You guys are gonna have to deal with the fact that I’m a distracted writer here. As it goes with concentration-centric activities like driving, operating heavy machinery and improvisation (which I’m clearly failing here), writing requires a focus that I simply can’t provide right now. Why? Because I’m stuck watching more gymnastics. An event I never gave much credit, but now find fully captivating, is floor. Holy shit, it’s a hypnotic fusion of fluid movement and raw gymnastic ability. Plus the music choices are often sassy as hell with great mixing. Every time the athlete involved goes for a skill intensive line (technical speak for doing some kind of cartwheel back handspring double flip thing), I realise I’ve been holding my breath. There’s a lot of air punching with glee going on as I see them nailing their trick. If they miss, their anguish is a tangible emotion I can’t help but empathise with. The way they move is something else. It’s almost hyper-real. Like, you’re so used to watching normal people that these athletes seem something beyond human. The stuff these tiny, muscular women do is astonishing. Jesus, one of the Brazilian gals was all of 1.3m tall. Then, beyond the sheer physical exertion of these techniques, they’re being meticulously graded on form. One wrong step or being slightly off balance can cost them everything they’ve trained for over the past four years. How do you deal with that kind of pressure, especially since most of them are only teenagers? Unbelievable.
Someone mentioned Tamagotchi today and it cast my mind back. I never owned a Tamagotchi. My parents rarely let me buy into fads, pushing me towards saving my money for longer lasting pursuits. Occasionally though, they relented and I’d end up getting some off-brand third party product. In the case of virtual pets, this was the “Bobo”. Unlike Tamagochi, it wasn’t some cool alien creature that hatched from an egg. Bobo was a puppy. Shaped like a little yellow house, this dog was a fucking nightmare. Thanks to the wonders of the internet, I can show you this little horror. Bobo was a perpetual shit machine. Its little life was constantly in peril. Whatever action you took would throw into motion another catastrophe and further the cycle of mayhem. It demanded absolute fealty and attention at all times. Failure to comply would result in death. Bobo would be hungry, so you’d feed it. If you didn’t, it would die. If you fed it, it would poop. If you cleaned the poop, it’d eventually get hungry again. If you didn’t clean the poop, it’d get sick and you’d have to take it to the hospital for an injection. If you didn’t give it the injection, it’d die. If you did give it the injection, it’d get hungry again. Lather, rinse and repeat for days on end. Legend has it that if you got it past the puppy stage, the animation got larger and you’d have a bonafide dog on your hands. I played this for months and my record was five days. I think the important lesson I learned is that I should never be given the responsibility to care for anyone or anything else.
I guess I did own up to being distractable. Oh, spoilers, but USA just nailed this gymnastics competition. Wait, was I meant to be writing here?