The 'Yous' Epidemic

Childhood was a nightmare. School bullying; cat got run over; broadband was called something like 'dial up'; and there was the unforgettable epidemic of 'yous'. Not 'use', 'yous'. As in, "I'll give yous a gold star if yous'd learn to speak English." Eugh!

Enduring the profanities of those whose pastimes it was to pick on kids richer than them, and for whom I felt sorry because it gave them little time for videogames, was cake next to other blasphemous obscenities with which my poor ears were forced to contend. Among them, 'yous' was the worst. I had my first encounter when I was seven.

"Mrs Black gets angry when we're late! Yous better hurry up."

The word was petrifying. Even when the bell rang, the sound of which normally sets my feet into action, I stood there. The playground emptied; tumbleweed hovered; I felt like I was floating. I blinked moisture into my eyes, but instead the memories came flooding back. His face, adorned with freckles and glasses, refused to fade from my mind. The lisp made his verbal abuse indistinguishable from 'youth'. And as he spoke, saliva sprayed from between his metal-plated teeth. The word emerged like a shark trying to speak while consuming its prey. Violent, traumatising and... unnatural.

Today I still remember the culprit's face; it's been tattooed onto my memory, black and white like a wanted poster's sketch. Except before he could be detained, his sick language infiltrated the minds of every other kiwi in this country. I hear it more than ever; and each time it revives the pain. Battle scars.

Such language isn't even remotely productive. Believe me, I've fought to justify its use: 'you's' as a contraction for 'you is'; oh wait, there's no situation where that works, ever. Or 'yous' for colloquial banter, like 'lols' for old people since, you know, old people say it! But even this doesn't hold water, since 'lol' is but a poor acronym whose lowly status has long been established. 'You', on the other hand, is a perfectly crafted word, like 'Raglan' without the 'D' and 'everything' without that vulgar 'K'! It is clear that 'yous' has no place in anyone's vocabulary.

I know there are others who've seen the light, those of you similarly afflicted by the plagues which haunt the English language. It is you who ask, "What must we do?" And, with great pain, I must say that there is no known cure. But hope is not lost, for I do have one suggestion: one other than, "It's 'you', without the 's'," since that response only turns you into a pedantic nut. My advice is this: mimic and exaggerate their mistakes,

"What are yous up to today?"

"I's gots as physicses labs ats ones, ands Douglases's gots twos tutses froms elevens untils twelves fifties."

With hope they'll realise saying 'yous' makes them sound like they're simultaneously being tasered.

Immediate results are unlikely; but the more we wait, the more the curse spreads. Even those once thought immune are finding the taint to be too much to bear. Ignorance and apathy are pitfalls which we're becoming careless to avoid. Well stand up, I say. For if you're finding yourself in one of these pits, then may my advice be a torch to light your way, or a map if your pit is, in fact, a twisted and abysmal cave crawling with 'yous'-spreaders. 

If it is, then we may already be too late.

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Introverts 201

Introvertedness is a complicated term. It's also not a word. Needless to say, a few paragraphs about social energy are hardly sufficient to clearly explain the complicated relationship introverts have with their given state of 'limited social capacity'. So, here are some things to consider.

There are those who think they're extroverts (and everyone else also thinks they're extroverts), but, really, they aren't - at least, not entirely. Cynthia, a friend of mine who socialises nonstop and has far too many friends, recently told me that her energy for them is limited like mine, except, until now, she's never admitted it. She's like a fish with too much food, except she hasn't died… yet. You see, next to her social energy tank is an inability to say 'no'. One too many yeses later and she's wondering why she's feeling so drained. Tsk tsk, young Cynthia. "True courage is about knowing not when to [be social], but when to [not be social]." Then I proceeded to give her a sword.

via Memecenter

There are those whose introvertedness clashes with their fear of missing out. I'm one of these. I'll be playing a game, or watching a film when some intrusive friend decides to message me, "U shld come ova 4 a bbq @ Zed's plce! We gt salad, but nd meat." Up until this point, I would be content doing next to nothing. But now that there's a social event going on, I'm torn between accepting and declining, never mind the dwindling energy bank! Something about, "I can watch this film or play that game at any time, but I can't summon barbecues quite so easily. Also, people die."

Added to all this is the issue of who to hang out with. Think of each relationship you have with someone like its own slope. Some friends are easy to get along with. You can be yourself, say whatever, embrace awkwardness rather than shy from it, and there are no lengthy good byes, which are also awkward. These are the downhill-sloped people. They don’t drain social energy. They give it. By contrast, there are those with whom you don't really relate, those who'll stop listening if you talk about anything other than panel beating, or those who will probably judge you for having an interest in biodegradable objects. It quickly becomes a chore to talk to these folk. Some of them will drive you insane! These are the uphill ones. And in between the two are those who don't really give or take energy. Perhaps they don't talk much; perhaps they're mute. In any case, they're flat, like Hamilton. Basically, some people require more social energy than others. A barbecue has more than just food. It has people, too, and those people will impact on whether or not I'll bother. Of course, this is on a bad day.

If anything, be grateful when your introvert friend shows up. More often than not, they decided that spending time with you would be more worthwhile than not spending time with you, and they went to the effort to do so. Believe you me, there's always effort involved. You know, you have to go uphill before you can go down again.

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Introverts 101

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What makes a good movie?

The answer seems simple enough. Acting, plot, director's passion, suspense, special effects, you name it. When all of these meet at the peak of quality, a good movie dawns, does it not? Perhaps. But is not each of these qualities subject to debate? You may think the storyline of a movie superb in its execution, while I find it clichéd and overdone. In other words, each person has his or her own views; and in the end, it would appear that we viewers determine the levels of each quality, and thus the overall value of a film. Yet, when 70 percent of people dislike a film and the other 30 love it, do we simply say it's a bad film, or do we deem it 'underrated'? What if 90 percent of people love it and the rest despise it? Is it therefore a good movie, or do only 1 in every 10 people truly appreciate art when and where they see it?

So we have ourselves a dilemma, and the conundrum remains: what makes a 'good' movie? The simple solution is to back away, concluding that 'good' and 'bad', at least in terms of quality, are relative to a person's individual tastes. Perhaps, at the end of the day, that is all we can be sure of. But such a conclusion, indeed I tell you, is lame. Let us instead veer our eyes to the abyss!

Take Breaking Dawn: Part 2, the fifth and final film in the Twilight Saga, for example. On Rotten Tomatoes, it scored 48 percent from critics and 88 percent from user ratings. According to the formula above, Breaking Dawn: Part 2 is a good film, and critics don't know what they're talking about. Now look at Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. This film scored 92 percent from critics and 92 percent from user ratings. Another good film, yes? Indeed, ignoring what critics think, both films are almost equal in their level of quality. Breaking Dawn: Part 2 falls just 4 percent short. But lo! The father of modern fantasy nearly beaten by sparkly white people? This cannot be!

Fortunately, there is a distinction to be made despite these films' similar user ratings. Such a distinction eludes our first glance, but it becomes clear once the veneer of fandom has been removed. Both Breaking Dawn: Part 2 and Lord of the Rings have massive fan followings. Take them away, and what are we left with? For the former, barely the skin of its teeth. When those who love the film - those with biased opinions - are excluded, what's left is a multitude of human beings who despise shimmering vampires and ravenous werewolves (which, by the way, aren't werewolves. Read the book.) who for some unearthly reason risk everything to help an annoying, age-obsessed girl named Bella… oh, and her daughter Renesmee, who, for the record, is cute in the same way the rain maker from Looper is cute; that is, creepy. There is hardly anyone, and I mean anyone, who thinks the movie is 'adequate', or 'moderately good', or 'disappointing'. It's either amazing (if you're already a fan), or it’s really bad (if you're anyone else).

By contrast, when you strip Lord of the Rings of its fan base, there is still much substance to be found. Unlike Breaking Dawn, hardly anyone despises Lord of the Rings. If you don't love it, you still like it. Over a decade since its release, I've yet to meet a man who's watched it and didn't enjoy it, let alone someone who hated it.

Still puzzled? Here are some skilfully-crafted graphs to illustrate my point.

You can clearly see that each film has a strong fan base. However, the distinction in quality is only revealed when you look past them. With Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, there is a gradual decline tending towards 'hate', while for Breaking Dawn: Part 2 there is no such decline. Forsooth, the middle ground is an abyss where rotting vampire heads and nonexistent plot lines lie in the darkness.

In these cases, at least, where huge followings of people obsess over given movie franchises, the quality of any iteration in a franchise depends not on how big the following, but on everything else. Fans of Twilight love Twilight not because it's good but because it's Twilight. Similarly, fans of Lord of the Rings love Lord of the Rings because, well, it's Lord of the Rings. However, for those simply looking for a good film - those who aren't so much 'fans' of either - they will judge either film on its constituent qualities: Acting, plot, director's passion, suspense, special effects, you name it. The smoother decline illustrated for Lord of the Rings implies that those with unbiased views, who critique the film based solely on its filmic qualities, rate these qualities of high standard. The opposite can be concluded for Breaking Dawn, what with its abyss.

Now, I know what you're thinking. These graphs don't prove anything because, err, I made them up. True enough. But they reflect what I've heard and read from others, and they are furthermore backed up by the reviews on Rotten Tomatoes. For Breaking Dawn, the difference between user ratings and critics' reviews is staggering, while there is absolutely no difference for Lord of the Rings. Critics allegedly hold unbiased views, so the consistency with regards to the latter film is undoubtedly something of which to take note.

So, in the end, what makes a good movie? I could conclude that consistency of high ratings and praise - from fans and non-fans like, but mostly non-fans - does. But I won't, for this still leaves those underrated films and those artsy shindigs that don't make it to major cinemas under scrutiny. For now, though, I think the underlying presence of the 'abyss' is a big factor in determining a film's value. Lord of the Rings doesn't have one. Twilight does. Think on literature or music, and the same distinctions apply. If anything, rest assured that not belonging to a fan club doesn't make you a poor judge of good media. On the contrary, if such a judge was ever needed, you'd probably be shortlisted.

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"We're the same temperature now."

I have to report a crime. I… I've done something… terrible.

Before you shun me into the mythical realm of sparkly people whose sole weakness is in the juncture between head and shoulders (who would have thought: without their heads, they're powerless!), and where awkward conversations abound because the focus of them is a girl who has one facial expression, zero personality, and an inability to close her mouth; hear me out. I can explain.

I'm a bit like Rowan, a friend of mine who can't watch one film in a series and not the rest. Except, in my case, it's adhering to a tradition. Said tradition involves venturing with mates Nicky and Douglas to bear the latest 120 minutes of twilight pandemonium. Yet, if you treat the saga as a comedy, and you watch it with like-minded people, it can be more than bearable. Dare I say, it can be entertaining - but only because it's hilarious. Alas, we were the only ones in the theatre overcome in constant hysterics.

The first scene was no exception. Bella is embracing Edward (as one does after waking up from a coma during which one died) when Edward, barring nothing from his romantic tone, says, "We're the same temperature now." I honestly thought I might be watching a parody.

A later scene sees Alice walk into the living room where the rest of the family are sitting in silence (though they seem perpetually poised for a family portrait, no matter the setting. I concluded it must be a vampire thing). Without warning, she has a premonition of their doom, and upon returning to the present, drops her vase of flowers (I suppose it's better than dropping a wedding cake). Everyone turns to her, but that isn't enough for Jasper. No, he vampire-sprints over to her side, close enough for his nonexistent breath to condense on her cheek, before asking, "What is it?"

Why did he need to run to her? Why couldn't he have just stood up and asked from where he was? Why wasn't there a laugh track?

Those are just two examples, but believe me, the laughter was endless, even during the fight scene, when countless heads were being torn from their shoulders. I was waiting for Bella to split in two, but the premonition ended before then, at which point you find out the entire fight never happened. It would've happened; that's why it was a premonition; but it didn't, because the bad guy was going to lose, and losing is undesirable. It was then, when I realised everyone's bodies were still intact, that the laughter stopped. Not only that, I was disappointed.

Now, you can't call me ignorant, because I've read the book corresponding with the film, and in that, they prepare for a fight which never happens. That sucked. But the trailer for the film hyped itself up by showing snippets from an action scene never realised in text. I guessed that the film developers changed the ending - that they followed through with the fight. But my hopes were cut short. Sure, they filmed the fight, but it was a fight that never really happened. No consequences, no remorse. What a stupid story! In other words, the first 90 minutes, a boring slew of awkward conversations and training sessions spread far too thin as a build-up to their inevitable doom (as foreseen by Alice), yet sufficiently appeased by numerous episodes of unintended humour, was, in fact, a build up to nothing! This means the film's drive didn't even exist, leaving it utterly void of purpose.

Furthermore, the action scene was all but saturated in cheese! Not garlic, cheese! This was primarily due to the Volturi leader sending his cohorts one at a time to have their heads removed. Why not just attack all at once? Seriously. Logic. You see? Even the fight scene - the one part of the film I thought might be worth watching - failed to deliver. Not that it would've: an action scene needs to be grounded in plot for it to appeal; and this film's 'plot' was contingent on said action scene. So the fight had no purpose; the movie had no fight; and the entire film caved.

In hindsight, I blame Alice. If it wasn't for her future sight, Breaking Dawn: Part 2 might've had a chance at a decent ending. It's a shame, really. I was always on team Alice.

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Does Grammar really Matter?

Grammar and Punctuation¹: a volatile blend of simplicity and complexity. Simple in purpose, yet horrendously difficult to master. Each one of us knows what the term means - it isn't rocket science - but when it comes to hearing its application, I oftentimes close my eyes, picturing a cave occupied by men and women. They wear the skins of primitive beasts, and their tools are a collection of stones and bones. Fittingly, like the mammoth they slew and from whose bones they procured, grammar and punctuation is too great a beast to simply tame. It must be laid to rest.

Forsooth, some say that grammar doesn't matter; that it is an old-fashioned mix of arbitrary rules belonging to a minority who refuses to adapt; that those who claim to be well-versed are all compensating for things of actual significance that they lack; or that it is only relevant in some situations, like during a job interview or an exam.²

Such claims are bold, but they are no bolder than the ones proclaimed from those who hold a different view. Indeed, some would go so far as to say that grammar and punctuation might be the Achilles heel of today's Western society.

To those who uphold the former-most view, that language is changing, and that we ought to change with it: I agree. Language is always changing, much like fashion. Yet, no matter the fashion, there are standards; and in every instance, there is a scale ranging from inappropriate to over-dressed, with just right sitting in the middle. It is the same with grammar. There are standards, even today - standards that many people would rather do away with. I might want to wear shorts and a tee shirt instead of a suit to my wedding, but you would all gawk at me (or not attend) if I actually did. Likewise, I gawk at the eight out of ten native English-speaking people who can't differentiate 'have' from 'of'.

Granted, this comparison fails to shed any light as to why grammar and punctuation matters in the strictest sense of the word, and it even appears to support the claim that grammar is only important in some situations, like during a job interview or an exam. Perhaps that is because this claim is spot on. Just like most things, finely-tuned grammar only truly matters when its counterpart, poor grammar, bears unwanted consequences. Applying sun block at the beach matters because, if I don't, I'll get burnt. Correctly-punctuated writing matters in an exam because the alternative is to lose marks. Following is a spam email I recently received.

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T-Mobile Nederland BV
Waldorpstraat 60,
2521 CC Den Haag,
The Netherlands.
online-client service.

CONGRATULATION!

From T-mobile NL we are proud to inform you that your email address have
won you 850,000.00euros from our online anual coordination.

Chose an option which you will like to receive your winnings presenting
along side your winning reff number: NL/VV5-421/0031012.

(1). Come to the Redemption centre here in the Netherlands.
(2). On-line Bank Transfer
(3). Courier Delivery service

Congratulations once again.
Regards,
Robijn van-kloose.
Award Coordinator for T-mobile NL

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A sore thumb is a grave understatement in illustrating just how jarring this email is to anyone with half a brain. Indeed, it is completely submerged in discrepancy. You might have noticed that the word in capitals is missing a letter. Just one letter of a fifteen-letter word, yet we all notice it, and I'm sure we would all agree that it is unacceptable. Even with the 'S', the word itself, capitalised to grab the reader's attention, is a tell-tale sign of spam, yet the typo (I'll give them that much) is icing on the cake. Then there are 99 others. You see, even if I would have been so easily fooled, this one slip up is the ultimate sacrifice of credibility.

Credibility. It matters.

Things that uphold credibility: research, enthusiasm, confidence, good grammar.

If you can't back up a claim, prepare to be criticised. If your tone is dry and stale, prepare to be ignored. If you sound as confused as the people you're trying to instruct, prepare to be questioned. If your grammar is atrocious, then you can forget about everything else; you're going in the spam folder! Essentially, in all cases where you want to be taken seriously, strong grammar and punctuation strictly does matter.

via cheezburger.com

But what about in all other cases? Does grammar matter on Facebook, on Skype, or in casual emails? Your first response might be: no, it doesn't. You have nothing to prove on these mediums; you type like you talk; and there is no reason to put any effort into it. Fair enough, I say. And once again, I completely agree. In fact, I see no need to comment on the structure of someone's imperfect Facebook status when there isn't any pressing reason for them to write it correctly. If everyone understands it, and it makes sense, then that's all that matters. My hope is that, in cases where grammar does matter, they know what to do, and they'll get it right.

There is a difference, however, between a man who knows better but simply doesn't care, and a man who strives to get his grammar and punctuation correct, yet falters at the last word. My view is that everyone is innocent until proven guilty. In other words, it's only when there's a genuine mistake that I consider addressing the author. In such a case, my train of thought plays something like this: "If John has made a grammatical mistake despite making an effort not to, then he is likely to make the same mistake at a later time when it may prove detrimental." What is the next step upon this realisation? Do I point out the food caught between his teeth, or do I leave it unnoticed, hoping that he won't be too embarrassed when he eventually gets given a mirror?

In essence, grammar and punctuation on mediums like Facebook doesn't matter, or at least it wouldn't matter if these social mediums were the be all and end all of communication. But they aren't. Eventually, you will write something - a report, an essay, a personal statement - in which your understanding of grammar and punctuation will be your backbone. A good performance requires practice. Whether or not your grasp of English needs a polish is entirely up to you. Perhaps you know it well enough; but when it comes down to it, will you know where to place the apostrophe, if any? Should there be a comma before the quotation, or not? And can you properly distinguish its and it's, or there, their and they're? Your lecturer can. Your employer can. If you can't, then teach yourself. Google it, learn it, then practise it. 

Facebook, text, email - they might not matter right now, but they will matter when it's too late. For the sake of a job interview or exam, it's not unheard of to, you know, prepare.

For those times where grammar and punctuation strictly matters, every other instance may or may not matter in retrospect. It is your call to make. But it's all part of a constitution, and governing that constitution is a language that probably stems from your childhood. Do you remember? You learned a 26-letter alphabet, and you came to appreciate 26, not 25, distinct characters as the building blocks for communication. Today, not once do you forget one and replace it with more of the others. You accepted the whole package. It was either that, or nothing at all. Creating your own language, choosing your own rules, it doesn't work. You speak English, a constitution complete with standards and guidelines. Typing "your" when you mean "you're" is like spelling CONGRATULATIONS without the S. It's incomplete and, quite frankly, irresponsible. This, my friends, is why grammar and punctuation matters. It's the same reason the letter 'S' matters in the English alphabet. Forget everything else. You can punctuate and spell how you like on Facebook; you can rebel against your employers with a typo-ridden resume; but you can't then call it English. English has 26 letters; it has spelling and grammar rules; and it has punctuation marks.

If you say "should of" or "yous" or "Some-think", then by all means, keep saying these things. I trust you of all people are the smartest of us all, for your grasp of language is so firm that you feel confident to play with it, as if the tendon above the heel bears no limit to its stretch.

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1. As both nouns are part of the same constitution, I'm treating them as a single term. For instance, "Parks and Recreation" IS a TV program.

2. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J7E-aoXLZGY I love this!

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More Betterer

Let's face it. English is too damn demanding. We have to spell words, use commas and full stops, and then decide how many exclamation marks to use at the end of something remarkable!! And then that's not all. Nowadays we're having to contend with… with…  double superlatives! "Say what?" You ask, your tone aghast and your face warped with shock. Precisely.

Let's be clear. Saying things like "more nicer" and "more stronger" don't make any sense. But not saying them is yet another cumbersome task for the burden of speechcraft. All these regulations - it's hard enough as is not to break the law without worrying about the rules of… how do I say it… language! Well, worry no more. For I offer you the most moral code of moral codes: if you really don't want to give something up, justify it!¹ After all, if you can't beat'em, join'em.

The phrase "more better", along with all its variations, has become widely used in today's declin- I mean Western society. It probably stems from the fact that some words allow you to attach "er" to the end, like 'cuter', 'smoother' and 'funnerer', while others don't, like 'satisfied-er' and 'beautiful-er'. In the case of the latter two, one should say "more satisfied" or "more beautiful". Halt! All of a sudden we have two different utensils for the exact same piece of pie, and only one of them ever serves as proper etiquette. It's only natural, therefore, that they sometimes get mismatched, or we simply become too accustomed to our spoon of choice.

There are two main reasons why a man shouldn't say terms like "more better".

1) They don't make sense.

2) They sound retarded. The 'er' in "better" does the same job as the word 'more' preceding it. Forsooth, they mean exactly the same thing and do exactly the same job. Thus, if you say something like, "My new job is a lot more better," it's like saying, "My new job is a lot betterer," or, "My new job is a lot more more bett," to either of which I'd ask, "Who hired you?"

But this phrase, which simply leaves the word 'more' completely and utterly redundant, has been ingrained into your minds like the alphabet. Like how one plus one is two and not, in fact, sixty-five. It's part of the basics, and cannot be simply erased without you questioning the authenticity of your very own childhood. Fortunately there is no such need to wipe your memory. At least not yet.

It should be noted that I'm a man who doesn't just complain, but comes up with solutions as well. In fact, I can think of an entire one reason that completely justifies the use of 'more better'. Take Bobbery, for instance. Bobbery broke his leg last Sunday. It's now Tuesday. Life sucks because he's maimed and can't do much. But he can still talk - and his mouth is now his only remaining source of dignity. Screw that up, and he might as well be a fish.
Sarmeena, one of his good friends, pops in for a visit. "How's the leg?" she asks.

"Well," Bobbery begins, "it's more better than it was yesterday."

"Uh, what did you just say?" she says, her tone aghast and her face warped with shock. Rightfully so.

"Sarmeena, I can explain."

"I'm listening," she concedes, proving her loyalty as a friend through thick and thin.

Bobbery takes a deep breath. "You see, yesterday I was feeling a bit better than Sunday; but today I'm feeling much better than yesterday."

"So?" Hostility is creeping into her tone now.

"So, the amount by which I feel better today in relation to yesterday is greater than that which I felt yesterday with regards to the day before."

The ensuing silence is awkward, and Bobbery senses that the threads of their friendship are wearing thin and farther between. Much to his relief, she simply laughs and flicks her hair. "Oh, why didn't you just say so?" And she proceeds to share her chocolate with him, chocolate that she was about to keep to herself. It's berry and biscuit.

So what did Bobbery mean, exactly? Simple. The improvement in Bobbery's health between Monday and Tuesday was greater than the improvement between Sunday and Monday. Thus, he feels more better today than he did yesterday. So long as this explanation can apply to your uses of the term 'more better' or any of its variants, you will be able to defend ridicule, embarrassment and the Facebook-approved certainty of your friendships.2 You can thank me laterer.

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1.    Sarcasm

2.    This justification actually holds no water at all. "More better" still sounds retarded because Bobbery could (and should) have instead said, "even better," or, "better yet". Fortunately you probably didn't read this far.

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First World Angst

Today I experienced a bout of first world angst. It only lasted five seconds. After that I ate food, resolving all previous problems. Then tonight it happened again, this time for about thirty seconds - maybe more! For half a minute the entire world was against me. Of course, self-awareness yet prevailed, and here I now sit, writing this blog, twisting the truth to make a point. Oh, I've already said too much.

It's not right.

It wasn't enough. That fridge, closing without permission as fridges are wont to do. Sometimes I end up holding it open with my foot while I pour the milk on my cereal over at the bench¹ - I'm quite coordinated like that - and then swivel round to return the milk before the door shuts, all in one fluid motion. But today wasn't just so.

Today, I had toast.

As a man having toast does, I took a plate from the cupboard, a knife from the drawer, the toast from the toaster, and the butter from the fridge. That evil, evil fridge. I'm sure it hates me, for within its lair is where I encountered the terror of the first world.

You see, a man can leave the pantry open when he's borrowing the bread, or even the cupboard above the bench housing the sugar. But the fridge? Nope. Can't do that. Can't leave cold condiments and beverages exposed to the elements. That would be counterproductive. Why, world, why? Why do you make us suffer so? You give us electricity, lots of cool stuff, and an appliance that keeps the food chilled at a constant three degree using negligible amounts of energy. But you make us KEEP THE DOOR CLOSED!? Agh!

Alas, in the five seconds it took me to butter my toast (my finesse with the butter knife is unparalleled, even when the weight of the world appears to be resting upon my shoulders), my frustration quickly tempered. A certain thought, something like, "Oh, right, I have so much more than I… FOOD!" occurred, stopping just short as I began devouring my breakfast.

You must be miserable.

It wasn't until later tonight, in the midst of my shower, that that previous thought was given the time to conclude. Of course, the thing which triggered said thought was a mysterious and perhaps uncanny bout of bipolar disorder going on in the water pipes. For a good thirty seconds, the temperature was bouncing between hot and cold; and the cold wasn't fun. To make matters worse, one of those bounces lasted just long enough for me to think it was permanent and make the water hotter. Suffice it to say that, thanks to my Samoan blood, I came out of that bathroom unscathed --- but just barely. During this second encounter, I was all up in arms at the fact that I shouldn't have to deal with indecisive showers! But in the end, I again became aware of my foolish thinking and, in introspection, thought, "Oh, right, I have so much more than I need. Why the heck am I complaining?"

I don't know the answer to that; but I think the constant pipeline of awesomeness, in the form of technology, food, great people, good weather, stable jobs, convenient healthcare, are all part of the constitution. They're great, make no mistake. But they fuel an insatiable appetite for more. and our capacity for expectation only grows with each subsequent undertaking in first world convenience.

Sort of like this: "I'm complaining about a fridge door shutting. My life must be so boring. OMG, my life is boring! Time to complain!" Like that.

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¹ Sure, I could open it all the way without the need for the whole foot-stabilising, but then the fridge door would slam against the pantry door, which was already left open for added bread-returning convenience.

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