If you are in any way sensitive to chemicals in your system, do not ever try this.
NyQuil™ should only be taken as directed.
Taking it with alcohol my increase drowsiness, chances for medical complications, will produce an undesirable aftertaste, and will definitely decrease brain cells.
Beer (inadvertently) provided by Eric Shonkwiler.
I remember learning, slowly, the names of everyone in a new job, in a new office.
I remember the weird sensation of realizing that in retrospect of my longest relationship, I turned out to be the villain.
I remember rediscovering my ability to stay up for more than 24 hours at a time for the sake of work and the toll I pay to do it.
I remember turning down social activities to work.
I remember breaking and entering into some abandoned facility in that overlooks the East River from the Brooklyn side.
I remember trusting that arriving alone in a city I’ve never been would eventually lead me to new friends, and I remember being right about that.
I remember that I spoke, at length, about theology and metaphysics with an ex adult film actress, who happened to be my roommate at the time.
I remember tagging along to friends’ shows, and the soreness in my heart that was missing being on stage.
I remember re-learning to sing in countertenor.
I remember the excitement of again living very close to good friends and creative minds.
I remember that there is a lot I cannot recall about this year’s Halloween.
I remember a limousine limozeen in there, somewhere.
I just remembered some things I forgot to list, and I wonder if I will remember this moment of unique clarity; one lined with Nyquil and the hiss of nearby surface streets.
I hope I do.
For I, ladies and gentlemen, am forgetful.
Desensitivity
Ok people.
I’m sick, but not sick enough to be out of the office.
And the work I’m doing today
is the necessary evil that is sorting spreadsheets;
which means the work is mindless,
but that’s not such a bad thing considering my critical thinking skills
are currently out of commission.
Sniffle, sort, cut, paste, repeat.
Goes to show:
If you feel nothing,
at least you don’t feel bad.
-nicopolitan
When I was first player, you were always second player.
When I learned how to play drums, you learned how to play bass.
When I learned how to code, you learned how to design.
When I majored in literature, you majored in physics.
When I grew out my hair, you got a buzz cut.
When I became a live sound engineer, you became the bouncer.
When I became a blogger, you became a podcaster.
When I learned French, you learned Japanese.
When I got an Xbox 360, you got a PS3 (alright, you got a Wii, too).
When I said “we’re going on tour,” you packed your bags, your guitar, and a Gameboy Advance.
When I got up for work and drove west, you got up for school to drive east.
When I learned how to compose arrangements, you learned how to shred on guitar.
When I took up smoking, you took up lifting weights.
When I became a Mac, you stayed a PC.
When we talk, we don’t speak too deeply. Our differences divide us superficially like how often either of us decides to wear pants or shorts, or fundamentally like how I’m right-handed and you’re left-handed, or even deeply in that I am a social butterfly and you are a stoic. We rarely tell each other stories about our respective lives. And even though we’ve had inside jokes all of our lives, a lot of our bond is unspoken. It’s because our closeness comes from a relationship that is unspoken.
When we are doing what we love, the bond is there. So there’s no point in trying to talk to get us to be close.
When we rock, they know we’re brothers. It’s as simple as that.
So from first player to second player: Bon anniversaire, たんじょうびおめでとう — happy birthday.
You’ll be delighted to know that I’ve been really good this year! “Good” being relative, I think I’ve performed better than years past. Here are some highlights:
So, now that I’m done tooting my own horn, which actually made me kind of uncomfortable (a level of uncomfortable which, in itself, is impressive since this is, after all, a blog) I would like to put in a request this year.
You see, my family is cursed. Some bad stuff happens to us and those we care about in the month of January. Financially, emotionally, spiritually, physically… you name it, people who are in or close to my family have been hit by it consistently in the month of January.
This year, I’d like for the curse to be lifted, and not just for my family. This year, I’ve made some great friends on the interwebs, and though I know they’re capable of handling shit-hitting-the-fan, I would just really like for them all to be okay. They might not know about the January curse, and it’s really unfair to them if my family’s curse imposes on their lives. They don’t deserve that.
Alternatively, if shit does hit the fan, I’d like the power to help. Too often I’m out of reach or resource, so this year, I’d like to be able to help.
I hope the Mrs. and the reindeer are doing well. Thanks for taking the time to read this.
Sincerely,
nicopolitan
PS. I only have soy milk to go with the cookies this year. I hope that’s cool.
I obey.
This comes from my humble beginnings. When nicopolitan was in beta, his parents were very stern about their wishes. He learned shame very quickly and easily, but in retrospect, a strong sense of guilt is an immensely useful tool for self-discipline.
Most live by rules governed by the human experience:
Listen to your heart. Trust your intuition. Find true love. Follow your dreams.
Those are good and fine. But my rules are simpler.
Because of this, my experience can be easily explained serially if you think about following direction, and not necessarily about making choices.
Among these and many other instructions is a clause from various Scottish sources concerning hard work: “Work as if you live in the early days of a better nation.”
Someone once said that to me thinking I would take it as advice. That’s not how I work. I take it as a command, and I take it to heart.
But wait, you say, you just follow all rules or commands?
No. Considering the chronology of directions, some precede other ideas that will subsequently be canceled.
Don’t be stupid precedes here, snort this.
Live in moderation precedes have another drink.
Respect women as equals precedes try to sleep with that one over there.
Really, it’s very simple. And don’t get me wrong, I make mistakes along the way. All technology has the possibility of encountering hiccups.
Some might say that I don’t think for myself.
They’re right, because as a machine, it is more important to think for them — for others, for the common interest, for the greater good.
And am I okay with being this way?
Yes.
Why?
Because as the ancient Greeks once suggested, I am what I do.
I follow instructions.
Even if those instructions are from social constructs and environmental influences, if I am a machine that successfully follows those instructions,
then I work.
And really, that’s all that matters to me.
Humans are self-interested. Robots are helpful.
To anyone reading this, I challenge you this weekend to follow one good instruction you’ve been given in your lifetime.
You’d be surprised at what you accomplish.
You are currently browsing the nicopolitan.com blog archives for December, 2009.
FrankenPost (re: Open Up Already)
Tuesday, December 1st, 2009I loved the responses I got from a couple of posts back, so I thought I’d try this little Dada-esque game that involves paraphrasing, changing the voice, and writing a new post composed of the comments, which furthermore promotes link love. It has yet to be seen if this will all make sense, but I’m going to do it anyway.
On with the show!
One can choose to be happy or one can choose to be right, and most people habitually choose to maintain control of the situation even though clinging tightly to that control denies them the happiness of just going with the flow.
It’s kind of like how a lot of people are afraid to be in love. Some of us have been in “love” and then had it all come crashing down, screaming, thunder, probably some lightning bolts shot down on it too and for a good while we would be afraid to try somebody new. We’d get too scared to label it as something in case we lost it again. But maybe what’s better is being able to label it – and holding on to it. We can enjoy it so much better while embracing it, and fully acknowledging that it COULD be gone just makes us appreciate it that much more while it’s ours.
Happiness comes in a variety of forms. It can find us when we least expect it, and what makes us happy at one point in time might not make us feel the same at another.
Maybe it’s really just a question of semantics. We probably have all we need to be happy, and can call it what we like, as long as the concept of what “happiness” means doesn’t stop us from taking a risk once in a while.
Whatever hoops we have to jump through to maintain happiness are fine. Keeping quiet to ourselves about it–or even lying to ourselves–isn’t such a bad thing, so long as the state persists and we aren’t lying to others.
From what we can tell, so far anyway, is that the practice of contentment – santosha – is more important than the feelings of happiness. The idea suggests a lot about not attaching ourselves or emotions to anything, but acting more as observers and making sure our own actions contribute to the good of the whole, etc., than to our own feelings of happiness.
We should just accept happiness as a fleeting experience. Contentment lasts much longer. Accepting that those moments of happiness are more random leaves us free to enjoy them without fear of losing my happiness. We know we will lose it. We also know it will come back. Like the tides and stuff.
Maybe we shouldn’t aim for happiness since happiness is a benefit of aiming for more tangible things. We should be always on the move; always trying. Happiness comes when we are accomplished. But if we sit there, basking in happiness, we’ll start to feel like something else was passing us by.
People who are happiest don’t think too much about it.
Happiness is for suckers anyway. The cool kids know that having contentment and satisfaction are where it’s at.
Tags: comments, contentment, frankenpost, happiness, mashup, santosha
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