On Sunday I was telling my mother, while having lunch at her house, that I’m super distracted… She: “Magina, daughter, you’ve always been super attentive.” Then I came home, looked for my cell phone in my bag, in my pocket, in the car… nothing. I called him. Who answered? My mom. Lately, anyone who isn’t forgetting their neighbor’s name or that little thing where they keep their car documents along with their flannel and garage door opener, isn’t normal. To be objective: if you are too adapted to this world there is something wrong with you.
Who has never picked up their cell phone to make a PIX and, when they realized it, they hadn’t taken a single dollar from their account, but they had been looking at photos of Virgínia and Vini Júnior on Instagram for 10 minutes?
A classic distraction trick – which can also be called unconscious trickery – is to send an audio to the person we are talking about (usually badly). Sometimes, we are lucky enough to touch ourselves quickly and go out. It is written “Message deleted”which already denotes that you sent something and regretted it later. When I receive one of these, I get a mix of feelings: curiosity, frustration and hate, a lot of hate. It’s like when someone says: “Friend, I have something to tell you!” We: “What???!!!” Her: “Forget it.” Arghhhhh…
Back in the day – just a guess – our parents drove their Chevettes with their eyes on the road and eventually took in the scenery. Today I drive around making the grocery list, while remembering that my son’s passport is about to expire. Result: instead of arriving at the door of his school, I wake up at the door of the shopping mall.
Tired of this nonsense, I decided to take powerful supplements for cognition and attention. After all, medicine has evolved a lot in recent years. I left the house confident that my head was flying. My head was really flying, only around Mars. In other words, it didn’t do any good. The pharmaceutical company probably remembered that there was a shortage of toilet paper when it developed the formula.
A curious thing that has happened is that, when I go to tell someone about something stupid I did, I don’t remember what it was. Maybe it’s a pious mechanism in my mind to not want to hang myself after the fifth mess of the day. The fact is that, regardless of forgetting to press the elevator button (and stopping at the 12th) or leaving with your shirt inside out, the important thing is not to forget to laugh at yourself. Oh, I remembered! Glove box.
*This text does not necessarily reflect the opinion of Jovem Pan.
