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Cadwell NOT Caldwell
Opinion
I want to get off now
[ 2 minute read ]
I think I am living the life of a character in 'The Sims'; the early version. I don't know how advance the game is today and I have never been on the curve of technology riding the crest of a wave of innovation and creativity. The early Sims had a number of personal attributes that the player had to attend to; keeping them clean, entertained, and rested to name just three. A while ago, when I didn't feel well I tried to imagine myself as a Sim and applied the same template needed for successful Sims over my own life, ticking each off as I went.
Today, I have revisited the same approach and ask myself why I procrastinate so much in some areas of my studies. I watch YouTube videos for light entertainment purposes when I know, as a Sim, I should be going to the theatre. I know that recuperating energy on an uncomfortable dining chair takes longer than it does 'in' a comfortable arm-chair. Cheap solutions to my needs are negatively impacting on any periods of quality study time.
At school, I did really well because I was mentally disconnected from my emotions and so I had very few distractions. It is safe to say that my classmates were emotionally invisible to me so there were was no fancying of her, or her, or her. Some of them were fine in feature, but I know that some of the boys were too; life models to an artist, nothing more. I wasn't even an artist so their visage was only noticed in passing.
I am so distracted these days. I have worked hard to be like you, and you, and you, and that means I have an opinion now and 'It's not fair!' comes up a lot recently. It is symptomatic of a lazy life I suppose; an empty and unfulfilled existence in which I am waiting for an incident and it never occurs. 'Well, go on then, jump out at me. Surprise me. At least give a little squeak to let me know something is around the corner. No?' But, I don't want the pain of solving a series of problems and that really is how I see things today.
I am going to have to go to ALDI to play with the the other 'players' there. It is my favourite hobby; I love strangers; they are fresh and new and firm to an emotional touch. Friends are soggy and worn, a bit like a good wine that has been left out overnight to oxidise on a messy kitchen table; all memories and habituated reliability. Poking a friend with a pointed stick isn't going to reveal a nest of vipers. Why don't I like arm-chairs and soft furnishings that are like old friends? Puzzling.
I can't help thinking that I am being rude if I try to relax. 'Hey, does someone want to turn the burner off on this hot-air balloon? We are above the satellites now! I am thinking I might want to get down now. Oh, just me then.'