Tweet
It started out innocently enough. I began to think at parties now and
then - to loosen up. Inevitably, though, one thought led to another,
and soon I was more than just a social thinker. I began to think alone
- "to relax," I told myself - but I knew it wasn't true.
Thinking became more and more important to me, and finally I was
thinking all the time. That was when things began to sour at home. One
evening I turned off the TV and asked my wife about the meaning of
life. She spent the rest of that night at her mother's.
I began to think on the job. I knew that thinking and employment don't
mix, but I couldn't stop myself. I began to avoid friends at lunch
time so I could read Thoreau and Kafka. I would return to the office
dizzied and confused, asking, "What is it exactly we are doing here?"
One day the boss called me in. He said, "Listen, I like you, and it
hurts me to say this, but your thinking has become a real problem. If
you don't stop thinking at work, you'll have to find another job."
That gave me a lot to think about.
I went home early after my conversation with the boss. "Honey," I
confessed, "I've been thinking ..."
"I know you've been thinking," she said, "and I want a divorce!"
"But honey, surely it's not that serious?"
"It is serious," she said, lower lip aquiver. "You think as much as
college professors, and college professors don't make any money, so if
you keep on thinking, we won't have any money!"
"That's a faulty syllogism," I said impatiently. She exploded in tears
of rage and frustration, but I was in no mood to deal with emotional drama.
"I'm going to the library," I snapped as I headed out the door. I drove
to the library, in the mood for some Nietzsche. I roared into the parking
lot with the National program on the radio and then ran up to the big
glass doors. They didn't open. The library was closed. To this day,
I believe that a Higher Power was looking out for me that night.
As I sank to the ground, clawing at the unfeeling glass, whimpering
for Zarathustra, a poster caught my eye. "Friend, is heavy thinking
ruining your life," it asked? You probably recognize that line. It
comes from the standard Thinkaholics Anonymous poster. Which
is why I am what I am today: a recovering thinker. I never miss
a TA meeting.
At each meeting we watch a non-educational video; last week it was
"Porky's." Then we share experiences about how we avoided thinking
since the last meeting. I still have my job, and things are a lot
better at home.
Life just seemed ... easier, somehow, as soon as I stopped thinking.
I think the road to recovery is nearly complete for me - I joined the
National Socialist Party.
then - to loosen up. Inevitably, though, one thought led to another,
and soon I was more than just a social thinker. I began to think alone
- "to relax," I told myself - but I knew it wasn't true.
Thinking became more and more important to me, and finally I was
thinking all the time. That was when things began to sour at home. One
evening I turned off the TV and asked my wife about the meaning of
life. She spent the rest of that night at her mother's.
I began to think on the job. I knew that thinking and employment don't
mix, but I couldn't stop myself. I began to avoid friends at lunch
time so I could read Thoreau and Kafka. I would return to the office
dizzied and confused, asking, "What is it exactly we are doing here?"
One day the boss called me in. He said, "Listen, I like you, and it
hurts me to say this, but your thinking has become a real problem. If
you don't stop thinking at work, you'll have to find another job."
That gave me a lot to think about.
I went home early after my conversation with the boss. "Honey," I
confessed, "I've been thinking ..."
"I know you've been thinking," she said, "and I want a divorce!"
"But honey, surely it's not that serious?"
"It is serious," she said, lower lip aquiver. "You think as much as
college professors, and college professors don't make any money, so if
you keep on thinking, we won't have any money!"
"That's a faulty syllogism," I said impatiently. She exploded in tears
of rage and frustration, but I was in no mood to deal with emotional drama.
"I'm going to the library," I snapped as I headed out the door. I drove
to the library, in the mood for some Nietzsche. I roared into the parking
lot with the National program on the radio and then ran up to the big
glass doors. They didn't open. The library was closed. To this day,
I believe that a Higher Power was looking out for me that night.
As I sank to the ground, clawing at the unfeeling glass, whimpering
for Zarathustra, a poster caught my eye. "Friend, is heavy thinking
ruining your life," it asked? You probably recognize that line. It
comes from the standard Thinkaholics Anonymous poster. Which
is why I am what I am today: a recovering thinker. I never miss
a TA meeting.
At each meeting we watch a non-educational video; last week it was
"Porky's." Then we share experiences about how we avoided thinking
since the last meeting. I still have my job, and things are a lot
better at home.
Life just seemed ... easier, somehow, as soon as I stopped thinking.
I think the road to recovery is nearly complete for me - I joined the
National Socialist Party.
Comment