temporarily laundered while you decide what game you actually want to play. The game you not only want to sweat for, but bleed for. I have a tendency to try to get people to want to play my games. Team sports are more fun. But, when people obviously don't enjoy the journey, there's not much I can do other than say, "This isn't the game for you."
And with that, welcome to my Best of List of 2022. Enjoy it... unless it's not your game. In that case, use your time more wisely for god's sake.
