Some of my friends sit around every evening
And they worry about the times ahead;
But everybody else is overwhelmed by indifference
And the promise of an early bed;
You either shut up or get cut up, they don’t wanna hear about it
It’s only inches on the reel-to-reel;
And the radio is in the hands of such a lot of fools
Tryin’ to anaesthetise the way that you feel.
- Elvis Costello, Radio, Radio
I can attest to have always floated between various social groups, never really identifying with one particular array of hipsters, artists, punks, jocks, nerds, bloods or crips. It sounds oddly high-schoolish of me to categorize my now post-college social habits in that fashion, but I can assure you nothing has really changed in how I observe everyday social interaction. It’s still rich with cliques, gossip, self-consciousness, and of course, habitual indulgences.
Indulgences are worthwhile to evaluate because the exercise provides deeper insight into an individual’s personality, habits and behavior. They often fall somewhere in between two ends of the following spectrum: quick hitters and long haulers.
The quick hitter is dangerously near sighted. He spends his paycheck the day it’s received, proudly pushing bank accounts to zero and credit cards to their maximum. The only future he is concerned with is that night, or maybe the upcoming weekend. The quick hitter is prone to addiction, convincing himself that a short-term high will lead to extended pleasure. He lives for material items, addicted to the rush upon the checkout line when the credit card swipes.
The long hauler saves every dollar he earns, reluctant to spend or act beyond basic necessities. He isn’t saving for anything in particular, besides a distant goal that will never be met. The long hauler lacks spontaneity, with meticulous planning and over-preparation reducing any exposure to serendipity. He doesn’t live for any items besides the uptick in his safety bank account. He denies impulse, mistrusts his own instinct, lacks balls and generally lives a caged, dull existence.
As I write this, I realize the process of indulgence distinction is more than a simple exercise in arm-chair psychology; it’s a tool for how to make relationship decisions:
The advantageous strategy is to commit to relationships that fall somewhere in between the two poles of the indulgence spectrum. As I recall the friendships I’ve lost in the past, and the friendships I’ve made more recently, I attribute indulgence habits as one of the reasons why one started or ended. When two people have similar habits, indulgences become transparent to regular behavior. When they become out of alignment, it tugs on the balance and benefits of the relationship.
Quick hitters are blind to the future, and long haulers are ignorant to the present. Both views are equally destructive in losing focus on the happy, more productive medium. Extreme perspectives are distracting, narrow minded philosophies that accomplish very little besides appealing, at best, to sparing occasions of our own selfish entertainment. Quick hitters and long haulers are best kept at a distance.