There’s simply no excusing it. I spend my whole life mesmerized by this screen, letting it fill my mind with foolish fancies rather than thinking a single coherent thought myself. That sounds passive, but the truth is that I seek this nonsense ravenously.

I have always had at least two worlds to live in. I mom’s and dad’s. Then I had school and chorus. Now, I have real and imaginary. If you have any imagination, you’ll know that this last dichotomy is a dangerous one to live. The perfection of the imaginary is bounded only by your will to create it and by the power you give it. If you give it everything, people in your real life start to worry. With good cause. It is a drug. Those who are able to channel it productively become the very best writers and actors.

The rest [yes, me, don’t you know — I’m always talking about me] just become forever stuck in solipsistic daydreams.

My choices appear to be: try to spend time apart from my enabler, my darling computer -or- try and become an actor or writer myself. I believe this is what they call being stuck between a “rock” and a “hard place”.