Uno

Uno is a game that I enjoy playing with friends, but it is complete crap to try to play it one-on-one with anyone. Even though the title Uno suggests a smaller group (perhaps consistingof a single individual *pause for weak laughter*), playing against a single partner is terrible. The game is meant to be played among friends (note the plural). In this photograph I have attempted to visualize the way I feel about the game and connect it to the way I feel about the concepts of "love" and "loneliness."

To some who have seen the above picture, the cards read "Love." The idea of love as a game is well known, but does not seem to be a particularly nice idea among romantics. In truth, however, Love can be very much like an Uno game. Despite a nature to have feelings toward more than a single person, the socially correct portrayal of love, at least in a majority of Americans, is that "true love" (whatever that may be) should take place between two single individuals (of course, it's more complicated than that, but I'm trying to be as simple as possible). By forcing Love to take place between two, you make the "game" (like Uno) much harder. It's easy for onee partner to be in control for a long amount of time, but then, in an instant, power can change hands. In a two-player Uno match--and in Love--the two participants are both struggling toward a common goal, and there may be swearing, there may be fun, there may be close misses, and you'll probably think it's over two or three times before it actually is, but then--it ends.

The other crowd of people who look at this photograph (excluding those individuals who just "...see a pile of Uno cards. What am I supposed to be looking at? This is dumb")--they often see the word "Lone." Loneliness can come at any point of a person's life. It can come before a relationship, and after a relationship, but I've noticed that people often neglect to think about the loneliness that can exist within a relationship. When coupled, it's easy for a person's ties to their friends and family--their other loves--to become weakened and severed. In Uno, I think the theme of loneliness is best represented in its name. Uno--meaning "one," of course--suggests singularity and exclusion. The point of the game is to be the only person without cards in your hand, which separates you, physically, from your friends in a probably incredibly insignificant, yet symbolically okay enough for me kind of way.

Anyway: Here's my picture of a bunch of cards.

That Sense of Loneliness

I felt a sense of loneliness,

Of loneliness and what was lost,

Of what was lost and what I found:

That sense of loneliness.

And at the cost of what was lost—

Of what was lost and never found—

I gained a sense of feeling past

That sense of loneliness.

And with that gain I wish I’d found

I’d lost more than I had,

Though when I had it, wish I’d lost

That sense of loneliness.

And if I lost it yet again,

And yet again I lost it all,

Then yet again I’d find that sense—

That sense of loneliness.

But knowing that I could not lose

That feeling that I’d found,

I took some solace that I felt

That sense of loneliness.