…what was I talking about?

I’m not sure when I realised I have the attention span of  goldfish. It may have been when I lost an argument with my girlfriend because I had to pause mid-rant and ask “what was I talking about?” It could have been when I started interning with community newspapers, and, disgusted to find the word counts expected of me were at most 300/article, struggled to achieve even this paltry total. Or maybe it could have been Friday when I realised that I’ve been reading Herman Hesse’s weighty, though not lengthy classic, Steppenwolf, since mid-September and I’m still only half-way through.

It isn’t that I’ve always been this way, not by any means. Only four years ago I would spend hours on end glued to a desk, intensely concentrating on unshiny, non-moving objects while studying for my HSC. So what happened?