3/22/2026 – On Mars

Today I finally set up On Mars again.

This game has been sitting in my orbit for about a year.

Not because I don’t want to play it.
Because it’s a beast.

Heavy game.
Complex game.
The kind of game that creates what I call turbulence in the mind.

That feeling of:
“I don’t know enough yet.”
“I need one more video.”
“One more rules pass.”
“One more round of preparation before I begin.”

And yet I’ve learned a lot of hard games.

So it’s always interesting when the mind still reacts like the unknown is a threat.

That’s what I noticed today.

I was setting it up…
feeling that old pressure…
that old background anxiety of
“Damn it, I should have learned this already”—

and then another voice cut through:

This is fun.

That changed the whole field.

Because it is fun.

It’s challenging.
It’s mentally demanding.
It asks something of me.

But that’s part of the pleasure.

I don’t actually need to eliminate the turbulence before I begin. I just need to begin.

That’s true in board games.
Probably true in half of life.

One of the worst ways for me to learn a game is when someone tries to explain every rule before the first move.

My way is simpler:

Start.
Make a move.
Be confused.
See what happens.
Learn by entering the system.

Not elegant.
Not perfect.
But real.

There’s something deeply satisfying about continuing to learn hard things.
New systems.
New patterns.
New maps.

It reminds me that even when the mind gets dramatic,
it is still capable.
Still adaptive.
Still alive.

So today’s scrapbook entry is this:

Mars.
Complexity.
Mental turbulence.
And the quiet satisfaction of not backing away.

Sometimes the move is not to understand everything first.

Sometimes the move is just to sit at the table…
and play.