Vic Sautter: Week 2

Vic turns philosopher in her second column.

column philosopher the tab vic sautter week 2

I’ll be honest. I think I peaked last week. Anyone who is reading this expecting another parallel as to why a night in Cindies is like Red Dwarf (I’m serious about the recommended viewing, FYI) should probably stop reading now. Because this week we’re getting down to brass tacks. And by brass tacks I mean meandering ramblings.

What keeps you awake at night? Or distracted during the day? What is your number one go-to obsession? TV? Workload? Love life? Of course I’m just asking these questions because I want to tell you mine.

Actually, I want to talk about my second obsession. My first obsession is with the fact that my fingers are too weak, and that if I was ever dangling off a building, or a cliff, or Mount Doom I wouldn’t be able to hold on. This worry takes up more of my time than worrying about my dissertation, my future, the imminent cancellation of Community… I actively spend large portions of my time practising holding onto things; unfortunately, the one thing I don’t have a grip on is reality.

The second one is slightly more interesting, and slightly scarier. It comes from a very simple thought: If you have never said “computer, end programme” aloud, then there is a chance that your entire life up to this point has been some kind of simulation.

I’ve been psyching myself up to say it, because how could I not? How could I risk not knowing that this entire world is a lie? And, to my shame, I almost want it to be. Because in this other world, I am apparently the kind of person that uses one of these simulations. That means I might be secret-agent, or a super hero, or a battle commander leading my troops against an alien race. What if the presence of shows like Doctor Who are actually accurate representations of this other world, and my obsession with them is me being drawn to my home culture? What if in this other world I know martial arts, and can shoot a gun, and am taller? I could be a total freaking bad-ass.

It’s a tempting thought because in this world I’m a scrawny, slightly ineffectual English-student who spends most of my time worrying about my hand-grip strength.

But then we reach the problem. Because what secret-agent, superhero, battle commander in their right mind would want to simulate being me?

I’m not going to say it because the feeling that I might be something more than what I actually am is something I don’t want to lose, however unlikely it may be. I like my life, on the whole; I’m grateful for what I have, but I would trade it in in a second for something like I see on TV or read in books.

Except the Hunger Games. Never the Hunger Games.

And maybe that makes me selfish, petty, childish, stupid, naive, ungrateful, pathetic and numerous other things I’m sure will crop up in the comment section soon enough. But I don’t care. That’s how I feel, and I’m sure I’m not the only one.

I’m not saying it.

Which is more proof of how much of a coward I really am.