Change, for me, always seemed beyond the horizon. My game-a-week habit left my wallet in tatters and dusted with the distinctive odor of worn plastic. I was a junkie, willing to pawn old games off to GameStop (or it's equivalent, in the days before it became the ubermensch of game retail) just to massage the need that ached so desperatley in my belly.

Most people who were the age I am now (25, if you care to know) often wondered how anybody could buy, let alone play, so many games a month. The truth is that I rarely did. I finished few of the games I started, and many would be on their way back to the store just a week or two after I had purchased them. My current library is extensive, but wracked by the sort of gaming schizophrenia I suffered from over so many years. It's a random assortment of AAA titles, games I secretly loved, and things I picked up on sale that could never be re-sold or given away for significant amounts of money. 

I will probably never be rid of Project Snowblind until the day it hits the rusty bottom of my garbage bin.

But I've recently been persuaded to change my ways. As crushing as the economy has been on all of us, in some small way, it has shown me providence. With a thinning bank account and a newfound appreciation for my favorite hobby, I think I'm finally understanding what it means to be a connoisseur.

You see, I've always tried to avoid the trash. I feel that I've played enough (and been playing long enough) to foment a respectable gaming literacy. I know that's a touchy term to use, as Shawn Elliott warned on an Out of the Game podcast not too long ago, but I think it's the best way to describe the experience I have (at least by his defintion). 

I know what's good and what's bad, and generally what to expect from a game of a certain genre or style. I know the developers, I know the motifs, I know what makes a Miyamoto game a Miyamoto game and a Bethesda RPG a Bethesda RPG. 22 years of gaming have prepared me well enough for that.

Yet, my voracious appetite couldn't help but consume whatever was put in front of it, and it ensured that playing one game at a time was never enough.

Now, that habit hasn't quite died down yet. As I type this, I have GTA IV paused on the LCD, right in the middle of a second playthrough, while World of Warcraft is minimized at the bottom of my computer screen. This is an apt example which I plan to come back to.

Getting back on track, though, I've found that a rather unexpected blend of occurrences have allowed me to quell the demons for the time being.

Foremost amongst those is the economy. While I've never had a fat wad of cash crying "spend me, you consumerist bastard!" from inside my pocket, I still maintained rather liberal spending habits. Being in school and having an awfully supportive couple of parents, I never found myself in a situation where  I would be out of house and home. Most of my college education was paid for by scholarships and my gracious and loving progenitors basically picked up the bill for everything else.

I know I was spoiled, but I'd like to think that I at least realize it enough to properly thank my parents. Considering they're at retirement age now and the economy is busting their chops potentially even harder than it is mine, I try to avoid the handouts. Plus, I'm old enough and need to learn how to take care of myself.

But a low-paying job and an upcoming move have put things into perspective. I haven't bought a game for myself in at least five months, and I think I'm better off for it. I'm finally conditioning myself to pick and choose.

I've already skipped such critical and cultural luminaries like Killzone 2 and Resident Evil 5, games I would've likely given half my collection for in years past, just to be on the bleeding edge of the industry (and hopefully I would've like them, too!). And I've also managed to avoid the temptations of about twenty or so DS games I'd love to give a shot, even more dangerous due to selling for roughly half the price.

But scaling back on the purchases is not enough on its own. I find that the process of becoming a gaming connoisseur is a lot like dieting. Not only must you avoid the fast food, but you've also got to limit your in-take and think nutritionally!

Most of my free time is still spent gaming, but this is where I return to the example I cited above: I play an awful lot of World of Warcraft. MMOs aren't for everybody (and that's a subject I could -- and have -- spent several NeoGAF threads arguing ), but if you're an habitual buyer like me, the monthly fees are ultimately far more cost-effective than splurging every time you walk into a Best Buy.

It helps to have a single game soaking up all of your time, but what about variety? My personal solution has been to supplant all my WoW play with a regular dose of a console game that I haven't beaten yet. Currently on the list is the aforementioned GTA IV, but I've got a healthy backlog of other titles just waiting to be conquered! Assassin's Creed, Disgaea 3, Ninja Gaiden II, Valkyria Chronicles. All past victims of my ADD affliction, and all games that I wish to have a deeper appreciation for.

I want to not only have a passion for gaming, but a passion for games, and in the end, that it the panacea for what ails me. The knowledge is there, but I've always lacked the discipline. 

Now, over two decades since I first picked up a controller, I feel as though I can finally start the journey. Offhand philosophies about the intracacies of game mechanics and petty, sniping comments about the industry on message boards are ready to be molded into insightful essays and critical thought.

In some ways, I know that I will always long for the days of old. But now I must care; no, I want to care, about how I spend my money and my time, and that means playing the kinds of games that truly inspire or intrigue me. 

I'm ready to become the connoisseur I always assumed I was.