Addicted: Words With Friends

Two days ago, I downloaded the Words With Friends app to my iPad, after hearing from folks how fun the game is. I was immediately hooked. It's like Scrabble, but better since you didn't have to be in the same place to play. After starting up games with people I knew, I started to get impatient because by its nature, it's a slow-moving game. People played when they have time and/or the inclination to respond. Like an addict, I wanted more. I started to initiate games with random opponents matched by the system. I wanted more and more, and eventually I had 10 games going with people I didn't even know. They were slow-going, with some people dropping out all together, but it worked since each person's reply evened out to a steady stream of responses.

At some point last night, I had two games going with regular responses clocking in at average of 10 minutes apart. It was heady and exciting. In one game, we were evenly matched, chasing each other across the board all evening. I was having fun. But in my second game, little did I know, I was up against a ninja master. After having played a few games, I thought I had developed a strategy and felt more confident. I wouldn't have called myself an expert, but I felt I played a good game. However, this second opponent, let's call him BBB, he was a pro. He didn't play just for those double/triple letter and word tiles, placing words perpendicular off another word. He liked to stack his words, forming 2 letter words all across the board, bumping off those double/triple letter and word tiles like it was child's play, and then stacking them again to form 3-letter words and more. He never got a score below 15 points, and frequently averaged 25 points or more. I was getting schooled, but I was learning. I imitated his style, and was getting better though I trailed him the whole time. Then at one point, when I was behind by about 100 points, I scored a major coup and played a 76 point word. I did a little jig of joy, the student was catching up to the master. I was now 30 points behind and maybe had a shot to win.

Little did I know what was to come. The game was coming to a close. I was still about 40 points behind. If I played it right, maybe I could take this. I was feeling cocky. On the board was the word "del." I looked at my tiles. I could make the word "dreidel". It would be awesome, but I hesitated. Playing it would land the letter "D" close to a triple letter and next to a triple word tile, but I thought, it's so close to end. What could he really play that would be that bad? Oh, but oh, such folly. I played "dreidel". I scored 27 points. A nail-biting 5 minutes later, he countered with "judo". I was floored. Why, you ask, should such a small word open such a gigantic can of whoop-ass on me? "J" is worth 10 points. He placed on a triple letter tile. He placed the "O" on that triple word tile. When all was said and done, he made himself a 105 points. It was over.

I could've resigned from the game there and then. There was no way for me to win, but I played it out until the bitter end. When that little bell trilled to let me know BBB had won, he had 503 points, and I a meager 335.

I was beaten but not defeated. The grasshopper lives to play another day.

Osama is dead.

Last night, my nytimes iPad app popped up with a notice that President Obama would be making a statement. I didn't know about what, and checking the New York Times, they didn't say. I joked with the boy about how useless such an alert was, and waited to see what it would about. I probably should've turned on the TV, but I just continued bumming about the apartment. 15 minutes later, another alert popped with Osama bin Laden is dead. It was a shocking piece of news, and had us scrambling to get more information. I hurriedly checked in with various news sites, and the boy got Al Jazeera streaming on the computer. I IMed a bunch of people, and everyone was tuning into the news networks for more information, as did I. Nobody had much to tell, other than Osama is dead, and we waited for the president to speak.

As news spread, we could see more and more people gathering before the White House in celebration. Finally, the president took to the airwaves to address the nation. His speech, I felt, struck the right tone of respect, remembrance, and accomplishment. It was a solemn moment. Although the president was done speaking, we continued to watch the news, waiting for more information about what had actually happened, for the details of the mission to emerge. As we watched, the crowd before the White House continued to grow and become even more boisterous. I watched the impromptu festivities with mixed emotions.

When Saddam Hussein was finally captured and executed, the emotion that overtook me was a profound sense of sadness. I felt sorry for him, sorry for his people, and sorry for us, that it had come to capturing and eventually executing a sad, pathetic man whose life does not begin to compensate for the amount of suffering he caused. Similarly, as I absorbed the news of Osama's death, I felt overwhelmingly sad. As I watched the cheering, jubilant crowd before the White House, I felt such a sense of disconnect. I didn't know where the joy they displayed was coming from. 10 years of searching for Osama has resulted only in one man's death, and in that intervening time, so many other lives have been lost. From American citizens on that fateful day to soldiers of the US and their allies to innocent civilians of Iraq and Afghanistan. I don't think it's clear that it was all worth it, and after all this, Osama's death changes little for our on-going campaigns in Iraq and Afghanistan. Justice was served, but to what end?

A day of celebration indeed.