Virtual Sloth

I found myself a few weekends ago in the process of constructing a rather large, and complex Lego castle. Using the latest in Lego technology, I'm now able to play with Legos on my computer; an invention called "CD-Rom" allows an entirely new world to become under my mouse clicking control. I should also mention that not only the Nordic Plastic Molders Guild, known to Americans as LEGO (translation?), have discovered this incredible, "multi-media" capability, but also many other companies obsessed with entertainment. As a matter of fact on my personal computer or "PC", I have over fifteen totally different virtual games to choose from.

Piece by piece my castle grows in front of my glazed over eyes; addition after addition. It has great exterior walls, intricate ramparts, and precisely placed flowers, and trees. For nine hours, one saturday I built. Painstakingly placing every brick, coloring everything uniformly, and even starving myself as if to move would upset my flow of energy (if you will). In one entire day of my life this project had formed into a great work of art, my greatest Lego construction ever, due to the unlimited pieces, and building space. My hands shook, and my stomach quaked, but I forged on.

There is a phenomenon know to the virtual world as a "glitch", and I experienced one on that fateful day. To put it shortly my creation was lost; vanishing into a world of electric impulses and microchips. "No!", I yelled, in outright anger, "Noooo!". Several attempts were made at rescuing the castle, but as night sky began to take form outside, hopes were lost. The engineer that once saw greatness in his creations before his very eyes, was reduced to a man sitting on a back porch smoking a cigarette with a stomach ache, wondering why he had no friends.

Since that weekend I've had revelations about computer games, especially Lego Creator. What did I lose that saturday, and what did I gain? That wasn't a Lego castle, that was code written to simulate the images of Lego bricks. If I had completed that incredible undertaking it would of easily taken a few more long days of work, and needless sacrifice. I spent that entire day of my life creating nothing; not to mention the thousands of hours logged previously on other such forms of virtual entertainment. The only thing I have to show for it is high scores on computerized record sheets that can be reset or erased by the click of the mouse. Why invest so much time into something that doesn't exist in the physical world?

I still play computer games, but I've scaled back the time, and negated the sacrifice. Lego Creator on the other hand, well I still fool with it every once and a while, building yet another castle, but maybe a few times a week I'll spend a half hour. Since I've cut back on computerized entertainment, I've had a lot more time to spend outside. I realize now I had forgotten that world existed, as if myself were plugged into the computer, and only a glitch could free me to witness the beauty that was real sunlight peaking between cracks in the perpetual haze that is an Oregon's winter. "A child is nothing special; but a child in the sand has the power to create."(Novochovich)

Here's some old stuff:

Links to all things Russell: