Saturday, August 13, 2016

Me on the Olympics: It's not that I don't care, it's just that I'm not interested

I've been trying to get a good nationalistic fervor going about the Olympics. I really have. The idea of the Olympics inspires me, don't get me wrong. I like the stories that fill my Facebook feed-- like the one about that brave Syrian woman who swam all those people to safety and escape and then went on to win the Olympics. Or, the one where that kid beat Michael Phelps, his former hero, in that race.

The problem for me is that I just don't want to actually sit down and watch the Olympics. People swimming, no matter how awesome it is that so many people from all over the world are together doing the getting along thing, is just boring to me. Same deal with people running. Now, if someone was swimming from a shark or maybe running away from a vampire, I could possibly find the will to care. But, even then only if there's a good love story somewhere in the plot or at least some intrigue.

When I was a kid, I remember all these people on my grandparents' screened porch crowded around this TV watching the Olympics. I was spending the summer at the bungalow colony my grandparents owned and the only TV on the property was in their house. Even then I couldn't imagine why so many people would be willing to sit piled all over each other in a tiny room in the heat when the pool was just yards away.

So, with no pool available, my evening is going to be focused on writing. The Olympics will just have to go on without me.

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