and she said.. "how you interpret the dream is probably more important than the dream itself"

Someone asked me recently whether my blogging was an addiction and I answered him honestly that it wasn't but I have to stop and think: where is the line drawn? I drink, and I drink fairly often. I am not, by most standards, a drunk. However, by some other people's standards, I am a drunk. I don't smoke, so that's out the window, but I do have some things that I like to do on occasion. Eat. Sleep. Take a shit. Maybe these things sound familiar?

So the question here, I guess, is whether I lied to myself and actually am addicted to blogging. Or brushing my teeth (obviously not).. or any other mundane activity which I submit myself to on a regular basis. Am I, PLEASE GOD HELP ME, an addictive personality?

All this comes up of course because I haven't posted [much] for [quite] some time. Frankly, I've been busy. Sometimes when other things get in the way it's a relief to be able to drop the blog like a wet sack of taters and just keep on moving up the hill... but what I find more often than not is soon enough I'll be twiddling my thumbs, counting flowers on the wall, and generally wasting time and when I get completely sick of reading all the drivel on the internet that I can find.. well.. I feel compelled to add to it.

Is this what addiction is? Can't be. Couldn't be. Wouldn't be. Nah.

So I thought about it some more on the walk to school today. Then I thought about what the "official" opinion on addiction is, and what it means, and I thought for sure I wasn't addicted, no way no how. Then I ran into the Pope.

Hey pope.

Hi duder.

it surprised me that he responded without capitalizing my name. quick wit, that one. drool or no

What are you doing here at the corner of Prince Arthur and St. Famille?

Well, I'm heading to the Prince Arthur dep to pick up some flowers. I just moved into a new pad and it's sorta bare, so I'm trying to spruce things up a bit. I don't like it when things are too dull, afterall. Doesn't leave me with much to contemplate, yah know?

Sure, pope. I dig it. So is your new place big, or what?

Nah, nothing extravagant. It's sort of like a condo, basically, and the complex has a pool and a weight room and a sauna. But we have a doorman, that's cool.

Oh yah? Who is that?

Stalin.

Stalin? As in Russian media darling Stalin? As in killed-millions-of-his-own Stalin?

Yup.

Whoa. Is he a good doorman?

Yeah, actually. He was originally in charge of shuffle board but he kept pushing people into the hottub when they weren't looking. He's a big cheater, you know.

No, I didn't.

But he's a good doorman. Keeps him busy anyway.

So did they give you a job then?

No. Not yet. I get to just laze around the pool all day chasing the muff around.

Is there any good muff around?

Not really.

Bummer.

Totally.

So whose your favourite neighbour so far?

Oh, Goose. Totally.

Goose?

Yah, Goose. From Top Gun.. remember? Tom Cruise's navigator?

riiiighhhttt.

Yah, he's a good guy all around and plays a mean piano. I always dug on some good piano, rock and roll style, but those buttfuckers bill joel and elton john always sorta freaked me out a bit too much, to be honest.

Hey man, I'm late for class.... guess I should get going.

Alright duder, taker easy man.

So I might be addicted or I might just be bored out of my wits sometimes to know what to do with myself. Does that make sense in this go-go-go fast, always, now, need-to age of information, speed, and extreme-networking? How can someone be so completely bored out of their minds when they're exposed to more information now than anyone before, in any time? Am I wasting time? Could I be doing better? Am I being paranoid? Does it matter? Do I care? Should I just drop it?

As the pope was walking away he overhead my thoughts and stopped, turning around to look at me, and said:

Well, man, sounds to me like the answer to all your questions is yes.

Great, Pope. I'll just drop it. Thanks.