I originally posted the essay below to this site on November 18, 1999 -- roughly a year before I went to a content engine, which is why it does not appear in the archives. I am repeating it here because it leads into another essay I'm about to write, regarding pattern recognition and how the brain works.

This essay was originally published as ""Why a Little Insomnia is a Dangerous Thing":

I bought some more cool decks of cards last night. This time, they were special "Bicycle" versions of Canasta and Pinochle decks. You know, it seems to me that Pinochle decks used to be almost as common as poker decks at the check-out counter of any grocery store; but, now, I don't think I've seen them for years. I also picked up a Mille Borne deck, last night; I've been looking for that for a while.

What is it with me and playing cards?

When I was in my teens, my compulsion of choice was books. I had to "complete the set" of certain authors -- Heinlein, Bradbury, Ian Flemming, Stephen King -- and I even went so far as to buy "collector's editions" of early paperbacks of these authors. This meant I sometimes ended up picking up several copies of the same book, if only to get ever closer to that "First Time in Paperback!" copy.

I don't do that quite so much, anymore, although I still pick up each new James Bond or Stephen King book as they come out. The days of trolling around for old paperbacks have gone, however.

In college, music was my vice. If I heard a song and liked it, I had to get the album. Certain artists also required "complete the set" action: Dire Straits or Pink Floyd (which i never actually did finish, come to think of it) or Billy Joel, for example. Other particular faves -- Concrete Blonde and Suzanne Vega -- I tracked from the beginning, snapping up each EP single as well as each new album as they were released.

I don't listen to the music quite as intently as I used to. I still buy lots of new releases, but I don't listen to them as much, and I've recently discovered just how much I miss that. I'd like to return to some kind of work environment where music is a part of it. (Note: I used to work at a radio station.)

While none of these -- and other, similar -- compulsions have completely died away, they've certainly abated. In the meantime, one of my lesser hobbies has grown: my fascination with playing cards.

The cards thing, like most "collect-the-whole-set compulsions," started when I was a kid. As a kid, when you go places, your adult companions want to buy you souvenirs. Very gradually, whether by my choice or by the accident of what other people chose for me, a trend emerged where I ended up selecting souvenir playing cards more than any of the other common items.

Keep in mind, adults who would go on vacation would also pick up souvenirs for the kids. Somehow, as a preference evolves, people pick up on it and use that to make their souvenir purchase decisions easier. "Oh, Billy likes 3-D Viewmaster slides, and Janey likes little license plates with her name on them." Next thing you know, they are reinforcing the preference, and so on.

For my mom and my maternal grandmother, the collectible of choice was and is souvenir spoons. My mom even has a souvenir spoon from the European city where I was born, with my birth date etched into the back. Both my mom and grandmother have racks upon racks of various collectible spoons.

For my sister, the collectible of choice is shot glasses. And, of course, for me, the souvenir of choice is playing cards.

However, I've since developed a deeper interest in "igralniye kartiy". The beauty of everyday playing cards from Soviet Russia encouraged me to look beyond just the standard souvenir backs. Since being exposed to those wonderful decks, I've developed a keener sense of the aesthetics of playing cards in general.

(Author's note: this is going somewhere. Trust me.)

Independently of my aesthetic appreciation, I became more involved in actually playing card games. I began to sit as an alternate at a friend's poker table many years ago; eventually becoming a regular. Another friend of mine and I created our own table, as well, in Boston. Since then, I've joined a few tables and made a stab at starting a few other new ones of my own. I've even played poker in Reno (and, held my own, I might add). I'm not a great player, by any stretch. I enjoy playing, nonetheless.

One thing I've been coming to recognize with all of this card playing is something that applies throughout all areas of my life: all of my life has been centered around pattern recognition. In this way, I'm not so sure that my life is any different from anyone else's, but it's becoming clear just how pervasive this is for me. Most of my introspection revolves around identifying patterns.

In many games I enjoy, mastery comes with pattern recognition. Chess, poker, cribbage -- all start with basic rules, then moves, groups of moves (gambits), then series of gambits, series of games, and so on. Trends, and trends of trends.

A deck of cards is loaded with patterns. There are patterns of face value (suits and ranks) and patterns of design (where pips are placed; the drawings of the face cards, design of the backs, the fact that backs within are uniform while faces are unique, etc.). Most magic tricks, incidentally, rely upon recognition and then violation of these patterns. (And, yes, I've picked up a few magic tricks along the way, too.)

Sets of decks have patterns, too. Given decks may have a different back from each other, but they maintain that one back design throughout the entire deck. Each may place pips of different sizes and shadings, but there's always a pip in the upper left-hand and lower right-hand corder of each card -- even if some decks have additional pips in the other two corners or along the sides (like the decks I just bought). The four suits are always hearts, diamonds, clubs, and spades -- the first two being reddish in color, the last two being black or another very dark color. Face cards are drawn with different styles from deck to deck, but the queens inevitably hold flowers while certain jacks and kings carry weapons.

Sets of sets of decks have patterns, as well. Trends among US Playing Cards brands (Bicycle, Aviator, Bee, Aristocrat) are distinct from the trends found in Hoyle brands (Hoyle, Maverick), or Gemaco or Liberty, ad infinitum. There are even greater "meta" trends. US manufacturers vs. European, Eastern Block, and Asian manufacturers.

Then, there's playing cards vs. Tarot cards vs. other game cards (like Mille Borne, Pit, Uno, Wizard, Rook, etc.).

There's cards as games vs. "stone games" (backgammon, mah jong, chess) vs. ball games (from billiards to baseball) vs. board games (Monopoly, Scrabble, and so on).

And, there's cards as introspective or forecasting tools vs. astrology vs. palm reading.

There's even cards as building materials vs. match sticks vs. toothpicks vs. Lincoln Logs vs. Legos.

Lest we forget: cards as noise-makers (putting them in your bicycle spokes) vs. bike horns vs. bicycle bells.

There are cards as promotional products or souvenirs vs. spoons vs. pens vs. shot glasses vs. key chains vs. t-shirts.

All sorts of patterns, and patterns of patterns, and different ways to classify and re-group. This isn't just a statement about cards, of course. The same "patterness" is found among foods, cars, houses, clothes, relationships, political systems, biological systems, religions, music, literature, languages, etc.

All life is pattern recognition.

The late, great Canadian comedy troupe "The Frantics" have a great sketch that asks: "Is the idea of this game show to find out the idea of this game show?" We are posed with the same question here: is the meaning of life to find out the meaning of life?

The answer is in the cards.

I am confident that the answer is a resounding "Yes." The problem, as has been pointed out in Douglas Adams' book Life, the Universe, and Everything, is not with understanding the answer. The problem is with understanding the question.