being outraged is better than being enraged

I died slightly when I was 30.

My heart raced, my head pounded and a slight numbness rang through my fingers. I thought it might be the end, or at least what the end might feel like.

I woke up at 9am on a Tuesday, blinked, and it was 4pm next Wednesday. I had a dream about being older; and when I woke up, the dream came true.

I thought about my job and realized that it was just something that distracted me from life. I thought about my life and realized it was just something distracting me from my job.

I went to the doctor, who made me wait for 45 minutes because people who had appointments after me arrived before me.

When I came through the door he smiled.

"How are we feeling today?"
"I feel too old to be young, but too young to be old".
"Wow! That sounds like a trite insight into the intrinsic truth of human nature."
He got me there.
"Touche!"
"What it sounds like to me," He said, "is that you've got a case of the 'being aware of the transience of time'. The only cure is to stop paying attention."
"How do I do that?"
"Well, there's TV. Pop culture blogs, alcohol, skat porn. Anything that will take your mind off your mind."
"Gossip girl?"
"Now you're talking!"

I hopped in my car and bought some McDonalds. I thought this was an appropriate first step; I ate just enough to give me the runs and constipation at the same time.

I got home, turned on MTV just in time for a "The Hills" marathon. It felt a little weird and I vomited for the first hour; but after the initial shock to the system, things seemed to fall in place.

Time set itself right. Well, maybe time didn't set itself right, but I didn't notice the gaps. In fact, I didn't notice much.

I was OK with sitting around the house staring idly at the ceiling. It didn't bother me at all that I wasted a night looking at Perez Hilton, because my concept of value was greatly diminished. Soon, I paid no mind to museum visits, British Sitcoms and Italian cinema from the 1960s. All the pop culture noise and bland sameness allowed me to forget what I might be missing out on.

Time became an abstract concept instead of a stark reality. It no longer came and went with each passing breath; it just happened, like water running through your fingers in a shower.

When you fill your time with vapid, superficially unimportant things, time loses all its value. You're no longer missing out on things; things just happen around you.

I finally knew what it was like to be an American. Each day passed, but I didn't notice each day passing because I was too busy not noticing each day passing. I voted for the most handsome candidate and became outraged at things other people were outraged about because being outraged is better than being enraged.

I bought a flat screen TV and when that didn't fill the void, I bought a super fucking huge cinema display for my computer. These things became exponentially more important as I became exponentially less important.

And when I died, it all made sense. Because there's no questions when you aren't paying attention.