Since typing the title for this post, I have officially checked my email-twice, Facebook, the MSN homepage, checked my nail growth and stared off into the khaki walls of my room thinking about absolutely nothing until my attention was brought back to what I originally set off to do which was to write to you about attention deficits. Make that twice for Facebook.
I've never lived in anyone else's brain for an extended period of time so maybe I'm plum normal. Probably not, but I digress. In hoping to pass the buck around a little, I would like to propose to you that, in part, my wandering hapless brain could be a consequence of my generations' speed-crazed bamboozlement and cerebral sabotage begun at an early age.
In my short lifetime, we have seen the absolute necessity of the remote control, fast food drive-thrus that substitute for sit down meals, jet liners (because who wants to sit in a car for x number of hours), EZpasses, microwave dinners, FedEx Overnite, Minute Made rice, cell phones and because there is nothing more time consuming than calling to ask how someone's day was, texting. We are enamored by things that sparkle, accelerate and shine, blurring our ability to sustain focus on things that frankly don't entertain or dazzle us, like taxes, birds and pro-football. Our newly formulated human consciousness says we are in constant need of stimulation to be productive and amused. And we are.
In a book I read (and strangely enough, finished), author Richard DeGrandpre points to that very fact. He claims that today's youth have grown up in a sensory addicted world and have acclimated to it well enough. So well that when presented with situations that take precision and due diligence, we would rather be skewered on a bowling pin and set out to die in the scorching African sun. Deliberate living, as he called it, has lost relevancy because our brains are conditioned to seek out things that are in keeping with our hyper-paced experience at the expense of a balanced, purposeful life.
Even now in writing to you, I have my TV on mute. It's not off mind you, but only muted. I am neither facing the television nor do I have any other senses telling me it's on other than just my own memory telling me so. Admittedly, the activity flickering in the background reassures me that I am once again, traveling at my accepted rate of normalcy. It's oddly comforting, like an electrified blankie, only I would not suck my thumb in tandem for fear of a crispy death.
This topic has many components to it, including the addition of medication to curb the behaviors associated with this kind of fragmented living (which I have personal experience with and will write on one day). But for now, I hope I have sparked some internal dial…
Oooo, a fly!
*pats distended belly*
*swivels around in chair and screams "Weeeee!"*
Where were we? Oh yes, leave me some comments.