Thursday, November 12, 2020

I. Can't. Stop.

Telling the synchronicity fairies to take a hike was, it turns out, about as smart as giving a hornets' nest a whack with a baseball bat. They immediately unleashed a fire hose of syncs on me and -- okay, I give up. In true Charltonian fashion, I repent, but I'm not going to stop. See The Magician's Table for my latest post on the birdemic as the sole ill.

On the positive side, I have been able to keep one part of my resolution. I haven't been reading the news or anything like unto it. Actual news was cut out of my diet ages ago, of course, but I had still been reading news satire (Babylon Bee), news-focused bloggers (Vox Day, William Briggs, Laura Wood), and even President Trump's Twitter. For a few days after the recent election, I even (I blush to confess) took a peek or to at the New York Times -- but just for the election results! The modern-day equivalent of reading Playboy for the articles.

Since deciding to take a break -- which was, I know, like two days ago -- I haven't touched any of that. And I don't intend to until February. Let the whole electoral drama play itself out; there will be plenty of people to watch the show without me having to be one of them.

1 comment:

Bruce Charlton said...

Charlton would say that to repent you must not so much "want to stop", as know that you should not do it. In other words, repentance is a knowing rather than a wanting.

Where does that leave you? Maybe the opposite. You want to stop, but don't know whether you should, perhaps?

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