Old addictions – Computer Solitaire

 

 

It all began with an interest in the MS DOS computer system. It was my mother who would hold my hand and take me to her place of employment and introduced me to a computer. The concept of computers went over my head and even as a younger child back then I knew my patience for them would defeat me. That intimidated me. Familiarity to a computer system for me began with my acquaintance of computer games. Though I no longer remember my favorite game from back then I do remember it as being a trivia game on history, politics and just things I knew I had to be an adult to understand. Fast forward to the mid nineties. The Windows software was mind blowing and so much easier to catch on but most importantly it had this wonderful computer game named Solitaire.

My initial introduction to computers Solitaire had to have been in the eighth grade in Butterworth South Africa; one of two schools in town. A school where most ‘firsts’ began. A gorgeous school with  well-kept landscaping  with a school pool that glistened– blinding our eyes. A  multiracial school with teachers who understood their purpose and could not wait to liven our juvenile minds. My school kept us busy with sports varieties like field hockey and tennis, netball and rugby, swimming and choir. Once a week we had a library period to either pick up books but most times we watched international–mostly American–classic movies. I am surprised I retained some memory of the Lucy episodes among the many while all we would do is giggle and pass notes around instead of paying attention to the movie. The school librarian, who fits the stereotypical definition of a librarian, everything but the young sexy. She made it no secret when she was displeased with our fidgeting and chit chatter. Every Tuesday after school we also had a life skills class where girls could learn non-gender bias Life kills that included the identification engine parts and woodwork. The first time I realized a girl can be what she wants in life was when they allowed girls to do woodwork. For a school that was in a town small with no movie theater it was my school teachers who took us to the movies and the  very first movie I saw on a big screen was Titanic. School buses lined up to take us to sports events town to town.

 ‘Seize The Day’ a motto this great school desperately tried to  instill in me and each student. My first understanding of what it felt to be patriotic has definitely pointed me in the direction of worthy people are worthy of my loyalty on or not.

 

 

 

Of course in my childhood days  Butterworth felt majestic.

 

 

 

11:23pm

I am on my cellphone playing what seems to be a game from a time so far away. I do once in a while download a game on my fancy phone and play it tireless resulting lose interest.  Solitaire has however been my secretly the one I go to bed with. captured me from the get go and here we are thwenty years later we have found each other again.

Nina Simone has defined freedom as “To have no fear”. As deep and intense as this may be, I was actually flawed by my hersband’s response.

Nina Simone’s definition of “Freedom” is weak and a common thought by many people…I do not agree with her at all. I will go as far as to say that she and those who believe that freedom means “to have no fear” are completely wrong and misled. Freedom is a mental, spiritual, and physical state of independence self-assurance that is lived without having to think about or ask “what is the definition of freedom?” If a person has to ponder the definition of freedom then they are not free. You need to have some fear to maintain your “freedom.” -Shannon Stannard

In my early thirties, I have been able to be friends with women more astute, more wise and more worldly resulting in this wealth of knowledge that with hearing their experiences gives me confidence that I too could make it through this life journey. The dynamics of their circumstances has this magical turn that is clear to see that they are all beautiful different yet uncannily similar.

As you can see, I take my Solitaire very seriously.

 

Maybe it is a Generation X thing.  I play solitaire because it is such a comfort game and my heart doesn’t palpitate when I play it. It does not rush me but it holds me accountable by moves. as a comfort space when I find my self in a state of confusion.

 

1:38am

My best score in twenty something years is still one hundred and thirteen and only at this hour now I am now have finding out the real way to play it. It’s not about the less moves it takes to complete but if you can complete it in thirty seconds or less…how did I miss that?

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Ten Different types of people 

Nide Z Stannard

July 20th, 2015

ones who maintain the vehicle check-engine light immediately; ones that will drive that vehicle to the ground  serving any malfunction

ones who hate the sin but not the sinner; ones who hate the belief and not the believer

ones are square or round; the ones who are round and square

the aware and the not-so-aware the orange-juice carton has been depleted…three days to be exact

ones who sleep; the ones who no longer know the meaning.

 

 

In a box suffocating ¬†and surprisingly loving it.

Nide Z. Stannard    

July 20, 2015 

My intention–also my New Year ‘s resolution– was to blog weekly for the entire year. Three months in, sadly, I really got bored and uninspired. My blog topics seemed heavily encompassed by my own personal opinions and perceptions, that started to bore me. I value my opinions of course  but I would rather write content that is thoroughly researched even if it’s presented as fictional.  I journal daily and have gathered various material however, with all this material I have, I can’t seem to commit to a medium I’m comfortable with.

History, a lack-luster subject to me in high school and college, made an unforeseen return and I have found a new appreciation of it as an adult. Every story should have a little historical truth to it, at least I think so. It has also been a struggle to delve deep within me and release the inner writer.

 Aware of the insecurities that bullied me, I constructed a plan to avoid any and all desires to start my “book” project. I acquired new skills and knowledge in photography and animation, illustrated some artwork, painted, attempted to draw and even tried a new outlook on life. Yet every night, when I place that final period at the end of my journal entry, I feel unfulfilled. I feel stuck, yet the insistent desire burrowing my “soul” whispers sweetly: “You can do it Nide!”  I believe that sweet fucker too!