Donuts and Self-Doubt

I’ve had some fairly odd dreams in my day, but a recent one has been deeply memorable for the strangest of reasons. But before we dive into the dream itself, there’s some backstory that will need to be covered.

I don’t have very strong feelings about donuts. They’re alright, but on those rare occasions when I have some, I’ll inevitably come to regret doing so pretty quickly. Despite all this, I do have a favourite type of donut, but as I said before, they’re not something I ever find myself thinking about unless they’re free and sitting right in front of me.

Now back to the dough of the issue. Throughout this particular dream I found myself not only eating donuts, but enjoying them more than any other food I’ve ever had, and by a considerable margin at that. The passionate intensity of my feelings towards donuts was truly staggering. I couldn’t stop thinking how amazing donuts were in general, but also how this particular type of donut was infinitely better than all other kinds of donuts.

Now you may be thinking to yourself that this little tale is at best mildly amusing, but certainly not worth the memory to which its been written, and you’d be right if that was the end of it (indeed you might still be right regardless). But that’s not the end of it, because the particular type of donut that in my dream might as well have been baked and glazed ambrosia, is not actually the type of donut I like in reality, far from it.

Now I’ve long since realized that “dream Jeff” is on the whole full of shit and not to be taken too seriously. However I find myself unable to shake the creeping feeling that I’m engaging in some self-deception regarding my preference in doughnuts This would be bizarre to say the least. In fact I’d say its bizarre to even be dwelling on the possibility, given its complete irrelevance and triviality, yet still I remain a dweller.

So yeah, I’ve had donuts on the brain recently.

On Twitter and Snark

One of the things I’ve discovered about myself is that Twitter and I really don’t mix, or more accurately I seem unable to use Twitter in a way that doesn’t make me miserable.

A few years ago when I first started using Twitter, I loved it pretty much from the onset. Beginning from topics that I was interested in (i.e. politics), I soon discovered a number of very clever, interesting and funny people to follow, and it should go without saying that I could stay up to date with all sorts of developments all over the world. Now the accounts that I followed introduced me to other accounts that I had an interest in following, so of course I did. Things snowballed after that, but I wasn’t really aware of it because I was having a good time.

Now somewhere along the way I had accumulated such a mountain of people to follow that being away from my phone for any length of time resulted in a staggeringly huge number of unread tweets. Without really being aware of it happening, reading through my timeline began to feel like a chore.

When the realization dawned on me that I was constantly dreading opening the Twitter app, I did some thinking as to why that was the case. I’m something of a voracious reader, so the sheer volume of tweets to read couldn’t be the sole reason. Instead it was the content that was bothering me, and that content was an endless stream of bite sized snark.

Now I’m certainly not saying that we should vigorously oppose our political opponents, nor that we can’t have a bit of fun at their expense, that would make me a hypocrite of massive proportions. There should however be an understanding that attacks limited to 140 characters, amusing as they may be (i.e. snark), aren’t productive in any meaningful sense of the word, and that it shouldn’t compose the majority of your political dialogue. It doesn’t contribute to developing policy within your particular grouping, and it certainly doesn’t help express that policy in a coherent fashion to the rest of the world.

Despite all this, Twitter, or at least those sections dedicated to politics, is almost entirely snark. It’s exhausting seeing people from all over the world gathering in one place to digitally shit all over one another without cessation for no other purpose than a fleeting chuckle. Needless to say my overall happiness wasn’t doing better for being a part of this.

Around the time I came to understand these things, I had a conversation with a friend of mine about not doing things that make you unhappy. It seems like a fairly self-evident concept, but the idea of just stopping hadn’t really occurred to me. I did end up deleting my account, and I can honestly say the lack of that pointless nonsense made me feel noticeably less stressed and I dare say, happier.

More out of boredom than anything else I recently gave it another go. Twitter hasn’t changed, and in this regard I haven’t changed either. My advice is if you’ve got the self control (I don’t, had to delete the damn thing again), avoid the Twitter’s political morass and instead fill your feed with cute pictures of baby goats and the like. There’s enough shit out there to make you miserable, no need to add to it without good cause.

A Farewell to Lactose?

My admittedly minimal knowledge of lactose tolerance testing was thrown into sharp relief this afternoon. A number of years ago I had been told that the process consisted of drinking a glass of lactose and then waiting to see if, to put it delicately, you then shat yourself. Now whether this previously was the standard practice or whether whoever told me this was having a laugh, it turns out the current procedure isn’t quite as barbaric.

While you do have to drink a glass of something (presumably a sort of lactose mixture? In hindsight I really should have asked before quaffing it), the actual test involves drawing blood on 4 separate occasions over a 2 hour period. Which is to say if you’re lined up for one, remember to bring a book for the wait, and be prepared to look like a junkie coming off the lash when you leave.

Anyways, fingers crossed I’m not actually lactose intolerant.

A Lesson in Humility

The funniest thing happened while I was out for a run this morning. About midway through Bowness Park I ran past this little kid who was running around on the grass. Now normally this wouldn’t be in any way noteworthy, but soon after I passed him he started running behind me on the path. So there I was having a little chuckle about this fella following me, but his footsteps keep getting closer and closer, and then suddenly blows past me! He pulls ahead maybe 15m or so, and then dials it back to comfortably maintain his lead. This continued for a few minutes, after which he peeled off to return to his parents (presumably), who I then discovered had been watching the entire time and were laughing their asses off.

Nothing like getting showed up by a 7 year old to start off the day.