I have been procrastinating. I have not mopped the floor. I have not moved the work I brought home from the trunk of my car. I have not listened to rap music uncensored in an effort to see what aesthetic difference that makes. I’ve not even discovered whether my senator has any other serial-killer traits other than killing animals. Friends, as much as I must eat cookies in the afternoon or be the world’s grouchiest person, today, I ate an apple instead.
What have I been doing instead of doing the things I should? Playing some stupid golf game on the Playstation.
Here’s the weird thing: I don’t even like it, I don’t think. I don’t enjoy almost succeeding, over and over, until I almost fail, but somehow move on to the next level. I don’t like the constant anxiety I feel as I’m waffling back and forth between terrible and not very good.
But, oh boy, do I want to kick the game’s ass. And I want to get really good and kick the Butcher’s ass. Do I think this will make the game more enjoyable? I doubt it.
But I feel driven, now, to play.
A lot of pop culture commentators worry about the effects of violent imagery in video games and what prolonged exposure to such images does to us. After spending my weekend on the couch moving nothing but my right thumb, I’m more concerned about what being exposed to that level of anxiety for prolonged periods of time does to a person.
Yet, I can’t help but note that procrastinating makes me anxious and yet I revel in that feeling.
So, what can you do?
Next thing you know, I’ll be playing Grand Theft Auto.