My cousin is really into Pokemon cards so, for her birthday, I've looked through my old box and picked out some of my best for her. It is, in theory, a nice idea to think that these things which meant the world to me can now mean the world to someone else.
The problem, it turns out, is they still mean the world to me.
It's horrible how bloody manipulative trading games are, I mean these are little pieces of paper and for the last year they've been sitting in a box. I never would even have thought of getting them out if not for this. I wasn't even a big fan of the game or series at the time. And because they're cute little animals as well. It's the worst damn feeling in the world, even gifting away the "swaps" I have duplicates of, not to mentions the rest. Twelve year old me just died inside. For the modern child, this is virtually a primal urge drummed into us. Capitalism from a young age. Having a shiney Dragonite is the equivalent of being a swish City Lawyer. The horrible thing is despite the fact I'm 20, I'm still affected this deeply by having to surrender some. Why do I even need to blog this?
There's an additional - problem isn't he right word. But there's an angle. My Pokemon collection is huge, but I only ever bought two packs in my life. That's because Friend 1 collected like crazy, but was generous with her swaps. When I say generous, I mean she literally let me have carrier bags filled with spare cards - which in ten year old terms made her the coolest person in the universe. It's hard to then be selfish of posessions which were never really yours. Recently, Friend 1 got back into collecting and I reminded her of this, and effectively "returned" an awful lot. Which hurt, and I'm not sure I could have done it without that knowledge. Terribly pathetic.
So I've found her all of my cooler swaps, and then taken a long hard look at my rare shineys - but not my Jolteon, or on reflection, my Flareon. Jolteon because that one really is mine, and I still love that card (love!) as much as the first time I saw it. Flareon because, well...I then spent about half an hour shuffling through the ones I had chosen but, unfortunately, by this stage I'd already written in her card that I was going to give her some. So I was committed, though I didn't specify what - but it feels a little bit dishonest to take a card I had considered as a gift, and then withdraw it. And plus, once you decide you have to keep one - it goes like dominoes. My dad makes it worse when he realises that I haven't got my box out merely to copy the drawings for an increasingly elaborate decorated envelope. "What, really?" he comments with a sort of despair which reveals the same primal terror doesn't go away as you get older. But then having said it, I can't really turn back - and you probably think I'm exaggerating.
At the last moment, with a lump in my throat and genuine tears in my eyes, rescued my Dark Dugtrio. I'm keeping that one. I then licked the envelope shut very quickly, and have been suffering a lingering horror ever since. What if she already has them? What if it's the gameboy game she plays, not the card game? Should I put a note in there instructing that, when she gets bored of them, she should return them to me instead of dumping or selling them on herself? WHY DOES THIS STILL MATTER? Is this what it feels like when your children leave home for the first time?
Parents: don't let your kids collect trading cards. It'll screws them up for life.
The problem, it turns out, is they still mean the world to me.
It's horrible how bloody manipulative trading games are, I mean these are little pieces of paper and for the last year they've been sitting in a box. I never would even have thought of getting them out if not for this. I wasn't even a big fan of the game or series at the time. And because they're cute little animals as well. It's the worst damn feeling in the world, even gifting away the "swaps" I have duplicates of, not to mentions the rest. Twelve year old me just died inside. For the modern child, this is virtually a primal urge drummed into us. Capitalism from a young age. Having a shiney Dragonite is the equivalent of being a swish City Lawyer. The horrible thing is despite the fact I'm 20, I'm still affected this deeply by having to surrender some. Why do I even need to blog this?
There's an additional - problem isn't he right word. But there's an angle. My Pokemon collection is huge, but I only ever bought two packs in my life. That's because Friend 1 collected like crazy, but was generous with her swaps. When I say generous, I mean she literally let me have carrier bags filled with spare cards - which in ten year old terms made her the coolest person in the universe. It's hard to then be selfish of posessions which were never really yours. Recently, Friend 1 got back into collecting and I reminded her of this, and effectively "returned" an awful lot. Which hurt, and I'm not sure I could have done it without that knowledge. Terribly pathetic.
So I've found her all of my cooler swaps, and then taken a long hard look at my rare shineys - but not my Jolteon, or on reflection, my Flareon. Jolteon because that one really is mine, and I still love that card (love!) as much as the first time I saw it. Flareon because, well...I then spent about half an hour shuffling through the ones I had chosen but, unfortunately, by this stage I'd already written in her card that I was going to give her some. So I was committed, though I didn't specify what - but it feels a little bit dishonest to take a card I had considered as a gift, and then withdraw it. And plus, once you decide you have to keep one - it goes like dominoes. My dad makes it worse when he realises that I haven't got my box out merely to copy the drawings for an increasingly elaborate decorated envelope. "What, really?" he comments with a sort of despair which reveals the same primal terror doesn't go away as you get older. But then having said it, I can't really turn back - and you probably think I'm exaggerating.
At the last moment, with a lump in my throat and genuine tears in my eyes, rescued my Dark Dugtrio. I'm keeping that one. I then licked the envelope shut very quickly, and have been suffering a lingering horror ever since. What if she already has them? What if it's the gameboy game she plays, not the card game? Should I put a note in there instructing that, when she gets bored of them, she should return them to me instead of dumping or selling them on herself? WHY DOES THIS STILL MATTER? Is this what it feels like when your children leave home for the first time?
Parents: don't let your kids collect trading cards. It'll screws them up for life.
