nthWord - Adjust your Thinking. Waiting for the Train

The last six months you've barely bothered to pursue anything, save those occasions when it would look weird not to. You still read the lifestyle articles that tell you what it is you should want, but your heart isn't it. And life is too difficult when there's nothing you want to achieve. You are waiting for the train.	You can see its headlights in the tunnel and you can feel the platform start to quiver in anticipation. This is the moment, the quiet exit, the slip out of the door when no-one's looking. This is falling asleep after a double shift. This is smoking the first cigarette after a long flight. This is it. nth.

The last six months you've barely bothered to pursue anything, save those occasions when it would look weird not to. You still read the lifestyle articles that tell you what it is you should want, but your heart isn't it. And life is too difficult when there's nothing you want to achieve.

You are waiting for the train.

You can see its headlights in the tunnel and you can feel the platform start to quiver in anticipation. This is the moment, the quiet exit, the slip out of the door when no-one's looking. This is falling asleep after a double shift. This is smoking the first cigarette after a long flight. This is it. nth.

Waiting for the Train (cont'nd)

There's also the issue of having the opportunity to delay, which matters because the human brain has an incredible capacity to trick itself into self-preservation. Perfectly understandable, but not much use when you've bought a gun, loaded and written your note, only to be faced with the decision about when to pull the trigger.

Of course, there's a decision about when to jump in front of the train - today, tomorrow, this morning, this afternoon - but if you plotted a graph it would be a series of sharp spikes, moments of opportunity, not the endless and dizzying plateau of infinite possibility. All you need is that moment, the few seconds before survival instinct kicks in, and you can jump, It's in moments like this that you snort the line, or decide to sleep with the ugly sorority girl, or feign a mystery illness so you can stay home all day playing video games. Perversely it's often that snatched second of temporary insanity that makes life worth living. Today you will rely on it to resolve the problem that nothing else does.

You are waiting for the train.

Behind you on the wall someone has written "Yo don't know my name. Back of. My life has warranty. "It makes no sense to you but now, right on the very cusp of this act, you begin to wish your life had warranty. Refunds and exchanges at the customer service desk. "The next Orange Line train to Forest Hills is now approaching." You take a preparatory step forward and start to feel the adrenalin ooze at the back of your skull. You are waiting for the train.

The condensed version of your inner monologue over the past few years boils down to this: nothing makes you happy. There is nothing in life you look forward to. Nothing makes you passionate. There is nothing you evangelize to your friends about.

What's worse is that you convince yourself that there are things you long for: a trip to Europe; a sixty-inch TV; sex with your girlfriend. But each time you attain one of those goals, the immediate question is always "why did I want this?" To begin with, you could always console yourself with the argument that you'd been chasing the wrong thing, and actually if you could just get the sixty-two-inch then you'd be happy.