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SOMA - 2000-02-10
(SOMA: Shift Of Mental Anguish) ---- Twelve hours straight doing what I do is just not healthy. It is physically and mentally wasteful. But that is where I have to go in thirty-six minutes, to go sit on a stool glued together and read even MORE Douglas Coupland, and play even MORE Legend of Zelda. For twelve hours straight. Without even a shit break. When I come home tonight, I will never quite be the same. One more fraction of my body, mind and soul will be numb... I'm starting to believe that despite all of the comfort I have found during my "sabbatical" from real life and responsibility, I am hurting and scarring my insides (and my poor, poor spine) in deep, subtle ways by wasting such a good portion of my days and nights. I can't get anything done, as the store is a place devoid of inspiration, kind of like in a fantasy novel where magic is outlawed: there is always some force greater than the law preventing the use of it. Some Y2K version of that force still exists. My magic-free zone. There is no punishment for breaking the law, because it is quite impossible. I lose my own personal identity, too. I am nothing more than a clerk, there, unless somebody is there keeping me company. I'm me, then. But otherwise, might as well make me up a nametag that says "Hey, Buddy..." I hate being called "Buddy".
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