Immortality and the Weekend

The end of the weekend, again, the time between Friday afternoon  and Monday morning seems to get briefer with each cycle.  Which is totally explainable by science, in this case psychology.  It’s because as  you get older each day, each week, each year represents a smaller percentage of your whole life than it did before, because your life gets longer and longer.  Logic.

If we lived to be a million years old, the weekends and the weeks would be alternating with such speed that it would be like a spinning wheel and we’d see it all as a blur.  I’d be O.K. with that, I think, just for the privilege of staying alive.

Saw a film the other day on TV, well, maybe missed the first half hour, which is one of the problems with doing your film viewing on TV, and it was not a very good movie.  It was called Bicentennial Man, and it had Robin Williams playing a robot who wanted to be human.  The whole thing is he wanted to be human and more or less achieved it, fell  in love with a woman and all but then, when she got old and was ready to die (even though they could have dramatically extended her life with the advanced technology of about 200 years from now, she rejected that as unnatural and talked about  how humans are only supposed to be on this Earth for a temporary period) he decided that he would die, too, if that’s what it meant to be human, and I just thought that was ridiculous.

If you get a chance at immortality, you take it.  You can always change your mind a couple of thousand years down the road.  Not even wanting to see what’s going to happen in the next 2 or 300 strikes me as an abysmal lack of curiosity.

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