Saturday, August 26, 2006
Recently discovered praise for Shrimp Products
- Guitar Master said...
- I wish I could blog as good as you, but what I can do is give you a nice Guitar Lesson!
Friday, August 25, 2006
Self-unconsciousness
I think probably the hardest thing is hearing someone describe you in a way you’ve never considered before. As a rule, I try to understand as little about myself as possible because feeling helpless against the inexorable force of your own personality is the best way to dig yourself into an unhappy rut. Also, I just think there are a lot more interesting things to study than myself. Like dinosaurs or military aircraft or Oakland Athletics general manager Billy Beane.
So when someone tries to tell me something about myself, it’s usually just about the most uncomfortable situation imaginable and never really helps. In middle school, my mother suggested I carry gum or mints around with me at school so I could keep my breath fresh after lunch. Instantly, my breath became an obsession. I was chomping on something all day long—I wouldn’t suck on mints; I didn’t have the patience. Just about everyone found the constant crunching and smacking irritating, so I started covering my mouth all day, even when I spoke. This of course made me difficult to understand, so I began shouting all the time. Which didn’t really help because if anything, my voice became more muffled and less nuanced. And though I did all this for the sake of having good breath, I got more complaints than ever. No one had ever mentioned my breath before. Now they all said it was too minty and smelled terrible. They said the smell shot out of my mouth as if I were an Altoids atomizer, which I think was overstating it a bit, but I got the message.
Even worse are those glimpses of self-knowledge that don’t even mean anything to anyone. I have been advised several times by a number of people, none of whom had discussed the matter with each other before, that I have a very distinctive walk. I can’t even begin to imagine what this means. The only people I have seen in my life who have what I would describe as a distinctive walk were either using a cane or had just stepped in something. So I didn’t take it as a compliment.
Having no idea what to think of this mysterious observation, I decided I would need to investigate. One afternoon this summer, I took my video camera into my room, closed the door and just recorded myself walking around for a little while. I think I was finally getting somewhere when my mom busted in without knocking and caught me.
Now there are a number of things your mother could catch you doing when you’re alone in your room with the door closed and you’re probably thinking that getting caught videotaping your distinctive walk isn’t the worst. But I would have to disagree with you. The thing you probably think is the worst thing can be explained. It makes sense. It happens. It might be embarrassing at first, but at least you could come up with an explanation that would be hard to deny relatively easily. There was nothing I could say. She saw me walking around my room with a strange look of determination on my face, said nothing and shut the door. We have had trouble carrying on a normal conversation since.
For me anyway, and I think this is true for most of the happy people I know, the secret to staying happy and self-satisfied is to remain as self-unconscious as possible at all times. It is only when I realize what I am really doing that I feel uncomfortable and compelled to stop. If I was asleep all the time, my life would probably be a lot easier. For example, I don’t talk in my sleep, but once or twice a semester, I will shout. And I will not know it until my roommate tells me the next morning. I have yelled things like “That’s garbage” and “Unbelievable,” as if I were watching a particularly tense sports games, and then there are the things I just can’t explain. Like the time I yelled “Is this an elevator or a train already” or when I said “that Caesar is a crafty son of a gun.” This is the kind of thing I could never do when I was awake, even as a joke, but in my sleep it doesn’t bother me a bit.
But unfortunately, it is almost impossible to go through life asleep. I once tried to learn how to sleep on my feet, but every time it was about to work I would fall over and hit my head on something. But I guess I wouldn’t want to be completely self-unaware all of the time. Evolutionarily, it’s just stupid and dangerous to ignore your body when it’s trying to tell you something about your lifestyle. Like did you know if you ingest to much mint, your blood can congeal and take on a porous, mossy texture? Yeah. Neither did I.
So when someone tries to tell me something about myself, it’s usually just about the most uncomfortable situation imaginable and never really helps. In middle school, my mother suggested I carry gum or mints around with me at school so I could keep my breath fresh after lunch. Instantly, my breath became an obsession. I was chomping on something all day long—I wouldn’t suck on mints; I didn’t have the patience. Just about everyone found the constant crunching and smacking irritating, so I started covering my mouth all day, even when I spoke. This of course made me difficult to understand, so I began shouting all the time. Which didn’t really help because if anything, my voice became more muffled and less nuanced. And though I did all this for the sake of having good breath, I got more complaints than ever. No one had ever mentioned my breath before. Now they all said it was too minty and smelled terrible. They said the smell shot out of my mouth as if I were an Altoids atomizer, which I think was overstating it a bit, but I got the message.
Even worse are those glimpses of self-knowledge that don’t even mean anything to anyone. I have been advised several times by a number of people, none of whom had discussed the matter with each other before, that I have a very distinctive walk. I can’t even begin to imagine what this means. The only people I have seen in my life who have what I would describe as a distinctive walk were either using a cane or had just stepped in something. So I didn’t take it as a compliment.
Having no idea what to think of this mysterious observation, I decided I would need to investigate. One afternoon this summer, I took my video camera into my room, closed the door and just recorded myself walking around for a little while. I think I was finally getting somewhere when my mom busted in without knocking and caught me.
Now there are a number of things your mother could catch you doing when you’re alone in your room with the door closed and you’re probably thinking that getting caught videotaping your distinctive walk isn’t the worst. But I would have to disagree with you. The thing you probably think is the worst thing can be explained. It makes sense. It happens. It might be embarrassing at first, but at least you could come up with an explanation that would be hard to deny relatively easily. There was nothing I could say. She saw me walking around my room with a strange look of determination on my face, said nothing and shut the door. We have had trouble carrying on a normal conversation since.
For me anyway, and I think this is true for most of the happy people I know, the secret to staying happy and self-satisfied is to remain as self-unconscious as possible at all times. It is only when I realize what I am really doing that I feel uncomfortable and compelled to stop. If I was asleep all the time, my life would probably be a lot easier. For example, I don’t talk in my sleep, but once or twice a semester, I will shout. And I will not know it until my roommate tells me the next morning. I have yelled things like “That’s garbage” and “Unbelievable,” as if I were watching a particularly tense sports games, and then there are the things I just can’t explain. Like the time I yelled “Is this an elevator or a train already” or when I said “that Caesar is a crafty son of a gun.” This is the kind of thing I could never do when I was awake, even as a joke, but in my sleep it doesn’t bother me a bit.
But unfortunately, it is almost impossible to go through life asleep. I once tried to learn how to sleep on my feet, but every time it was about to work I would fall over and hit my head on something. But I guess I wouldn’t want to be completely self-unaware all of the time. Evolutionarily, it’s just stupid and dangerous to ignore your body when it’s trying to tell you something about your lifestyle. Like did you know if you ingest to much mint, your blood can congeal and take on a porous, mossy texture? Yeah. Neither did I.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
I try to guess the punch line to a joke from a popsicle stick, 3
Q: What kind of doctor treats a sick duck?
A: A veterinarian. Seriously. That's the real answer.
(A Quack Doctor)
(I could have accepted "ducktor," but that's just stupid.)
A: A veterinarian. Seriously. That's the real answer.
(A Quack Doctor)
(I could have accepted "ducktor," but that's just stupid.)
Monday, August 21, 2006
Pen Palz
Remember this? When I broke a couple sections of the federal penal code (including Sending Creepy Shit Through the Mail)? Well I got a response today.
Charles enjoyed his picture, but of course we all knew he would. Today, John (or Jack as his return address suggests he prefers) sent me an envelope. I noticed it was thin right when I picked it up and, sure enough, it was empty. He sent me an empty envelope.
Now to me, this is a great sign. When the operation was still in its earliest planning stages, I had first considered sending empty envelopes before I decided that didn't have the same effect as horrifying pictures. Now Jack received the less creppy of the two mailings, that's for sure. William, you might remember, received this and this and especially this, all of which probably made him think that I am a serial killer. So we'll see if and how he responds. In the meantime, I'm going to send something back to Jack and you'll be the first to know when it happens.
Charles enjoyed his picture, but of course we all knew he would. Today, John (or Jack as his return address suggests he prefers) sent me an envelope. I noticed it was thin right when I picked it up and, sure enough, it was empty. He sent me an empty envelope.
Now to me, this is a great sign. When the operation was still in its earliest planning stages, I had first considered sending empty envelopes before I decided that didn't have the same effect as horrifying pictures. Now Jack received the less creppy of the two mailings, that's for sure. William, you might remember, received this and this and especially this, all of which probably made him think that I am a serial killer. So we'll see if and how he responds. In the meantime, I'm going to send something back to Jack and you'll be the first to know when it happens.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Dear children of America
CHRISTIAN
We’ll be right back with our guest, but first, we have a public service announcement.
ADVERTISER
Thank you, Christian. Dear children of America. Santa Claus is not real. The workshop at the North Pole, the flying sled, the elves—all made up. Your parents are lying to you. Go ask them about it.
CHRISTIAN
Hey! What’s wrong with you? You can’t say that! You’re ruining Christmas for kids everywhere.
ADVERTISER
Au contraire, Christian. I paid for the airtime, I can say what I want. Observe. Dear history professors of America. This week, BU Tonight host Christian Lynch was heard referring to your esteemed department as “full of nerds and queers.”
CHRISTIAN
Come on now, that’s not even true.
ADVERTISER
Dear Ukrainians of America. The dishes are broken. The vegetables must be transported elsewhere.
CHRISTIAN
That doesn’t even make sense. Are you speaking in code?
ADVERTISER
That’s for the Ukrainians to decide.
CHRISTIAN
Look, this is absurd. We’re going to commercial. We’ll be right back.
CUT TO
ADVERTISER sitting motionless on his bench.
CHRISTIAN
Go to commercial. (pause) Hello?
ADVERTISER
Dear Civil War enthusiasts of America. Stonewall Jackson was ugly.
CHRISTIAN
What does that—
ADVERTISER
Dear audiences of America. We’ll be right back.
We’ll be right back with our guest, but first, we have a public service announcement.
ADVERTISER
Thank you, Christian. Dear children of America. Santa Claus is not real. The workshop at the North Pole, the flying sled, the elves—all made up. Your parents are lying to you. Go ask them about it.
CHRISTIAN
Hey! What’s wrong with you? You can’t say that! You’re ruining Christmas for kids everywhere.
ADVERTISER
Au contraire, Christian. I paid for the airtime, I can say what I want. Observe. Dear history professors of America. This week, BU Tonight host Christian Lynch was heard referring to your esteemed department as “full of nerds and queers.”
CHRISTIAN
Come on now, that’s not even true.
ADVERTISER
Dear Ukrainians of America. The dishes are broken. The vegetables must be transported elsewhere.
CHRISTIAN
That doesn’t even make sense. Are you speaking in code?
ADVERTISER
That’s for the Ukrainians to decide.
CHRISTIAN
Look, this is absurd. We’re going to commercial. We’ll be right back.
CUT TO
ADVERTISER sitting motionless on his bench.
CHRISTIAN
Go to commercial. (pause) Hello?
ADVERTISER
Dear Civil War enthusiasts of America. Stonewall Jackson was ugly.
CHRISTIAN
What does that—
ADVERTISER
Dear audiences of America. We’ll be right back.
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