What is important to me? It seems that the answer to that question changes everyday. Right now, finishing this blog and doing my other assorted end of the year school work is important. That will, in turn allow me to do other important things, and so on.
The thing to realize about attaching importance to something is not to go overboard. If you attach too much importance to something, when that goal is reached/item breaks/plot line reaches a conclusion you are going to attach more importance to something else. Then you'll just be stuck in a revolving continuum of unimportant important things that you're always getting done, and your life will just be an empty void.
That said, something that is first and foremost in my mind right now, twenty-four seven, is college. I am going there soon. I need money; provided by a job (another important thing right now), and scholarships which are again funded by me doing well in school (which I alluded to in the beginning). This is important so I might find a better job in the future (yet another important thing), which will allow me to pursue my various hobbies (which must be important to me, seeing how much I speak/ type of them), and both of these things might help me attain success, which will eventually ( hopefully) lead to peace of mind. That's a reasonable goal to shoot for, right?
These things are important to me for several reasons. The first is that, well, someday I want to attain peace of mind, maybe with a little bit of accomplishment, and a sense of belonging mixed in. These thing in and of themselves are important to me, because they are instinctual cravings that I can't particularly explain in full. The other things are important, because they will help me achieve these goals. Thusly, you can see that I am caught in the very unhappy continuum I mentioned before. A realization has just occurred. This is important to meas well, because knowledge (and perhaps a smidge of wisdom) will assist greatly on my journey to the (henceforth named) "More Important Things" (peace of mind etc.). I have come to the realization that, perhaps I was wrong. Maybe just because something is cyclical, doesn't mean it will make you unhappy and devoid of meaning. Perhaps a certain amount of cyclicity is necessary to attain the 'More Important Things". My god...I could sell this crap in a book and make a bundle...
At any rate, I hold no illusions that any of this is going to be easy. That won't stop me from trying for it though. After all, It is important. Maybe that is what importance is. The understanding that one must still try for something, even though it will not be easy, or even possible. Deep things to ponder... and if you would like to ponder them with me, my newly published book can help you unravel the mysteries of the universe for only three easy payments of 9.99, sent directly to me in cash or money orders...
-Sholan out
(Calm. Cool. And almost collected.)
Monday, June 14, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
The Vermillion Medallion of Bravery
What is courage? Why don't you ask someone who has a ready and most likely flawed explanation for that question, like a soldier, or a fireman? That is not to say that there is any thing wrong with people who take up those career paths, but I was just stating that their textbook definitions of courage might be lacking, and therefore much easier to spew about with a great degree of confidence than any backwards, self-repeating, perfect, catch-all of a definition some useless intellectual like myself might try to come up with. That said, if my definition ends up technically better than a soldier's or a fireman's , that is solely because I have never encountered nor acted upon any feeling like it in my life.
To revisit a topic, I would like to let everyone know that I play a war game called Warhammer 40000. I am in the process of switching armies, and am reexamining my infatuation with it due to its producer's attitude towards its costumers (and the pervasive belief hat we are animals in a Pink Floyd album, and will consume upon demand any manner of ridiculousness) and the fact that I have found a significantly more enjoyable replacement. At any rate Aside from my quibbles with the company, Warhammer is a fine scale to use for defining courage. Thus, most of my definitions will result from my experience with the game on the table top, and various attitudes associated with its playing. I do this because I realize that sitting on my butt from the safety of my own home and writing some all inclusive definition of something I don't really know of is just pretentious. So I'll stick with what I know (the list of things that I know at this point in my life is limited to war games, boardwalk stands, the English language, and diabetes).
So then, courage in the back story of the WH40K (an abbreviation for warhammer 40000) is just rampant, and is strictly limited to gloriously crushing charges and blood drenched glorious last stands. A bit narrow in my opinion, and not at all befitting of my play style (though I know some who embrace the back story as the only way to play), but it is gothic sci-fi/fantasy after all. When I play (unless I am feeling particularly stupid, or simply don't want to play my current opponent) I tend towards the conservative. I don't enjoy losing half as much as winning, and like losing my men even less. After all, I spent hours painstakingly converting and painting them. I don't want them to die. As soon as I switch armies, I'll have an excuse to do this while at the same time reconciling it with the back story for my army (a clever commander with a certain protectiveness for his men). Currently, I assume this aspect of my play style simply reflects the selfish nature of my troops as individuals (right now I play Chaos, but am soon switching to Imperial Guard, who have a more normalized army structure). It also helps that my new army will be so heavy on long range artillery that it won't have to go anywhere near the opponent to win...
At the same time, while I like to play to save as many men as I can, in the end they are only plastic figurines. And one lesson I have learned the hard way is that if you don't take risks some of the time, you're going to lose out all of the time. But taking risks doesn't just mean doing something potentially idiotic. It means doing something unexpected, that could end up being potentially idiotic. Like going after a different unit or objective than your opponent expected, or abandoning base to set up an ambush. Sometimes, it means doing something so absolutely crazy that your opponent will feel like they've just woken up from a come induced four years ago by an angry ex who shot up their wedding. For example, (one of my best games, no matter what my friend may say about it) I once nearly tied a game without firing a single shot. I parked my guys in strategic positions, ad let the mere threat of their firepower nearly deliver me victory. Of course, I lost that game (because it was the first time I had encountered eldar transports and their 24" move-dickerry in an actual game, but I digress). In fact, I was ridiculed for having played that game the way I did. Everyone thought I should have charged up and ripped face, and called me a pansy for not haing the guts to to so, come what may (matter of fact it was a very narrowly won game, and after running some statistics (which my back story playing friends despise along with sense and tactics) I found out that I would have lost much more significantly if I had put myself in a position to attack my opponent. GG Pockets). So now I have my own question, is stupidity courage?
So there you have it, a four hour rant about how I play warhammer and why. Now to tie it in to courage. My definition is not a catch-all, is not based on real under fire experience, and is likely to sound completely hokey and corny, but it is based on something I know, and (hopefully) do rather well. You see, to me, courage is doing whats best for those around you, no matter the cost to yourself, but still retaining the willingness to barter what is important to you (in my case, the 'lives' of my men, and/or a shot at winning) to take a risk that could better theirs or your own position (or insert noun here). It begins with caring and ends with conviction. And above all, it's about staying true to yourself and surprising others with sheer authenticness. And it's a lesson I think I am finally beginning to take to heart...
To revisit a topic, I would like to let everyone know that I play a war game called Warhammer 40000. I am in the process of switching armies, and am reexamining my infatuation with it due to its producer's attitude towards its costumers (and the pervasive belief hat we are animals in a Pink Floyd album, and will consume upon demand any manner of ridiculousness) and the fact that I have found a significantly more enjoyable replacement. At any rate Aside from my quibbles with the company, Warhammer is a fine scale to use for defining courage. Thus, most of my definitions will result from my experience with the game on the table top, and various attitudes associated with its playing. I do this because I realize that sitting on my butt from the safety of my own home and writing some all inclusive definition of something I don't really know of is just pretentious. So I'll stick with what I know (the list of things that I know at this point in my life is limited to war games, boardwalk stands, the English language, and diabetes).
So then, courage in the back story of the WH40K (an abbreviation for warhammer 40000) is just rampant, and is strictly limited to gloriously crushing charges and blood drenched glorious last stands. A bit narrow in my opinion, and not at all befitting of my play style (though I know some who embrace the back story as the only way to play), but it is gothic sci-fi/fantasy after all. When I play (unless I am feeling particularly stupid, or simply don't want to play my current opponent) I tend towards the conservative. I don't enjoy losing half as much as winning, and like losing my men even less. After all, I spent hours painstakingly converting and painting them. I don't want them to die. As soon as I switch armies, I'll have an excuse to do this while at the same time reconciling it with the back story for my army (a clever commander with a certain protectiveness for his men). Currently, I assume this aspect of my play style simply reflects the selfish nature of my troops as individuals (right now I play Chaos, but am soon switching to Imperial Guard, who have a more normalized army structure). It also helps that my new army will be so heavy on long range artillery that it won't have to go anywhere near the opponent to win...
At the same time, while I like to play to save as many men as I can, in the end they are only plastic figurines. And one lesson I have learned the hard way is that if you don't take risks some of the time, you're going to lose out all of the time. But taking risks doesn't just mean doing something potentially idiotic. It means doing something unexpected, that could end up being potentially idiotic. Like going after a different unit or objective than your opponent expected, or abandoning base to set up an ambush. Sometimes, it means doing something so absolutely crazy that your opponent will feel like they've just woken up from a come induced four years ago by an angry ex who shot up their wedding. For example, (one of my best games, no matter what my friend may say about it) I once nearly tied a game without firing a single shot. I parked my guys in strategic positions, ad let the mere threat of their firepower nearly deliver me victory. Of course, I lost that game (because it was the first time I had encountered eldar transports and their 24" move-dickerry in an actual game, but I digress). In fact, I was ridiculed for having played that game the way I did. Everyone thought I should have charged up and ripped face, and called me a pansy for not haing the guts to to so, come what may (matter of fact it was a very narrowly won game, and after running some statistics (which my back story playing friends despise along with sense and tactics) I found out that I would have lost much more significantly if I had put myself in a position to attack my opponent. GG Pockets). So now I have my own question, is stupidity courage?
So there you have it, a four hour rant about how I play warhammer and why. Now to tie it in to courage. My definition is not a catch-all, is not based on real under fire experience, and is likely to sound completely hokey and corny, but it is based on something I know, and (hopefully) do rather well. You see, to me, courage is doing whats best for those around you, no matter the cost to yourself, but still retaining the willingness to barter what is important to you (in my case, the 'lives' of my men, and/or a shot at winning) to take a risk that could better theirs or your own position (or insert noun here). It begins with caring and ends with conviction. And above all, it's about staying true to yourself and surprising others with sheer authenticness. And it's a lesson I think I am finally beginning to take to heart...
Monday, May 31, 2010
Earliest Memories
My earliest memory is that of my fifth birthday party. I was skinny back then, energetic and open minded. The world was my oyster, and the people I knew weren't trying to use my person as a tool to accomplish their own ends, nor I using theirs for my own. I wore thick, square, plastic rimmed nerd glasses. I was curious about all aspect of the world, and had the capacity to devour and learn anything and everything my family's limited resources could throw my way. It was a good time, a simpler time. But all of that pales in comparison to the reason I have kept this most cherished of memories. I would have a special surprise that day. Perhaps the greatest in the history of all male five year celebrations of birth.
You see, it was a bright autumn evening, early enough that the sun hadn't yet set, but cool enough for a long sleeved flannel (is there any other kind?). My birthday is in October, quite near hallows eve, so the decorations (and cake frosting) were resplendent in orange and black. I was standing on a crate ready to blow out the candles and make another optimistic childhood wish, when the greatest moment of my life (up to that point) occurred. BATMAN walked in! Frigging' BATMAN! Now, in case you did not know this, BATMAN is my favorite superhero evar. He was giant! Six foot tall, muscular, and he had a beer gut. Of course, in my excitement I failed to notice that last detail (which might just ave tipped me off to the cruel ruse that was afoot). But come on, how many times a day does BATMAN (or anyone vaguely dressed like BATMAN, for that matter) just up and walk into your house?
Now if you think this was exciting, that has nothing on his next actions. He proceeded to take me to the roof of my own house where he had set up an extensive zip line system, allowing myself and my three other guests under the weight limit of sixty pounds to rappel down to the ground in what can only be described as the most dangerously exciting moments of my entire life. Now I was BATMAN for all the world knew. And for three hours, my life was perfect.
But lo, good reader, it was not to last. The tale I tell today shall not be one of happiness, but a tragedy rife with heartbreak , and stories of innocence lost. For at the end of the party, BATMAN lifted his all concealing mask and revealed himself to be not Bruce Wayne (President and CEO of Wayne Industries) , but an old family friend by the name of Roberto (we called him "tio", a Latin based honorific roughly translatable to uncle). Needless to say, I was utterly crushed for the nextfive minutes. Then I came to my senses , and found a deep apreciativeness for what he had done for me. Also, I got to keep the BATMAN suit (which is now torn and too small for me). The lessson here is of course that, "Its not the friends you have that count, It the memories you make with them."
-sholan out
(rappelling from a skyscraper)
You see, it was a bright autumn evening, early enough that the sun hadn't yet set, but cool enough for a long sleeved flannel (is there any other kind?). My birthday is in October, quite near hallows eve, so the decorations (and cake frosting) were resplendent in orange and black. I was standing on a crate ready to blow out the candles and make another optimistic childhood wish, when the greatest moment of my life (up to that point) occurred. BATMAN walked in! Frigging' BATMAN! Now, in case you did not know this, BATMAN is my favorite superhero evar. He was giant! Six foot tall, muscular, and he had a beer gut. Of course, in my excitement I failed to notice that last detail (which might just ave tipped me off to the cruel ruse that was afoot). But come on, how many times a day does BATMAN (or anyone vaguely dressed like BATMAN, for that matter) just up and walk into your house?
Now if you think this was exciting, that has nothing on his next actions. He proceeded to take me to the roof of my own house where he had set up an extensive zip line system, allowing myself and my three other guests under the weight limit of sixty pounds to rappel down to the ground in what can only be described as the most dangerously exciting moments of my entire life. Now I was BATMAN for all the world knew. And for three hours, my life was perfect.
But lo, good reader, it was not to last. The tale I tell today shall not be one of happiness, but a tragedy rife with heartbreak , and stories of innocence lost. For at the end of the party, BATMAN lifted his all concealing mask and revealed himself to be not Bruce Wayne (President and CEO of Wayne Industries) , but an old family friend by the name of Roberto (we called him "tio", a Latin based honorific roughly translatable to uncle). Needless to say, I was utterly crushed for the nextfive minutes. Then I came to my senses , and found a deep apreciativeness for what he had done for me. Also, I got to keep the BATMAN suit (which is now torn and too small for me). The lessson here is of course that, "Its not the friends you have that count, It the memories you make with them."
-sholan out
(rappelling from a skyscraper)
Friday, May 28, 2010
Personal Privacy: Importance
Privacy is very important to me. In fact, it is so important that I do not feel comfortable posting this blog lest I expose you to the workings of my inner sanctum of seanliness. Just kidding. I have no problems exposing you to my secret machinations. I'll just have to kill you afterwards.
On a related note, I have an actual example to support my hypothesis on the importance of privacy (that it is, in fact, important) You see, I was going over my previous blog entries a little while ago, and I found out that I am, in fact, deceased (read my previous blog entries and you will find the episode in which I died). This happened due to a lack of privacy in my attempts to not so secretly undermine our glorious raptor lords. Yes, I was eaten by a velociraptor. So remember kids, privacy can save your life. And no, I will not describe in detail what it is like being dead. I value my privacy too much.
Of course, being not alive makes getting that crucial privacy so much easier. My body is just a rotting scrap of its former self buried deep beneath the ground, and people can't actually see my radiant new form as the tangible display of raw ethereal might it truly is. That is to say, for all intents and purposes, I am invisible. a fact that is no doubt distressing to the young man whose computer I am using to type this blog. Don't worry Douglass, I won't be here long.
Well, back when I was alive, my strategies for hoarding my privacy were the same as those I used for avoiding conflicts (detailed in the same blog entry in which I was eaten). I was rather reclusive and meek. At home anyway. I didn't call attention to myself, and as a result, my life was so surprisingly private and well guarded that the Raptor overlords let me entertain the notion that I could bring about some form of successful rebellion against them by toiling in secrecy. Of course, I was a fool for thinking so, for the Raptors see all.
So at the last, I must illustrate to you all the folly of expecting privacy. In the end the only way to be shielded from the omniscient eyes of our Raptor overlords is to be semi-existent, like myself. And even now I am not so sure that they aren't monitoring my every action.
Praise the Raptor overlords, and Praise to Vog.
On a related note, I have an actual example to support my hypothesis on the importance of privacy (that it is, in fact, important) You see, I was going over my previous blog entries a little while ago, and I found out that I am, in fact, deceased (read my previous blog entries and you will find the episode in which I died). This happened due to a lack of privacy in my attempts to not so secretly undermine our glorious raptor lords. Yes, I was eaten by a velociraptor. So remember kids, privacy can save your life. And no, I will not describe in detail what it is like being dead. I value my privacy too much.
Of course, being not alive makes getting that crucial privacy so much easier. My body is just a rotting scrap of its former self buried deep beneath the ground, and people can't actually see my radiant new form as the tangible display of raw ethereal might it truly is. That is to say, for all intents and purposes, I am invisible. a fact that is no doubt distressing to the young man whose computer I am using to type this blog. Don't worry Douglass, I won't be here long.
Well, back when I was alive, my strategies for hoarding my privacy were the same as those I used for avoiding conflicts (detailed in the same blog entry in which I was eaten). I was rather reclusive and meek. At home anyway. I didn't call attention to myself, and as a result, my life was so surprisingly private and well guarded that the Raptor overlords let me entertain the notion that I could bring about some form of successful rebellion against them by toiling in secrecy. Of course, I was a fool for thinking so, for the Raptors see all.
So at the last, I must illustrate to you all the folly of expecting privacy. In the end the only way to be shielded from the omniscient eyes of our Raptor overlords is to be semi-existent, like myself. And even now I am not so sure that they aren't monitoring my every action.
Praise the Raptor overlords, and Praise to Vog.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
A matter of life and death, part 2
If I could design a school curriculum, it would center on techniques to integrate humanity into our future role as the serving caste of our magnificent raptor overlords. There would be classes on the history of raptoria, raptorian grammar, and classes on raptoirian technology, that the most intelligent amongst us might be able to understand given adequate time and instruction (it is, after all, the most advanced technology in the known universe.)
There are many ways to ensure that all material taught is learned properly. The techniques that are to be most commonly employed by our supreme raptor overlords will be shock therapy and practical application. This of course means that if you fail to grasp the basics of living as a member of the serving caste in Raptorian society after the two mandatory sessions of shock therapy scheduled for all pending raptorian citizens, you will be fed to the ravenous young of the raptor overlords. If you fail to learn Raptor after two mandatory sessions of shock therapy, you will be fed to the young of our raptor overlords. And if you fail your technology class, you will be barred from enrolment in their computer technician program. Then you shall be fed to the young of our raptor overlords.
And scheduling is the beauty of it. After your first two lessons, there is no more need for education, as one is either a productive and valued member of the raptorian serving caste, pursuing education in one of a number of non-serving caste careers, or has been rendered into sustenance for the young of our glorious raptor overlords. As such, the lessons themselves shall proceed as follows: All applicants pending Raptorian citizenship will receive a brain implant which provides all the requisite knowledge necessary to live as a productive member of the raptorian serving caste. Those who are intelligent enough to recall the majority of the information provided after the two mandatory shock therapy sessions, will be allowed to become a member of the raptorian serving caste. Those students who exhibit significant intelligence may be allowed to receive additional education in a non-service field at the discretion of or magnanimous raptor overlords.
Homework is, for obvious reasons, not a necessity in the regular raptorian classes. Those intelligent enough to seek alternative education after the basic courses shall recieve a significant amount of homework. These assignments are usually meted out by the course instructor and are designed to serve as a final test as well as homework average. Those unable to complete their assignments and /or unable to meet course requirments will be lobotomized and made into slave-servitors.
So work well and quickly. Do what is commanded of you, and do your best to further the interests of our raptor overlords, and everything will be just fine. Raptoria is the happiest and most advanced utopia in the known universe, untouched by disease, strife, poverty, and death. It is a shining beacon of enlightenment amidst the darkness of the void
All hail our Raptor overlords, and the great society of Raptoria! Praise be to Vog!
(eeek-hruuk awrkaer minckt tureek erwaaak!)
There are many ways to ensure that all material taught is learned properly. The techniques that are to be most commonly employed by our supreme raptor overlords will be shock therapy and practical application. This of course means that if you fail to grasp the basics of living as a member of the serving caste in Raptorian society after the two mandatory sessions of shock therapy scheduled for all pending raptorian citizens, you will be fed to the ravenous young of the raptor overlords. If you fail to learn Raptor after two mandatory sessions of shock therapy, you will be fed to the young of our raptor overlords. And if you fail your technology class, you will be barred from enrolment in their computer technician program. Then you shall be fed to the young of our raptor overlords.
And scheduling is the beauty of it. After your first two lessons, there is no more need for education, as one is either a productive and valued member of the raptorian serving caste, pursuing education in one of a number of non-serving caste careers, or has been rendered into sustenance for the young of our glorious raptor overlords. As such, the lessons themselves shall proceed as follows: All applicants pending Raptorian citizenship will receive a brain implant which provides all the requisite knowledge necessary to live as a productive member of the raptorian serving caste. Those who are intelligent enough to recall the majority of the information provided after the two mandatory shock therapy sessions, will be allowed to become a member of the raptorian serving caste. Those students who exhibit significant intelligence may be allowed to receive additional education in a non-service field at the discretion of or magnanimous raptor overlords.
Homework is, for obvious reasons, not a necessity in the regular raptorian classes. Those intelligent enough to seek alternative education after the basic courses shall recieve a significant amount of homework. These assignments are usually meted out by the course instructor and are designed to serve as a final test as well as homework average. Those unable to complete their assignments and /or unable to meet course requirments will be lobotomized and made into slave-servitors.
So work well and quickly. Do what is commanded of you, and do your best to further the interests of our raptor overlords, and everything will be just fine. Raptoria is the happiest and most advanced utopia in the known universe, untouched by disease, strife, poverty, and death. It is a shining beacon of enlightenment amidst the darkness of the void
All hail our Raptor overlords, and the great society of Raptoria! Praise be to Vog!
(eeek-hruuk awrkaer minckt tureek erwaaak!)
Sunday, April 25, 2010
A matter of life and death.
Velociraptors.
They are nine feet long, travel in packs of twenty, and know no fear. They are masters of disguise, infiltration, and propaganda. Streamlined for land travel at over 65 mph evidence suggests that their feathers allow them to glide distances of up to 50 meters. They also boast one of the most advanced societies in the known universe. They may already be among us, subjugating us and devouring any resistance. We must unite if we wish to resist them for long enough to develop technology to rival theirs.
Do you know of anyone who may be a disguised velociraptor and/or velociraptor splinter cell?
What would you do to survive a velociraptor attack for as many seconds as possible (if you were alone, or in a group of fewer than 50 people)?
Should we attempt to resist, or would it be better to be peacefully absorbed into the hyperadvanced society of Raptoria?
If we choose to assert our independence as a race, is there any hope that we might succeed in driving off the raptors for at least a short period of time?
Do you have a particularly ingenious plan for defeating (or staving off) the velociraptor menace? If so send me an encrypted file detailing this plan, and remember, the raptors are watching your every move. Be careful.
Humanity needs you.
Write about these things.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Career possibilities.
I think about what I want to do constantly. Not just in terms of careers, but everything. Very little of it ever gets done. While that makes me worried for my future, it makes for a good writing topic to elaborate on mindlessly.
I'm one of those people whose known what I wanted to do since I was about three. Except every time I think I get it down, and begin learning about my chosen field, another one pops up that captures my interest even more. This has happened from from Heman right on up to psychology. In case you're wondering about that last sentence, it means that yes, at some point I wanted to be Heman, professionally.
Holding off on my current possible future craze, I have to say that I have been able to check off jobs in terms of what I don't want to be. This isn't because of a dislike of the parameters of the jobs in any case, but due either to inability, or irrational fear. Mathematician is one, mostly because really advanced mathematical formulae tend to leave my head spinning, and are usually involved in staring right down the universe's gullet, which freaks me out even more. Also, conspiracy theorists tend to point to them as proof positive of their raucous claims, and despite any previous statements I may have made, anything I have EVER said involving a conspiracy theory was in complete mockery of the theorists. Except about the moon landings. That crap totally didn't happen. Any way, mathematics out. As understanding too much freaks me out so much (don't get me wrong, I'd like to know everything, but this isn't Superman Red Son, and I do think that there is only so much a human can know before they go completely insane) physicist is out too. I'll leave that shite to Michio Kaku. Oddly enough, I'd still be open to the concept of a career in philosophy if any of those existed. Perhaps because that only involves questioning things as opposed to answering those questions.
Now, I can imagine myself doing a host of things. So many that I am not, sadly, going to attempt to list them here. I will, instead focus on two that have the highest probability of acctually happening at this point. The first is obvious. As you may no doubt know, I am "wordy" as Thomas Tuorto, puts it. I have no shame for this facet of my personality. In addition, I am something of a human dictionary. Lastly, my low self esteem makes it necessary for myu to put down others constantly to keep afloat on the tides of human emotion threatening to engulf me every day. As such, one career I can see myself pursuing is the lonely life of the editor (of any kind) or the verbally abusive path of the teacher of professional writing courses. I jest about the negatives associated with those careers, but in seriousness, owing to my love for language and its correct usage, I can see myself pursuing those careers.
The other career path I can see myself pursuing came to my mind this morning in epphay form. For the last few months I have been taking a college level course in culture and language. Having covered language above, I shall here focus on the culture. This course is now rapidly drawing to a close, and its completion leaves me with the startling realization that I like culture. Learning, practicing, opening my mind to, whatever form it takes, I enjoy encountering it. So I figure I may have a career in anthropology. Or whatever the study of culture is called nowadays... So yeah.
-Nolan out.
(speaking ever so humbly)
I'm one of those people whose known what I wanted to do since I was about three. Except every time I think I get it down, and begin learning about my chosen field, another one pops up that captures my interest even more. This has happened from from Heman right on up to psychology. In case you're wondering about that last sentence, it means that yes, at some point I wanted to be Heman, professionally.
Holding off on my current possible future craze, I have to say that I have been able to check off jobs in terms of what I don't want to be. This isn't because of a dislike of the parameters of the jobs in any case, but due either to inability, or irrational fear. Mathematician is one, mostly because really advanced mathematical formulae tend to leave my head spinning, and are usually involved in staring right down the universe's gullet, which freaks me out even more. Also, conspiracy theorists tend to point to them as proof positive of their raucous claims, and despite any previous statements I may have made, anything I have EVER said involving a conspiracy theory was in complete mockery of the theorists. Except about the moon landings. That crap totally didn't happen. Any way, mathematics out. As understanding too much freaks me out so much (don't get me wrong, I'd like to know everything, but this isn't Superman Red Son, and I do think that there is only so much a human can know before they go completely insane) physicist is out too. I'll leave that shite to Michio Kaku. Oddly enough, I'd still be open to the concept of a career in philosophy if any of those existed. Perhaps because that only involves questioning things as opposed to answering those questions.
Now, I can imagine myself doing a host of things. So many that I am not, sadly, going to attempt to list them here. I will, instead focus on two that have the highest probability of acctually happening at this point. The first is obvious. As you may no doubt know, I am "wordy" as Thomas Tuorto, puts it. I have no shame for this facet of my personality. In addition, I am something of a human dictionary. Lastly, my low self esteem makes it necessary for myu to put down others constantly to keep afloat on the tides of human emotion threatening to engulf me every day. As such, one career I can see myself pursuing is the lonely life of the editor (of any kind) or the verbally abusive path of the teacher of professional writing courses. I jest about the negatives associated with those careers, but in seriousness, owing to my love for language and its correct usage, I can see myself pursuing those careers.
The other career path I can see myself pursuing came to my mind this morning in epphay form. For the last few months I have been taking a college level course in culture and language. Having covered language above, I shall here focus on the culture. This course is now rapidly drawing to a close, and its completion leaves me with the startling realization that I like culture. Learning, practicing, opening my mind to, whatever form it takes, I enjoy encountering it. So I figure I may have a career in anthropology. Or whatever the study of culture is called nowadays... So yeah.
-Nolan out.
(speaking ever so humbly)
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