5/04/2008
And your life slows down

At least my brother and I have something to talk about over the weekend: the NBA playoffs. Despite the fact that the only games we get to watch are those over the terrestrial channels and the ones shown every week on Star Sports, and that some of our chats descend into chaos because one is wrong and the other has a serious case of condescension, it's still something to think about. It breaks me from the routine, gets me excited for the duration of the game, and eventually turns me into a sloth.

Over the weekend, my father's been around, too, watching the games with my brother, until the momentum progresses to the living room where I am, which means goodbye to my chances of being able to watch the CBS Evening News. At least I still, somehow, get stimulated.

Sometimes I find the need to start myself up again. Perhaps read a book or take on a new hobby, but this is my nineteenth summer, and the way things are going, it seems I'm better off dead or anything. And just when I'm supposed to be preparing for my future, I fail myself, because everybody needs a transcript of records.

So my only companion is either the keyboard or those basketball players - they who live to shoot the ball and earn outrageously in return. Perhaps they're bored with their lives, too, but the solution probably lies with politics or promiscuity. Nineteen summers, and I haven't got anything to do; I guess the biters can't blame me if I seem very excited with whatever we've been cooking up. It's an opportunity to join life again.

I can never really say I've seen everything, but the catch with the human ability to analyze is, we somehow end up knowing how it feels to be like this, or like that, without ever doing so. Call that a natural take on Soma, before someone even thought of it up. Couple that with knowing yourself a little too well - I cannot guarantee this, but of course some do - and you end up becoming very comfortable with your life, and ironically, becoming very uncomfortable with it. Just when you want to break free, you just couldn't. Just when you have to, you couldn't. And your life slows down.

And your responses...

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