Do you remember the first time you have watched star trek, Lord of the rings, Harry potter, X-files, superman, Spiderman, bewitched, charmed, Casper, Sabrina the teenage witch, Dracula…etc
How did it feel? I bet it was one of the most intriguing feelings one can experience at young age, ‘ he is flying’ , ‘she is changing her appearance’ , ‘ how can he walk on the water’, ‘ he can crash cars’!!
I never forget when my dad handed me ‘Alice in wonderland’ book, I used to believe everything in it, and cry why I cannot shrink like her, I also remember ‘Aladdin’ and the Jinny who could do anything for him,
Before you go ahead and read this article ask your self these 3 questions:- 1- Am I being obsessed with something?2- Does it affect my image/ personal growth/ life style?3- How can I identify what's good for me? Well we are all gathered here because we all have one thing in common, our 'passion for games' the fact that every ounce of our soul moves when we see better graphics, enhanced system tool, energizing music, a brutally murdering weapon or a turbo charged armor set. We are all gathered despite our age, gender, educational background here to play and talk about games. You might ask what this has to do with the subject, and let me tell you it does a lot. When something you love so much turns into obsession, it no longer becomes 'good' for you. I learned this the hard way, now you have to differentiate between obsession and love. If your wife caught you at night playing metal gear solid instead of sleeping to wake up fresh for work , then this is Obsession not love.
If your dad comes and tells you why did you spend all your credit card on Payable games when the initial purpose was to provide you the steady
His long, lean face wrinkled as he leaned over and shot from his mouth foul spittle left from his chewing tobacco. The man smelt of sweat, horse and the open range with a rather battered felt cowboy hat perched upon his head. Worn and tattered clothes hung loosely on his lanky body. He was a homely looking man with sandy colored hair that had a slight wave to it leaving a clumped mess to fall to his shoulders. His hazel eyes seemed vacant and lost. The lone man pulled the remaining chew from his mouth, stuffing it into a small tin can. He then reached for his saddle bag that still clung to his worn saddle. From there he pulled the instrument that gave him his name: a harmonica. The finely crafted metal glimmered in the light from the small campfire and the sound that resonated when the man put it to his lips was like that of a beautiful song bird. The lonely twang rang through the prairie lands like a lost lovebird calling to its mate. The lone man did not stir, but kept playing his harmonica as the stranger’s companions rode up behind him.