You are human.
Everything you believe is flawed.
Every solution you have will cause problems.
Everyone you demonize has a good side.
Everyone you worship has a dark side.
You will never achieve objective knowledge.
You will never fully understand another person.
Your experiences are no more or less meaningful than any other person's.
Your beliefs are no more or less valid than any other person's.
You do not know everything.
You do not know anything.
You are not a hero.
You are not a villain.
You are a person.
You are human,
And there's nothing wrong with that.
Friday, November 6, 2015
Friday, October 2, 2015
Days of the week
<Pre-post note>Taking a break from talking about my former romantic experiences, and formally abandoning my attempt to blog every day.</Pre-post note>
What I've noticed in my short period of time working as a professional is how important the day of the week is. This is definitely also true in K-12 education, and even to some degree in college, but it is never more apparent than in the professional world. What I don't remember from school is something very conspicuous that almost everyone – including (especially?) me – does: when you ask them how they are, they will give you a generic descriptor, and follow it up with what day it is.
"How are you?"
"Oh, fine. You know, for a Tuesday."
"Ah, yeah. Tuesday. The day that should be Friday."
"How's it going?"
"Pretty well. It's Sunday, so I'm enjoying it, but not looking forward to the week."
"Gotta just live in the moment, Greg."
"Shut the fuck up, Hank."
This appears on one level problematic, as our mood seems fundamentally tied to the day of the week, a meaningless label specifying a day's position in a recurring set of arbitrary length. Its power only comes from our cultural decision that "business days" are Monday through Friday, and, at least here in America, your job is – for better or worse (definitely worse) – the fulcrum of your emotional well-being. Clearly, not the healthiest of situations.
However, there is a bright side to this. You and every other professional within a reasonable longitudinal distance are on the same day of the week. Take another look at that first conversation I made up above. That's solidarity, which is unfortunately rare in the professional world. I work in Client Services. Dealing with clients who are upset with us is a daily business. Often, we are equally frustrated with our clients. But when you get on that phone, you ask them how they are, and they say it's Friday, and you immediately have common ground. Everyone knows Friday means relief and anticipation. As loose as it is, you've created a connection.
This is – I think – why we say what day it is when we are asked how we are. It's the easiest way to evoke some amount of empathy, because every professional knows and is likely currently feeling the mood of the day. Even though we're all on an unhealthy roller coaster of emotion week-to-week, we're all more or less on that same roller coaster. At the end of the day, connection with fellow humans outweighs the arbitrary governance of our moods.
Also at the end of the day, I'm getting started on my weekend. Because it's Friday.
Hell. Yes.
What I've noticed in my short period of time working as a professional is how important the day of the week is. This is definitely also true in K-12 education, and even to some degree in college, but it is never more apparent than in the professional world. What I don't remember from school is something very conspicuous that almost everyone – including (especially?) me – does: when you ask them how they are, they will give you a generic descriptor, and follow it up with what day it is.
"How are you?"
"Oh, fine. You know, for a Tuesday."
"Ah, yeah. Tuesday. The day that should be Friday."
"How's it going?"
"Pretty well. It's Sunday, so I'm enjoying it, but not looking forward to the week."
"Gotta just live in the moment, Greg."
"Shut the fuck up, Hank."
This appears on one level problematic, as our mood seems fundamentally tied to the day of the week, a meaningless label specifying a day's position in a recurring set of arbitrary length. Its power only comes from our cultural decision that "business days" are Monday through Friday, and, at least here in America, your job is – for better or worse (definitely worse) – the fulcrum of your emotional well-being. Clearly, not the healthiest of situations.
However, there is a bright side to this. You and every other professional within a reasonable longitudinal distance are on the same day of the week. Take another look at that first conversation I made up above. That's solidarity, which is unfortunately rare in the professional world. I work in Client Services. Dealing with clients who are upset with us is a daily business. Often, we are equally frustrated with our clients. But when you get on that phone, you ask them how they are, and they say it's Friday, and you immediately have common ground. Everyone knows Friday means relief and anticipation. As loose as it is, you've created a connection.
This is – I think – why we say what day it is when we are asked how we are. It's the easiest way to evoke some amount of empathy, because every professional knows and is likely currently feeling the mood of the day. Even though we're all on an unhealthy roller coaster of emotion week-to-week, we're all more or less on that same roller coaster. At the end of the day, connection with fellow humans outweighs the arbitrary governance of our moods.
Also at the end of the day, I'm getting started on my weekend. Because it's Friday.
Hell. Yes.
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Okay, Here We Go
So you may have noticed that it's not July 30th. It is August 4th. Doing some math, I owe you six posts. So, let's get started.
I think these posts will be best if they're about catch-up stuff. I'm going to start around the time I left off, which was early 2012. This is around the time that I started getting to know a girl named Kristen. It was awhile ago, and I won't pretend to remember the dates, but I will recount the experience as objectively as possible (the need for this will become apparent) and refrain from exaggeration.
Hang on, laundry.
Okay, back.
The earliest vivid* memory I have of me and Kristen is at a toga party, celebrating the birthday of our mutual friend, Emily. Towards the end of the party, there were only a handful of us in a room (I believe her boyfriend, Robert's), including her, me, Robert, and a very drunk friend of ours, Matt (we were all drunk, but he easily outshone us). At some point I was shown a picture on Robert's phone, and I swiped through a few. He asked for it back, telling me there were pictures on there not for my eyes. He pointed out that there was, in fact, a picture not two swipes away that was definitely private. The details are hazy here. Either I or Matt or someone else in the room raised some half-joking objection to being denied what was clearly a revealing picture of Kristen. Robert made an indication that it was up to her, and – establishing her lack of modesty for the first time in front of me – allowed him to show us the picture.
And show us he did, but the fun didn't stop there. This time I'm sure it was Matt who brought up seeing such a display live. Once again Robert gave her the choice, and once again she acquiesced. She let down her bedsheet toga, and we all got a good long look at Topless Kristen.
I want to say that it was at this point my brain ceded decision-making to my penis, and it retained control of my actions for the next year and a half. It certainly would be nice to blame everything that happened in that time on an imagined loss of willpower to the irresistible desire for sex.
But that isn't true. I didn't lose control. My penis didn't make the mistakes. I did.
*I will elaborate on my loose emplyment of the word "vivid" and my fascination with memory distortion in another post
I think these posts will be best if they're about catch-up stuff. I'm going to start around the time I left off, which was early 2012. This is around the time that I started getting to know a girl named Kristen. It was awhile ago, and I won't pretend to remember the dates, but I will recount the experience as objectively as possible (the need for this will become apparent) and refrain from exaggeration.
Hang on, laundry.
Okay, back.
The earliest vivid* memory I have of me and Kristen is at a toga party, celebrating the birthday of our mutual friend, Emily. Towards the end of the party, there were only a handful of us in a room (I believe her boyfriend, Robert's), including her, me, Robert, and a very drunk friend of ours, Matt (we were all drunk, but he easily outshone us). At some point I was shown a picture on Robert's phone, and I swiped through a few. He asked for it back, telling me there were pictures on there not for my eyes. He pointed out that there was, in fact, a picture not two swipes away that was definitely private. The details are hazy here. Either I or Matt or someone else in the room raised some half-joking objection to being denied what was clearly a revealing picture of Kristen. Robert made an indication that it was up to her, and – establishing her lack of modesty for the first time in front of me – allowed him to show us the picture.
And show us he did, but the fun didn't stop there. This time I'm sure it was Matt who brought up seeing such a display live. Once again Robert gave her the choice, and once again she acquiesced. She let down her bedsheet toga, and we all got a good long look at Topless Kristen.
I want to say that it was at this point my brain ceded decision-making to my penis, and it retained control of my actions for the next year and a half. It certainly would be nice to blame everything that happened in that time on an imagined loss of willpower to the irresistible desire for sex.
But that isn't true. I didn't lose control. My penis didn't make the mistakes. I did.
*I will elaborate on my loose emplyment of the word "vivid" and my fascination with memory distortion in another post
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
*cough* *shuffle feet* *avoid eye contact*
So, the good news is: I can see the future. Sort of. I haven't given up on this yet, even though I've already missed a day. Tell you what, I'll do two posts today. Yeah, that's a thing that's going to happen. Definitely.
Yesterday, I had a good chat with my therapist about dating sites. For the longest time, despite my relative success with them, I hated dating sites. I even had prepared a long post about how shitty they are back in 2012, but abandoned it, because that's what I do with projects. However, I've realized that every flaw with dating sites comes from human error. People are doing it wrong.
First, Tinder is not a dating site, and dating sites are not Tinder. I really don't like that OkCupid has implemented a Tinder-like "Quick Match," because the idea behind dating sites is that you aren't rapidly going through pictures, asking yourself "Bang?" and then with a swipe of a finger passing permanent judgement on a complete stranger. Even before Tinder set a shitty standard, though, dating sites were notorious for men spamming every woman with "Hey. Fuck?" trying to play the "numbers game."* People, cut that shit out. Being an asshole on a computer doesn't make you less of an asshole, and you don't have to be an asshole to get laid (I actually find it's usually counterproductive).
A more common and gender-neutral problem, though – and one I've fallen into – is over-commitment, or over-projection. Nothing can replace human-to-human contact. You can't really know whether or not you will like someone until you've talked with them in person. It might be romantic to plan an expensive dinner for a cute girl you met online, but reality is not known for its mercy. Maybe her pictures are all outdated, and she's not as cute as you thought. Maybe she went Cyrano on you, and had someone helping her out with the flirty texts. Or maybe you've been texting this guy, and you've started to create an idea of what he's like, and how he will be. Then on the date, he could be perfectly fine, but doesn't fit into the expectation you've created for him.
The genders are reversible here, of course, as the point is that you don't really know someone until you know someone, and dating sites are not how you get to know someone. Dating sites are how you find people to meet. If you consider the "typical" life cycle of a successful non-online dating experience, it might go something like this:
*The lottery is also a numbers game
Yesterday, I had a good chat with my therapist about dating sites. For the longest time, despite my relative success with them, I hated dating sites. I even had prepared a long post about how shitty they are back in 2012, but abandoned it, because that's what I do with projects. However, I've realized that every flaw with dating sites comes from human error. People are doing it wrong.
First, Tinder is not a dating site, and dating sites are not Tinder. I really don't like that OkCupid has implemented a Tinder-like "Quick Match," because the idea behind dating sites is that you aren't rapidly going through pictures, asking yourself "Bang?" and then with a swipe of a finger passing permanent judgement on a complete stranger. Even before Tinder set a shitty standard, though, dating sites were notorious for men spamming every woman with "Hey. Fuck?" trying to play the "numbers game."* People, cut that shit out. Being an asshole on a computer doesn't make you less of an asshole, and you don't have to be an asshole to get laid (I actually find it's usually counterproductive).
A more common and gender-neutral problem, though – and one I've fallen into – is over-commitment, or over-projection. Nothing can replace human-to-human contact. You can't really know whether or not you will like someone until you've talked with them in person. It might be romantic to plan an expensive dinner for a cute girl you met online, but reality is not known for its mercy. Maybe her pictures are all outdated, and she's not as cute as you thought. Maybe she went Cyrano on you, and had someone helping her out with the flirty texts. Or maybe you've been texting this guy, and you've started to create an idea of what he's like, and how he will be. Then on the date, he could be perfectly fine, but doesn't fit into the expectation you've created for him.
The genders are reversible here, of course, as the point is that you don't really know someone until you know someone, and dating sites are not how you get to know someone. Dating sites are how you find people to meet. If you consider the "typical" life cycle of a successful non-online dating experience, it might go something like this:
- Meet someone at a public place, like a bar or gym
- Talk to them, get their number
- Call them and set up a date
- Go on the date
- Continue dating until you are "in a relationship"
Dating sites are the rough equivalent of arranging a time to meet in a public place, or number 1, on the list, while most people treat it like number 4. If the meet goes well, you of course can extend the meet into a date, but it's crucial that you don't commit to spending too much time or money on somebody that you immediately know you aren't interested in upon meeting them. Have an escape route ready, just in case.
So, anyway, I'm having someone I met online over at my house this weekend, to help me cook dinner for the two of us. Should be fun.
*The lottery is also a numbers game
Monday, July 27, 2015
You Probably Should Just Start Here
Good god, it's been years.
So, hi. If you're really curious what I was like 3 years ago (spoiler alert: early-adulthood Dan ("Morty") is super pretentious and basically wants to be Allie Brosh/a Cracked writer), you can read further back from this, but the cringe levels are high, I must warn you (I had to delete one about atheism; trust me, it's for the best). These days, I'm just super pretentious and want to be John Green.
However, instead of starting a new blog, I'm going to keep posting here, mainly because despite how annoying I was, I came up with a blog name I still like (and is increasingly appropriate). So, on a whim, I just challenged myself to write a blog post every day for a year (by my estimation, I will give up on this tomorrow). The idea is typically to create posts that are just transcriptions of the myriad thoughts that fly through my head. These can be anything from funny to depressing to interesting to obligatory, but I promise they will be as genuine as I can make them. This is something I could do on Facebook, but I really don't want every person I've ever had contact with reading what I honestly believe, for reasons that will become apparent.
Today, however, I am just playing a bit of catch-up. Notable events in the last three years:
So, hi. If you're really curious what I was like 3 years ago (spoiler alert: early-adulthood Dan ("Morty") is super pretentious and basically wants to be Allie Brosh/a Cracked writer), you can read further back from this, but the cringe levels are high, I must warn you (I had to delete one about atheism; trust me, it's for the best). These days, I'm just super pretentious and want to be John Green.
However, instead of starting a new blog, I'm going to keep posting here, mainly because despite how annoying I was, I came up with a blog name I still like (and is increasingly appropriate). So, on a whim, I just challenged myself to write a blog post every day for a year (by my estimation, I will give up on this tomorrow). The idea is typically to create posts that are just transcriptions of the myriad thoughts that fly through my head. These can be anything from funny to depressing to interesting to obligatory, but I promise they will be as genuine as I can make them. This is something I could do on Facebook, but I really don't want every person I've ever had contact with reading what I honestly believe, for reasons that will become apparent.
Today, however, I am just playing a bit of catch-up. Notable events in the last three years:
- I started seeing a girl named Kristen. It didn't work out.
- I started seeing the same girl named Kristen. It didn't work out again.
- I graduated from UC Santa Cruz with a degree in Computer Science: Computer Game Design.
- I worked briefly as a temp accounting clerk at a company called Inogen.
- I started work at Yardi Systems as a technical analyst. This is ongoing.
- I started seeing a girl named Sara. It didn't work out.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Update
Hey everybody. I stayed up for 31 hours yesterday. Woke up at 4:30 PM on Sunday, went to sleep at 11:30 on Monday. Woke up at 3 PM today. So... 16 hours of sleep. See: blog name.
I'm right in the middle of finals week. I'm working on a long post, though I can't guarantee that the hilarity will correspond with the length. I'll be busy with school and Mass Effect 3, but I should be able to get it out pretty soon. It's sort of a Cracked.com-esque list-style article. With hopefully some humor. Probably a lot of penis jokes. Cheers.
I'm right in the middle of finals week. I'm working on a long post, though I can't guarantee that the hilarity will correspond with the length. I'll be busy with school and Mass Effect 3, but I should be able to get it out pretty soon. It's sort of a Cracked.com-esque list-style article. With hopefully some humor. Probably a lot of penis jokes. Cheers.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Death (Still Not Funny. Sorry.)
People who consider suicide as a viable option just haven't given death enough its just weight. It's a symptom of this death-trivializing society that we take for granted. I'm not even talking about how we laugh when the red shirts die in Star Trek, or mow down civilians out of boredom in Grand Theft Auto. I mean, when we know someone who has lost a loved one, we like to console them with things like, "It's okay. They're in a better place," or "They're at peace now," and you'll often hear about how it's "just like going to sleep." But it's not okay. Death isn't a relief. It's an end.
People say they want to kill themselves to make the pain go away. Well, yes, the pain will end. But you won't be around to feel the burden get lifted. You will completely cease to exist as a conscious being. People seem to think that when you die, you'll just be in a neutral state. You won't. You won't be in any state. You will have no feelings, no thoughts, nothing.
And the other big thing we seem to gloss over about death is how permanent it is. You only get one life. Dying isn't a restart button; it's a "quit forever" button. Like, literally forever. You will never experience again. Everything up to that point in your life will be your entire life. Nothing will ever happen to you again. You will never see anyone you know again. You will never get a chance to see how things would turn out. You are giving up entirely.
I have been through a lot of pain in my life. I'm pretty sure I suffer from chronic depression, and sometimes, the only thing keeping me from suicide was fear. Now, though, I've realized that the worst pain in the world isn't as bad as a complete permanent void. At least I can feel things. Even if sometimes those things are hopeless loneliness, or a complete immersion in sorrow. At least I know that maybe things won't be so bad in the future. At least I know, that by staying alive, I can see how my story unfolds, and only at the end decide whether it was a comedy or a tragedy, rather than ensuring it to be a tragedy.
People say they want to kill themselves to make the pain go away. Well, yes, the pain will end. But you won't be around to feel the burden get lifted. You will completely cease to exist as a conscious being. People seem to think that when you die, you'll just be in a neutral state. You won't. You won't be in any state. You will have no feelings, no thoughts, nothing.
And the other big thing we seem to gloss over about death is how permanent it is. You only get one life. Dying isn't a restart button; it's a "quit forever" button. Like, literally forever. You will never experience again. Everything up to that point in your life will be your entire life. Nothing will ever happen to you again. You will never see anyone you know again. You will never get a chance to see how things would turn out. You are giving up entirely.
I have been through a lot of pain in my life. I'm pretty sure I suffer from chronic depression, and sometimes, the only thing keeping me from suicide was fear. Now, though, I've realized that the worst pain in the world isn't as bad as a complete permanent void. At least I can feel things. Even if sometimes those things are hopeless loneliness, or a complete immersion in sorrow. At least I know that maybe things won't be so bad in the future. At least I know, that by staying alive, I can see how my story unfolds, and only at the end decide whether it was a comedy or a tragedy, rather than ensuring it to be a tragedy.
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