Home » Random Acts of Thinking » I am a recovering addict.

I am a recovering addict.


My name is Jean P. and I am a recovering addict.

English: Entrance into a plot of land Beside L...

Image via Wikipedia

My story is a simple one. It all began innocently enough. I had 9 plots of land sitting fallow and looking abandoned. My little self, newly dressed in her overalls, was waiting for me to fill her life with a sense of purpose. Give her something to farm. So I set her to work and planted some fruit or other. I waited for them to grow. I watched as they sprouted ever so gently out of the soil. Before my eyes, the miracle of nature caused them to burst forth into buds. Then, with a choir of angels singing above my little farm, they fulfilled their mission in life and blossomed. Oh, it was a glorious feeling. I quickly sent my little self over with her hoe to harvest. She rejoiced. I then sold my lovely little plants and felt the jingle of coins in my pocket.

That jingle was the sound of my life about to take a dark and dangerous descent into the hell of mass farming.

Soon I had to have more plots. More plots=more money. I kept my little self scurrying. Then I needed more storage for all my goods. So the barn raisings began. Even the Amish neighbors couldn’t keep pace with my building projects. Soon my humble little farm was crowded with the flotsam and jetsam of progress gone wild. My little home, once surrounded by red and yellow roses, was now crowded out by yet more barns and garages. Then the animals came. My avaricious mind reeled with the thought of not just profits from my farm goods, but now I could add meats, eggs, feathers (people will buy anything!). Then came my experiments in beekeeping and golden honey flowed like…well… honey.

But it wasn’t enough. Expansion. That’s what I needed! More room! So I started buying up all the land to my south and west. I ignored the looks of concern on my neighbors faces. Didn’t they know that progress cannot be stopped? I had to have space! I bought lands until the government said, “No more! There is no more room for you to expand! We have, however, a new location that is sitting dormant and useless right now. Perhaps you would be interested…”

Farm auction, Derby, Conn. (LOC)

Image by The Library of Congress via Flickr

With a maniacal laugh, I answered YES! I crossed the oceans and came to a new land called England. There, like all conquerors of lands before me, I staked my flag and declared it mine. I had the skills, the knowledge, the connections, the money… I could bypass the entire growing phase and just start out big. So I bought and bought. I filled this land with machines, storages, animals. I even opened a pub to keep my workers happy (and keep their coin in my own lands).

Ah the ecstasy. The sheer uninhibited rush of pleasure that I felt as I reviewed the tallies of my millions. Yes, I was a mogul of the first tier.

But it still wasn’t enough. I had to have more. I know… I need a resort. Tourists will buy anything and pay top dollar for it. So I began scouting around for good oceanfront property and there, in beautiful scenic New England, I found it. So back across the pond to New England I went. This was more scenic and I needed to keep it that way or the tourists wouldn’t come, but I was tricky and hid my crops behind thousands of trees. Ah, yes, the money rolled in, but they saw only their tranquil beachfronts and quaint village. I was brilliant.

farm

Image by island home via Flickr

I was also busy. My health was deteriorating. My family wondered where I was all the time. I was developing a rosy glow from staring into the monitor of my computer system as I kept the books of my vast empire. I developed an odd twitch in my right hand. My back was hunched, I was late for everything, I could be heard mumbling under my breath, “sell! sell! sell!”. I tell you it was ugly.

So I decided I needed to relax a little. I needed to find my inner child. I moved to the far north, thinking to lose myself in the solitude of winter snows and tall trees. I found such a place and I settled in. Yes, I had to grow a few things to keep myself fed, but the old itch was starting to stir again. The land was occupied by a small, indigenous race of people. They had odd taste in clothes, but they were friendly. I noticed there was nothing they didn’t seem able to build. I was astounded. Toys…. children always want new toys… and I would be doing this small race a favor by giving them gainful employment. Right? So once again, I was caught in the snare of big business. I made millions.

Then one morning I woke up in a snow bank. I was naked and had icing and red glitter in my hair. There were bells hanging from my big toes. I don’t know what happened. I must have blacked out. I knew it was time to get out. I had hit rock bottom. I handed the keys to all my businesses to my managers and walked away, still picking glitter out of inappropriate places.

Now here I am, standing among you, my fellow ex-moguls. I have a new lease on life. No longer do I drive myself and my minions…er…employees…to death toiling in the fields. No longer do I sit by the hour and watch the numbers on my computer cascade past my eyes. No longer do I spend hours reading daily reports and filling orders. I am a free woman now.

Friends, take my advice. Let the Farmville lands lie. That innocent plot of land holds within itself the seeds of destruction and tyranny. Seek the  simple pleasures of family, friends and home.

I am Jean P. and I am an ex-Farmville addict.

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