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| COMFORT |  | Category: Personal
Tuesday, November 30th, 2004 @ 02:33 pm
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After reading an article on kuro5hin, I've realized I'm a comfort addict. It's a good read, at least for someone in my position.
It's not the first time I've thought it. I go back and forth all the time trying to figure out the source of my lack of motivation. I usually end up pinning it on either substance abuse, age, or this comfort thing.
Well, after removing substance abuse (with the exception of alcohol, my precious) by just putting a halt to drug and tobacco use, things seemed better, but I still can't seem to do anything but sit around when I get home from work.
After paying close attention to those around me, I'm fairly confident I can rule out age since I have friends, Pete for example, older than me, and ten times more active than myself. Granted, he's not older than me by a huge margin, but even having people the same age as me that aren't suffering from this proves my point well enough.
This of course leaves the "comfort addiction." When there's nothing causing any discomfort in your life, how do you ever know when anything good's happening? It all just sort of pales together into this haze of comfort. After experiencing comfort alone for a long enough period of time, it fades into just being.
I'm left with a situation I don't really know how to remedy. I want to want to do shit more that I actually just want to do shit. I fully realize that I've done this to myself. Allowed myself to stay home and drink, allowed myself to become domesticated, allowed myself to be happy with comfort alone.
I'm trying to reverse it now, but it's seeming kind of forced. I have fun when I go out, but I have no actual motivation to go out. I just have to kick myself out the door and have a situation to inject myself into. Having fun is a fucking hassle. When you're young, it always seems hip to project yourself as the jaded asshole -- it's a lot less fun in practice.
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| COMICS |  | Category: Humor
Monday, November 29th, 2004 @ 04:25 pm
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If you haven't checked out that Perry Bible Fellowship link that Scott
slapped down in the Quick Links down there, I highly recommend giving
it a look-see.
While on the subject of comics, I'd like to share with you two rather funny little strips
I found while parusing the interweb. I didn't make em, and I
don't know who did:
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| GURT BEEFROW |  | Category: Social
Monday, November 22nd, 2004 @ 10:13 pm
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 Saturday,
after some especially good vittles had at Magazine Street's one and
only Slim Goodies, we decided to retire to the house of SCandAL for a
night cap or twelve.
While walking along the red brick walk up to their door, I heard a
faint pop and a small squeal from Alison.
Something on the order of "not again, that's the third one!" came Scott's reply.
Utterly confused and wanting to know what the hell just happened, I gingerly inquired, "what the hell just happened?"
I was then treated to a brief
explanation about Alison's despicable habit of crushing poor, defenseless
snails that are haplessly sucking the mold off the brick walkway.
I know, disgusting, but I found it in my heart to forgive her, so
should you. After that we went inside and drank ourselves to the edge of
oblivion. Not smoking while getting drunk puts an odd edge on the
experience that I haven't quite gotten control of fully.
Hopefully it's just the physical withdrawal, which will fade with time.
Anyway, In a moderately unrelated story, I had tentative plans the next day to
have a little breakfast with Scott and Alison while the little missus
was out with one of her friends doing girly crap. While waiting
for the breakfast to get going, I was in the "garden", weeding my new
found pride and joy, my budding pumpkin patch, when lo, I discovered a
quite gargantuan interloper: a large snail was enjoying quite the
mildew buffet on the bricks encircling my beloved pumpkin patch.
While squatting there staring at this snail, I had one of those
epiphanies where, in the span of a single second, you crossreference
ten different loose ends in your head all at the same time and come up
with a single solution that solves a miriad of problems. As if you
formulated the theory of relativity as a by product of inventing a way
of turning water in to Wild Turkey with 29 cents worth of
equipment. Well, that's what it felt like at the time, but in
actuality it was more like this:
"Man, I could toally give that snail to Alison to help her atone for her horrible genocidal actions against all of snail-kind!"
The sheer genius of the situation was signed, sealed and delivered when
I needed to come up with a name for the little guy. A half wrong
remembered name from some movie that had been floating around in my
head all morning. You know, when you have this wispy half memory
that's basically a string of sounds floating around in your head
refusing to let you concrete the memory in your mind, much less let you
remember its origin? Yeah, that kind of memory. The kind
that drives you nuts for hours on end until you finally pin it
down. Instead of letting it bug me any longer, I would exorcise
this thought by externalizing it. Thus I christened this snail:
Gurt Beefrow
I went to affix a plaque to his new habitat, one that would boldly
proclaim the rightful name of the occupant, but the only plaque making
supplies I had at the time were masking tape and a sharpie, so it ended
up being much less bold than previously thought... the result can be seen in the image accompanying this post.
The unfortunate part of this is when SCandAL arrived to go to breakfast,
an uncomfortable turn of events had begun, and I had to decline on
breakfast and settle for just handing Gurt off to his new owners.
Godspeed Gurt Beefrow. Godspeed.
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| THE NEW DEAL | | Category: Personal
Sunday, November 21st, 2004 @ 11:43 am
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The bet is now on. Me and Scott. Scott and I. He who smokes first must buy for the other his most coveted, unowned piece of technology.
The potential booty breaks down as such:
Scott: Nintendo DS
Brent: NVidia Geforce (insert some model number here)
Those are the rules. Those are the consequences. May the best man win.
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| CHOICE | | Category: Personal
Thursday, November 18th, 2004 @ 03:16 pm
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 There's
a large difference between being a non-smoker and an ex-smoker.
While there's the entire urge to smoke thing going on with ex-smokers,
there's something below that, something more base, that's extremely
disturbing: the removal of your free will.
What bothers me the most about not smoking is the fact that I can't
smoke. When you're just a non-smoker, this lack of choice doesn't
bother you at all due to the fact that you're not really interested in the other option. When you've quit smoking, you've
effectively removed one of these choices, and even though it's a choice
you don't plan on making, its absence is definitely palpable.
It's sort of like the difference between having no where to go and
owning a car versus having no where to go and not owning any sort of
transportation. Even though you're not going anywhere, you still
feel more confined.
Social smokers are the worst. They shine like the holy grail of
non-smoking, like bright and shining beacons proclaiming that you can
smoke only when you want to. They make if feel like you can still choose
to smoke one day, and have that one day not reflect on your status as a
smoker. It's bullshit. Social smokers should be called
pre-smokers. I've never met an ex-smoker who could contain their smoking
to strictly social settings, but I've met tons of people, me included,
who were once social smokers, and have since turned into raging fucking chimneys.
I know if I tried to smoke socially, or just smoke
when I drank, it would take me less than a month to be right back at a
pack a day habit. I know, because two of the times
I've quit, this is the exact route I took in starting back up
again.
The sad part of all of this is that the more I think about it, the more
I'm realizing that quitting smoking is almost like being a recovering
alcoholic in that you're never really done with
smoking, you
deal with the addiction for the rest of your life whether you still
indulge in it or not. I really just want to go through my withdrawal and
be done with it, fully expecting a few rough nights here and there, but
definitely not haunting me for the rest of my life.
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