Big Fat Hairy Living

I think there should be a limit to the number of ellipses and emoticons allowed in a LiveJournal posting.

I can give people a little bit of leeway with bad grammar and spelling; for example, when chatting online, people usually don’t bother to make sure that their spelling and grammar are correct. Some people are not native english speakers, and I am willing to take that into account too. When people write stuff for an audience, however, they need to take care to make sure their spelling and grammar are reasonable. I don’t expect anyone to be grammatically perfect, but they need to show a reasonable ability to write properly in order to gain my respect. People who can’t write grammatical sentences or spell words correctly just end up looking stupid. English has rules for a reason.

Michael Dell on his company’s record of computing innovations: “We were the first to integrate wireless into notebooks, with integrated antennas.” What a liar.

The slashdot story generator is hilarious.

When it comes to relationships with people, I’d like to think I cut them a reasonable amount of slack when they hurt me. The thing I’m not sure about, though, is where to draw the line. How many times do I let someone hurt me before I decide to cut it off and simply not deal with them again? One the one hand, I don’t want to be stepped all over by people and used by them, but on the other hand, I don’t want to pull a Giuseppe and drop them at the slightest percieved offence.

I’ve been going by a general rule: if someone can hurt me three times without showing any signs of change, I cut them off. Is that reasonable? Am I too harsh?

People reveal who they really are through their actions, not through their words. I hope that everyone who knows me can say that I’ve acted honestly towards them. I hope that everyone that I consider a friend, or have considered a friend in the past, can say that I’ve been good to them.

I make mistakes. I’ve done some things in the past that I’m very ashamed of. But I hope that I’ve learned, and I hope that shows.

This condo is beautiful. On Sunday, I went to take a look at the sales centre. I was very impressed by the model unit. The units are nice and the development preserves historic buildings along Jarvis St. while providing space for the National Ballet and adding density all at the same time. I want to live in unit 08.

Yesterday I visited my mom and sister for the day and we ended up talking about the hell that is my workplace.

In retrospect, it’s clear why my co-workers grate on me so much: they’re unquestioning, unoriginal sheep. They question nothing and accept everything that’s given to them by society, by their religion, by their parents, by their boss. They’ve been so cowed into conformity by the education system that they are unable to question anything at all. They’re shallow and superficial, never questioning anything deep in life, their goals being new cars or new homes or new wives. Image is everything to them, which is why my office mate is concerned about “what will other people think” about the fact that I’m queer, or why the shallow moron in my department is concerned when I puncture my clamshell lunch container in the cafeteria, thus making noise and causing people to stare. They’re like water bugs skimming on the surface tension of existence, never flying because it’s too hard and never swimming because it’s too hard. They glide along and take the easy route, never realizing that there’s an entire world out there that they’ve learned not to see.They’ll die happy, having achieved nothing of importance.

So why do I let them bother me? I don’t know. One day I’ll wake up and realize that I shouldn’t let shallow morons like my co-workers bother me. Until then, I work in hell.

What is it about the words “But that’s the way I feel” that makes people think they can say and do things with impunity, as long as they remember to say “but that’s the way I feel” afterwards?