In taking a break from the grind of figuring out a way to survive in Boulder, I was playing a little bit of Chrono Trigger. CT is one of my favorite RPGs from the golden era of the SNES, and the title of this post comes directly from the game. Though you'd be hard-pressed to get any scholarly types to admit it, game stories can be plenty thought provoking, even if the message is lost in the presentation of the action. In regards to this quote, I ask myself that very question: Why are we drawn to the talents we have? Why isn't everyone? The questions resonate with Zen-like rhetorical sense. I've always felt a pang at envy at people whose skills happen to not only be aligned with their passion but also makes them a good living. Obviously, the diversity of human experience means we all filter down into certain roles that either fulfill us or sustain us-- and for a few lucky people, both parameters are met.
In our own lives, there are so many ways to define fulfillment--for some it's having a family, for others it's owning a pet, for others it's growing an enormous pumpkin. It's frustrating for me at times to fend off the reality of how impractical these "skills" I've nurtured truly are. I know this much: I'm in the right place, my work is honest, and something has kept the light on through it all. Again to quote CT: "So they do have a purpose after all."
Heh, another quote that doesn't really apply but I stumbled across: "His only friend, other than his sister, is that stupid cat. What tempest rages in his head?" That only partially applies, as my cat is not stupid.
Getting back to Chrono Trigger-- I've always liked the atmosphere of the lamp post at the end of time. Quiet, remote, peaceful, surrounded by the darkness. It's one of more compelling ambiance settings from any game, especially given the reprieve from the frantic action when you first arrive here.I don't think it's any coincidence that gamers are often pretty smart, often sensitive, guys--when they don't end up like the Comic Book Store Guy from the Simpsons. And yes, I'm assuming no girls play games ever (sorry Candice!)
