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busses |
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September 02nd, 2019 |
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I never spent much time on busses growing up. We were a car family |
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in the suburbs. I either rode my bike places or we drove a car. |
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Nothing was accessible by foot, and busses didnt run close by. |
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Upon moving to Reykjavík we decided to go without a car for the |
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first year to save money and get to know the area more intimately. |
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It forces me to walk place to place, which is exercise I need, and |
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it slows the pace of life. |
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Today I wanted to buy new 3D filament. I've only found one store |
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that sells it so far, and it took me almost two hours to get there |
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and make the purchase with all the transfers. A single errand is |
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a day's outing. |
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Even now as I'm on the bus home I feel a strange reaction from |
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completing a simple task. It reminds me of the pleasures of the |
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Slow Internet. |
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My wife went grocery shopping this morning. She walked the 2 km |
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into town (down a big hill and up another) then shopped and rode |
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the bus home. She accomplished something more significant than it |
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would have been by car. |
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This is all of mind due to the convergence of solderpunk's |
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ROOPHLOCH and kensanata's thread on creating, or rather the notion |
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of being productive. It seems to me that the method contributes so |
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much to the worth that I'm not sure end products are of much use in |
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determining quality of time spent. |
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Another case in point, sewing. I routinely did the sewing in our |
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last home by machine. It gave satisfaction for creation, but since |
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moving all my needle work has been by hand. It took me an hour to |
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make finger puppets for my son, but the satisfaction scaled more |
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rapidly than the increased effort. Some of that may be novelty, but |
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the same could be said for the machine. |
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Working manually by choice gives strange fruit. |
