My Sisyphean Struggle

Now I write this blog as I'm taking a class on Mythology in Greece. While many stories of the ancient empire have found their way into our society, one of the more common is the myth of Sisyphus. Sisyphus was tortured for eternity with a task that may have ultimately served an inspiration for Chris Farley's pursuit of an egg in Almost Heroes. Sisyphus was presented with giant boulder that he had to push up a massive hill every day. And every day, just as he reaches the top, the stone falls back to the bottom and the process starts again.

This is by no means a good movie, but this scene definitely can bring a laugh or two

Sisyphus and his big ass rock. Surprised they didn't include this in the training scene of Rocky IV

Now as someone who loves a task and a feeling of accomplishment, this sounds like an awful brand of mental torture. I thought to myself, "I can't imagine how horrible that must feel. Coming so close every time. You're about to reach the top, you know it's going to fall but for a split second you have hope that this time it'll be different." And as I had this thought, I realized, there's a worse torture than that endured by Corinthian king. Because imagine the scenario faced by Sisyphus, but if he gets the rock to the top of the hill, he receives great riches. He receives public recognition and celebration from his friends. But not only does he never reach this point, he has to watch as ten other people get their rock to the top and take in the spoils. This is pain unimaginable. This is a torture I would wish upon no man. This is the worst part of my life.

And BINGO is its name-o.

BINGO. That stupid fucking game. I hate bingo. I have gone to campus bingo roughly every offering that I can over the past two years. I've gone to bingo with friends, I've brought my family, I've gone alone. Now picture this. You are man sitting at a 10-seat table by yourself at drag queen bingo. Two different people have come up to you asking if you want to sit at their table out of pure sympathy. You respond that you have friends on the way. You don't. You're just here because you have to win, fully knowing that you're about to go 0/10. Picture the walk of shame out of the bingo hall after you wear a suit and tie to change the vibes and then come up one away on three different rounds. Your mother and sister come to town to visit you. You want to spend time with them, but BINGO is that week. You bring them along, hoping maybe they can give some sort of energy change. They can't. I'm still a failure. And now I'll always irrationally resent them just a little bit because of it.

You feel you've finally had your moment. It's last man standing. It's down to two. You go round for round with no end. Your heart is racing but you give the impression of calmness. People around you are stirring wondering if this is the one. You hear a number you have, you sit down, so do they. At this point the thought of rock paper scissors creeps into your mind. We're leading rock. That's the strategy. They call one more number. You sit down. Your opponent doesn't. You were put in this place to fail.

As each ball rattles around the hopper, their clanging screams insults that target the exact things I'm most insecure about. As I shout "VITAMINS" in response to a B-12, I imagine overdosing on flintstones gummies to get the sweet release. I walk into that room with energy. I choose a card that calls to me. I leave in desolation. I clean up the chips as a sacrifice to the BINGO gods, hoping my humble reverence will gain their favor. They laugh at me, their biweekly (in the "every two weeks" not "twice a week" sense, what an odd word that it can mean both) joke. I try to return the favor by giving life lemons. Life squeezes those lemons right back into my eyes.

It's not about the prize. It's not about the praise. It's about conquering a demon. This is a bed that I have made. I know I shouldn't care this much. But a man can only be beaten down so many times, and right now I'm hanging in a meat factory filled with Rocky Balboas.

There are two years left. Roughly 28 more Thursday nights. 280 or so rounds. We will come back. We will live to push the stone one more day. And may the BINGO gods have mercy on my soul.