gobo thoughts

Being permanently single can be hard. I don't mean the occasional loneliness, though there's that, nor the self-criticism, though there's that too. I mean having to hear the poor advice that many people decide to bestow upon you, unprompted. Quite pitiful advice. Stuff like "be confident". As if that were not obvious enough. What would be valuable advice is difficult to give. It requires thought, knowledge of personal details, experience. Not everyone can give advice, and among those that can, not many can give *you* the right advice.

A good friend gave me a good diagnostic recently, after a failed attempt at a relationship: I had made myself too available. I had lost independence and perspective. My friend was exactly right. He knew me well, and is generally a sharp observer. The advice was simple, and I knew it already. I just hadn't realized that it applied to me in that situation. Advice should be less of "score more goals" and more of "you're leaving your left flank unguarded".

Vastly overrated, in my opinion. I have some of it, and I use it for good, as in keeping my house passably clean, and paying bills, but I also use it for evil, as in slavish compliance with policies I haven't thoroughly analyzed, or carrying on in untenable environments.

These days of voluntary joblessness I'm working quite a bit, taking lectures, doing homework assignments, building software again, making a dent in some long-neglected subjects. I notice that my need for social networks, or constant stream of news, has gone down. I'm entertained by my work, so I'm happy to dive into it.

I have a dangerous capacity to perform my duty. It's not always the right thing to do. Making do, that's another capacity of mine with destructive potential. But then, greed only seems good when Gordon Gecko sells it.

Looking at my own experiences, I wonder why I didn't look for different friends when my life in New York started to annoy me, or why I didn't make more of an effort to meet girls when I was in Seattle. I rebuke myself for staying so long in jobs I wasn't enjoying, for almost driving my own health down.