Addicted to New

Dream with my Dad in it… life’s maintenance and an artistic pursuit, the same one day after day. Slapped Dad across the face to elicit a reaction, no reaction but kindness. Wake up and realize it’s a metaphor. Dad is actually Dave my manager (we’ve talked together about our own fathers, not surprising it should show up somewhere). Slap across the face was me deleting a text message that was taking up too much of his mental energy. The daily pursuit is my work at the hostel. My subconscious tells me that I’m getting tired of doing the same activity, day after day. Which is odd since I’ve only been doing it for three weeks.

Maybe not that odd. I realize later today that it would be almost impossible for a person like me to stagnate. I have no tolerance for it, nor any desire to develop a tolerence. Even staying in the same place, the pace of my personal evolution is staggering. It’s hard to even comprehend—and I don’t think I could even understand it if I wasn’t living it. It never slows, always moving like a river. S’been said before: you never have the same brain twice.

Youth. Is it youth? So far this is the oldest I’ve ever been. It’s possible that all this figuring out eventually leads one to find what one likes. And stick to it? Asserted: boredom has lots of antidotes in the 21st century. I make no apologies for our collective generational attention span, in fact I think it’s an asset. If I’m tired of it that means I’ve gotten all I can get.

Unless it’s not just boredom. It could be… me. Ever since I discovered I can manipulate events in the world to meet my goals in it (what, about… junior year?), I’ve sought out new goals. Novelty—the “for the hell of it” factor. Sure most desires are transient. Sure it leads to things you won’t enjoy. But it’s the only way to find more things you will.

And I have no plans to stop. I have all the plans in the world otherwise.