About Rabbits With Addiction

Post 376:       

            Today I want to say something about routines. I’ll do that for a minute, and then I’ll go a little bit into everyone’s favorite subject: addiction.

            Why would I even put these two things in the same blog?

            We’ll get there.

            First off, I’ll say it with not a jot of equivocation. I’ve never been a big fan of routines. I used to try to cut class, miss soccer practice, get out of this thing or that—yeah, because I’m lazy, but more than anything, I don’t like falling into life patterns. There’s something scary about them. They feel boring and mundane and soul sucking.

            This can be true, but it’s mostly crap.

            Doing something everyday doesn’t mean anything, except that you’re getting a lot of practice at it. This can be overwhelming, yes, but the world generally builds in breaks and vacations right into the system. If you’re a coal miner or something reading this from the 1800s, apologies.

            Point is, routines are good. I know this, because being in shape is good. Getting in shape is not good. It hurts a lot, there’s blisters, your heart teeters on the brink of explosion, and you wonder if God might be punishing you for something you forgot about. Probably best to not fall off that routine.

            What about addiction? I’m not going to talk about drugs and alcohol or whatever it is people get into, mostly because I have my own peccadillos. Truth is, I hate routines but I’m very prone to addiction.

            For me it’s anything from video games to really sad country music. I’ll find a vein and mine it till it’s played out. Then I’ll keep going.

            This is directly related to being crap at routines. Best way to think of it is in a tortoise and hare type scenario. The hare is way cooler and fast, rock and roll, and then nothing. The tortoise isn’t necessarily sexy on the face of it, but I believe that bastard wins in the end.

            Winning is sexy. Or cool. Sorry, the word sexy is sort of creepy.

            Hold on to some of those routines. And take leave of a few addictions, you dirty hare you.

            I’ll see you after. Cheers you animals.