Crying in Chess Club

 Today's title is inspired by the 2021 bestselling memoir by Michelle Zauner, "Crying in Hmart." First of all, from a business perspective every book should have a catchy title that stands out rather than just "Another book about Cats" or "Nuances about The Federal Income Tax Code." Crying in Hmart evokes imagery of physically being in a Hmart, which MJ and I just were today (she loves the pre-packaged kimbap that they often reduce the prices of later in the day due to it expiring if you don't eat them right away), and it begs the question, "Why is someone crying there?" Not exactly 2 things people equate with each other, like "Picking Strawberries at the Lakers Game" or "Playing Dodgeball in the Rain" or something like that. So it's a brilliant book already, but I just love books that tell a true story but with the author's own flair or personal spin, probably because I try to do that with this blog. Zauner is funny, she teaches readers about Korean culture, language, foods, and superstitions through her relationship with her  Korean-born mother, and all the little anecdotes and unique experiences make it very relatable for the reader, like I could have of had her life as well. As a kid she was very proud to have double eyelids in a society that values them highly; I wasn't as lucky and have always lived under the curse of single eyelids, and know how big of a deal it is. The author is a musician herself, but music references to Karen O of The Yea Yea Yea's (also a half-Korean singer) and iconic songs like "Rainy Days and Mondays" by the Carpenters help the reader shape her world. But of course the biggest hook of the book is the answer to why Zauner cries at H-mart, which is that her mother (spoiler alert) passes away. And at a young age, when Zauner was just 25. I just read some of my posts in 2012 (when I was 25), and I would not have handled losing a parent well at that age. I still wouldn't handle it well, of course, but I was so much more immature then and complacent about having a mother forever and still actually rebelling and arguing with my mom, which Zauner regrets having done for so many years as a teenager, as soon as she finds out her mom has Stage IV cancer. My grandfather gradually faded away in his old age and passed away at 96, and I was pretty sad for a long time, but having to deal with the loss of a parent in twenties must add to the sadness due to not being ready, coming to grips that the parent won't live forever as you mistakenly thought when you were a kid. The author does a great job explaining all these emotions through stories, specific instances, powerful (but limited) conversations, and going through the 5 stages of grief (at one point she got married right away to her boyfriend just so her mom could see the wedding, and to plan other trips to Napa, etc. just to bargain with the gods to give her more time with her mom). It's a fantastic story but especially resonates with people like me, an Asian American who has lived in America but had conflicts with parents with Asian backgrounds. Something about songwriters or creative types, they really know how to tell a story. 

As for me, the reason I was (not really but only on the inside) crying in chess club recently is just realizing that I'm not as good at chess as I thought. Throughout high school and a little beyond I thought part of my identity was a chess player, having won some matches in high school and done well at the Illinois state competitions, enough to think I was hot stuff, and feeding the craving any competitive strides for: to search for identity by being really good at something so I can at least hold on to something in this world as my strength, something I'm better than most other people at. Come to find out, in 2023 I am not good at chess, losing most of my games at chess club and realizing a lot of people are better than me, and getting that sinking feeling that I'll never be as good as some of them. It hurts; maybe a little part of me, the chess competitive fire raging inside part of me, died today and I'm crying. As for specifics on why I'm bad, I never was a really good speed chess player, I always used up a lot of time on my clock to analyze all my possible moves, and in taking my time I was cautious, eliminating all of the bad moves that would lead to instant loss or at least allow my opponent to get an advantage. Now with no pressure to win and not playing for my school, I've developed a bad habit of moving too quickly, mostly because I have a tight schedule and I also don't want to look like an idiot and make the other player wait, so I move before I've done all the analysis I would have when I was 16 or 17 years old. In short, I'm worse than I was when I was 16 or 17. Or I was just not even that good back then; I just took a long time and eventually found the right move. There are people who move really quickly but still find the right move, then use the time I take thinking about my move to do their own analysis, and I just feel like an idiot or "noob." That's called "talent" something I gradually realize I don't have, at least in chess. But if I'm not good at chess, then what AM I good at? Tennis? Fantasy baseball, Languages? Trivia? Being a good person (I guess I did donate platelets + plasma for the first time this week)? The law? (definitely not, I am NOT a good lawyer) It's a little upsetting to know I'm not like elite at anything I do, and there's always someone better. Maybe if I had just concentrated on one thing strictly as a kind like Ken Jennings read encyclopedias as a kid or Tiger Woods started playing golf when he was 5 (on national TV no less). But I didn't, and the best talent I can think of for me is staying healthy and being lucky enough that all the people around me usually stay healthy enough not to pass away. Maybe that's my talent: not having people die in my inner circle, and not have to go through Michelle Zauner's grief process when I was just 25? I guess that's something to be happy about, or at least not cry about in chess club.