Recently, I've been desperate to find a way to better populate the scores of free time I find myself burdened with in my office job. I'm not alone in this. By my reckoning - if you're in an office nine to five, or, if you really want to pointlessly impress your indifferent managers, 8.30 to 7 - you'll find yourself with at least a few hours in the day in which to do absolutely nothing.
Nothing, actually, becomes rather addictive. The slight thrill you get from knowing that you're being paid to read the football news; to look loathingly at the Daily Mail's gossip column; to refresh your Facebook page mindlessly, in some quiet hope that an old flame will ping you a lurid invitation - it makes you feel like, that, in some pathetic way, you're levelling the playing field. Surely, this job can't be sucking your soul out of your arse, if there are sky-diving instructors in Hawaii who aren't as up-to-date on the progression of Cheryl Cole's ear cellulite!
The reality, though, is that for ever digital minute that passes on the clock at the bottom right hand side of your screen - to which you do not even have the "Proper Privilege" to change the time - the invisible noose around your neck tightens. It is with this in mind that I have decided to start a blog. A way to pass the time in a less introspective way than simply writing a diary. To anyone who reads it, I hope it transmits one resounding message. You are not alone. And, if you don't relate to the cynicism forthwith, you can't be alone.
Nothing, actually, becomes rather addictive. The slight thrill you get from knowing that you're being paid to read the football news; to look loathingly at the Daily Mail's gossip column; to refresh your Facebook page mindlessly, in some quiet hope that an old flame will ping you a lurid invitation - it makes you feel like, that, in some pathetic way, you're levelling the playing field. Surely, this job can't be sucking your soul out of your arse, if there are sky-diving instructors in Hawaii who aren't as up-to-date on the progression of Cheryl Cole's ear cellulite!
The reality, though, is that for ever digital minute that passes on the clock at the bottom right hand side of your screen - to which you do not even have the "Proper Privilege" to change the time - the invisible noose around your neck tightens. It is with this in mind that I have decided to start a blog. A way to pass the time in a less introspective way than simply writing a diary. To anyone who reads it, I hope it transmits one resounding message. You are not alone. And, if you don't relate to the cynicism forthwith, you can't be alone.
