All I want for Christmas is...

Warning: To those of you who are happy, this post will sound a little trite

I have suspected it for a long time, and my experiences and observations have only continued to support my suspicion.

I believe that (at least after the dawn of civilization) the primary impetus for all that we do is for happiness. I further postulate that happiness is defined by finding love and acceptance (the scope and scale of which depends on each person).

Why do some people work all the time, ruthlessly climbing the corporate ladder? To be admired, accepted, even worshipped.

Why do some people think only of money? Because they think it can buy them happiness. What does a house larger than you need or a car faster than you are legally able to drive it mean? Status, and nothing more.

Getting good at anything is an attempt to impress others. Sure, you can say it's only for yourself, you want to grow, blah blah blah, but really, it's to make someone take notice.

Even terrorists commit their acts not only for their religious beliefs, but to be martyrs to their families and to reap the rewards of affection in the afterlife (of a thousand virgins, no less). Though of a sexual nature, I think it ultimately has to do with the hope for love.

It also seems that no matter what happens, finding romantic love is a driving force for a lot of people, regardless of socioeconomic status, cultural background, or interest. I mean, is it just me, or is nearly every song on the radio about love and relationships? You don't hear many songs about much else.

Anyway. Just some thoughts as we enter the holiday season, where, according to surveys, only 36 percent of single men and 48 percent of single women are optimistic about (finding someone special, that is).

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One last note - currently, I'm somewhat ambivalent about all this. Right now, I'd be happy just to have time to play Halo 2. So I can crush Andy. I need Andy's acceptance. Andy's acceptance of a crushing defeat in Halo 2.

No imagination

I was perusing the Black Friday sales (why is it called that anyway) and noticed something in one of the ads. My first thought was, "That is so cool!" My second thought was, "Actually, that's kind of sad."

What was it? It was an ad for a Spiderman glove that shoots webs.

I remember pretending to be Spiderman when I was a kid, with nothing more than my imagination, and maybe some blue and red sweats on. I always thought it would be cool to be able to shoot real webs from my wrists... but now that the technology has been realized, I'm not so sure it's for the better.

Kids these days have more realistic toys, more technologically impressive toys, and more options than ever before. Somehow I feel like some of the creativity and imagination that goes into childhood play is being taken away in the name of sales and profits.

I think I'd prefer imagination over technology.

Furtive glances

Along the lines of Andy's post about how he says stupid things, I noticed lately that I sometimes don't look at people when I greet them or take my leave.


Example:

[Entering elevator]

[Noticing someone I recognize AND for whom I remember their name]

Me: Morning. [Without even making eye contact]

Another example:

[Leaving the post office counter after a transaction]

Me: Thanks. [Without even making eye contact, I turn and leave]


Ok, so maybe the examples weren't necessary, but you get the idea. I don't know if people notice this, but I totally don't do it on purpose. I guess I'm just eager to get on my way.

Note: I tend to do this only with people I don't know.

Inevitable

It happens to me on almost a daily basis. I am doing some inane task, like opening an envelope, or carrying a folder. And I can see it. I can see an accident waiting to happen. Usually, this involves some sort of sharp object, such as scissors or a letter opener. One wrong move, and it could mean a really nasty wound; perhaps a letter opener stab through the hand or through my solar plexus.

Even though I can see this accident waiting to happen, I proceed. Why? I don't know. I just do. I guess I am a daredevil, of sorts.

Cookie cutters

You see a lot of different people in the city. We're told that everyone is unique, that we are all different.

I actually don't think that everyone's all that unique. I think there is a finite set of cookie cutters, and we are all basically cookie cutter versions of each other. It just depends which cookie cutter.

Common stereotypes are a good example of the types of cookie cutters I'm talking about. Computer geek. Sports nut. Martial arts enthusiast. Extreme sports nut. Outdoorsperson. Socialite. Asian gangster. Hip-hop/rap gansta. Intellectual. Artsy type. Etc.

You might argue that there are infinite variations within a cookie cutter, but they are essentially the same, or at least, people almost try to fit into a certain group.

I think it probably boils down to a need to belong to something, to identify with something. You see what's out there, and you want it.

Granted, once in a while you'll have someone that's just completely unique, but they generally spawn a following and that is quickly lost.

I don't think there's anything wrong with being a cookie cutter version of someone else, as long as you don't delude yourself that it's not the case.

Everybody else does it...

When I actually have something happen of note, I often don't have any desire to blog about it. This seems contradictory since that's usually the sort of thing I look forward to reading about in other people's blogs. So, I'll force myself to give a quick summary of this weekend.

Old friends Gary, Mark, and Rahul trekked over to NYC to visit. It was a good visit - lots of food, booze, and conversation. Oh, and a little debauchery.

Friday consisted mostly of getting our buzz on and dancing the night away, and putting on necessary calories at ungodly hours. What was interesting was that the club we ended up going to was like 100% asian. For those of you that know me, you might wonder why I would object, but lately I just feel strange being around all asians, especially ones I don't know. I make an exception for those that I am already friends with in spite of them being asian.

Saturday we ate bad chinese food and watched Michigan pound Northwestern (although to Northwestern's credit, they held on until the 3rd quarter). Then, we headed out to get wings at the local Hooters. Even though the wings were fatty, they were glorious. At least the first few were. Later, Rahul and I ended up having some gentlemanly fun before passing out.

Today was just laid back with food, company and hanging out. All in all, a very satisfactory weekend. Too bad it can't last.

Social awkwardness?

Lately people I've been hanging out with have been commenting on others' social awkwardness. I had a lively discussion of the difference in connotation between "dorks", "geeks" and "nerds", and which was the preferable descriptor (conclusion: nerds, because that connotes a general sense of intelligence with a twinge of social awkwardness but in an innocent, cute way, vs. geeks, who are smart but only about a few specific things, e.g. RISC microprocessors, vs. dorks, who do not connote a sense of intelligence but just a general awkwardness and perhaps below average intelligence).

By all objective accounts, I realize that I can be considered somewhat socially awkward, or at the very least, shy/introverted. Very scientifically sound online tests have confirmed that I lean slightly toward introversion. I do have a hard time quipping with strangers or saying profound/witty things with people I don't know.

After ruminating on this a bit, wondering why I'm not like other people who can strike up a conversation with just anyone, anytime, I've decided I'm not so much socially awkward as I am socially ambivalent.

To put it simply, I just don't care. If I don't have a compelling reason to know someone, I don't see the purpose in trying. Just because I'm curious about what's happening on a street corner doesn't mean I will ask about it. If I meet someone that I'm likely never to see again, I will promptly forget their name (this is a habit I should probably change if I ever have political aspirations). To me, you are not interesting unless I have a reason to be interested (which is probably at least part of the reason why meeting girls at bars is not a successful strategy for me).

This will probably stymie me in any forays into business or general career networking, but for the moment, it's a part of me. Should I change it? I haven't decided yet.

To hug or not to hug?

This has happened to me more than once in recent weeks, so I thought I would write a tidbit relating to hugging people you sorta-kinda-know.

The first incident happened several weeks ago. A friend of a friend that I had just met that night, after a good time walking around Chinatown and having dinner, was taking her leave. I saw it in slow motion: she went for a hug, and I had already decided to go for a handshake. Result? Awkward hug-lunge finishing in a handshake. Granted, this was after I hugged the friend goodbye so it might have been better for me to have kept the pattern going.

The second incident happened yesterday. This time, I was the victim. After this acquaintance/friend hugged other people goodbye (that she knew better), she looked at first to be going for a hug so I did too (when in Rome...). She then changed her mind last minute to do a handshake (or so it seemed to me) but ended up giving me a hug (because my mass was much greater than hers, it was harder for me to change what I was going for, you know, Newton's 2nd law of motion or whatever), and said "Ok, I guess you've earned the hug status.", or something similar.

So I guess the problem arises when the two parties are not clear on what their status is (hugging friends, handshake friends, or wave good-bye friends), which can be exacerbated by the hugging of better known friends just prior (because you don't want to break the flow).

It's also made more difficult when everyone's threshold for different statuses are different. Oh, life's quandaries.

Beaut(iful) sleep

I may have mentioned this before, but I am perfectly capable of sleeping for long, long periods of time. I know there are some of you who are cursed (blessed?) by only being able to sleep for seven or eight hours max, or wake up like clockwork at 9am no matter what, even on weekends, but not me.

Once, I slept for nearly 36 hours. Friday night to Sunday evening. It was glorious.

I tend to sleep more when I am sick, or coming down with something, or when I'm feeling down. In terms of the latter, I think it helps me sort things out, and gives me an escape. What better place to escape to than a dreamworld where things are usually warm, quiet, and safe?

Being asleep is truly the safest place I can think of to be at this point in my life. No worries, no cares, no dangers (except maybe CO poisoning).

Canada, eh?

No joke. I've seriously considered moving to Canada this week, as I'm sure many of us who were in blue states have. (And no, Cat, not for any other reasons you might think of)

Anyone want to go with me? I hear Saskatchewan is nice this time of year...

Love/hate with NYC

I'm very thankful for the chance to live in NYC right now, when I'm young. It's quite an adventure. That being said, I have a love/hate relationship with the city.

I hate... :

how long it can take to go less than 5 miles

how small living spaces are (unless you are rich)

how expensive everything is

how hard it is to hang out with people, you usually have to make plans

how crowded it feels sometimes

how hard it can be to transport large things

how you have to carry everything on your back vs. throwing it in your trunk

how lonely the city can feel

I love... :

how you can get almost anything you want to eat at any time of day or night

how diverse the population is

how you can do almost anything you want any night you want

the culture that is present in the city via museums, etc.

convenient public transportation

how you can have an ice cream cone delivered to your apartment if you wanted to

how open minded most people are

I can't wait until I find a place that I love flat out.

Proof that it could always be worse

Andy will tell you that you should go out and do something, but I can't help but fear that this will be me in 30 years.

Irrational fear? Perhaps. But we all have them.