Cute Little Pet Peeves

Friday, October 1, 2010 Things are going well for me these days, and I wouldn't want to give the wrong impression by posting a complaint, but I simply can't restrain myself in this case. It's these silly bouncing icons that line the bottom of my screen. They annoy the fuck out of me. It irks me as a computer programmer to see the computer's potential functionality compromised by a need to animate buttons. I'd rather have its memory in reserve for something else. It bugs me as an artist to see cute little images all standing in a row, all equal in height and width. They remind me of a family photo of my brothers in the 1960's when every young man looked like Buddy Holly. (You'll find me in the foreground, about to start crying.) Lastly, it troubles me that people think a computer is better because its icons bounce up and down when you click on them.
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Uncommon Squalor

Saturday, October 2, 2010 I try not to let it get to me too much if someone views me as their competitor to be defeated and stepped on. Most people seem to lack the kind of talent that would lift them out of the proverbial rat race. If you have some kind of stimulating passion like art or music, your only competitor is essentially yourself. You are oblivious to the aggression of those around you, while they assume that you are out to step on them. To me, the phrase, I want to be better off than you, offers zero inspiration. Motivation is not the same as inspiration. My humble occupation up to this point, with which I have been satisfied, even with my talent lying dormant because of it, ought to prove that I'm the furthest thing from a social climber. It simply does not interest me to try to get ahead of the next person. I am an artist. That may be why I've not risen beyond entry level in my job[s]. With so many people in the world unable to find something better than motivation to keep them going, it's natural that their aggression would be more developed than it ought to be. I hope my presence among them will ultimately offer them some kind of relief.
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Senseless Correction

Probably like anyone, sometimes I find myself thinking the same thing as someone else. It doesn't make me psychic. If I'm on a bus and it's a wintery morning, I might say to the person sitting next to me something like, 'This reminds me of that schoolyard game where we tried to push each other off the snowbank.' Why wouldn't it remind the person next to me of the same thing? If I'm talking on the phone to someone and my words fit into an eavesdropper's thoughts in a different context, it's just a coincidence. Such coincidences are likely to mount for a person in a situation where he thinks of himself at the same time as others are thinking about him. I've no way of knowing for sure, but if this is the case for me, I want to state for the record that my claim of having ESP was strictly for reasons of comedy. On the matter of my time traveling, however...
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An Unholy Mess

This morning I dreamed that I was on a planet of women. They were going to make me into their god, but my apartment was disgusting, and I wanted to clean it up first. One of them saw me on my hands and knees, scrubbing my kitchen floor, and told the others, causing them all to lose respect for me.
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Happily Even After

Most of us, if we look into ourselves objectively, must admit that we are flawed in character. Perhaps this is an area where the Christian concept of original sin agrees with Freud, at least metaphorically. Because of this, being a nice person can be quite a challenge. It is more natural, therefore easier, to succumb to our primal selfishness and lust for power, just like we may prefer an easier job and look down on those who are struggling as 'losers'. On the surface, this seems to be the way to go, and a certain infamous dictator exploited it fully back in the 1930's when he used his evil genius to pit the strong against the weak. Added to this influence may be powerful external forces, such as poverty, loneliness, and the hell of other people, as Sartre put it. If any group should be free to grumble and act in an ill manner, it is the poor, for their poverty brings out the worst in them. By contrast, the rich, who may have large sums of money to spare for charity, are sometimes known as the beautiful people. What then can be gained from trying to be nice? Nice guys finish last, don't they? Here a distinction must be made between being nice and being a patsy, for being a patsy is not a very nice way to treat oneself. In order to answer the question, I needed to explore my own mind. Deep in my subconscious, scattered between countless abstract images and advertising jingles, I found almost all of the qualities that I resent in others. Lurking behind them was a monster, and I realized that my conscious mind acts as its cage. However far such a monster may advance within the competitive workplace, it cannot offer me any sense of inner peace; the peace that comes from rising above the urge to use and hurt others and thereby suffer guilt. And sensing this potential mean streak within me lets me see myself in those who would use and hurt me. It lets me forgive them, and I feel the better for it. My talent, too, if you want to call it that, helps me to be a nice guy. It lets me withdraw from any nastiness that may be present in the world around me, often with the result of improving my self image through the creation of art and music. When these methods fail, I turn to my sense of humour. It always feels good to laugh. And if, as one poet said, laughter comes from pain, who says it always has to be someone else's pain? Like any human, I am weak. I break down and start smashing things. This is what happens to me when I lose sight of my desire to be good. I can take full responsibility for it. I always come back around to my struggle for goodness in the end. No matter what my place in the world, I can find happiness and peace by letting go of my dark impulses and keeping my monster's cage tightly locked.
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Godlessness

Wednesday, October 6, 2010 Staring at a blank wall where the enormous face of my goddess twice smiled, I am pleased to state that I have learned my lesson with respect to power. I trust myself. When I speak of power, I speak of everyday power: the power of a parent over a child, of a pet owner over his pet, of a teacher over his student, of a supervisor over his workers, even of a hermit's power over himself. I apologize for any confusion up to now. The lesson I learned about how to handle power, through bitter experience, is to avoid using it, except in instances where it will have a positive result for both myself and whomever I may use it on. The only power I'm interested in is the power to make everyone feel good.
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That's What I Meant!

I meant to unwind this evening before heading to bed with a nice round of Jeopardy, a game show in which I normally perform respectably. It was a Ken Jennings one. Ken Jennings won 75 games in a row before his streak ended and he flew off to Rio in his new private jet. I gather that his IQ must be somewhere in the 900's. He's an awesome intellect, but I do not watch the show to learn as much as I do to participate. This gave me an idea for a spinoff of the show, Bullshit Jeopardy. That would level the playing field for a contestant like me when I'm up against tough competition.
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