So I recently got back in to Magic the Gathering. I know, I know, the Cardboard Crack just ain’t worth it, but the Spouse and our roommate both play and after a certain amount of time it just gets saturated into every aspect of life that it’s hard to stay out of it.
I got tired of interrupting conversations about MtG to ask if there’s anything they want added to the grocery list, of moving stacks of “sorted” cards off the coffee table so that I could set my drink down, and of listening to them complain about how T buys whatever cards her husband tells her to, and how J refuses to run fewer than four Sol Rings because his “decks just don’t work without them.”
So I bought in. I bought a single box of Eldritch Moon in the hopes that I could build a single EDH deck and then I could play with them. Not the whole play group, as it’s sprinkled with Alpha Nerds viciously attempting to strut and peacock their way into respect, but Spouse and our roommate and maybe some other friends who haven’t fallen victim to the Alpha Nerd trap.
As it turns out, a single box didn’t have the variety for me to build any EDH decks with the generals I pulled, so I figured, hey, I’ll just build one standard, it’ll be fine. I can get some play in, shake off the dust, and relearn all of the fiddly little stack rules.
Now I have three 60-card decks.
It’s been a week.
I recently finished a book I’ve been meaning to read for some time. It’s come up multiple times on online discussions and in real life, and it’s been on my list. As soon as I’m in a book-buying mood, though, my eye falls on the latest Modesitt Jr and that’s that. I’m weak, what can I say.
The book is The Gift of Fear by Gavin de Becker, and I highly recommend it. I have a soft spot for anything about human behavior, from documentaries about body language to Criminal Minds to sociology textbooks to Psychology Today. Anything and everything that falls into my path, I consume, and happily. The Gift of Fear is compelling in precisely the way that thrillers are. It constantly dangles that bait, the lure of knowledge, and uses it to delicately lead you down the path of things you already know, but don’t understand and couldn’t quantify before.
As is my wont with nonfiction, once I’d finished it, I flipped it back over and started again. I’ve found that nonfiction the second time has more depth than the first, and I always want it to be as fresh in my brain as possible. It’s just as good the second time, and loses nothing in repeated exposure.
The title is a bit sensational at first, but the content perfectly justifies it. The writing is a bit stilted, but it’s written by a non-author whose expertise and complete honesty and lack of condescension makes that minor ding disappear under the polish of a gentle and reassuring voice.
If I were in to rating systems, I would rate this book highly. I’m not, though, so instead I’ll just recommend it as highly as I can. I borrowed this copy from a friend, and I’ve already purchased another to replace it on my shelves when I have to give it back.