Pokémon seems to be all the rage these days, so I thought it might be appropriate that I tell my personal story as it relates to Pokémon.
My first recognizable memory of Pokémon was the day two new kids moved in at the end of the block. I know for a fact my Pokémon journey started before then, but this is the first time I can cognitively recall. The two new additions to our neighborhood family were quick to assimilate. I remember that night, the older one sat on my front porch with my brother and I until after dark, observing our Pokémon cards. I had some awesome card (I think it was sparkly-- whatever that means), and he wanted to trade with me. He, however, didn't have his cards so he offered me some small plastic version of Nine-Tails. I enthusiastically agreed-- I mean that beats like a million little paper cards, right? Wrong.
Suddenly his mom's voice came loud from down the street, it was time for him to go. He left in a hurry. After we had watched is shadow run towards his mom's voice, my brother and I collected our things and went inside. As we neatly stacked our prized possessions, he informed me that I was just majorally ripped off. I didn't understand. How could a pretty foxish toy not be better than a shiny card? He explained to me that there was no benefit to having toys. Only cards mattered.
I was so angry! Why would someone cheat me like that? To clarify, I think he had fairly honorable intentions. The real question is why Ben waited until afterward to tell me.
Anyway, after that, I was much more careful with myself. Knowing now that trades are just a way to exploit the one with lesser Pokémon knowledge. I was the one with lesser Pokémon knowledge. Always. No matter how much I tried, I always got slighted.
We would all watch Pokémon on TV, followed by Digimon (we did not realize we were being neutral in a heavy rivalry when we watched both; had we known, we would have doubtless chosen Pokémon), and later Yu-Gi-Oh! We would all buy decks of cards, and even play each other after school. Unfortunately, I missed the point of playing the cards. I was too young to really understand, but I knew cards were important, Ben made sure of that. I was determined to be the best. I just needed a lot of cards, then I would "catch them all," or something...
I was extremely disadvantaged as a young Pokémon master, however. I was young, which meant no one would let me play their Gameboy, and I couldn't comprehend the complicated rules of card play. I also had very little income, as compared to the "big kids" who would do endless jobs around the neighborhood to a) blow it all at The Corner Store, and more importantly, b) buy the big packs of Pokémon cards. My biggest downfall, perhaps, was my endless attraction to the completely worthless and useless Pokémon. Chicarita was my favorite. She was so cute! She was green and small and constantly said her name in a high-pitched cuddly voice. I loved her. I would trade anyone anything for a Chicarita. I think I had like twelve. I was convinced that she, as the underdog, could win as empowered by my love. I was wrong.
Eventually I just decided to give up on being the best to everyone else. I was the best to me, and that's all that mattered. Every time Ashley and I would play Pokémon (we played it like it was "house," acting out the narrative as if we were producing the show), I would be Chicarita, and should would choose to be some huge crazy dragon or something. I always "lost," in the game. But I was a winner in real life. I was a winner to me.
A strange turn of events occurred when I became utterly convinced that Pokémon was evil. Someone had told me it was brainwashing hundreds of poor children in Japan to kill themselves. I was terrified that all my friends would turn against themselves, and me, if I didn't do something about it. Oh how impressionable a child can be! So, I determined to destroy my cards. I was done with my past life, and moving on to better things. I could have gotten a small fortune for my collection, but instead I chiseled things into the cards, and ripped them to pieces (plan B, next to burning them).
