The things that seem the most normal are always the most thought provoking, aren’t they?
You know, I like to think that I’m good at Rock Paper Scissors. I win an average amount, lose an average amount, tie an exceptional amount … but what can you do? It’s such a simple game, isn’t it?
Well, on the surface it may seem simple or easy, but Rock Paper Scissors is much more than just a guessing game. It’s a game of the mind. It requires being able to think as though you were somebody else and not just any random person: you have to embody the person you are playing against. You need to be able to read their faces as though they’re classified at a first-grade reading level, and you need to be able to do it in seconds. Throughout my many years, I’ve studied the practice of Rock Paper Scissors and have drawn many helpful conclusions on how to successfully enter said minds. That is, helpful to those who don’t crack under pressure like I do.
The other day, my school hosted a Rock Paper Scissors tournament. I did not win. I also (regrettably) did not try very hard. The premise of the game was to win the most rounds of Rock Paper Scissors and, in turn, you would receive a prize. The school kept track of these wins through a system of beaded necklaces: everyone started the day with one coloured necklace and as they lost or won games, they gave away their jewelry or received necklaces from other students and teachers. It was simple. But I lost my first round and was out of play for the rest of the day. Oops. Still, I continued down the halls and couldn’t help but notice many other people wearing those beaded necklaces in a wide variety of numbers: some had two, some had six, some had many more and some had none.
At first, I was ashamed (well, maybe not ashamed, per se, as I didn’t actually care all that much about what other people thought of my plastic necklace collection), making my way through the crowds of competitors with my bare neck. But, in hindsight, it was probably more shameful to have one necklace than none, as it suggested that you didn’t even try to win a battle. Interesting. Either way, I was far from the winner, so I soon gave up on my childhood dream of becoming the master of Rock Paper Scissors (no, seriously) and let my mind wander.
My mind did not wander very far. In fact, it wandered right back to the beaded necklaces. It hadn’t been that long since I had seen such accessories. They aren’t fancy and I often see their likenesses in various stores around town. But they struck my attention, nonetheless. Needless to say, I was not surprised to see them, although I was (and still am) genuinely curious as to where my school purchased them in such a massive quantity. So, why was I struck by the plastic beads?
You tend to see similar sorts of things around the holidays: gauzy, cheap jewelry reminiscent of smoke-filled corridors, feathers and old-school jazz. I’m sure many families in Whitehorse have bought plastic necklaces from the store, at some point—maybe green ones for Saint Patrick’s Day; maybe rainbow ones for New Year’s. But I found myself wondering what the significance of those beads were. And perhaps there isn’t a significance; I, myself, think that they may just be a fun way to express festivity.
But maybe they symbolize something else—something from the past, something we have forgotten along with the “r” in February. I definitely know that I forget things often.
I mean, I even forgot my long-studied system for winning Rock Paper Scissors, when it finally came down to it. I’ve always found it funny how easily things can become part of day-to-day life—things you don’t necessarily even notice. There is probably some sort of significance to everything you see around you … at least at some point. There is even a significance to Rock Paper Scissors, most likely as a children’s game, which I completely disagree with. Rock Paper Scissors is way too complicated and strategy based to be considered child’s play.
I’m not ashamed to say that it could be on par with Chess if people were brave enough to risk everything based solely on their perception of others, which they obviously aren’t. Which is also fair. Humans are not generally as easy to read as a first-grade-level book, which is unfortunate because I would most definitely have won the Rock Paper Scissors tournament if they were.
But sometimes it’s fun to notice little things. You never know what they’ll inspire you to do.
