Broken Hearted Hoover Fixer Sucker Guy

I began this post with the paragraph below, hoping to later casually mention that its inspiration was the movie Once, which I saw late last night. Feeling less eloquent than ever, I'm not going to expand on it with a review, but -- while I very nearly hated the movie while watching it -- the more I think about it, the better I love it. I can't stop listening to the soundtrack (this post shares a title with one of its songs), or get the low-budget cinematography out of my head.

The problem with surrounding yourself with Impactful Things -- taking the trouble only to purchase well-rated books; subscribing to indie movie theater newsletters, so you're up on what's good beforehand; having friends to recommend all that to you regardless -- is that after a while, the Things begin to compete with each other for your attention, or worse, melt together in a pot on the back burner of your mind, now far too overwhelmed to take anything in.

That doesn't make any sense. :( Why was I not blessed with the gift of articulation?

It's the feeling of absurd, suffocating busyness, when you have so much to do you almost forget to brush your teeth. (That doesn't really happen though -- everyone knows that.) Or when you're having so much fun that you can't bear to think about anything but what's happening at the exact moment of existence.

It's the difference between a) somebody who leads a very boring life, to which something unexpected happens one day, like crossing paths with an alligator in the middle of the street, and b) somebody who deals with such oddments daily -- like a rescue worker or something -- who's rarely very much surprised anymore.

There's more contrast in an uneventful life. And so, down it boils: would you rather your days were uneventful, to savor the extremeness of drastic, life-changing moments, or have your life change a little bit every day, never truly shocked or moved by anything?

Granted, leading the latter type of life is probably very difficult to do. It's easy to forget things you've taken for granted forever, right up until the moment they're snatched away from under your nose. Something's bound to flip you over like a pancake on a griddle at some point.

It's times like these that makes me wish I had a large vat of Pensieve to consult on rainy days. But even without, I think I still prefer Life #2. If nothing else, it makes for better blogging material. :)

Old News

I couldn't think of anything exciting to talk about, so I will post now-moldy, outdated commentary on two topics that you've surely read elsewhere. My justification: this is a convenient time capsule, and how else will I remember what were clearly the most pressing issues of yesterday?

1) The Logo.
I'm clearly not the only person who thinks that the 2012 London Olympics logo is probably the ugliest large-scale event logo in the industry of graphic design. In the HISTORY of the industry of graphic design. What the heezy were they thinking?

What'll be next? Posters made out of broken window shards to match?


2) The Hypothesis.

I refer, of course, to this social study released a few weeks ago.

What it says: Hanging out with fat people will make you fat.
What I think: Well, it's true.

Don't beat me up. That's a super-crude way to put it and I promise I won't do it again. But I really do think it's obvious: put in the simplest terms, if you spend most of your time in a house with a pantry full of junk food, and rooms full of people who have no qualms eating it, you'll be packing on the poundage in no time. (Yeah, I know. That's unfair and not too many obese people can actually help it. I speak generally for my argument.) And, sillies, of course it works in the reverse. What do you think the adolescent experience for the teenage girl IS? If you chill with a bunch of supermodels, you're bound to throw up a few meals here and there.

Isn't that pretty much true of everything? Peer pressure plays a much bigger role in life than anyone would like to admit.

That said, let's not get carried away. Don't dump all your plump pals to stay skinny; it'll just make the world a worse and more judgmental place. If people cared that much, they'd realize they were susceptible and just deal. Insert appropriate finger-wagging here.

Thank You For Using the Provided Ashtray

Brain Binging

I'm sure there's a better term for this -- and Ted, if you know, do tell -- but for now, I'll call it Brain Binging. (I also considered Info Imbibing and Sagacity Sprees. None sound all too articulate.)

It's when I'm overcome with a desire to learn about a subject, usually out of the blue, and can't stop myself from spending hours getting face cancer from the screen of my computer. I scourge the internets -- if I had any sense of drive, I'd get to the library too -- for wikipedia articles, how-to pages and well-crafted blogs, acquiring every opinion on the thing.

I can't even count how many times I've been through this. Some Regulars are books, knitting, efficiency/productivity habits, and personality types; some Recents are cosmetics (hahah), post-college confusion for Generation Y, and the nuances of small talk.

It's pretty nerdy, let me tell you.

But even then, not as cool as it sounds. On the rare occasion that I choose something worthwhile to learn about, like komodo dragons or Iranian history (haven't done either, heh), it doesn't really take long for me to forget 90% of what I could quote the day of.

The problem with Binging is that instead of reading things for a test or paper -- which I would be the last to endorse, don't worry -- you read for yourself, and so it's easy to only retain certain things that stand out at you. Out of context, it could be problematic... but maybe I'm not putting enough faith in the human brain. Who knows when my research on tinted moisturizers will come in handy?

Ted

Might as well get going, while I'm still inspired.

I like writing posts in dialogue(-ish) form, as if I'm talking to someone; i.e., You. But lately, just saying "you" or "you all" seems kind of presumptuous, like I have secret knowledge of the masses of people avidly following my entries by the minute. I realize that in order for anything to be read at all, there WILL be a "you," and so it's perfectly justified, but still.

I think I'll address all posts to Ted -- at least, until I get tired of it. You're Ted. And sadly, you got a pitiful two stars out of five on babynames.com.

YO. I mean. Commence.

I've wanted to "go public" for a while. It'll probably be yet another seldom-updated blog -- don't you worry, I already have a book blog, a knit blog, and a friendslocked LiveJournal, all regularly dormant -- but who're they to stop me? I need somewhere for musings.