A Modest Predicament Ben Norton I was told not to sit around, and “waste my time”. Who made it mine? Does someone own time? Why do I get some of their time if I don’t even know them—who gives away their things to strangers for free? And who made it their things?!
I was told that I should be productive; that I should “work”. What’s work? Does anyone know? Who defined work in the first place? What if he was wrong? What if he was a she?
It seems that most of this “work” consists of one using his/her hands a lot. Why is moving around considered “work”? Why is work considered physical? What is “physical”? Who said that is what “physical” means, is? Is it really just the opposite of mental, or are they more connected than that? Are we, is everything, more connected than that? … What about our feet? Our brains?
How can I not waste time, when that is all life is? One wakes up. One wastes time. One goes somewhere else to waste time. One goes to another place to ensure that one can survive long enough to waste even more time. One goes somewhere else to waste time in a new manner. One returns home, and wastes a little more time. One goes to sleep…only to wake up the next day a waste a little more. … What about sleep? What about it?
So…what is wasting time?
And, if it’s so bad, why can’t I stop?
Why can’t we all?!