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May. 4th, 2006 @ 05:09 pm
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1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by asking you five questions of a very intimate and creepily personal nature. Or not so creepy/personal.
3. You WILL update your LJ with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the post. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) (Questions by crossedreality)
1) What are you the most insecure about?
A: I find myself constantly in fear of inheriting the mistakes and attitudes of my father. If I am not performing excellently at work, I start to question my self-worth. I think about starting my own business, but I remember the time that Dad tried that, and how he was unemployed for 2 years while I had to pick up the slack. I sometimes panic thinking that others will percieve in me some of those traits, and that those traits would sneak up on me if only I let my guard down for a little bit.
I also find myself comparing other's strengths to my own, and reassuring myself that at least one of my own is unique in some way.
2) How much money would you have to be offered before you would cheat on your significant other, if it was a one time "Indecent Proposal" style deal?
A: Well, if you think about it, the act of cheating itself is just another form of temptation. Be it large sums of money, or some perfect body/sexual experience, the outcome is the same: You've sacrificed your morals for greed. I would say there isn't a price out there that would make it somehow more "worth it" to betray my wife. I think that richness in love trumps any amount of wordly riches, to willingly throw that away seems a greater loss than losing X amount of currency.
3) What's the most angry you've ever been at me?
A: About this time two years ago, when you had a bad day at work, and I was hanging out with Kenny and Vivian at your house, and you absolutely blew your stack at me when you came home, for hours. I wrote a huge long angry letter to you the next day that I never sent. Most of the stuff in the letter has been resolved or at least is not relevant anymore, though.
4) How much money do you think you could be completely happy with, in a $salary/year way?
A: Whatever would pay the bills plus a few hundred a month to spend at leisure. I'd love to be making the $60,000 that salary.com says I should be making, but at the same time, stability is worth more to me than a lot of money. I've been laid off before; you don't want to be a "cost" someone can "cut". You want to be something they can't afford to be without.
5) Who would you trust more to be president of the United States: yourself or me?
A: This is also something I've thought of a lot, not necessarily about you, but me and leadership. I know I could be a great leader if I really wanted to, and when I've applied myself, I think I have been. However, I seem to thrive best while doing my thing behind the scenes, making good leaders better leaders. I don't have a huge drive to be a leader, and as far as the presidency goes, I know you'd have far more fun at it than I would--I don't get my kicks from strategic planning and politics. |
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REPUGNANT SLIME
Royal Philips...what kind of backwoods fecal-cut HeroinMethCrack are you smoking!? I don't think I would blame anyone for resorting to piracy if this brand of "legitimate" TV viewing came to fruition.
Are you also patenting the leather belt-straps, catheters, and eyeclamps that will keep us forcibly in rapt attention and awe of the advertiser's sweet, sweet, enchanting ambrosia?
"FILE SHARING IS KILLING OUR BUSINESS!"
No. Corporations and lobbyists like you and your ilk are responsible. I honestly hope you succeed just so you can fail spectacularly and end these fruitless pursuits to make us pay for things we are already paying for, and make us rent the things we already own.
The broadcast flag, analog downsampling, captive audience programming, and the general dilution of consumer rights will only end in a backlash so fierce your revunues will hang themselves from your bottom lines. There's only so much you can trick Joe Consumer into believing he's supposed to take before his pocketbook overcomes his ignorance.
It's going to be an interesting few years.
(Reposted from Jux) |
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I just felt like yelling. Sorry.
I'm not really upset so much as at capacity. I'll elaborate: I feel like an overloaded capacitor, fully charged, that has nowhere to discharge to. I haven't really written or read anything (bookwise) lately, or built anything whimsically diabolical.
I have the creative mind's equivalent of WANDERLUST.
Ironically, the last thing of this nature I've done recently was casually charge up the capacitor on top of my monitor and *SPAP!* a quarter. It was mildly satisfying to see the familiar scorchmark and crater again, but mindless displays of power seem to be behind me these days.
These days, I want some sort of meaningful result--and that is much harder to simply conjure up on a whim.
It's not entirely out of my hands; I've had several chances to just pour a glass of good spanish wine and curl up to finish reading "The Great Railway Bazaar" or "Snow Crash", but it's easier and more immediately exciting to load up a game of SubSpace and waste the hours away flinging X bomb into Y ship for Z hours.
It's a paradoxical escapism.
I'm most creative when I'm stressed, or perhaps it just feels better when I'm stressed. I love my job, but I end up sitting at this desk for hours, staring at this glowing CRT, only to come home and do the same thing for yet more hours until I convince myself to bugger off and get to sleep.
I get tense, I get agitated; frustrated at myself. I can't stand feeling this way, so I turn to escape. The escapism only exacerbates the problem, and so the cycle continues. I'm kind of stumbling through my day with a bleary-eyed familiarity with the processes that bind me, keep me in check.
Every day I deal with the fear of becoming like my father did those years of unemployment. I can feel the sweet tug of total escape, total leisure; total failure. Thankfully, I have very real boundaries that seem to prevent even the temptation to give in: My beautiful loving wife, my home, my job. But the fear is there, even if a little unjustified. So I'm constantly a bundle of nerves, balancing on the apex of some percieved balance of will.
The very thing imprisoning my focus is the one thing I am irrationally loathe to release from my fearful grip. Deep down, I fear that if I stop trying to will the things around me into check, I too will fall out of step and fall from grace. I'm superstitiously walking on eggshells that do not exist. I'm so afraid of myself that I can't take one step without devoting all of my mental resources to avoiding the crack in the sidewalk.
If something should ever happen to my mother's back...
The frantic dance rages on every day in my head, if I don't satisfy the "feeling", I panic and feel as if I'm slipping. Paranoid thoughts fill my brain outlining just how and when the imaginary house of cards would blow down. I then worry about snapping out of it before my external nervous demeanor actually does get me in trouble.
All I want to do is just look down, close my eyes and float out of the room. But that's the kind of behavior that will not lead to success. I don't trust myself, I guess, but I should. I'm running from so many mindtraps I might as well just stand still. And I do, and I can't bear it.
I'm at capacity and there's nowhere to discharge to. Illusory Catch-22's surround me and I'm afraid to even murmur in protest, because that's admitting there's a problem, and that means it exists!
I'm floating on a thin layer of steam shooting out from under my psyche. I'm uninspired, full of nervous energy, and feel guilty for any rest that I give myself. I stay late at work because I don't feel like I've contributed enough, which means I have less time to unwind at home, which means I get less restful sleep, which means I don't really perform well at work the next day...etc. Since sleep is an escape, it's seemingly physically painful for me to get up in the morning, and when I do, only the last minute do I leave for work, to sit in the dreadful traffic, only to worry about being late.
I'm weary and burned out, stuck working on this spreadsheet I loathe and don't understand, wishing I could work on something more interesting without guilt. I haven't had lunch yet; the inertia is killing me.
Is this some sort of quarter-life crisis or something?Current Mood:  frustrated Current Music: Whisper-hum of the PC fans. |
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Reply to this post, and I'll tell you *at least* one reason why I like you. Then put this in your own journal, and spread the love. |
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I'm breaking the 53-Comment Legacy with this post. I suppose that's a good thing as I can start using it as a journal. After all, we have the Forum now.
-------- dashdashdash1one --------
Yanked from Scott's journal,
Leave a comment and I'll try to respond. you know how it works.
1. I'll respond with something random about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll pick a liquor I'd take a shot of with you.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me.
5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered or liked about you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal.Current Mood:  contemplative |
| » Archons For Dummies: A Guide For The Rest Of Us! |
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+
 
=
[TIP]: Before you decide to become a being of pure energy, remember to remove all jewelry and any other metallic objects first! This will help to avoid embarrassing situations and/or prevent a chain reaction that will eventually immolate the entire planetary system in a gamma radiation emitting fireball.
Becoming an archon is not something to be taken lightly. Becoming an archon is becoming something that gives off light. You can become an archon if you try hard enough and follow these simple steps:
1. Become friends with a local pylon.
2. Attempt to woo it with gifts of battery acid and sports drinks ending with "-ade" (they have electrolytes)!
3. If you have succeeded in gaining the pylon's affections (you should hear a low, deep humming sound), you may then climb to the top of the pylon and become an archon.
If you do not follow these instructions carefully, you will anger the pylon and it will take out its frustration upon you. This is an undesired outcome--don't be a dummy!
May. 24th, 2005 @ 10:49 am
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| » Murfreesboro. MUR-FREES-BOR-O. Murphy's Borough. |
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Murfreesboro, a town of infamy. Murfreesboro, a town of insanity.
Murfreesboro, a town like no other.
Murfreesboro. You're soaking in it.
It tastes like cotton nickels, and cheese.
Murfreesboro, its not just a name, it's a way of life.
Murfreesboro. You can't stop this feeling.
Murfreesboro; The burros are never chained.
Murfreesboro. Murfreesboro (Murfreesboro), Murfreesboro.
It's what's for dinner.
And I helped.
Apr. 29th, 2005 @ 09:00 pm
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| » Hats. |
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Haberdashery. Hatter-fashionry.
We must, we must, we must increase our...hat rack.
Apr. 13th, 2005 @ 02:10 pm
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| » Avast Ye! |
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Whether by force or by sheer will, dogs everywhere are shunning gravity for the joy of flight.
First member of the Canadian K-9 Attack-Squadron.
Jedbob is jealous.
Apr. 3rd, 2005 @ 01:42 am
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| » Error, Error, an Error... |
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This is what happens when zombies attack your PC.
There is no satisfying a scanner that has un-input.
Only living data will satiate it's hunger, but not for very long.
Mar. 8th, 2005 @ 11:10 am
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| » And I run, I run so far away... |
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...couldn't get away.
UNTIL A manheim steamroller picked me up and I booked it out of there at 105FPH.
New forum, new year.
New rule: No more naked manpicdiscussions! ;)
Exception: NEVAR!
I asked Mr. Shudderworth just how alarming this trend is. Indeed, he did shudder, and I felt justified engraving the Iron Fist. Then the Iron Monkey came and stole it from me; stupid ninjas.
Yes, I mean you. FFFFFSSSHHHHEEEEEEEEEE!!
Feb. 3rd, 2005 @ 08:43 am
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| » Poor Thomas, Conductor Prefers Methanol |
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Santa's got a brand new slag.
Dec. 16th, 2004 @ 09:51 am
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| » Thomas The Tank Engine Switches To Gasahol. |
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And Mr. Conductor was none the wiser.
Dec. 3rd, 2004 @ 08:38 pm
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