Previous ||| Next
Surrounded and Out-Gunned
I've spent three days wanting to puke now after one violent bout of total stomach content reversal that regressed me to the primeval form of one cell trying to expunge another; gasto-mitosis. I slept through most of Sunday and woke up when it was already dark again with a strange disoriented feeling. Why do I only ever feel that I've lost time, never made any?
I used to think that the trick to saving time was to prepare ahead. Envisage your day and all the pitfalls you'll have to deal with and employ methods in advance to sidestep them. This is like the paper, scissors, rock method of movie plotting. If you think you'll encounter a pit, a spikey whipsnare and a tiger you take a whip, a leather jacket and a revolver. And you don't trust your South American guide; he's going to sell you out to the Frenchman. But thats not how it works, is it. If you leave for work with a flashlight, a key and a can of anti-freeze you're going to discover that your pitfall for the day is a twenty slide presentation to an ungrateful client.
I don't think I take very good care of my body, and this is perhaps where the theory of preparing ahead falls down. If I took better care of my body it would take better care of me and I wouldn't get sick as often. But its too much work to stay fit and healthy; being sick regularly is easier. I'd save time if I went to the gym, but then I'd be watching my life disappear on a treadmill instead of over a bucket.
Ever get the feeling you're playing some vast and useless game whose goal you don't know and whose rules you can't remember? Ever get the fierce desire to quit, to resign, to forfeit, only to discover there's no umpire, no referee, no regulator to whom you can announce your capitulation? - McKenzie Wark
I'd ask to reboot but I spent Saturday doing that already. Humans should have the option of hibernating.
Jan. 9.2007