Date:	2008-01-18 20:04
Subject:	Falling off the wagon...
Security:	Public
Mood:	relieved
Music:	Jack Johnson - People Watching (on Pandora)

James (he probably has a LJ tag, but I can't think of it right now) and I played Magic: The Gathering for my first time in five years on Sunday. Since then, I have thought of little else about ways to increase my horde and grab mad lootz! This would not be an issue if, say, M:TG had faded into obscurity and the secondary card sales market had not become such a booming market. But as WOTC is a megalithic entity with really media savvy people at the helm, the world has continued to grow and prosper. This boils down to cards that were powerful then are every bit as powerful now and now command even larger price tags.

I now have a job. This job is a "career type" of job. This means that only just now, were I to desire, I could afford these ridiculously expensive pieces of cardboard. Outside of the reality that I'm not rolling in the dough even with the increase in income which results from my "career type" job, I'm absolutely certain that the phenomenally quick buyers remorse would set in as soon as I clicked "Buy It Now". I shouldn't want a Mox Emerald. I don't play in tournaments. I couldn't even play in tournaments (except for Vintage) with it. I haven't played this game/addiction in five years and I've happily achieved the ability to sigh in contentment as I pass pre-teens flipping Yu-Gi-Oh cards in the mall, knowing that while that once was me, it is no longer. Why, oh why, would I want to squander time and money again like that, especially since I ostensibly now have less of one and more of the other to waste?

I'm sitting here typing this mentally wondering what bargains there might be if I bought a giant unsorted cache from eBay. Three hours and it's like I never left. But this time, this time Gadget, I have a secret weapon. That secret weapon is shame. There are few things in my nerd upbringing that I'll apologize for, but this would have to be one of them. Like I said, I've cultivated a level of padding (like a warming protective smear of blubber) which allowed me to look at those who still devote their life blood to CCGs with a sense of detachment. Not judgment, but a relief. I got out, and I lead a "happier" life. I don't want to go back to caring when the next expansion comes out, especially since the part of my brain that recognizes marketing schemes registers the obvious ploys WOTC is spoon feeding the power-hungry masses. If I'd never left, that would be one thing. Pathetic, but endearing. But going back...That's just self-destructive. Conrad would relentlessly mock me, and, since I would deserve it, I would have no avenue for recourse.

So I closed the tabs that were keeping updated feeds of the eBay auctions. I'll go through the small collection that I have and pull out any that I think will fetch a price, and I'll buy...hell, I don't know...food? Beer, despite it's addictive properties, is still safer than this pulp-based heroin. Maybe I'll keep them and enjoy the knowledge that I have them and can play them in the friendly games I might have with James from time to time.

I'm not going back. No matter what the temptation. So, though I fell, I'll slowly claw myself back onto the wagon. Or, given that lingering thrill that comes from ticking your opponents counter from twenty to zero, maybe I'll be content to be dragged along behind the wagon by a rope. As long as the rope's long enough, it doesn't break and the horses don't run away from me, I should be able to keep pace.