I’m finding myself increasingly distracted lately. It seems as though I am eternally busy, when actually – when I stop ever-so-briefly to examine my life from some external vantage – I think it is just an illusion.

Like is the pop-fad these strange days, I think I will put part of the blame on television, the un-ending stream of wash being pumped into my small apartment whenever I get the urge to “flick on the box.” Actually I don’t think it will ever stop. Even when I try to cancel it, by calling the cable guys and asking them to cut-back my “subscription” to a meager 28 channels, they stop billing me for the other gazillion, but never do remove them.

The temptation is just too great. I can just turn it on whenever the urge strikes, and there it is: The Simpsons or Star Trek at any time of the day. I think it is an addiction. More than an addiction. At least drugs or alcohol are recognized by society – and you can get rehab. Television: too much peer pressure, and even when you try to quit they just push more at you.

But I don’t blame TV entirely. I’ll swallow most of the guilt and pinch myself a little harder next time I grab the remote. That book won’t write itself, right?