I’m watching old Soviet movies, and gosh, people really had no instant gratification issues. Every movie starts with long, unhurried credits that you had to sit through quietly if you wanted to see the picture.
I’m refusing to fast-forward because I’m trying to improve my focus and that means developing high tolerance of boredom.
Of course, that gas station cold medicine put paid to any efforts in the direction of focus for hours.
I caught a cold. I usually avoid medication but I have two big meetings and needed to be able to speak. I rushed to a gas station and grabbed a packet of cold medicine of some sort. The cashier surprised me by asking for my ID because, apparently, they aren’t allowed to sell this cold remedy to underage people.
I took the medicine, and it turned out to be some kind of speed. I had to take off my Fitbit because it was vibrating like crazy, telling me I have an abnormal heart rate. It did help my throat but in a way similar to that Oxycodone I took once and freaked myself out completely. I locked myself in the office because I was going a mile a second and I didn’t want people to see me in that state.
Even cold remedies are freaky these days.
The budget meeting (before I took the speed) went great, though. Not only did I somehow manage to avoid budget cuts completely, I got additional funding for a new graduate assistant. Imagine what I would have been able to accomplish if I were on speed during the meeting.
I don’t know whether it’s actually weight loss or you simply can’t see the numbers on the scales correctly because you are in a drunken stupor. One thing is certain, you won’t care how much you weigh after this drinking regimen.
Do you know that story about Salvador Dali where people thought he painted the way he did because he didn’t know how to paint in a realist manner to produce the perfect liking? Dali whipped out a perfectly realistic drawing to shut them up. I did something like this in my reading group.
I was in this academic reading group where we read and discussed books every week. Everybody was very woke. They’d come up with these ultra-woke readings, and I’d grind them into dust. It went on and on. Then I decided to have some fun and in the penultimate session, I did a Dali and went on a 30-minute woke rant producing the wokest reading of the entire year. And the worst part was that nobody got the joke. I saw people furiously taking notes. They’ll now probably write articles using these nutso-cuckoo things I was saying.