the good lifePosted: May 18, 2008
I can’t really be a judge of the good life because, well, my definition of the good life is seventeen hours of sleep, a cup of freshly-brewed milk tea and maybe a book if I want to go ahead and complete the “pretentious art dude” image. But it seems that moments like that really aren’t possible when we’re subject to ridiculous schedules and the ever beeping or vibrating cellular telephones stitched to our sore hands. I’m what people call young, but it seems it is only in body. My mind is a totally different matter, (as hinted by my previous sentence); a few days ago someone handed me a floppy diskette, and I then realized that the laptop I use doesn’t have a floppy disk drive. Take it as you will, but a sense of nostalgia akin to the feeling you get when you read over some old childhood books or toys, dare I say nostalgia for the bygone days of youth, overcame me when I promptly handed back the diskette.
An overly nostalgic person in an ever-changing world; how ironic.