FUN. FUN. FUN. SERIOUSLY?
Are we having too much fun? Seriously.
When did we decide that everything in life has to be fun? Not long ago, visiting Great Aunt Gloria meant being bored out of our skulls. Washed and brushed within an inch of our lives, we were resigned to being “seen and not heard”.
We answered politely when asked about school, choked down plain cake that could double as a doorstop, and didn’t expect any different.
Now we take along the hand-held computer game or fiddle with the smart phone. Our bodies may be present but our minds are not. It’s as if someone sneaked in an eleventh commandment: thou shalt always have fun.
Boredom is not to be tolerated for an instant.
Stuck in the back of the car? No more boring old I Spy. You need your own DVD player built into the seat back. Planes are providing the same for passengers.
I guess it’s more fun than watching the teensy plane crawl toward your destination, but what about thinking and dreaming? Where will tomorrow’s great ideas come from if we give ourselves no time to ponder?
Take television. Please.
Seriously, on TV everything from soap to tampons is now sold as a source of fun, and the latter ain’t easy. Bet you didn’t know that sanitary products make great kung fu armour? Me, neither.
Even chocolates come in “fun size”. What are we meant to do with them? Juggle the bars? Play hide-and-seek with them?
Like everything else, eating has to be fun or there’s no point.
Head resting on one hand, kids listlessly dip a spoon into “ordinary” cereal, but talk animatedly to the box of fun stuff – which frequently talks back. When it isn’t jumping into the bowl by itself. Whatever happened to keeping elbows off the table?
Manners aren’t fun, apparently.
Peanut butter sings like Elvis – hey, is that where he went? Movie promos repeatedly show the high points, saving you the trouble of seeing the whole thing. Life is a series of Reader’s Digest condensed experiences, with the emphasis on pleasure.
Could our epidemic of obesity be related to selling food as fun instead of fuel?
Boring stuff like nutrients and fibre have to be hidden so they won’t spoil the fun. I’m not sure how fibre with no telltale texture can still do the job, but I’m no dietician. Enjoyment is all.
Join this or that local club and the fun never ends, we’re told. Not true, because everything ends eventually, or we fall asleep in the midst of living it up. But we buy the myth that membership guarantees joy. We’ll be surrounded by friends, clinking glasses merrily and having fun, fun, fun. Nobody’s too drunk to make sense, falls foul of a breathalyzer, or sits alone pretending they’re waiting for somebody.
Admitting your life isn’t fun is heresy.
Burn them at the stake. Fun-sized, of course. With upbeat music. I’m imagining the rap song:
Joan, Joan, Joan of Arc,
burned at the stake,
man what a lark.
Admits hearing voices when it’s not her turn.
Downer of a woman, burn baby, burn.
Well, I didn’t say it was a good rap song. And no thrill for Joan, obviously. In her time, she didn’t know that girls – and guys – just wanna have fun.
MORE STORIES BY VALERIE PARV
*Valerie Parv is an international best-selling writer of romance and non-fiction, and we’re proud to have her on the Hoopla Highwire. With a master of arts from Queensland University of Technology and a diploma in professional counselling, she conducts seminars and workshops on writing. Her guide to the genre, The Art of Romance Writing, was voted the most useful books on writing in a poll of members of Romance Writers of Australia. More information including a complete list of Valerie’s books are at valerieparv.com
