soap opera

I ignore the reason for this madness, but I have the impression that we are always looking for some distraction, for things that leave us totally exhausted and distanced from our selves. Nobody seems to be able to concentrate on anything other than on the discharge of daily chores. Stopping and being quite seems to be the last option. Almost a crime.
I am not and never was one of those people that feel uncomfortable—as when they are late with their rent—if it is a beautiful day and they are not taking advantage of it. Let me explain: Taking advantage is a circular process. Taking advantage is to set up a series of stages, as those set up in gyms, and complete each stage, looking forward to that feeling of mission accomplished to jump into bed at the end of another day. More or less like a fatso who eats a whole pudding and then spends a whole day at the gym, shedding off calories in the spinning class.
Taking advantage—akin to sacrificing yourself—means to take part in the gymkhana that makes hours go by faster. We are so happy that we program ourselves—albeit often unconsciously—to make time pass, so that we do not run the risk of stopping to think and realize that some things should, and could change. Few people engage in deeper conversations. Few question the rules and join the funeral cortege without knowing who the deceased is.
Very few people realize how fragile the frenetic ones are. Nearly immersed in an emotional coma. Robots in action. Organized chaos. Predictable dialogues. Soaring prices, sheer white teeth, set smiles. In addition, the more tasks, the better. There is a kind of pleasure in having a full agenda. In saying: “I no longer have any time for myself!” I despise outmoded people.
Indeed, to the majority, living to the fullest means to take part in the collective hysteria that values speed. Resting is a crime. Resting is well accepted only when it is catalogued as meditation (because there is some truth in that). To stay home, your legs up, with the air conditioning on is for bums or the depressed. The model of success means going home from the beach, from home to the restaurant, from the restaurant to the theater, from the theater to the ice cream parlor, from the ice cream parlor to the shopping mall. From the shopping mall to a bar for a beer, from the bar to the well-deserved rest. Oh my God! I wish the author of this soap opera would give me a simpler role.

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