I saw an interesting interview yesterday on Vicki. A man and his team had been the first to boat down the amazon rapids in a particular path. They all took turns paddling, while they all ate, slept, and cooked in rotation, in the boat. It became their life for at least two months (I remember it as six, but I can’t confirm). When they finally finished the trek, and emerged from the base of the river, they had mixed emotions. They were happy that they finished a very life-threatening journey and survived, happy that they had the energy and talent enough to complete it. However, they were also sad that their life was going to become a lot more complicated again. That they would now have to answer phone calls, reply to e‑mail, get stuck in traffic.
It made me wonder if I would ever be able to feel that way. If I could stay away from my pleasure box long enough, that I would forget about it, and actually regret having to delete my spam, or having to answer messages from extremely annoying people. What could possibly make me forget my beautiful music, or my comforting interface? I’m sure that there have been times where I left my apartment, for home, and I never once thought of my computer. This couldn’t have been more than two weeks, to be sure, so I haven’t actually been able to test the limits of my dependency. Of course, one should always have more than one passion, and I believe that I do, though some are more in practice than others. Without my passions, I am without being, and without my computer, I am without my main passion. Pita asked me if I would join him in ballroom dancing, but I refused when he asked (though after some careful consideration), citing time constraints as being too much of a hurdle.
I believe, or hope at least, that I am cosmopolitan enough to be able to pick up another passion, should the need arise. Passions are my drug; something that I can get into, be good at, stand out in, make a difference at. I’ve always needed that form of recognition. I’ve always needed to know that I’m good at something. Perhaps this need will go away when I gain some much needed self-confidence, when I can accept my past, and choose to be the person that I am.
No one said it would be fast.