Farmville and me

I play a lot of Farmville. I plant my crops and wait for them to grow. I harvest my crops and spend my virtual earnings planting new crops, buying buildings, collecting animals and decorating. I bake virtual goods to trade for fuel. I spend a lot of time playing Farmville.  I used to look with scorn at people who played Farmville. I knew they had no lives. Not any longer.  I am now a Farmville fan.

If you do not have a Facebook page, you most likely have not heard of, much less played, Farmville. Facebook is an Internet site for social networking. It is used by a half a billion people, worldwide.  Farmville, owned by a Zynga, is an application on Facebook. More than 18 million people a day play Farmville.* That is a lot of virtual farming.  I am obviously not alone in my obsession.

What is it about this game that so captures the attention of so many people? There are claims this game is addictive. If so, where is the harm? I say the addiction is therapeutic.  There are worse things 18 million of us could be doing.

Farmville is free. Farmers can advance without spending a dime. Money can be spent to buy premium items and I admit I have spent real money on my farm. The visuals are fantastic. It is amazing to see detail and whimsy in the crops and animals.  Contests are held for those who are inspired to create patterns and designs on their farms. There is an ever changing selection of seasonal decorations, crops, projects, and buildings. The Swiss Bank building was one of my favorites. I bought it to deposit my poppy crop money. Not many of my neighbors “got” the joke.

Neighbors are what are needed to succeed. My neighbors are comprised of old high school friends, their friends and total strangers. Neighbors give each other gifts in Farmville to help each other accomplish goals.  Neighbors visit each other’s farms to “trick or treat” or fertilize crops. The interaction is peaceful, non competitive and friendly and rewards both farmers.

The real world is often not peaceful, friendly or rewarding. It is often overly competitive. Competition does exist in Farmville. Neighbors are ranked and it is easy to see who spends real dollars on the game and who does not. But if you work hard, the game rewards you and your farm will grow. No real money needed.

The key to a prosperous farm is peaceful interaction with your neighbors.  The focus is on co operative interaction not competitive elimination. The game provides set goals and rewards you when you achieve them. The game is extremely easy to learn. If you work hard you are rewarded. That is why I and 18 million people have a virtual farm.

 * http://techcrunch.com/2010/06/22/zynga-frontierville/

Tell Them What They Want to Hear

Years ago my Auntie Johanna gave me the following advice, “Honey do not tell them the truth; just tell them what they want to hear!” She was referring to parents and family members but I find this advice works in most situations.  It is now my mantra and when possible I follow it at all times.

Truth was my natural response when asked for my opinion. I was not the most diplomatic of souls but my veracity was never questioned. I fought to prove my position, citing anecdotal and documented evidence to support my opinion. I stood up for my right to have an alternative view from the norm. (Honestly, when all agree conflict rarely occurs.)  Well I have changed. The responsible party is the OSU football program.

Ohio State Football obsesses my hometown, Columbus, Ohio. The city does not have professional football. OSU has long filled this need.   I am rather surprised the students are still allowed to attend the games. The long list of alumni allotted football tickets and the  prime seats distributed to “ friends “of the University leave barely room for the students to cram into the end zone.( Well, the students do not donate anywhere as much as the alumni and “friends” who get tickets.) Tailgating starts early and television coverage begins midweek.  Scarlet and grey permeates every aspect of life in Columbus from late summer until New Years.  Go Bucks is an acceptable goodbye for much of the community and most social events revolve around football.

Promise me to keep this between us, but I am not an OSU football fan. I do not remember watching OSU football as a child nor attending parties focused on the game. I have never had an extensive scarlet and grey wardrobe. My family did not tailgate, attend games or cheer for OSU. I somehow escaped the OSU football frenzy. The only impact OSU football had on my early life was annoyance at the amount of football coverage on television news and in the paper.

Notre Dame was my grandfather’s alma mater and if the game was televised, the ND game was watched. I cheered for Old Notre Dame during my educational years at St. Mary’s College and even watched some games after I graduated.  When I tried to network with other Columbus ND/St. Mary’s alumni my experiences were negative. The years passed, so did my interest in ND football. I am not a big sports fan but I attended a few of my brother’s high school and college football games.  I cheered for them to not get hurt.  On Saturday afternoons I shopped, read or slept. This golden time was not to last.

National news stories, published yearly, tell of the obnoxious OSU fan culture. Imagine living in it on a daily basis. I became an OSU anti fan. I would tell people I was not a football fan if asked, but secretly I began cheering for OSU’s opponents. I rarely watched the game but when I did I cheered when the other team scored. I reveled in each bad play. An OSU loss was punishment for the communities’ unending OSU fanaticism.

My views became known. I am still not sure how it happened, or when I slipped up, but my hatred for OSU football became common knowledge. In this town, you have to be an OSU fan, it is required. The abuse began. At first I tried to argue my position, pointing out I was raised a ND fan. The abuse continued .I became enraged at the Nazi-like demand of my community that we all adore OSU football. I fought for my right to be an anti fan and refused to participate in Buckeye frenzy. The abuse became overt and ugly. I began to cave.

                I began to say “Go Bucks” on football weekends. I even wore scarlet and grey. Life became calmer. I watched a few games hoping my companions did not notice my smirk when OSU lost.  I even began to watch the games because it seemed OSU did fail when I watched. I put this down to bad karma. My compliance with Columbus’ cultural requirements was still superficial, in my mind I was holding on to my own beliefs. I knew deep in my heart that my spirit had been broken. My mere presence was supporting the OSU culture. Still only I knew the team spirit seemed to fall apart when I watched. It was a broken spirit's revenge.

            Eventually my smirks and  bad karma was noticed. I was run out of any room where I could view the team in action. I smiled, left saying “Go Bucks” as I walked out the door. I went back to sleeping or shopping during games.

Forced participation may change overt behavior but sometimes what you get is a secret enemy. I now tell OSU fans what they want to hear, but I do not really cheer for their team, I merely pretend to be a fan. This did not happen overnight. It took years of exposure to Ohio State mania and abusive OSU fans to drain the fight from my spirit. This fight resulted in much more than a change in overt behavior concerning OSU football. It changed my mantra.

Once I succumbed to societal pressure concerning football, I began to use my auntie’s advice in other situations.  My opinions are no longer honestly given.  I merely mouth the words the listener needs to hear.  Insight, analysis and truth have given way to feeding needy egos with rigid belief systems. Life is much easier. Someone else will need to speak truthfully, I no longer will.

If you are in Columbus, cheer loudly for OSU. Wear scarlet and grey. Remember, when in Rome do as the Roman’s do. In Columbus there is only one opinion anyone really wants to hear, let them hear it. Thanks auntie.  Go Bucks.

Blogger I AM

                I am now officially a blogger.  Not just a person who blogs, but a Blogger with a capitol B. I intend to use it as a title, a description of my role in society, my reason for existence.  It is now who I am.

                Very few people are allowed to just be. The rest of us have to be something. Mothers with small children are exempted from this requirement but even they feel the pressure “to do” something.  The term “community volunteer “ was created to describe these stay at home moms and those women who have never really worked since they got married. For my generation, once the children are in school the questions about what you “do” begin anew. The women who run organizations or spend their days as school volunteers have acknowledged existences. Those who do not volunteer begin to feel the pressure to work a real job. You know, WORK. We all know the shocked expression that accompanies the question of “Don’t you Work?” “Well what do you do?”  Well in deference to society and in the footsteps of others in my community I have become a BLOGGER.  It sure beats telling the truth.

                I admit this is not my first blogging experience. I was once paid by Blogger to write blogs. This was around five years ago and I was paid by the word. It was then Kblog was created.  She wrote for Blogger about a variety of topics but alas her blogs did not sell and her services were no longer needed. She was a bit long winded but that happens when you are paid by the word with a minimum total word count required for payment. Her work may be out there in computer land somewhere. Feel free to look for her or “Kelly Moser” who also has done some online writing.

The name Kblog was available for this endeavor. It is also my email address.  I have only had one person comment on my email address. She was a blogger and recognized it as a “good address”.  Starting early gives you the best choice in monikers especially when you do not want to use your real name. Like I said, I have been here before. So this is Kblog’s Blog. All I can say is Blogger is a lot easier to use now then it was five years ago.

I am now an official blogger. No, Blogger.  Who knows, I may end up influencing world events. Other bloggers already have.