I’ve been losing at chess recently. I’ve been playing Sunday nights. I try not to add anything to my Sundays which, for the most part, reflect a kind of quiet dolce far niente. I try to keep their status quo with the kind of hawkish diligence I reserve for concert ticket-booking. That's pretty hawkish.
However, I’ve added chess to Sunday nights.
The funny part about this is my performance. It’s currently leaving much to be desired.
I keep losing.
Every single time. Well, almost. I tied once. As a general rule, I tend to think that tying is as good as losing therefore I should be taking these losses rather hard.
Yeah, well, I’m not.
When I lose I usually utter something akin to ‘crap!’, move my lips about as if they’re the ones responsible for me losing, and I lose interest in whatever else follows that’s already in my schedule. Well, till something else of interest comes my way and distracts me. It always ends up being about distractions after all.
In all honesty, I’m kind of, sort of enjoying losing. Almost as much as I enjoy the rest of my Sunday. I’m trying to understand why that is. I try to examine unusual reactions as they usually say something of substance. The one thing that comes to mind seems to relate to my ‘Sunday effect’. You see, I doubt I’d lose this badly if I played on a Monday. My opponent would stand no chance on a Monday, I’m thinking. It’s tough to beat me on a Monday.
On a Sunday, however, I espouse a kind of pace that’s almost foreign to my hyperactive nature. I become a kind of ‘zen’ I tend to mock when I see it in others. I don’t care about my Saturday and Monday version. I care about nothing but the present moment. On a Sunday, it’s all about being loyal to the dolce far niente. And I don’t care that I’m losing at a game I used to play competitively. Or that I’m losing to someone new who’s experiencing a version of me that’s more zen-looking than Deepak Chopra. It’s so not about what I play, who[m] I play, and what my stats are. Not on a Sunday, it’s not.