I first learned this lesson in my youth when, after climbing to the top of a leaderboard in a puzzle game I’d invested >2k hours into, I was surpassed so hard by my nemesis that I had to reflect on what I was doing. Thing is, they didn’t just surpass me and everybody else, but instead continued to break their own records several times over.
Slightly embarrassed by having congratulated myself for my merely-best performance, I had to ask “how does one become like that?”
My problem was that I’d always just been trying to get better than the people around me, whereas their target was the inanimate structure of the problem itself. When I had broken a record, I said “finally!” and considered myself complete. But when they did the same, they said “cool!”, and then kept going. The only way to defeat them, would be by not trying to defeat them, and instead focus on fighting the perceived limits of the game itself.
To some extent, I am what I am today, because I at one point aspired to be better than Aisi.
I first learned this lesson in my youth when, after climbing to the top of a leaderboard in a puzzle game I’d invested >2k hours into, I was surpassed so hard by my nemesis that I had to reflect on what I was doing. Thing is, they didn’t just surpass me and everybody else, but instead continued to break their own records several times over.
Slightly embarrassed by having congratulated myself for my merely-best performance, I had to ask “how does one become like that?”
My problem was that I’d always just been trying to get better than the people around me, whereas their target was the inanimate structure of the problem itself. When I had broken a record, I said “finally!” and considered myself complete. But when they did the same, they said “cool!”, and then kept going. The only way to defeat them, would be by not trying to defeat them, and instead focus on fighting the perceived limits of the game itself.
To some extent, I am what I am today, because I at one point aspired to be better than Aisi.