In a Balloon!

The boy who didn't fly away in a balloon- he's lucky, for now. He's alive, he's well, he's not in trouble with his parents who are just happy to see he's okay. But for the rest of his life, now that we live in the age of Google- unless he does something else spectacular when he's older that completely eclipses this- whenever he does anything, ever, this will haunt him. Friends searching for him to friend him on facebook. Future colleges. Employers. Dates... "Oh, you're the boy who hid in the attic when you were six while the entire state of Colorado was out looking for you in a balloon." Over, and over, and over.

This does not make for a happy life. He should change his name as soon as he's old enough to write it himself.

Um, Toto? I don't think we're in Colorado anymore...

A Flood of One's Own

This is a post inspired by showers. Showers designed by stupid people. Who wants to sit around all day designing showers, anyway? Someone has to, I guess, and the unfortunate people stuck with the task take out their frustration in petty vindictiveness.

The shower in my dorm reflects this. It has nothing to block a flood, so there is always a puddle on the floor after anyone uses it. Not to mention, the floor has a slope that would make a skier cry.
And the shower head brings to mind a diehard Republican in an election year: that is, although it would be better for it to be centered, it slides slowly and inexorably to the right. The curtain mostly- but not entirely- stays closed, so whenever someone opens the door you feel a blast of cold air and you have to double check to make sure the curtain stayed put. What's wrong with a door? A proper drain? Sorry, I shouldn't ask for such unreasonable things.

But any politician who wants to raise the pay of shower designers gets my vote. Or possibly lower it. I need to get back to studying Econ to figure that out.

Anxiety by Choice

I was talking to someone who'd just read the NYTimes article in the magazine last Sunday, and she said, they made an assumption throughout the entire article that she felt was unjustified. They assumed being anxious was a negative, unwanted trait.

"I like worrying!" she claimed.

But why would someone want to be anxious? Surely it only inhibits you from action, and makes you waste time worrying about phobias that are incredibly unlikely instead of dealing with what's real.

The article did make some mention that some people who are high-anxiety don't even realize it, interpreting the stomach ache from fidgety nerves and the tense flight-or-fight response as an adrenaline buzz, not as paralyzing.

Is there an advantage to being chilled out? If you don't have any worries, and nothing really matters- whatever way it turns out is fine with you- are you missing out on something the worried people have- caring?

I suspect the answer is, as often it is, "a happy medium". But figuring out where that line lies is the battle of most of a lifetime. And I think there are some people who are not aware that it is a battle.

Don't let that be you- don't live the unexamined life. (Yes, that's from Wicked.) So where is your line? When is worrying too much and when is it wrong to be too chilled out?