We all have days when we sleep half the day and watch reruns of Scrubs the other half while consuming just enough nourishment to stay alive for said activities. This generally constitutes "nothing" in my book. The kind of nothing that Peter Gibbons dreams about in Office Space, the kind of nothing that occurs at least twice a month for most people, and five times a week for some.
Anyway, I've been doing "nothing" quite alot over the past couple of weeks.
If I were to list the entries in my calendar and add up the number of hours slept I might seem like a busy sumbitch, but if anyone asks, I've done: nothing.
Grammatically, factually, nothing is a concept that describes the absence of anything at all. And technically, one could argue that it is impossible for a human being to abstain from doing anything at all. We breathe, think, move and rest outside of our own concious activities.
So the type of nothing I'm talking about is, in fact, something.
Obviously, the subjective concept of nothing depends on one's idea of something. Anything that isn't something, according to someone, is nothing.
Having established that, I aim to lower my standards and glorify menial things like watching a whole season of 24 in two days, or taking a really long walk, or flipping through old issues of Empire just to look at the pictures.
Basically, I think alot of somethings are undeservedly thrown on the nothing-pile. Fuck that. If I remember it a week later, it's something.
So. Today I'm going to see a serious movie, pay my bills, eat pizza, play music and most likely talk to people. It's a full, big day for me.