MUSIC 256A
Mollie Redman
My favorite form of play is perpetually annoying my youngest brother. He doesn’t have a temper and is surprisingly patient, so I can push his buttons for hours, even days on end, before he retaliates against me (the danger makes the game more exciting). Since he is a bad teenager these days (and thinks he is too cool to hang out with me or laugh at my jokes), oftentimes it is me engaging him in a game of my own making. However, there is one game that he will still participate in that requires co-creation. The game doesn’t have a formal name, but why don’t I come up with one, if only for the purposes of this reading response; let’s call it Track Tag. The game requires two players, exactly, and it happens on the first floor of our house. I am simplifying the layout for clarity, but essentially, it is like a square with an extruded square in the middle (the staircase), creating a “track” with a solid interior. The game begins when one person starts chasing the other around the track and a game of cat and mouse commences. The role of cat and mouse is undefined, and ever-changing. You “win” by catching your opponent. But you can also end the game by escaping up the staircase and into your respective bedroom before your opponent can catch you. It's a game of deception, trickery, speed, and risk-taking. The game happens spontaneously so if you happen to be wearing socks, you will have the added difficulty of changing directions on hardwood floors. The game sounds are a mix of loud stomping from grown human bodies, childlike laughter, pauses to catch one's breath, and feather-light footsteps to throw off your opponent. Sound itself is harnessed in the game. Loud stomps are easy to detect, however, light footsteps can’t be heard from the opposite side of the track. Every sense, aside from taste, is used in the playing of this game. While playing I feel sublime happiness. I laugh without constraint, run with all my might, crawl like a cat, and control my turns like a racecar driver. At the end of it, I am tired, but satisfied, even though nothing was accomplished.
One time someone asked me if I found painting to be relaxing. My answer was immediately “no”. I told them it is an all consuming experience in which I intently focus for hours on end, making myself physically and mentally exhausted through the process. I really liked the quote on page 309 where Ge says, “[play is] a consuming activity, often taking up significant time and energy.” We don’t typically recognize the physical side effects of sustained play. Working is commonly recognized as tiring, but not play.
All this to say, I am gravitated towards forms of play which also combine some sort of physical exploration of the world. Which is why I have a bone to pick with page 331. Personally, skiing is a form of play for me. I have never ski raced and don’t intend to, however, I love barreling myself down the mountain. When I put my skis on I have the superpower to traverse snowy mountains. Navigating down the mountain is a balance of terrain, people, and self. How fast do I want to go, how fast can I go? Where is the mountain telling me to turn, are there any unexpected ice patches or mounds of snow, is there an offshoot through the woods with a little jump, are there moguls coming up? Who is around me, are they beginners, are they faster, are they chaotic? I am navigating an ever-changing environment where lightning fast decisions are based on intuition built over time. I am playing.