On this addict’s new obsession, Game of Thrones. For me, there can be no recovery.

April 15, 2015

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“It’s called addiction, imp.”

For several years, I could only roll my eyes at the growing legion of Game Of Thrones devotees. Kind of likened them to wizard nerds and overgrown fan boys. Then, um, I decided to actually watch an episode.

I was a fool. The show, as everyone reading this probably knows, is excellent. So much so that I am not going to spend another moment writing about GOT.

I have a confession. I have also not watched a lick of Breaking Bad, The Sopranos or True Detective. All shows I know I would love. Why? It’s simple. If I do something once and like it I am probably going to do it again, compulsively, and to the detriment of other often healthier things.

For example, since I started in on GOT I spent the last five nights watching as many episodes as I could. Therefore, I did not write a new blog post. Nor did I finish reading my book. I had homework from the office that remained untouched. I stayed up too late, causing me to skip a workout, which, by the way, is something “healthier” I am also addicted to.

You see I am an addict. While binge watching House of Cards might be fine for you “normal” people it is dancing with the devil for me. As it is, I am already hooked on several other shows: Mad Men, Workaholics, Silicon Valley and The Walking Dead. I relish the return of The Strain and I am feverishly anticipating Fear the Walking Dead in July.

Until last week, those were more than enough “content” for this content zombie. And now I’ve got multiple seasons of GOT to devour.

I am a very selfish man. Look at me from the outside and one sees a person who primarily does things that makes him feel good. I want to be there for my family and office. Alas, myriad distractions prevent me from doing so. Too many distractions from life and they become life. And so I must be careful.

In my bones I know breaking away from Breaking Bad would be next to impossible. I might as well be snorting meth.

But even now I grow antsy. Restless. I can’t stop scratching the remote. It’s only 1 AM. What’s another hour?

Where… Are… My… Dragons?

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