I was digging through the closet in my old room looking for a 1950s hat I used to rock in my college years when I came across a box that completely brought me back to my childhood days. Back then, I was far more likely to be found in basketball shorts, playing Starcraft than putting on make-up and making eyes at the cute boys at school (usually I was beating them at Street Fighter instead).
Anyway, the box had my old gameboy, my N64 and the family PS2 [the Nintendo, Super NES and Sega Gen are no longer with us unfortunately]. I brought them all down to my room and have every intention of reliving my glory days as the best Mario Kart player in the world.
Growing up, my brother, sister and cousins hated playing with me because I was always extremely competitive (still am). Just ask my sister who says that as soon as there’s some sort of challenge involved, my game steps up at least 5 notches. I’m not a sore loser and will humbly relent to someone more skilled than I, but I definitely do not like to lose. It was much worse back when I was a stubborn little tomboy (in both aesthetics and mind). I always thought that turning my fingers into bloody blisters was a far better option than losing at Tekken—especially to smirking, snarky boys. Fortunately, I rarely lost. No joke.
In any case, my glory days will have to wait. I’m tired and I have another early morning. But man are my fingers craving that joystick action.