There’s a reason I’m always scrolling mindlessly though my phone.

Sure, some would say it’s an addiction I use to distract myself from the depressing realities of existence. They’d tell me that I need to put down my phone and start actually living life. That I should start walking barefoot on the grass and gazing at sunsets and carpe-ing the fuck out of those diems. They’d tell me to be mindful of the present and to take time to just be.

And that sounds like lovely advice. However, I’ve discovered that when I’m alone with my own thoughts, I’m made aware of just how much of a mess I really am. And that’s not great.

This realisation happened as I was having my hair washed by the hairdresser. I had to take my glasses off. I couldn’t move. And I was unable to read any of the delightfully out of date trashy magazines tempting me back at the hair cutting station. All I could do was think.

And I thought this would be a good thing. “Use this time to be present,” I thought. I told myself that I should take this opportunity to be mindful and that it’s here in these quiet moments when the big ideas come. Maybe I’d have a epiphany. Perhaps I’d suddenly decide what direction I want my life to go in because I finally took the time to slow down and just be still with my thoughts.

But the only realisation I had as a result of this was that I overthink. And I already knew this. Heck, even Joe Blow from downtown Clifton already knew this.

The whole time I was thinking about how I should be thinking deeply and let my mind wander, given I had all this time to to think. It was similar to when you’re trying to go to sleep, but can’t because you’re focusing on falling asleep –  like I wanted it too much. The whole time I was telling myself to enjoy the nothingness instead of actually enjoying the nothingness. It was ridiculous. I was stressing that I had to be relaxed.

Sure, maybe being alone with your thoughts is good for some people. But after collecting some of the thoughts I’ve had this weekend, I can’t say with confidence that this is the case for me. To demonstrate my point, I’ve collated a number of thought progressions, recalled as best as I can remember. Judge them for yourself.

Thoughts I’ve had this weekend 

While my scalp was being rubbed by a hairdresser:

1. Good gravy that feels like heaven.
2. I’m essentially paying someone for human contact, and I’m ok with that.
3. It’s not seedy or pathetic to pay someone to rub your head, that’s just responsible hair maintenance.
4. Next time I feel desperately lonely, I should just do this.
5. Holy potatoes, that might be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.

While chewing on a very tough crust of bread:

1. I think I just cut my lip.
2. Dang, the blood will mask the taste of the butter
3. Actually, I don’t mind the taste of blood.
4. It would actually pair with butter quite well.
5. I wonder if there’s a blood butter combo out there and if there’s any money to be made in that.

After dropping a perfume bottle from the top shelf above my bathroom sink:

1. Did that land on my big toe?
2. It felt like it landed on my big toe.
3. But I’m not crying.
4. Am I suddenly extremely tough?
5. No, that crack you heard first was the sound of the bottle hitting the tile, the bottle must have bounced on to your toe.
6. I hope this isn’t broken.
7. But then I wouldn’t mind if it were broken, because then I’d have an excuse to work from home in my pyjama pants.
8. No, that toe is flexing and you’re going to have to wear business casual attire (heavy on a caszh)
9. I shouldn’t be disappointed my body is fully functional and predominately healthy.
10. Buuuuut I kinda am.
11. I hope this bruises.
12. If I don’t get a sweet bruise, I’ll be furious.
13. I want to impress people with the discoloration caused by blood cells pooled under the surface of my skin.*

While reading The Barefoot Investor:

1. Right, so old mate expects me to find $2000 to put in an emergency crisis account.
2. My whole pay cheque goes to an emergency crisis situation – my damn steamin’ mess of a life.
3. Where the shit am I supposed to find $2000?!
4. Ah, he reckons I can sell my stuff on Gumtree.
5. Makes sense.
6. HAHAHAHAH I have nothing of value.
7. How much would someone pay for the ceramic log with bunnies on it that I keep my toothbrush in?
8. Would anyone want my sweat-stained Bridge to Brisbane shirt from 2013?
9. I have an old iPhone, but the camera is broken and the lens is smashed.
10. Everything I own is worthless junk.
11. My room is essentially Fagin’s boat hideout on Oliver and Company, except without all the dogs and happiness.
12. Should I sell my used undies?
13. Ah, he’s suggested I start driving Uber.
14. My car wouldn’t be safe enough to meet the Uber requirements.
15. Oh yeah, I don’t even have a car anymore because I sold it back to my parents because I couldn’t afford to register it in New South Wales.
16. I hate my life

* Yeah, I did have to do a cheeky bit of Google referencing for that one to make sure it was correct. I of course consulted a website directed to children, partly because of the simple-to-understand language, partly because of the bright colours.