I was speaking (at length, actually, we kind of got sucked into each other’s banter) with Miss Stewart yesterday (I used to refer to her as Salad, this name is better) and she told me I should read Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs (yes, I’m linking to Amazon so you can buy it). I’ve already read three chapters and I love it. It references SO much pop culture, it’s almost hard to keep up (almost, it is ME).
There’s a great chapter on The Sims and it exactly expressed my mentality behind playing the game. I created myself and tried to make a better life and hopefully figure out what was wrong with my life. Stupidman came up with the best reason to stop playing the game at all. He said, “You know, it was interesting, but at some point, I started to realize all the time I was putting into these Sims and then realized they had better lives than I did.” Yep. That’s about right.
Pop culture interests me now just because the amount seems to be increasing exponentially. As we gain more and more ways to spread information and JUNK, keeping up with the iJoneses is becoming more difficult to do without losing sight of the fact that you’re supposed to be living your own life, too. It’s addicting to stare at glowing rectangles and see what’s going on in the world, rather than do/say/create something to put on that rectangle. Don’t get me wrong, I love my internet and I love my video games. I just know I have to police myself to keep from turning into what I was before I moved here. Which was a sleep-work-play on the computer-TV-rinse-repeat machine. I’m not sure where this blog post was going, but it somehow ended up with me blathering again. Yaaaaaay.