One month into the new year

My general state of mind has of late been one of apathy; the one phrase that appears to hover perpetually at the edge of my consciousness is the infuriating “can’t be arsed”, a silly little phrase born of schoolchild vernacular from a locale incongruously far from mine. I wander about in a semi-stupor, go about my day-to-day activities with a laconic, irreverent distance that seems to suggest that I somehow feel that I am above this, because of my grandiose dreams I am above this, because of the plans I have for my life that do not involve climbing the corporate ladder I am above this, removed from it, apart.

But as the proverbial penny drops, as it arches teasingly through the air on its way back to terra firma, I experience a moment of clarity, of intense realization, as I force myself back into the reality of the situation in a ludicrously Walter Mitty-esque manner, the internal cry of “10 am class!” matching his exclamation of “Puppy biscuit!”

I must be arsed; this apathy must stop.