I like mind games. I bet you didn’t know that mind games are good for you. Don’t believe me? Allow me to explain.
Many are the reasons that these things, these things of which I speak, make our lives better. Have you been bored lately? I haven’t… I can’t. I just will not allow myself. I must play. I play with those around me — confusing them, prodding them, keeping ’em guessing. I play with stuff I find. I play with myself. That’s right, I said it. How can one resist a flavored toothpick, a sublimely obscure joke, a button that goes ‘click’, or — dare I say — one’s own elbow skin? How?! This (as many of you will know) is called “fun”. Not only are they entertaining, but these little games keep me occupied when the otherwise tedious stimulus-response cycle threatens to de-vamp my vim. I gots to have me my vim, you know. Gotsta.
It’s from this perspective I volunteer a seemingly obvious adage: fun is good for you. Not taking things too seriously keeps you stable, it gives you a release when you need it and makes life interesting when you don’t. Drink up, ye seekers of sanity, the cup of vim.
Unfortunately it seems not too many people realize this. Or, worse yet are those who have no energy… at all. “Ebullient vitality and energy” can be difficult without that. I’ll be the first to confess I’m a) young b) healthy c) naturally, let’s say, a “curious” individual. So I’ve got an advantage. What’s to stop you, though, from pretending that instead of “working” at your “job” you’re just maintaining deep cover? And the twist is — you must discover who it is you’re supposed to spy on (!!!). Keep tabs on people’s calls. Make up secret codes between your co-workers. Nothing, nothing, could possibly make refilling the water cooler any more intense.
I know some of you will find this outlook childish, immature, perhaps even regressive. To them I say: uhhhh huuuuh… Do you even remember how awesome it was playing games in grade school? No. Of course not. Because you are an old fart that has grown stale instead of savory with age. Come on — grade school is the only time when Marbles vs. Dinosaurs is a perfectly sensible bout. Maybe I’m like this because back in the day I didn’t get enough quality playtime. I was that kid that was with a different group each day on the playground. Nobody could stand me for too long. I remember once, for about a week in fourth grade, I incessently chanted “craaack, CRACK, crack … crack-crack … creeeaaaaaak (et cetera)” just for the hell of it. Plea for attention? Nascent ennui? Yeah, I’m gonna go with nascent ennui just cause most people won’t understand that.
What was my point? Oh yes. There is only one thing in the entire world that we can have complete control of: our own minds. You’re assignment, if you choose to accept it, is to make your own life interesting. While you’re at it try making it livable too. Then call me. We need to work out the details and write a frickin’ book.
Not since the