Sunday 18 June 2000

Pic of the day: No spring chicken, but a seagull.
All alone it walked around on the lawn for quite a while, doing nothing but allowing me to admire it through the window. Only when I had taken the photo and lowered the camera, did it wing alone to the south. As if its mission here was accomplished. For some reason the whole thing reminded me of a story I read long ago about a seagull named Jonathan or some such, who was also alone, or at least not like other seagulls. I hope it is not an omen. If I remember correctly, the story ended with the seagull leaving the mortal realm. I don't feel quite ready for that, though I may seem to be winding down slowly in this entry.

SIMple life

I took a walk around the neighborhood. It had been overcast but reasonably bright, but when I was ready to go out, the sun was shining through light clouds. I wore a jersey over my polo shirt. After five minutes, it started to get hot. When I came home, I had long since pulled off my jersey and I was still broiling. (Of course it may not have been a great idea to wear black from neck to toes.)

Glancing at the houses along the road, my thoughts went to that game, The Sims, where you have small virtual humans living in small virtual houses, and you control them (or let them live their own lives, if you can stand to watch them blunder and mess up).

The handbook exhort us to help the Sims get a job and advance in their career, so that they can afford to buy more great stuff and be happy. This would indeed seem to be the philosophy on which our current society is built. As the book ends: "They want it all."

The funny thing is, my Sims are not like that. They prefer to work part time, or even better, to make a modest living by painting pictures at home and selling them. They like to have some stuff in their homes, like a good bed, and kitchen appliances to cook their own food. But they seem to derive pleasure easily from everyday things: Painting, reading a good book, chatting over a meal or a game of chess, taking a bath. Sure, they can recharge their pleasure faster with some more advanced gadgets, like a plasma TV or a hyper-advanced computer. But that would mean having to work day after day, and entertaining a whole lot of acquaintances almost daily. The job in particular is no pleasure and leaves them dirty, tired and unhappy. (So do too many guests.) Better to work less and live more.

In fact, my happiest Sims is the couple who don't go to work at all, but paint together with their six kids. The kids play with each other, and the parents tell each other jokes, juggle and dance with each other, all for free. The whole gang are having a great time - at least as long as both of the bathrooms are in working order...

***

Meanwhile, back on Earth, I readily admit that I'm somewhere in the middle between the consumer and the artist, perhaps a bit over on the consumer side. After all, the fact that I write this shows that I have a computer. (Actually I have a few of them, since I rarely throw out things that don't stink). I have the digital camera, an electric organ, and various implements of canned music: An old cassette player, a defunct cassette player, defunct walkman, defunct discman, old shabby loudspeakers, defunct loudspeakers, a pocket MD player, a fairly new stereo... Ahem. OK, I guess I am a consumer. And consequently, I suffer the indignity of having to go to work five days a week.

But I'm drifting towards the other side, or so it seems to me. For instance, some years ago, I used to buy a couple computer games each month. Probably more, since I have well over a hundred of them lying around, honestly bought and paid. (Except a few that I got for writing in Databladet, the late and lamented hobby computer magazine in Norwegian.) And this was at a time when computer games were more expensive than today, and I earned less. It was a real expense on my budget. Today I buy like 4 games a year, and the rate is still slowing.

Times were that I used to visit Narvesen's book kiosk regularly and rarely leave without an English paperback. I have lots and lots of them. But this too is waning. It takes more and more to make me actually buy a book. It could be that they just don't make books the way they used to. Or I may be getting picky. I still have a few that I have not read through, which is another good reason not to buy new ones.

Earlier this year, I have chronicled my low feelings upon buying the new stereo, and more recently my crisis of conscience over buying lots of expensive clothes. It was pretty bad, too: I would buy new clothes rather than washing the old ones, or so it would seem. My wardrobe cabinet is stuffed, so I had to start using a separate room for wardrobe. But now this too is over. I can feel it deep inside me - it will never be the same again. If I go shopping clothes again soon, it will probably be with a girl. (I know a couple of them who could need it.)

Oh, I forgot the CD fad. I used to hang around on Patethique, the aptly named CD store in Kristiansand, which actually had helpful people. They are gone now. But already before that, my CD buying spree had broken. I have several plastic bags of CDs, and high stacks at work too. But now? Buying a new CD is an event. (I bought one at payday this month, though, from a street musician from Andes.)

Normally, the vacation pay (no tax deduction and a bit extra cash) would burn in my pocket, and I would automatically look for new hardware or some kind of gadget. Because I could. Joe is right when he's teasing me about not having an infrared sight in my house. It would be typical of me. I have a telescope, for instance, which I think I last used one or two years ago, for a few minutes.

Which reminds me, no, I don't have a WAP mobile phone, or indeed a fairly modern cell phone at all. The one I have must be like three years old, and not terribly advanced. I can store numbers and names in it, but there are very few. Because I use it like 5-10 minutes in a year. A few months ago some nice young man tried to sell me a new mobile phone, on the street. (Legal, mind you, they push for a major chain, subsidized by NetCom, a phone company.) The new models are smaller, lighter, with crisp clear displays, many built-in tunes, ability to read your e-mail on the phone (for a moderate price), and it vibrates! For some reason, it amused me that this guy found the vibrating phone to be an important selling point. He wanted me to feel it vibrating. Ick. Anyway, at that time I already found the notion slightly ridiculous. The thing would cost me like $500 if not more all in all. And for five minutes? That would be several thousand dollar an hour. I am hard pressed to name anyone I would spend $500 for five minutes with ... much less a realistically vibrating cell phone.

I still need my money. But if things continue along this road, I may want to formally reduce my working week. As it is, I am doing a bit of undertime most months ... working less than full time and eventually getting a proportional dent in my salary. It's not a lot, though ... ca 10 hours a month. I'd like to cut a day per week. I may have to do that on medical grounds soon anyway, but in the long run I may want to work just part time. I seem to be turning into one of my own sims. I don't live to work. Or even to consume. I work and consume to live. If my work and my consumption interfere with that main goal, what good are they? Especially since I do an utterly replacable job. It's not like it requires special talents, though I just happen to have one.

Of course, there is one more difference from the Sims. I live alone, so my juggling and dancing is just with words, and for you, not for my one true beloved. (OK, my few true beloved.) Still, it certainly beats working...!