I spent the last few days playing The Sims 3. And when I say playing, I mean in marathon doses. To the exclusion of a great many things. Like eating and sleeping. Work, almost. I built worlds. Homes, people. Lineages rose and fell. Relationships grew and withered. Loves were endured and hardships were enjoyed. I made people I knew. I made myself. And then, one Sim-day, my Sim grew up. And then the game told me to get my Sim's life in order because soon it would be too late to fulfill all of my Sim's life wishes.
And so I stopped playing The Sims 3.
In an entirely unrelated conversation, a friend asked me if I ever wanted to be an astronaut as a kid. I still want to be an astronaut. I'm going to go to space. And to all the continents. And I'm going to summit Everest. And I'm going to be a doctor. And work at the CIA. And write a book. And make a successful band. And write a movie. I refuse to outgrow the dreams I had when I was a kid. Time's running out, and I've got a lot to do. I've been wasting my life. Twenty-one years and nothing to show for it, really. Except, what. Potential?
There's lost time to make up for.
Comments
You help lost old men find the computer store.
You're living a whole bunch of dreams all at the same time. You and Claudine man, y'all guys are good at everything (music, science, art, coolness) and you keep on acquiring more skills.
I guess if those kind of thoughts keep you pressing on and fighting the unknown, learning and growing and being more and more, well that's what you need to do but I think you're doing just fine.
Also in Sims 2, my dad left my mom for Tori Amos.
It was really weird.