Weakness evaluation and goals

After having just completed the first leg of the tournament tour, I wanted to make an identification of my weaknesses and set some immediate goals for the near future.

By far the biggest weakness that I noticed was my lack of concentration. In many games I would just outright miss an obvious reply from my opponent, I would also play far too fast and there were multiple instances where I would make a move automatically but then immediately see a better one afterwards. I certainly need to fix this by concentrating more on the game and not focusing so much on events off the board. I was also far too impatient in the endgame phases of my games, and played too fast and without much thought, I need to fix this by treating the endgame with the same respect and importance as the other phases of the game.

My goals for the near future are to:

1. Think twice about every move I make and consider my opponent's strongest reply
2. Work more on my endgame and be more patient in the endgame phase of the game

My next milestone in chess would be reaching a rating of 2100 FIDE.

Tournaments, tournaments, tournaments!

I am currently sitting in a Cafe in San Francisco, 2 days away from my first major tournament in what will be the most rigorous chess tournament schedule I've done in my life so far!

From June 21st until August 26th 2018 I will be playing in the:

1.  National Open Las Vegas
2. Philadelphia International Open
3. World Open Philadelphia
4. Biel International Chess Festival
5. 15th IGB Dato' Arthur Tan Malaysia Open Chess Championship

 It will be tough, but the experience is necessary to propel me forwards on my journey towards chess mastery (2200 FIDE). I will write about my experiences after I come back from Malaysia and prepare to return to my studies in the US!

I will try my best, I will learn from all my games, and most of all, I will enjoy the battle!

The grind continues....

Beware the Ego

Out of sheer boredom, I found myself doing some random Google searches on prominent people. As one does, I came across Bill Gate's Wikipedia page. It read: "Bill Gates is an American Business Magnate, investor, author, philanthropist, humanitarian, and principal founder of Microsoft Corporation."

Upon seeing this, I thought to myself: gee, if only I could have that kind of description on my Wikipedia page when I'm older.
But then I realized something, this wasn't something I wanted, it was what my ego wanted.

The ego (not the psychoanalytical kind), classified by Google as: "a person's sense of self-esteem or self-importance," is arguably one of the most critical aspects of the human condition. The ego is a multifaceted emotional trait, it can at times be a tremendous motivator, but conversely, it can have a negative impact on social relationships and mental well-being.

The ego provides a necessary drive in our lives - it is, for the most part, what gets us out of bed. If we had no self-esteem, I reckon we'd be very hard pressed to leave the house and enter the big wide world. It's perfectly natural to be overly concerned with ourselves, because after all, the world, or more accurately, our perception of the world, is that it revolves around us; a person's experience is shaped through their eyes, so narcissism comes more naturally to us than empathy does.

But the ego certainly has its drawbacks, because as we all know, we love comparing ourselves. If you're active on any social media platform, you'll be well aware of this. As a photographer, it is a common occurrence that upon being smitten by my own photography, I would immediately be humbled after taking a trip through the Instagrams of various other photographers (who I shall not name!).

Technology hasn't helped, the social media platforms Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, etc. Have cultivated a culture of narcissism and self-absorption of the likes "which has never been seen on this earth,"  to quote Harry Truman. This makes it all the more challenging to avoid the detrimental effects of the ego. 

But in spite of the selfies, 'stories', and unnecessary life updates - we also feed our egos indirectly. I always recommend movies to people, and I recall many times where they would get back to me and tell me how good the film was, and this would give me a sense of accomplishment. I had nothing to do with the film, but because I had recommended it, I felt responsible for it somehow.

But the ego can be good, because it makes us competitive. The former chess world champion Bobby Fischer has been quoted as saying that he likes "the moment when I break a man's ego." As a chess player myself, it's a great feeling when your opponent realizes their situation and you begin to see the slight shake of the head, the barely noticeable sigh, and finally, the handshake. It is an unfortunate truth, but we like to see others fail, or more accurately, the destruction of other people's egos, because it provides a positive reference point for our own.

But to succeed in chess (or anything for that matter), one has to be wary of the ego. I remember competing in the 2017 Thailand Junior Chess Championship - I was completely winning against my closest rival, and I had the tournament in my hands, but then thoughts of winning the championship and being the THAILAND JUNIOR CHESS CHAMPION! Started to enter my head and surprise surprise, I made a move which lost the game immediately.
That moment damaged any sense of self-esteem I had regarding chess and my mental resolve - but it made me stronger, and in all subsequent chess games I simply focused on playing the best moves, and not envisioning future scenarios which would serve only to appeal to my ego. The result? Finishing tied for 3rd place out of 30 players at the Asian Indoor Games Qualification.
Why did I play better? Because I was no longer fueled by titles and ratings, but by my intrinsic love for the game.

I'll sum it up with a story from a summer in Norway. It was a cold, overcast day in the sleepy arctic town of Tromsø. My family and I were there to witness the 2014 Chess Olympiad, which proved to be underwhelming in comparison to the ethereal Fjords and scenic train rides - but that's another story.
I was playing a casual game of chess with a young twenty-something local in the lobby of the hotel where we were staying.
His friend or him (I can't recall) asked me how strong I was in chess, I remember grimacing and telling him that I was decent, but not that strong compared to other people. He smiled and told me something which has stuck with me since that day: "Don't compare yourself to others, but to the person you were yesterday."

Ever since then, that statement pops into my head like a kettle drum whenever I catch myself drifting into vain thoughts of self-admiration, or drawing illogical comparisons which can only serve to dishearten me. But comparing ourselves to others is a part of being human - because the ego makes us competitive, it makes us strive for greater achievement, but it also harms relationships and nurtures a mindset of perpetual dissatisfaction.

So what can we do? We can internalize the ego, we can control and harness the power that it provides in the form of confidence and perseverance, but be wary when it starts to distort the perceptions we have of ourselves and encroach on the judgments and choices we make.

Embrace the ego, but also, beware the ego.

Order in Chaos

Relatively recently, I finished the book "Flow" by Mihaly Csikzentmihalyi.
In the book, he proposes the concept that the human mind in its natural state is chaotic, meaning a jumble of thoughts and emotions. How many times have you been doing a certain activity and something completely unrelated to it just pops into your head? Our minds wander all the time, this is natural.
The human experience is complex to say the least, we have to deal with our own petty little problems while also accepting the infinite complexity and crushing indifference of the universe.

As a chess player, I can certainly apply my personal experience to this.
Chess provides a good limit of such complexities. By constraining our consciousness to 64 checkered squares, we can allow ourselves to forget about such things as the receding arctic sea ice, the fact that we may have to stop eating fish as they are consuming the plastic which we throw into the ocean, and how much the IRS will tax us. Chess has definite rules, and this helps to simplify and organize life for us. When I entered my gap year in 2016, I decided to occupy my overabundance of free time with chess, and that was ultimately for the better as I can’t imagine how my mind would’ve reacted to the overwhelming freedom and inactivity granted by a gap year.
But it’s not only chess which can provide a cognitive haven for people, we see it everyday in the systems which we operate in. The military is an ideal example, they bring order into people’s lives, and from what I know it is not uncommon for veterans to feel a sense of dissonance when they have to return to the aimless nature of civilian life in comparison to the rigid and clear cut environment of the military.

Even in schools, I find as a current university and former high school student that we very much live in these systemic bubbles when we are students. My biggest worries last quarter of my university were to get this project done, to get that project done, and these things would consume my mind to the point where any other worries would become negligible, the educational system provided and continues to provide a necessary focus for me - you don't really have time to worry about the fact that you are 14,906 kilometers (9262 miles) from home when that design project is due tomorrow.
But when the winter break rolled in, I was again met with an abundance of free time. I remember feeling an undeniable sense of discordance, so it was no surprise that I ventured again down the rabbit hole of chess and played in two tournaments. Of course, this was because of my love for the game, but on a more psychoanalytical level it was to achieve order among chaos, which was what my mind would have fallen into had I done nothing over my month and a half long winter break (isn’t that long?).

A great example of a mind consumed by chaos were my last two years of high school. These were arguably the worst two years of my life (so far hopefully). I could never properly adjust myself to fit into the system of the International Baccalaureate, refusing to accept that I had priorities that were very real. I would spend nights upon nights binge watching YouTube videos or playing hundreds of 1-minute chess games. The result? A rejection from all my universities. This is an ideal example of a mind in chaos, where even arguably the most rigorous high school education system (the International Baccalaureate) could not save it.

Who was to blame? Me and only me. But credit has to be given where credit is due, and the internet deserves a little credit.

The internet has certainly made us more susceptible to falling into our natural state of aimless cognitive meandering. I often have up to 20 tabs open, and switch constantly between them. If something is taking too long to open on my laptop, I pull out my phone and begin browsing various social media platforms. When you can switch from typing up that essay to watching a YouTube video in a couple of key strokes, then that's certainly opening up the door for cognitive disorganization.
The internet has no doubt changed the world for the better, but it has also magnified the already chaotic state of the human mind.     

Games, jobs, duties - systems keep us busy and distracted from the chaotic complexity of life and our thoughts. Is this for the better? Well they have been what has allowed us to achieve what we have, so of course it is. But take a moment to appreciate the little things as well, like the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore, the ages and backgrounds of the eclectic mix of individuals walking around Times Square, the way the sunlight shines through the canopy of the trees in the forest, but not too much - you still have work on Monday!

Connecting...

The aftermath of a 6 day chess tournament is never pretty. I was slumped in the seat, waiting

for the plane to take off. It was a 2 hour flight to Bangkok from Kuala Lumpur.

I had made the rather stupid decision to take two flights: one from Johor Bahru to Kuala Lumpur, then another from Kuala Lumpur to Bangkok, what I didn’t realize was that Johor was right on the border of Singapore (which is a tiny island), so I could’ve just taken a car to Singapore’s international airport: Changi, then a flight from there to Bangkok – but I guess you learn from your mistakes.

This was my second flight of the day. Upon departing the hotel at 4:30AM, I missed my first flight (they had rescheduled it), and had to book a new one. After flying to Kuala Lumpur, I spent 3 hours in KLIA (Kuala Lumpur international airport), waiting for the last flight to Bangkok.

But finally, I was going home. 

A woman was sitting next to me, I had noticed that she was the mother of a family, they were split up, the father and the two daughters were sitting on the other side of the aisle, and the mother was stuck on the right side with me.

I had noticed the family before when boarding the plane as they spoke with distinct American accents - you tend to notice such things when you’re in any country that’s not the
United States.  

I took out my iPad and began going over variations in my favorite openings. The mother took notice:
“You play?” she asked in a friendly manner. I answered "yes," in my usual monotone voice.

“My daughter plays too” she said, gesturing towards her daughter sitting on the other side of
the aisle.

“Really?”

“Yes, she plays with me.”

Then I asked her whether her daughter had a FIDE rating.

“What’s that?”

“A World Chess Federation rating”

“No, she doesn’t, do you?”

“Yes”

“Hey Tina, he plays chess!”

The daughter’s head popped out from behind her sister and uttered an enthusiastic: “Really!?”

“Yeah, he’s ranked by the world chess federation!”

They then engaged in the usual familial rapport about whether to switch seats, there was some scuffling, but then before I knew it the daughter was sitting next to me.

“So you play chess?” she asked.

“Yeah, competitively” I said tiredly.

We ended up playing several games on the iPad. She was a beginner, so whenever she made a serious error I would let her take it back and suggest to her that she had a better move. During our last game I let her take back almost every move until the point where I was losing, so I stopped letting her take back moves after that.

After we stopped playing, she asked me: “Do you remember the first flight you took?”

Seeing as the current one was my seventeenth flight of the year, I was rather confused, “No, I must have been… one or something, how about you?”

“Yeah, this year!”

I was shocked, then asked how she got around before.

With a smile, “we…just drove.”

Then I asked her if she had ever been to any other countries. She said this was the first time she'd been out of the United States. She told me that in their layover in Japan, she was shocked by how the signs were in a different language.

They were from Fort Wayne, Indiana. Coincidentally, my American relatives were from Indiana as well, specifically North Manchester, which I later found out to be only 56 Kilometers or so from Fort Wayne.

We discussed many things - she was in her last year of high school, and had been accepted to Purdue University, where she would be studying biomedical engineering.

It was enlightening to see the differences in our lives: she spent her summers working at a “place where they make satellites,” and said that all the money that she made went back to her family to support her. In contrast, I spent my summers traveling to Europe and relaxing at home.

I asked her why her family was travelling to Asia all of a sudden, she said it was to visit her father’s relatives in Singapore.

“Why are you going to Thailand?”

“My mother used to live there, also my step sister lives in Pattaya”

I was even more amazed, since Pattaya was like my second home.

“You’ll… find it interesting” I said, not eager to tell her about the numerous Go-go bars and prostitutes that were characteristic of Pattaya.

As I was amazed that she’d never flown before, she was amazed that I’d never had a job.

“Things are different in Thailand” I told her, then went on to explain about how the pay was astronomically low and that the social stratum was vastly more defined than in the United States.

It was an enlightening conversation. I could not have expected meeting such a person on a flight between Kuala Lumpur and Bangkok.

As the landing gear began to come out, she asked her mother what the sound was.
As the cabin rumbled and shook as the wheels met the tarmac - she closed her eyes and appeared visibly anxious, a humorous contrast to me, who was still speaking with her casually.

As the seat belt sign switched off and we began to retrieve our bags from the overhead compartments, I asked her what her name was:

“Tina.”

“Matthew,” I said as I shook her hand. “If you ever want to play chess online, there’s a website called chess.com, you can get an account for free, my username is sco-ish.”

“What is it?”

“sco-ish, S, C, O, hyphen, I, S, H”

She nodded enthusiastically.

I last saw her on the walkway standing with her father and sister, waiting for the mother presumably. I waved at her: “Bye Tina.”

“Bye!” she said.

It wasn’t until many weeks later that I came to deeply regret not exchanging more details. In a world where it is so easy to connect with people, it was a mistake not to at least get an E-Mail or Facebook, or even a surname, and all she had from me was my chess.com username.

What are the chances I would end up sitting with her? Had her mother decided not to move, had I been smarter and booked a direct flight from Singapore to Bangkok, had I decided to book a different time or a different seat, had I decided not to play in that chess tournament in Malaysia, had my university not been one of the few ones to start winter break early (Nov 17), had she not played chess, had she not at that specific time been travelling out of the country for the first time in her life - seven chances to lead to this meeting. 

Maybe I’m just over-dramatizing things, I’ve always been a sucker for those melancholic moments in life.

But Tina, if you’re out there and see this, then perhaps we can meet again – here’s to those exceptionally rare moments in life when we meet such great people by pure chance.

P.S. I hope you get that chess.com account!