In a nutshell, here's whats been going on:
- K, the munch, and I have all contracted the common cold. Since the munch has been displaying symptoms we've been especially tolerant of bratty actions. Discipline has been thrown out the window. And she's definitely taking advantage. Soon we've gotta get her back on track.
- The compressor in the fridge just died a few weeks after the warranty expired. It will take around 10 days to get it repaired. Fuck Kenmore for manfacturing a shitty product and fuck Sears for not overnighting the damn replacement compressor.
- I still have a job but I have a new boss. Initial impressions indicate he's an older guy trying especially hard to be hip to the issues facing the modern technology worker (telecommuting, recovery time, etc) but is having a frustratingly difficult time. The jury's still out.
Monday, January 30, 2006
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Demonstrate, do not explicate...
Within the past couple of years I've grown fairly competent in the art of argument. Whether the topic is sports, preferred method of intoxication, or the reason I'm coming home at 5am, I can defend myself like Cochran defended that cold blooded killer O.J. Usually after I hit my adversary with a barrage of flawless logic and hypnotizing eloquence they throw up their arms and fold their hands --even if my original argument is blatantly ludicrous.
Maybe I've missed my calling as a trial lawyer.
The problem is that winning via argument hold a treacherous pitfall. More often than not it leaves the loser of the argument with a bitter taste in their mouth as the loss directly impacts their insecurities.
From 48 Laws of Power (Law 9):
WIN THROUGH YOUR ACTIONS, NEVER THROUGH ARGUMENT
Any momentary triump you think you have gained through argument is really a Pyrrhic victory: The rsentment and ill will you stir up is stronger and lasts longer than any monentary change of opinion. It is much more powerful to get others to agree with you through you actions, without saying a word.
That said, as of today I'm making a commitment to prove my points through action instead. Let's leave argumentative skill in my arsenal until the need for it really presents itself.
Maybe I've missed my calling as a trial lawyer.
The problem is that winning via argument hold a treacherous pitfall. More often than not it leaves the loser of the argument with a bitter taste in their mouth as the loss directly impacts their insecurities.
From 48 Laws of Power (Law 9):
WIN THROUGH YOUR ACTIONS, NEVER THROUGH ARGUMENT
Any momentary triump you think you have gained through argument is really a Pyrrhic victory: The rsentment and ill will you stir up is stronger and lasts longer than any monentary change of opinion. It is much more powerful to get others to agree with you through you actions, without saying a word.
That said, as of today I'm making a commitment to prove my points through action instead. Let's leave argumentative skill in my arsenal until the need for it really presents itself.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
The Rum Diary
I recently finished reading The Rum Diary by Hunter S. Thompson. The poignant writing definitely provided me a soft cushion in which to land every morning as the ibuprofen kicked in.
Passages like this reminded me that pain if expressed well is fuckin beautiful:
Sometimes at dusk, when you were trying to relax and not think about the general stagnation, the Garbage God would gather a handful of those choked-off morning hopes and dangle them somewhere just out of reach; they would hang in the breeze and make a sound like delicate glass bells, reminding you of something you never quite got a hold of, and never would. It was a maddening image, and the only way to whip it was to hang on until dusk and banish the ghosts with rum. Often it was easier not to wait, so the drinking would begin at noon. It didn't help much, as I recall, except that sometimes it made the day go a little faster.
Passages like this reminded me that pain if expressed well is fuckin beautiful:
Sometimes at dusk, when you were trying to relax and not think about the general stagnation, the Garbage God would gather a handful of those choked-off morning hopes and dangle them somewhere just out of reach; they would hang in the breeze and make a sound like delicate glass bells, reminding you of something you never quite got a hold of, and never would. It was a maddening image, and the only way to whip it was to hang on until dusk and banish the ghosts with rum. Often it was easier not to wait, so the drinking would begin at noon. It didn't help much, as I recall, except that sometimes it made the day go a little faster.
First Post of the New Year
The reason I haven't posted in awhile is because I still haven't finished detoxing yet. My pores still reek of whiskey and my levels of seratonin have yet to reach normal. Numerous events reached the point of notoriety; from getting blackout drunk on Christmas Day from drinking an entire bottle of Jamesons to that pointless trip to Reno with C and P. Most of it I'd prefer to forget.
Many of the events that took place were brought on by a combination of fear of the future and inability to let go of the past. I'm not going to get into it.
Many of the events that took place were brought on by a combination of fear of the future and inability to let go of the past. I'm not going to get into it.