Loss and the Man

So there was a massive unofficial, tournament in Kansas City this Sunday. It was a pretty intense day. 6 strong fights, 3 I won, 3 I lost. A tire blew out thanks to a particularly suicidal and angry possum. I dealt with a friend who just can’t seem to get over the fact that while he is one of the better cardfighters around, he loses quite a bit. Man has no luck. But I handled all of it with panache and so on, so forth.

What’s I’ve learned is that one can train for success and be a strong competitor that everyone respects and expects to be a contender, and still fail. Always have known it, but now I get it. It’s not something terrible, just a little funny. That’s the real bit that gets me. It’s funny. All around us are the decline and those that would be the natural aristocracy fail just as often as others. Worse sometimes, like my friend felt. He’s unable to separate it.

Maybe I’ve moved from grief to gleeful acceptance. I felt beat on the return, but when I slept in (skipping classes) and ate a bunch, my health returned. Food solves the soulful ills, provided it’s good. For me, there’s also been the realization that I’ll be a big man. I built muscle and all that jazz, but the food isn’t healthy enough for the fat to start boiling off. I’m 300 pounds in a 250 pound body and I find it odd. But I can handle it. Less self-loathing.

I self-loathed the last time I participated and lost in this tournament. And today I lost in the same way and I’m out 200-300 dollars and there were worse things that could have happened. When the tire popped, I could have lost control. I handled it all, and my teams won over the others, even though I lost.

I can say that, and genuinely so, that I lost. And I was the one who fucked up. Life didn’t even need to trip me up and Satan did not send the least of his devils to tempt me. I did this thing. I did that stupid thing. Next time I won’t. Ever.

I’m leaving college and that means I can’t go to the regional tournaments or the team tournaments. I have to search for a job. There’s a call center some friends work. But, I want the regionals. I want the fame and glory. I hate that cheats like Almeida Stewart (who has been accused of thievery over 4k euros worth in cards) get the fame and whatnot. And I’ve come to accept it. I believe in the natural aristocracy, and that belief comes with the knowledge that while I may be smarter than your average millennial, and know many things, spiritual, science, literature, so on, I may not be one of them. King, sure, but by the power of a barbarian, not that of the charismatic.

I’m reading Marcus Aurelius Meditations. It’s pretty awesome. Got a proverbs vibe. The quote that gets me so far is this: “… always, whether in the sharpest pains or after the loss of a child, or in long diseases, to be still the same man.” I’ve been working on this. I’m the alpha of Springfield, but in Saint Louis I’m a beta supplicant. How can I change this? I can be the same man. Where before I am the KING. I now have to be under others, or rather, one of my friends.

But do I? The question arises, could I take power from him and all the others? No. My ambition is alive and well, but that would only lead to my loss. I can simply be the best. I talk to people from Saint Louis to Wichita Kansas and they come to me for advice. That’s a good niche. Would I be the same man using my ambition over my mind and what is already there?

Compared to the independent, debtless man, this may seem very small. I don’t know my readership. But I do know that I’ve got a ball and chain. I may read Roman Emperors more than I had and dream of visiting Asia and Europe, but I’m still stuck now. I have tools, but I can only do so much. I’ve lost my freedom because I have debt. And that’s okay.

Loss is a stream of consciousness. You could spend time on everything that you lose and happens to you. I could and do dwell on the debt and all, but I have no reason to go deeper. Either I will die or I will pay it off. So the loss is non-existent. I will win or I will lose. But I have control over it, so only losses are my fault, except when they’re not. But then again, is it really losing to have fate decide that your best wasn’t enough? No. But it is a loss to be paralyzed and obsessive over it.

My chin is up, and I’m ready for round 3.

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