“The grind” is a colloquial term people commonly use to describe how much they would rather not being doing whatever activity it is that assumes the term's ephemeral definition. I say ephemeral because dubbing any undertaking as "the grind" comes with the otherwise compelling presumption that the grind itself will lead to an ensuing goal, if not, at the very least, the next rung on the proverbial ladder. The promise of a light at the end of whichever tunnel people are led to believe they are stepping into is one that has been broken time and time again. After a couple of rounds in the ring with the grind people realize that its just that: a grind.

It is an activity that pulverizes their resolve to a diminutive debris of perished dreams and withering ambition. For most, the great results that were supposed to be yielded become nothing more than a two-day reprieve. Like a leaky faucet, time drips on and soon those two days become more than a reasonable alternative to the robust returns that now sit in the museum of aspirations. For others, the grind is the straw on the camel’s back of one-off hobbies that are now nothing more than the remnants of past curiosity.

If the grind was a half-functioning refrigerator magnet with a rural automotive mechanic’s phone number and three quarters of their Yahoo email address unevenly printed across it then the forty-hour work week is what society has deemed the fridge. There’s an interesting harmony in embracing one’s position within the grind while simultaneously expressing utter dissatisfaction about it with fellow cohorts. Just opening the dialogue about the grind is effectively like applying a Band-Aid to a second-degree burn; it seemed pretty bad until you heard that Sharon in Electronics got a third-degree burn.

“The grind” is used as a nominal substitute for anything that has become unsubstantial since its initial undertaking. In the employment world the precipice of this is usually calling Wednesday your Friday since it is the last day of your work week until your next two days off. Well guess what Melissa, it’s still Wednesday. At least time is still relative within the grind.

We have all done our time in the brig of the blue-collar world, some more than others. But surely there must be other ventures that society both partakes in and detests en masse. Many people don’t like to read because it is a mentally stimulating, if not taxing for some, time investment that may or may not lead to a desirable conclusion. One has to stay consistent with a book. Characters don’t develop on their own, and they sure as hell don’t develop because three weeks ago you decided page one hundred seventy-five was a good, odd-numbered stopping place for the night. What was once a leisurely activity has been reduced to a grind and substituted with a straight-laced young man clad in Warby Parkers reciting as much of the synopsis of the podcast he’s listening to as the fumes of his short-term memory can manage to recall from the iTunes download page. Its easy, its passive, and his AirPods suggest that he is dedicated to the cause.   

Unfortunately, what this young man does not understand is that Tower Records actually filed for bankruptcy in 2006. This isn’t news to anybody Kyle. What he also doesn’t understand is that with a true grind comes a reward to counter-balance the risk. Yes, so many books have insufferable dialogue that makes your brain want to run for the remedial hills. No, the characters will not get straight to the point. You have to get to the point and it is anything but straight. Yes, you get to be the sole fly on the wall of this entire world that you can interpret in whichever way you please. It is, however, a grind. You will trudge through chunks where not much is happening. Characters will come and go as they please, and you will never know quite entirely what it is that’s exactly going on. And you will love that.

Like a book, most JRPGs are filled to the brim with expansive lands, relatable characters, and enough nuanced terminology to put the "X" section of Webster's dictionary to shame. The best part is that it’s all just sitting there, waiting to be discovered. Have you ever understood why people feel so accomplished when they beat JRPGs? Part of it may be that they absolutely need a way to justify the amount of time they sunk into them. But a large part is because they succeeded with the grind.

They defeated one inconsequential enemy after another and back-tracked time and time again in the same dungeon until they found that one secret exit that they wouldn’t have even known about if they hadn’t gone back to the village before last and spoke to the maiden they saved from the probably-evil clutches of the game’s first boss. On top of a time investment, it’s a resolve investment, and people sure get giddy when they see those two concepts come together and make a baby that’s equal parts commitment and stubbornness. Taking ownership of your commitment baby is the greatest gift the grind can give.

How about fighting games? How many of your friends look at you with the same passive-aggressive squint in their eyes as they sarcastically tell you that you beat them with the same combo for the fifth time in a row? It harks back to a time when you couldn’t hit it twice in a row. Even worse, you remember when hitting it just once in training mode got you so excited you didn’t even bother to contest the noise citation from the landlord who you have still never met. For the sake of being humble you make sure you don’t tell him just how many hours of monotony you begrudgingly clocked in to achieve that consistency. You weren’t sure if it would pay off in dividends or pay off in full. Hell, you weren’t sure if it would pay off at all. It’s a classic case of a champion of the grind squaring off against a victim of the grind.

The grind takes no prisoners. It possesses a malleability that is proportionate to the fidelity of whosoever takes up the gauntlet and wanders in its wake. It will lead to people discussing the proper tier of your chosen character with both increasing frequency and irritation. You shall be blessed with high bracket seeding and the passive power of intimidating opponents who have only heard stories about you before you even finish customizing your controls.

That, or you will submit to those who have taken up the gauntlet and hold a barely stable interrogative posture after each inevitable loss. You will become nothing more than a faceless silhouette whose presence pervades an allotted five minutes on a console before everyone else can play again. Sure, you might be there in person. You payed the money to enter the tournament and you could point your name on the bracket out to anybody who you desperately hope will ask. Expectations might be low, but at least you’re there and a part of the community. Last time you tried to take up the gauntlet you noticed a domineering essence emanating from it and decided your time and energy is better spent on what you know, not what you don't know. Don’t listen to those who filter their words through arrogance.

For all intents and purposes, you are there, and even though you might not have what it takes to do anything remarkable at least everyone knows you as that person who’s foot is always in their mouth. You might have left your determination at the door next to the list of podcasts you meant to download last week, but hey, that just means you’re impartial.

The grind sucks. It is hostile and aggressive. It wakes you up at 7:00am on Saturday morning to visit your grandma in the hospital but doesn’t leave until 10:00. It neglects to tell you it used all the hot water when you’re about to shower for your big date. It doesn’t tell you it forgot to feed your cat over the weekend and convinces you that its meowing because it just missed you so much. This is all superficial though. This can all be rolled off your shoulders like a dowel to flour. Its hard to stay acquiescent. Submitting to the will of the grind is no easy task. Over time, however, you will find that an awesome power within the grind. There comes a pendulum shift in which you take ownership of the grind and bend it to your own will, which itself may change during your time with the grind. You come to understand why people can project such impudent stubbornness over seemingly meaningless nonsense. A foggy haze disperses, and you see a clear disparity between perceived stubbornness and commitment. Your actions no longer precede your thoughts, and both carry their weight in credibility. You've been through the grind, and it is truly a thing a beauty.