Amitiveness

 I like to do what I like to do and I’m not a fan of doing what I don’t.

I realize that sometimes we have to perform tasks we’d prefer not to, but why can’t life be more about fulfilling more of our preferences?

I’m guessing that our hunter-gatherer ancestors didn’t spend a lot of time engaged in activities that they didn’t want to, so it’s likely that we’re genetically hard-wired to mostly only do what we desire. No wonder it’s so hard to get out of bed sometimes and why it takes so long to get up the gumption to schedule a dental exam.

Deferred gratification is great and all, but isn’t a marshmallow in the mouth worth two in the researcher’s hand?

Perhaps I’d be more successful if I were more regularly willing to privilege the needs of my future self over those of my current self, but when it comes down to a matter of whether the here-and-now or the there-and-then is the one who has to suck it up: sorry Future Guy.

If you love what you do, you’ll never have to work a day in your life, but the same goes for being chronically unemployed and the thing about the latter option is that it means you never ever need to wear socks.

Doing what you must “builds character,” but you what also has that effect? Coming to grips with the guilty feelings of not having done what you should have.

It’s been shown time and again that the lawn isn’t going to mow itself, but as the 18th century British Empiricist philosopher David Hume reminds us, we can’t be sure that just because it’s always been that way in the past that it will continue to be that way in the future, and who am I to argue with one of the greatest thinkers in Western history?

This is what I wanted to say and now I’ve said it; I’m glad!

Nothing

I’ve got nothing, nada, zip, zilch zero. I’m empty, barren, vacant; even my synonym generator has no words.

Blame it on the time of year, the weather, my upbringing, and what I had or didn’t have for breakfast.  There’s no such thing as free will, anyway, so it’s not my fault, the Universe itself made all this happen; I’m just along for the ride.

I could be sleeping, then I wouldn’t be bored.  But is there anything more boring than sleeping? (I ask that merely rhetorically; don’t let’s bore ourselves with detailed explanations.)

Would that we could avail ourselves of the subjunctive.  Don’t let that get in the way of commands.  Is anyone asking questions?  

Run-on sentences are one way that some people, at least those who live meaningful lives, might express themselves in ways that others, who aren’t as fortunate, wouldn’t be able to unless they experienced an infusion of good will from unnamed sources who choose to remain anonymous because they don’t want their identities revealed.  

Get it?  Got it.  Good.

I’m just trying to make my way in a world that seems so similar to this one that no one can tell the difference.  Does that make sense or is sense something that can’t be understood via false dichotomies?

As I sit here, I’m sitting; when I stand for something, I do so on my own two feet; I won’t take this lying down unless I’m reclining.  Do you know what I mean or are there other options for making meaning?  Try baking cookies, why don’t you?

Remark how this is an example of the unremarkable; notice, then, what you don’t notice, and remember: never forget.

Today is the first day of the rest of your life, or maybe it’s the last one of the previous part.  In any case, it’s all it’s all there is in this moment, right now.  Tomorrow’s another day, and so is the day after.

Nothing doing, doing nothing.

Apocalyptic

Would you want me on your team for the zombie apocalypse?

I can’t fight; I won’t kill; and I don’t really like the sight of blood, especially my own.

I’m not very strong, nor particularly handy, and my farming skills are pretty limited.

I could cook, I guess, but how much of an appetite will there be for soufflés and gratins when the zombies are on the prowl? Like 90% of the population, I sort of learned to bake sourdough bread during the pandemic, but my starter is long dead, so I don’t think I’d be much help there, either.

I suppose I could assist in maintaining the fleet of bicycles, but unless my local bike shop was still open, I’d be hard up for parts and the necessary guidance on unfamiliar tasks.  Don’t expect me to be much use with automobiles, apart from adding windshield wiper fluid when that tank is empty.

Moreover, I’ve never really understood the strong desire to carry on after society completely collapses; if I have to hole up in a bunker and poop in a bucket while the world outside burns, count me out, honestly.  So, clearly, I won’t be much help in the morale department, either.

Perhaps I could teach philosophy or lead yoga classes.  (Oh, I got mixed up there; that’s not the zombie apocalypse, that’s for our Adult Summer camp.)

Maybe I could apply my experience as a Union president if it came to negotiating with the zombies; my sense, though, is that they would be resistant to the collaborative “Interest-Based Bargaining” model with which I am most familiar.

I am a fast reader and have a solid track record as someone who takes afternoon naps.  So, it will help the effort for me to sit in a chair and doze over Victorian fiction, sign me up.

And, of course, if all else fails—and it surely will—I can write 327-word essays about our inevitable collective demise.

Odd, Ya See?

After a trying day of fighting grading, I was trying to leave school and get home, where my wife was overwhelmed with providing snacks to our daughter’s soccer team, but my Dean roped me into an Accreditation meeting that just went on and on.  She promised that if I stayed later and worked on Outcomes Assessment with her that I’d never have to do another post-tenure review, but finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and appealed to the college president to convince her to let me leave.  

He did so but on the bike ride home, it started to storm so powerfully that I had to take refuge in a local bar where I ended up telling my tale of woe to the friendly bartender.  I recounted how, after class the day before, I had gotten so stoned on the ride home that I forget all about getting back quickly and at one point, I had to stop for a BLT with extra bacon at a local eatery.  Getting back on my bike, I came across an outdoor concert where the band was playing such enticing music that I needed to put in my own earbuds and listen to an audiobook to tear myself away.

After that, the bike path narrowed and I was barely able to squeeze past an SUV and a monster truck to continue on my way.

At this, the bartender took pity on me and loaded up my bicycle and me in her cargo van and drove us to my house.  I was pretty dirty and ragged upon my arrival so no one recognized me until my dog started barking and jumping with joy at my arrival.

I sent the soccer players packing and my wife emerged from the kitchen and asked if I could help her move our bed to a new spot in the bedroom.  I complained that it was too heavy; "it's you!" she cried, and she embraced me warmly. 

Home, at last!

Prospectus

Here’s your opportunity get in on the ground floor—over even lower, the sub-basement!—of this unique investment opportunity in the Yoga, Cycling, and Pot Weblog.

Our mission is to synergize frictionless, value-added, future-proofed assets that deliver human-centered content with hyper-personalized end-user experiences employing a freemium model that overdelivers on customer expectations and maximizes cost-per-click efficiencies.

We believe that our platform operationalizes delight and makes manifest the unmanifested joy that consumers don’t even know they are seeking.  The model combines viral enthusiasm with optimized happiness that funnels a scalable ecosystem of joy into the hearts and minds of audiences far and wide (and near and slim, as well.)

Our growth strategy innovates, accelerates, and expands upon existing modalities and frameworks to drive new customer engagement across multiple platforms in a virtual cycle of positive experiences that empower people to deploy and manage their life experiences using mega-AI (Authentic Intelligence) that is easy to use and low in calories, too!

Our competitive strengths include being the undisputed leader in the perpendicular niche market of 327-word weblogs; having a virtual monopoly in this specialized area positions us perfectly for digging deeper into this abyss; we’re sure to strike oil soon!

All investments have risks, of course, and investors should be aware that any and all funds invested in this venture have the potential to disappear in clouds of cannabis smoke or an offshore casino, but it will be worth it, we promise you!

Our management team has hours of experience dreaming of what it would be like to run a major multi-national corporation and with your support, you can make that dream come true!

The principal use of proceeds from this IPO will be to increase our financial flexibility, ensuring the continuation of our “N+1” strategy when it comes to new bicycle acquisitions.  And some Dom Perignon to celebrate!  

So, open your wallets, friends, the sooner, the better.

And now, back to work, and back to creating unbridled joy.

Love

We are creatures born of love (or, at least, lust), and so it is odd, isn’t it, that there is so much hate in the world.  

You’d think that the residue of what made us would hang around longer and result in lots more kindness, compassion, and caring, but I guess it evaporates quickly, leaving people with a hole in their hearts that all too often fills up with cruelty, indifference, and malice.  Nature abhors a vacuum, which is strange because everything often sucks.

Somehow, it’s possible for teenaged boys to acquire handguns and bring them to a city-wide food festival.  Back in the day, to complain about someone cutting the line, you had to throw your falafel in their face; nowadays, you pop a cap in them and continue dining.

No nation is going to kill their way to peace; has that ever really worked?  For every head you cut off, two new ones grow; for every parent bombed to death, dozens of children rise to avenge.   The only way to stop the violence is to stop the violence; why isn’t that obvious?

Someone is profiting off the carnage, and I suppose, anyone who has mutual funds in their 401K is complicit in some way, as well.  But does being able to afford to travel during retirement justify the murder of innocent civilians with state-of-the-art AI drones?  Apparently, says the stock market, “yes.”

If only we all could remember that everyone, everywhere, is someone’s child, even that terrible, awful guy clipping his toenails in his seat on public transport.  It’s hard not to hate him, for sure, but what if that were you?  How would you feel about yourself?  Disgusted, dismayed, grossed out, (one would hope), but maybe, just maybe, if we could put ourselves in his shoes, then thankfully, we wouldn’t be able to reach our toes and would stop, just stop, even in the absence of hate.

And thus, there’d be more room for love.

Precious

 In her poem, “The Summer Day,” Mary Oliver asks, as everyone who’s ever been in the greeting card section of Wal-Mart knows, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

As I sit here on Midsummer’s Eve (which oddly enough, occurs in spring—remember that for your trivia contests), I’m perfectly happy to answer: enjoying a Swiss cheese on rye sandwich while watching a World Cup soccer game between two teams I don’t really care about.

Granted, that’s not ALL I will do with it, but for now, it’s sufficient.  Of course, before the season is out, I hope to realize my essential nature as identical with the fundamental ground of all being and with any luck, make a major contribution to solving the homelessness crisis, but in the meantime, mustard, mayonnaise, relish, tomato, lettuce, and Swiss does the trick.

You only live once—thank goodness—so you might think that one’s plans for this wild and precious instantiation ought to be about maximizing experience and accomplishment at every moment and there’s much to be said for that, of course, especially if you’re in the business of selling vitamin supplements or even college course, but there’s also plenty to spoken about in favor of a life that isn’t treated as nearly so precious.  

Consider one, by contrast, that’s just kind of everyday, one that’s more like the flatware and less like the silverware, one that you don’t have to worry so much about breaking, one that stands up to day-to-day use and can still do its job even if cracked and dented a bit.

What this looks like in practice is open to interpretation, but perhaps it opens the proverbial door to such possibilities as afternoon naps, beach book reads, the occasional bout of day-drinking, and maybe even watching sporting events that one doesn’t care particularly much about in the basement on a sunny day just before summer begins.