The angriest are the least mobile, those who have no integrity and seek to ingratiate themselves with others by cloaking their true personality. If you want to be great, you have to bust ass. Bust ass at what? The act of busting ass itself for no reason dissipates inspiration and fun. In order to bust ass, one must first joyfully explore the thing they want to chip away at for the rest of their life. Anyway. I can say for sure that I am tired of the conventional advice that both recommends that people sail the wild blue, grasp at and structure big ideas, and bust their ass ragged beyond the intuitive point where they get something done. Now here's my OkCupid hamster meme.
What is my gripe with my imagined OkCupid hamster? Is it that he is a sensitive schmendrick with a sleek marketing package of being a self-effacing go-getter, but yet desires the exact same piece of azz that Mr. MBA Douche is hunting for? A slightly different self-presentation for the same wife-able bimbo. The Josh Radnor schtick hoping that Eurasian Maggie Q Meatpacking hostess (or hopefully marketing analyst/jewelry designer) who can also cook and is sweet, positive, sporty can accept the capital of someone of a well traveled nature and well loved job, rather than finance douche with face tattoo. As opposed to the Manic Pixie Dream Girls' catnip, the creatively blocked schlemiel. Maybe because the writer, sensitive Ruby programmer, and desirer observes and the desired, muse, tai chi enthusiast with a penchant for pretty dresses is desired, observed and drawn by older college guys in a totally legit way when she herself is a high school student. She is the back up dancer in Pretty Girl Rock. She is in some ways confident, in others raw, edgy, crazy adventurous in that "let's hold some knives and shoot some guns to feel" way, a crazy, dangerous woman like Olivia's character in the New Girl. I am a slightly less goal driven version of this observant male archetype and "on the bleachers." I always said that I would in some ways rather be Nick Carraway than Gatsby, observing the ephemeral actors in their shifting zeitgeist than being the Mary Pickford-like shimmery players who have "It," until it changes. Wasn't Frank O'Hara so beautful, musing on construction workers during his lunch break? New York still has construction workers, but lacks the raw immigrant power of those who worked a specific job at a steel mill and the gay artists willing to accept a window on a brick wall and roaches to live and drool among them. I'm always shocked at gay men's worship of the quasi Aryan body and lack of acknowledgement of the fact that the faces attached often have little sparkle of intelligence or character. Hence the sharp divide of gay men not being attracted to "nerdy" Jorma without definition and women falling all over his self effacing mop of hair and self deprecating D jokes... though he is less believable as an overconfident and under tall art star Girls douche.
What is my gripe with my imagined OkCupid hamster? Is it that he is a sensitive schmendrick with a sleek marketing package of being a self-effacing go-getter, but yet desires the exact same piece of azz that Mr. MBA Douche is hunting for? A slightly different self-presentation for the same wife-able bimbo. The Josh Radnor schtick hoping that Eurasian Maggie Q Meatpacking hostess (or hopefully marketing analyst/jewelry designer) who can also cook and is sweet, positive, sporty can accept the capital of someone of a well traveled nature and well loved job, rather than finance douche with face tattoo. As opposed to the Manic Pixie Dream Girls' catnip, the creatively blocked schlemiel. Maybe because the writer, sensitive Ruby programmer, and desirer observes and the desired, muse, tai chi enthusiast with a penchant for pretty dresses is desired, observed and drawn by older college guys in a totally legit way when she herself is a high school student. She is the back up dancer in Pretty Girl Rock. She is in some ways confident, in others raw, edgy, crazy adventurous in that "let's hold some knives and shoot some guns to feel" way, a crazy, dangerous woman like Olivia's character in the New Girl. I am a slightly less goal driven version of this observant male archetype and "on the bleachers." I always said that I would in some ways rather be Nick Carraway than Gatsby, observing the ephemeral actors in their shifting zeitgeist than being the Mary Pickford-like shimmery players who have "It," until it changes. Wasn't Frank O'Hara so beautful, musing on construction workers during his lunch break? New York still has construction workers, but lacks the raw immigrant power of those who worked a specific job at a steel mill and the gay artists willing to accept a window on a brick wall and roaches to live and drool among them. I'm always shocked at gay men's worship of the quasi Aryan body and lack of acknowledgement of the fact that the faces attached often have little sparkle of intelligence or character. Hence the sharp divide of gay men not being attracted to "nerdy" Jorma without definition and women falling all over his self effacing mop of hair and self deprecating D jokes... though he is less believable as an overconfident and under tall art star Girls douche.
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