A Tone Deaf Gamer’s Plight
August was a trying month, with three personal events that jolted me to sit back & consider perception. I am in my mid 40’s and quite frankly I never thought at the age of 20 that I’d be sitting here 25 years later with the same human interactive hiccups. Did I think I’d be a grey haired wizened old lady? Not at all. I’m clumsy, question everything and come equipped with an inbuilt emotional compass whose true north is riddled with trust issues but I wouldn’t change anything.
I also wouldn’t say I don’t fit in anywhere because I do, however the places I fit in are far and few between. Online where we don’t see each other, this does not change and I am comfortable with this. What makes me shy, apprehensively guarded is when others see my joy as something tarnished.
This adult idea that we need to contain ourselves when partaking in our hobbies, things we choose to do in our free time because they make us happy is utterly absurd to me. Why would I treat a hobby like a job or an extended version of what others prefer to be a practical, quiet experience? Why wouldn’t I let happiness bubble over and fill me up with glee?
On the same branch of this “grateful for life” tree is the fact that I do not have the same boundaries as most others as far as perception goes. It’s something I’m still learning to articulate but in a nutshell I simply don’t comprehend the difference between ranks, title, country, gender, class etc perhaps because I don’t care about them not only because I was deaf but every other experience in this lifetime. It’s something I’m proud of, creating some incredible opportunities in my life but it’s also really confusing sometimes when I address folks. You could be the Queen, The Rock, The Queen of Rock or the guy next door and it matters not to me.
Taking this into full context what I share about myself has the same tone I would have were I to be excited about your happiness as I am my own or the girl a thousand miles away, I have zero boundary on time or distance. Then you can throw in the Molotov cocktail of actual tone, with sound that extends to typing. Words.
Tricky little beasts those slippery little suckers, words.

Without filters I try to understand folks don’t know this who interact with me so when they mistaken my enthusiasm for ego or confusion for control I forgive before its begun until I hear it more than once or twice. Then I’ll say no, which is my given right on this earth. Without information like this and only perceptions of our own experiences misunderstanding can happen to anyone and does daily among folks who are face to face, so why not online?
Someday’s I want to hide and just not say anything to anyone but then I figure I’m not young anymore, I don’t live near any family or lifelong friends I now only see on facebook. Soon enough such an isolated state of being might occur naturally with each year passing so I’ll just be myself for now, who is in awe of everything. On every level my life is nutritious and if I’m even luckier than I already am, maybe I’ll find somewhere that won’t mistaken my passion for bullying, my concern for accusation or my grief for rage? Online we have no control of others reactions though so the best I can do is ensure that I do the same for everyone else so one day someone might consider there is more to another’s story without them having to share it.
Sound like a game plan? Let’s do this.
