For several years now, I have been on a mission that may destroy our economy. This mission was generated after too many frustrating Christmases where I spent what little free time I had during the holidays traversing crowded malls and nearly dying in parking lots where open spaces resemble a shark feeding frenzy. The end results of these journeys was to spend money on presents for adults who either would not really appreciate the gift or already knew it was coming. Commercialism has beaten into our brains, starting in October now, that this is the right thing to do.
My response was to stop buying Christmas presents for anyone that did not qualify as a child. Wife, mother, brother, didn't matter. Well, it did matter to them, and I wasn't regarded highly by my wife that first year i executed it, but she got over it eventually. Besides, I had a lot more fun only shopping for toys. Is there any other time of year where a 30 year old man having a shopping cart full of items for little girls or boys isn't creepy?
My boycott may have to go a bit further after this year's Christmas, though. My niece, who is five, was apparently angry after opening presents from Santa because, while she had received an iTouch, Wii, and multiple other presents, but she didn't get some piece of crap item that was about $20. Santa's oversight would apparently would ruin her day.
What my niece didn't know was that my wife and I had gotten this item for her to open Christmas afternoon when the whole family came together. Upon opening this one missing gift, my niece stated, "I get everything I want because I am a princess."
Wow, that is one of those hybrid cute/awful statements that only a child can make. You can't do this stuff as an adult. Either way, it was a scary thing to witness, because she seemed to truly believe it, so it seems we need to scale back Christmas even more. Sorry U.S. economy.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Efficiency and the Double Flush
It is quite odd, but many of my ideas or posts come from things I notice in the restroom, which by the way is not a proper name for this location as a lot of work goes on in this so called room for rest. Don't judge me, just read.
My most recent observation relates to the gallons of water wasted in this facility. No, I am not talking about the normal amount of water that goes down with each magical push of a lever, as I am not going green with this post. Instead, I am talking to those individuals who, out of habit, flush the urinal as they walk up to it. I am not sure what this accomplishes. Is it that the waterfall sound helps you get started? Is it that individuals who do this feel even their waste can't possibly be mixed with waste of others? Pretty pretentious. Do women ever do this, or is it a characteristic unique to men.
Double flushers, save the earth. Only push the button once. Stop being like a kid who just discovered a noise making toy.
My most recent observation relates to the gallons of water wasted in this facility. No, I am not talking about the normal amount of water that goes down with each magical push of a lever, as I am not going green with this post. Instead, I am talking to those individuals who, out of habit, flush the urinal as they walk up to it. I am not sure what this accomplishes. Is it that the waterfall sound helps you get started? Is it that individuals who do this feel even their waste can't possibly be mixed with waste of others? Pretty pretentious. Do women ever do this, or is it a characteristic unique to men.
Double flushers, save the earth. Only push the button once. Stop being like a kid who just discovered a noise making toy.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Is it Election time? Must be, because here comes a rant...
Gather around children and let me tell you about that wonderful time of year when leaders are chosen to guide America through the next years of stalemate, at least when said leaders aren't campaigning for their next seat. That's right, it is election time!
These elections decisions are not to be taken lightly, that is why you children can't vote until you are 18 and have had a chance to let cynicism and irrational ties to parties take over your life. Nor should they be based on superficial categories like merit, values, or stances on issues.
Instead, we should apparently be basing our decisions on the more important question of who has the least shitty campaign ads. Ah, the political campaign ads. Through several weeks, I have yet to see one ad that shows what a candidate stands for or what he or she plans to do. Maybe that is because "Nothing" doesn't look good in large print on screen with the condescending voice in the commercials.
However, I can tell you exactly what the opposing party wants the public to think about certain individuals. And I have to believe them right? They use the condescending voice? Who can question the condescending voice?
Who is stupid enough to believe this crap and base a decision upon it? Crap, that would be us. Clearly, marketers have done studies to see what is most effective and this shit wins. I am embarrassed for all of us. The aliens who are about to take over our planet are laughing their three asses off.
These elections decisions are not to be taken lightly, that is why you children can't vote until you are 18 and have had a chance to let cynicism and irrational ties to parties take over your life. Nor should they be based on superficial categories like merit, values, or stances on issues.
Instead, we should apparently be basing our decisions on the more important question of who has the least shitty campaign ads. Ah, the political campaign ads. Through several weeks, I have yet to see one ad that shows what a candidate stands for or what he or she plans to do. Maybe that is because "Nothing" doesn't look good in large print on screen with the condescending voice in the commercials.
However, I can tell you exactly what the opposing party wants the public to think about certain individuals. And I have to believe them right? They use the condescending voice? Who can question the condescending voice?
Who is stupid enough to believe this crap and base a decision upon it? Crap, that would be us. Clearly, marketers have done studies to see what is most effective and this shit wins. I am embarrassed for all of us. The aliens who are about to take over our planet are laughing their three asses off.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
I am Australia
I always loved playing Risk as a younger kid, and my mom liked that we played it too as it was a board game that would occupy both myself and my brothers for many hours at a time. Well that is until the real fights started over whether the dice counted as a 6 because it rolled off the table and was locked in a somewhat hybrid position. If you don't know what I am talking about, you may not really have had a childhood, and for that I apologize. These fights were defining moments in a child's life. Either way, eventually the fights subsided, the Risk board was put away to collect dust, and I didn't think about the game for years, until now.
My wife and I just had our first child. I have been trying to figure out fatherhood, which is not the easy task it may seem to be, and the best thing I can relate being a father to in the newborn phase is in terms of Risk. Put another way, I am Australia.
If you haven't ever played Risk, Australia is the smallest continent to control, with only four miniscule areas to hold. You won't be able to dominate the world from Australia, but this continent is the easiest to keep control of as it only has one access point. One way in, one way out. It is the final safe haven, the lockbox if you will, where you can hole yourself up to maintain a presence and fight for relevance. To keep Australia, you just put one guy on the other three locations, and then just load everyone else you have up on that one entry point to try to keep yourself alive.
How does this relate to fatherhood? If you have to ask, you haven't had a child. When that kid comes along, the kid manages to come with all sorts of stuff. Rocking equipment for the living room, it's own nursery, it's own concoction of bathtime stuff to rival its mother's, more toys throughout the house, and that is just the tangible items. Intangibles include the monopolizing of attention, and whatever is left goes to the mother. As a father, you just have to realize you are an endangered item at this time. You are at best third place in a two horse race. It is just survive and advance. So you lock yourself in, find a cave, load up on your entry point and find a way to survive. You are Australia. Don't worry, though, eventually I hear you can move and try to retake some of the rest of the house, but I wouldn't get my hopes up too much. Oh, and drinking helps.
My wife and I just had our first child. I have been trying to figure out fatherhood, which is not the easy task it may seem to be, and the best thing I can relate being a father to in the newborn phase is in terms of Risk. Put another way, I am Australia.
If you haven't ever played Risk, Australia is the smallest continent to control, with only four miniscule areas to hold. You won't be able to dominate the world from Australia, but this continent is the easiest to keep control of as it only has one access point. One way in, one way out. It is the final safe haven, the lockbox if you will, where you can hole yourself up to maintain a presence and fight for relevance. To keep Australia, you just put one guy on the other three locations, and then just load everyone else you have up on that one entry point to try to keep yourself alive.
How does this relate to fatherhood? If you have to ask, you haven't had a child. When that kid comes along, the kid manages to come with all sorts of stuff. Rocking equipment for the living room, it's own nursery, it's own concoction of bathtime stuff to rival its mother's, more toys throughout the house, and that is just the tangible items. Intangibles include the monopolizing of attention, and whatever is left goes to the mother. As a father, you just have to realize you are an endangered item at this time. You are at best third place in a two horse race. It is just survive and advance. So you lock yourself in, find a cave, load up on your entry point and find a way to survive. You are Australia. Don't worry, though, eventually I hear you can move and try to retake some of the rest of the house, but I wouldn't get my hopes up too much. Oh, and drinking helps.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
At Least These Thoughts Occur Before the Service
As I was passing by my church on this fine Sunday morning (I use the term "my" rather loosely here as I haven't been attending regularly and, as you can see by the first part of this sentence, I was just passing by rather than walking in) I noticed there was quite a crowd rushing in to get the good seats. I would like to pause here for a minute to note that in church, unlike sporting events, good seats is not an objective, but is rather a subjective concept and a study in individual valuation. If you review the crowd in a church, you will usually see that the younger crowd sticks to the back with the older crowd being in the front. The younger crowd values a quick exit, while the older crowd values being able to see and hear all the happenings. In my particular denomination, Catholicism, you sit up front to get snack time first, but you are the last to leave. It is all about which you value more. Either way, I have digressed too far, as this particular note is not about the good seats, just that people arrive early to get them, wherever they are. And I guess middle seats suck.
What struck me on this particular jaunt by my church (shit, there I go again, and there I go swearing. Maybe I should stop in next time for confession.) was thinking about what those people would do that arrived early for the good seats. You have a lot of time to kill, and iPhones aren't yet an accepted form of media in a church setting, as I have found out on too many a football Saturday where weddings happen to interfere. There really isn't much to do.
One common thing that I have seen many churches do is have their choirs help the congregation practice some portion of the songs that will be used during the service. Finally, we have arrived at the point for this post: Who are we practicing for? Let's start with the premise that the church service is for an apparently omniscient being, so He already has heard all of the songs during practice, and He even knows how the song will end up during the actual service. So practicing for Him doesn't make sense. In fact, with all of the repetitive singing of all of the songs every Sunday around the world, you would think less practice would be a better service, as it would be a reprieve from the nagging child sound He must usually hear every day.
If practice isn't for the omniscient one, then who else is there? It can't be for those who showed up early, as they were there during practice. For this exercise of practicing singing before a church service to make sense, then, there really can only be one answer. It must be an effort to show up the late arrivers in the middle seats. The early arrivers want to point out how much better they can sing the songs, and there is no escape from the trap that is the middle seat.
What struck me on this particular jaunt by my church (shit, there I go again, and there I go swearing. Maybe I should stop in next time for confession.) was thinking about what those people would do that arrived early for the good seats. You have a lot of time to kill, and iPhones aren't yet an accepted form of media in a church setting, as I have found out on too many a football Saturday where weddings happen to interfere. There really isn't much to do.
One common thing that I have seen many churches do is have their choirs help the congregation practice some portion of the songs that will be used during the service. Finally, we have arrived at the point for this post: Who are we practicing for? Let's start with the premise that the church service is for an apparently omniscient being, so He already has heard all of the songs during practice, and He even knows how the song will end up during the actual service. So practicing for Him doesn't make sense. In fact, with all of the repetitive singing of all of the songs every Sunday around the world, you would think less practice would be a better service, as it would be a reprieve from the nagging child sound He must usually hear every day.
If practice isn't for the omniscient one, then who else is there? It can't be for those who showed up early, as they were there during practice. For this exercise of practicing singing before a church service to make sense, then, there really can only be one answer. It must be an effort to show up the late arrivers in the middle seats. The early arrivers want to point out how much better they can sing the songs, and there is no escape from the trap that is the middle seat.
Monday, September 6, 2010
In Case You Were Feeling Smart
I had been feeling good about myself this week. Things had been going well at work, I felt like things had been going well at home, really things were great. So, when my wife and I went out to dinner over the weekend, I couldn't help myself. Even though I saw two others move along the assembly line of "automatic" faucets in the men's washroom without successfully being able to activate the stream, I felt I had the magic combination of hand movement and distance from sensor required to appease the water gods. Apparently, humility is a third requirement to get these deities to release their sweet cleansing nectar. It was as if I had forgotten an important life lesson. At the end of the day, humility served a vicious blow to pride.
This particular restroom was fancy. It had three sinks. When faced with such a scenario, you always want to start with the sink the farthest from the door. This shows the sink gods that you are not so overly confident in your rain dance that you assume you will get the sensor distance / motion correct in the first try. It also gives you the most tries to get the correct combination to the secret code. Feeling good this week, I started in the middle, which was the first mistake.
It is bathroom custom to try a few combinations to get the water to flow, then assume the sink will not work and shuffle step to your right to the next sink. By the time you get to the last sink, desperation starts to seep in. At that moment it is not necessarily all about being sanitary, but there is an element of pride at stake. It is you against the machine. How could you not have figured out the proper combination to unlock the stream? You begin to wonder if this is your own personal da Vinci's code. This can be especially rough if there are witnesses to your unsuccessful movements along the line of sinks. Increasingly embarrassing if you were unsuccessful at one particular location while another follows you with victory. At that moment, if they are overly jubilant, whether in reality or in your mind, it is acceptable to wish for an inadvertent splash to the front of their pants that will not dry quickly.
Back to the scene at hand, I was thoroughly defeated by all of the sinks I had attempted. It just dawned on me that I hadn't started with the correct sink. Why was I overconfident? I had tried every conceivable combination of moves to get the sensors to work, and was thoroughly convinced that I had done something to deeply offend the gods of water. I was close to doing the unthinkable, walking out hands unwashed, when a kind old gentleman came in to save me. His saving grace, pointing out to me that there was a subtle push down button that operated the water. I really should cut back on the drinks.
This particular restroom was fancy. It had three sinks. When faced with such a scenario, you always want to start with the sink the farthest from the door. This shows the sink gods that you are not so overly confident in your rain dance that you assume you will get the sensor distance / motion correct in the first try. It also gives you the most tries to get the correct combination to the secret code. Feeling good this week, I started in the middle, which was the first mistake.
It is bathroom custom to try a few combinations to get the water to flow, then assume the sink will not work and shuffle step to your right to the next sink. By the time you get to the last sink, desperation starts to seep in. At that moment it is not necessarily all about being sanitary, but there is an element of pride at stake. It is you against the machine. How could you not have figured out the proper combination to unlock the stream? You begin to wonder if this is your own personal da Vinci's code. This can be especially rough if there are witnesses to your unsuccessful movements along the line of sinks. Increasingly embarrassing if you were unsuccessful at one particular location while another follows you with victory. At that moment, if they are overly jubilant, whether in reality or in your mind, it is acceptable to wish for an inadvertent splash to the front of their pants that will not dry quickly.
Back to the scene at hand, I was thoroughly defeated by all of the sinks I had attempted. It just dawned on me that I hadn't started with the correct sink. Why was I overconfident? I had tried every conceivable combination of moves to get the sensors to work, and was thoroughly convinced that I had done something to deeply offend the gods of water. I was close to doing the unthinkable, walking out hands unwashed, when a kind old gentleman came in to save me. His saving grace, pointing out to me that there was a subtle push down button that operated the water. I really should cut back on the drinks.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Signage From Above
My glamorous work took me on a journey across the Midwest today. About two hours and 18 ounces of soda into the drive I saw a billboard that caught my eye, and this time it wasn't for the Lion's Den. It was a simple billboard, all it had was a giant Bible and the words "God says read the Bible." This billboard entertained me for a solid half hour as I thought:
1. What a great twist on Simon says. God says read the Bible. God says be nice. God says go to church. Sodomy is okay. Haha, caught you, I didn't say God says... now GO TO HELL!
2. Prophecy has really gotten lazy and uncreative, like fortune cookies that don't tell fortunes anymore. "Hey Joe, this is God. Uh, It's Friday and I am on my way out to a 3:45 tee time. I hate to lay this on you, but I was supposed to reach out to my people via a prophecy today. Can you do me a huge favor? Let's just keep it simple, say, let's put a billboard in some random location on an interstate in the middle of nowhere. Don't strain yourself on the message, we don't want to cause that heart attack of yours to come a few years eaarly do we? Oops, shouldn't have hit the 19th yet. Anyway, just tell em I said to read the Bible. That should work for now."
3. Are illiterate people going to Hell since whoever wrote this sign thinks it is against God's wishes to not read?
Ultimately my thought process was broken by one overriding thought...I had to pee.
1. What a great twist on Simon says. God says read the Bible. God says be nice. God says go to church. Sodomy is okay. Haha, caught you, I didn't say God says... now GO TO HELL!
2. Prophecy has really gotten lazy and uncreative, like fortune cookies that don't tell fortunes anymore. "Hey Joe, this is God. Uh, It's Friday and I am on my way out to a 3:45 tee time. I hate to lay this on you, but I was supposed to reach out to my people via a prophecy today. Can you do me a huge favor? Let's just keep it simple, say, let's put a billboard in some random location on an interstate in the middle of nowhere. Don't strain yourself on the message, we don't want to cause that heart attack of yours to come a few years eaarly do we? Oops, shouldn't have hit the 19th yet. Anyway, just tell em I said to read the Bible. That should work for now."
3. Are illiterate people going to Hell since whoever wrote this sign thinks it is against God's wishes to not read?
Ultimately my thought process was broken by one overriding thought...I had to pee.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
This is How It All Starts
Efficiency is close to deity status at the workplace. You must find creative ways to multitask to save precious seconds, unless fantasy football discussions are at hand. Efficiency can get dangerous if you carry it too far, though, as I discovered today.
I haven't given into the 5 hour energy boost craze, so I still fight "that 2:30 feeling" with a flood of caffeine. What they don't tell you in the commercials is that it isn't necessarily the caffeine that keeps you awake but the frequent parade to and from the restroom. Somewhat anti-efficiency, I know. During one of my laps this afternoon, which for entertainment value were being timed, I found myself getting a little too ahead of myself . As I strolled in to the men's room I decided to start unbuckling my belt and unbuttoning my pants. Two things at once, multi-tasking. Don't worry, the multi-tasking did not start until the men's room door was shut.
As I turned the corner toward the two wall units, I almost ran into my boss, pants unzipped. There isn't much you can say at the moment you almost run into your boss at a urinal with your pants undone. Small talk like "How's it hanging" really isn't appropriate. I am not sure what level of preparation for a urinal is acceptable, but I had clearly crossed the line in this situation. Thankfully, my boss was on his Bluetooth, so one bathroom violation voided the other and I escaped relatively unscathed. I hope he was on mute.
This situation did lead me to one fearful thought. I am afraid this scenario is the slippery slope that begins the development of "that guy" who lets it all hang out at the gym. You know him as the one who air dries everything while telling you a miserable story about his dog or something exceedingly boring while keeping you uncomfortable as you try to not look at his junk. Please just throw me a towel if today leads me down that path.
I haven't given into the 5 hour energy boost craze, so I still fight "that 2:30 feeling" with a flood of caffeine. What they don't tell you in the commercials is that it isn't necessarily the caffeine that keeps you awake but the frequent parade to and from the restroom. Somewhat anti-efficiency, I know. During one of my laps this afternoon, which for entertainment value were being timed, I found myself getting a little too ahead of myself . As I strolled in to the men's room I decided to start unbuckling my belt and unbuttoning my pants. Two things at once, multi-tasking. Don't worry, the multi-tasking did not start until the men's room door was shut.
As I turned the corner toward the two wall units, I almost ran into my boss, pants unzipped. There isn't much you can say at the moment you almost run into your boss at a urinal with your pants undone. Small talk like "How's it hanging" really isn't appropriate. I am not sure what level of preparation for a urinal is acceptable, but I had clearly crossed the line in this situation. Thankfully, my boss was on his Bluetooth, so one bathroom violation voided the other and I escaped relatively unscathed. I hope he was on mute.
This situation did lead me to one fearful thought. I am afraid this scenario is the slippery slope that begins the development of "that guy" who lets it all hang out at the gym. You know him as the one who air dries everything while telling you a miserable story about his dog or something exceedingly boring while keeping you uncomfortable as you try to not look at his junk. Please just throw me a towel if today leads me down that path.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Shortest Distance to Confirming You are a D-Bag is...
I got the finger today. Not an every day occurrence, but still somewhat off putting. I will take a small percentage of ownership for the incident, as I was rocking the new Volvo for the first time, so I was not paying full attention to my surroundings. However, I refuse to take full responsibility.
The scene was that I was in the left hand lane of a two lane street heading northbound through downtown. There were also two lanes of traffic heading southbound. Traffic was stopped at a red light, and I pulled up to be about the 5th car deep from the light. What I didn't realize was that there was someone trying to pull out of a parking lot to my right wanting to come across both northbound lanes to head south. The car in the right lane was a good Samaritan who noticed this and stopped. I was too wrapped up in Coolio or some other fantastic song being on the 90s on 9 Sirius station, so I did not notice, and did not stop, thus blocking the path. By blocking Frogger's path in jumping over to the southbound lanes, a chain reaction went off that concluded with a honk and the one-finger salute. Some words also may have been mouthed that were not nice.
As I drove off I started thinking about the social implications of this situation. This guy was focused on saving himself time, rather than just going with the flow of traffic. However, by jumping Frogger style through at least three lanes of traffic to head south, he was causing inefficiencies, and potential safety issues, for many others. Again, this was all to same himself two minutes. Selfish.
In the end, I learned three things today, that guy's a douche, selfish people suck, and Gangsta's Paradise still brings it.
The scene was that I was in the left hand lane of a two lane street heading northbound through downtown. There were also two lanes of traffic heading southbound. Traffic was stopped at a red light, and I pulled up to be about the 5th car deep from the light. What I didn't realize was that there was someone trying to pull out of a parking lot to my right wanting to come across both northbound lanes to head south. The car in the right lane was a good Samaritan who noticed this and stopped. I was too wrapped up in Coolio or some other fantastic song being on the 90s on 9 Sirius station, so I did not notice, and did not stop, thus blocking the path. By blocking Frogger's path in jumping over to the southbound lanes, a chain reaction went off that concluded with a honk and the one-finger salute. Some words also may have been mouthed that were not nice.
As I drove off I started thinking about the social implications of this situation. This guy was focused on saving himself time, rather than just going with the flow of traffic. However, by jumping Frogger style through at least three lanes of traffic to head south, he was causing inefficiencies, and potential safety issues, for many others. Again, this was all to same himself two minutes. Selfish.
In the end, I learned three things today, that guy's a douche, selfish people suck, and Gangsta's Paradise still brings it.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Possessive Friendship
You have probably had this happen at least once today. If it didn't, please just play along so I don't feel awkward and alone. It starts when some annoying coworker decides to decrease efficiency. This effort is doubled by coming to tell you a story no one really cares about. The cubicle gods would be angry.
The story being told will involve multiple people, which is key to this post. The subject of whatever story is being conveyed, however, is not key. What matters is how the annoying coworker refers to the other individual(s) in the story. It is always "MY friend" that did something or knows something or said something. MY Friend. Not Yours. Mine.
It is the possessive that annoys me. It is as if this individual is flaunting their ownership of a relationship with another person that cannot be had by me or anyone else. In this possessive relationship, the two people, which does not include me, did something incredibly awesome recently. It must be understood that I will never be a part of this because it is "MY friend." Doesn't help my insecurities.
Why do we need the possessive "MY"? And by the way, "MY" is in all caps, because, whether I imagine it or not, I feel as if the ownership is being stressed by the story teller. Why can't it just be a friend? Wouldn't referring to "a friend" be just as useful without conveying superiority? As an intelligent society, can't we assume that the reference to "a friend" is to a relationship had between this so-called friend and the storyteller?
I am guilty of using "MY friend" as well, but it must stop. We cannot refer to friends as if it is an exclusive relationship like we would a significant other. We must show a willingness to share for the sake of humanity.
Or maybe it's just me taking up arms against a ridiculous pet peeve, and that is why there are very few people out there using the term "MY friend Thomas..."
The story being told will involve multiple people, which is key to this post. The subject of whatever story is being conveyed, however, is not key. What matters is how the annoying coworker refers to the other individual(s) in the story. It is always "MY friend" that did something or knows something or said something. MY Friend. Not Yours. Mine.
It is the possessive that annoys me. It is as if this individual is flaunting their ownership of a relationship with another person that cannot be had by me or anyone else. In this possessive relationship, the two people, which does not include me, did something incredibly awesome recently. It must be understood that I will never be a part of this because it is "MY friend." Doesn't help my insecurities.
Why do we need the possessive "MY"? And by the way, "MY" is in all caps, because, whether I imagine it or not, I feel as if the ownership is being stressed by the story teller. Why can't it just be a friend? Wouldn't referring to "a friend" be just as useful without conveying superiority? As an intelligent society, can't we assume that the reference to "a friend" is to a relationship had between this so-called friend and the storyteller?
I am guilty of using "MY friend" as well, but it must stop. We cannot refer to friends as if it is an exclusive relationship like we would a significant other. We must show a willingness to share for the sake of humanity.
Or maybe it's just me taking up arms against a ridiculous pet peeve, and that is why there are very few people out there using the term "MY friend Thomas..."
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Who Doesn't Want to Expose Their Life to Criticism
When I hear someone say that 50 is the new 40, or 40 is the new 30, my first thought is that the individual is full of shit (replace "full of shit" with "in denial" if you want to be classy about it, then go fuck yourself). Personally, I feel the case is, in fact, the opposite but even more accelerated. I am 30, and I feel as if I have one foot in the grave, with the other dragging the line not far behind.
I am by no means a genius, and not the first to say this, but I am pretty sure the cause of accelerated aging is due to the increased pace of life we all encounter. Shocking, I know. We cram far too much into each day, and if you aren't multi-tasking, something is probably not getting done. That smell you are noticing is the diaper that remains unchanged, you forgot that one apparently.
Our increased pace of life has been caused by the technology that was supposed to help us. Better technology was supposed to allow us to get things done quicker and free up time, but we apparently just decided we had to fill this free time with more things to do, thus requiring even more technology. Nice little vicious circle.
Technology is coming after us, but in a much more sneaky fashion than the Terminator films. Technology is fighting us from all angles except dead-on. It continues to push our bodies to the limits as described above, and as it pushes harder we start to break down mentally and physically. At the same time, it distracts us with a barrage of "news", YouTube, and other useless garbage. (I hate using the written equivalent of air quotes, but when Lindsay Lohan and Brett Favre's retirement get mainstream news coverage, the quotes are required). Finally, there is all the free porn to take away the rest of our free time. We are rendered helpless while the controlling force destroys us.
Like John Connor, I have decided to fight the technology and find some way to slow myself down. Unlike John Connor, I have no real power or strength. All I have is me forcing myself to notice things around me that I find interesting, and then write about them in this blog. The irony does not get past me that I ranted above about the multitude of sources of useless information adding to technology's power over us, yet I choose to fight it by adding to this free flow of garbage. What can I say, other than reiterating the fact that I am not a genius. It works in my mind, but then again, I have named this blog Refined Delusions.
I am by no means a genius, and not the first to say this, but I am pretty sure the cause of accelerated aging is due to the increased pace of life we all encounter. Shocking, I know. We cram far too much into each day, and if you aren't multi-tasking, something is probably not getting done. That smell you are noticing is the diaper that remains unchanged, you forgot that one apparently.
Our increased pace of life has been caused by the technology that was supposed to help us. Better technology was supposed to allow us to get things done quicker and free up time, but we apparently just decided we had to fill this free time with more things to do, thus requiring even more technology. Nice little vicious circle.
Technology is coming after us, but in a much more sneaky fashion than the Terminator films. Technology is fighting us from all angles except dead-on. It continues to push our bodies to the limits as described above, and as it pushes harder we start to break down mentally and physically. At the same time, it distracts us with a barrage of "news", YouTube, and other useless garbage. (I hate using the written equivalent of air quotes, but when Lindsay Lohan and Brett Favre's retirement get mainstream news coverage, the quotes are required). Finally, there is all the free porn to take away the rest of our free time. We are rendered helpless while the controlling force destroys us.
Like John Connor, I have decided to fight the technology and find some way to slow myself down. Unlike John Connor, I have no real power or strength. All I have is me forcing myself to notice things around me that I find interesting, and then write about them in this blog. The irony does not get past me that I ranted above about the multitude of sources of useless information adding to technology's power over us, yet I choose to fight it by adding to this free flow of garbage. What can I say, other than reiterating the fact that I am not a genius. It works in my mind, but then again, I have named this blog Refined Delusions.
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