A while back Corvus had a round table on "home" in games, which was a really good topic. I didn't write about it, because I'm still on the whole "I can't quit you" self-loathing-toward-writing-about-games kick, but it was a good topic. A week or so later, I guess, Corvus gets a DS and posts his Animal Crossing friend code in my DS networking thread. Being a good neighbor, I extended the invitation to him, as with several other people, to drop in on my town if I ever leave the damn thing open long enough.
But I'm not entirely comfortable with that. Not with Corvus specifically. I'm a little nervous about anyone visiting Lexingtn, because I don't feel like it's very impressive. I wouldn't say it's home exactly--one day I will write about how Animal Crossing reinforces several weird capitalist biases as well as being really funny from my newly acquired development perspective--but it's a personal "space." I don't have time to jazz it up or pay off my next house loan or plant flowers--and games like Animal Crossing, and to some extent ranked online games like Metroid Prime: Hunters, turn time almost directly into value. In a way, the grind has come to my previously untainted portable action gaming experience.
On the other hand, this guilt is tremendously amusing--I have no problems whatsoever with my self-esteem, I dig my job (both B-SPAN and my freelance work), and I love my music (although server logs would indicate that I'm the only one). And here I feel bad that I don't have time, with all of that other business, to sell coconuts to a raccoon in order to buy low-resolution Nintendo memorabilia?