We didn't really play games when I was a kid. We did puzzles together and Grandma taught us how to play "Bullshit" and "Slap jack." We were only allowed to say "BS" but we got the giggles anyway. We also had a game of "King of the Mountain" we would play in the pool. Our personal family version could be referred to as "Drown As Many Of Your Cousins As Possible" It taught me strategy, how to undermine those bigger then you, and to not whine about being hurt, because you will be made fun of unmercifully for days. All important life lessons.
But the game that came to mind today was one that I played in my early twenties. I was in the midst of a divorce, if I could track down my apparently AWOL husband, and had just moved to Austin. I didn't really know anybody except for my room mates. I was in the middle of a metamorphosis. I had taken on being vegan, and made people call me by my full name Anastasia, as opposed to the high school Ana. After years of stifling myself to be some one's lesser half I was ready to burst out of my damn cocoon.
I had a new job at Clean Water Action. We solicited money. Yes, I was that dirty hippie asking you to please sign my petition and write me a check while you were tying to eat dinner. I was terrible at that job, I was raised a polite southern girl. If someone says no, you thank them and move on. And talking about money with strangers mortified me. But I loved that job. The people were fun, I felt like I was doing something worthwhile and there were cute boys.
On the way to the different neighborhoods we would play team building games to get to know each other and to build our team, I guess. Everyone would try and one up each other on the weirdest question they could ask. The only one I could remember was "What texture is your soul?" I know! How pretentious and awful. Instead of giving the question some thought and looking inside myself for the answer, I tried to come up with the coolest answer that would insure that I would be liked and admired, never mind what texture my soul actually was. I think I said "Feathers." Good thing they didn't ask me why, because I totally pulled that out of my ass.
Looking back, I realize that it says a lot about where I was back then. How insecure and guarded I was, even though I thought I was kicking ass and taking names. Now I would say my soul is something sharp, with something twisted thrown in, but maybe also a little feathery.
What texture is your soul?