When I see my parents, I see my unpleasant future. I kind of hope the world ends in 2012 because getting old doesn’t seem super fantastic.
As a child, I would smear thick layers of peanut butter onto my bread. These sandwiches would contain miniscule amounts of jelly and massive amounts of peanut butter. My mom would say, “Don’t put so much!” My dad would tell me, “Enjoy it now.” He used to have even more peanut butter, but he couldn’t eat that much peanut butter anymore.
Luckily, I have so far avoided his curse of heartburn. (My sister may have inherited that, along with a lesser amount of motion sickness.) However, I noticed that, recently, my stomach no longer accepts as much peanut butter as it used to. This is very sad. Will it get worse as I get older? My parents’ diets are depressing. Plain and lacking flavor. Could I even live life that way?
It’s not only the food thing. My dad also suffers from arthritis. I’ve already been dealing with various ailments, and I don’t know how I would deal with permanent pain. It seems likely that I’ll have to deal with this when I get older. C’mon, science, cure this before I get old!
It’s mostly the food thing that others me. I never have paid attention to food all that much, although I’ve always disliked flavorless food.
Ah well, it could be worse. I’ll just enjoy things for now.
I read The Discreet Pleasures of Rejection, by Martin Page, a while back, and I don’t have too much useful to say about it. It was a pleasant enough read; however, I didn’t enjoy it as much as How I Became Stupid. A few thoughts and then a few quotes and I’ll be done for the night:
Thought #1: One of the themes is about the futility of keeping things stable. That theme resonated with me because I’m going through some huge changes in my life. I made a purposeful decision to shake things up, despite my stable situation.
Thought #2: The French title of this book is way better: Peut-etre une histoire d’amour.
He remembered that his father had instilled one crucial thing in him: the importance of having good shoes. He’d advised him that, as soon as he had money, he should buy some (English, if possible, ones that would hold up, which he could count on and wouldn’t wear out; because with good shoes you can walk, you have your place on the ground (“They’re a house for your feet,” he’d say); and walking helped you think; so — concluded his father — if you want good ideas, choose good shoes.
I chose this quote because I’m a pacer when I need to think. I mean, I wrote a comic about the link between walking and ideas.
Plus, this is a really awesome sentence. I love how it rambles the same way you’d talk if you were recounting something someone says.
According to Armelle, journalists, market research companies, and politicians used systems of thought and speech borrowed from divination and magic. Economic commentaries are no more than predictions and prayers seeking to be answered. Virgil closed his eyes; he saw them behind their mikes, wearing the pointed hats of sorcerers and magic rings.
The sentence there that particularly stuck out was: Economic commentaries are no more than predictions and prayers seeking to be answered. I’m not sure about the veracity of the first sentence. But this second sentence is so definitely true. (If you don’t believe me, take some time to read Nassim Taleb.)