I felt similar. Then I had a kid and seeing the world through their eyes brings much of it back. Nothing quite like the rush of emotions (and sleep deprivation) of being a parent to a young child.
“Great minds discuss ideas; Average minds discuss events; Small minds discuss people”
Perhaps its an overgeneralization, but I like the concept behind it and at least it keeps me from gossiping / talking about people behind their backs. I am mostly an average mind though, by this definition.
Nope, came out of my mother with a full grown beard.
Jokes aside, I watched my fair share of horror films when I was younger. But mostly because I was fascinated by the special effects. Watching horror films with that mindset made them a lot less scary.
We had strict film censorship laws when I was young, that was based on a law made in 1912. A government agency watched and age rated every film that was meant for public screening. Even films for adults 18+. Some films got banned (Life of Brian). Luckily they stopped doing this all together in 2001. Now the state censorship only applies to films directed specifically at children.
In the early 90s I had watched so many “illegal” films despite the state censorship and what my parents said I was allowed to. I had friends with older siblings, and I had older siblings my self. I was never a horror film film, but I liked action, explosions and violence!
I have found it useful, even healthy in stressfulness work situations, to allow myself the distraction - but only for a little while. This works fairly well for me.
Do one other thing. Play only one round of Minesweeper (yes, that’s me). Read only one thing on Lemmy. Pick one of those. Then get back to work. For a while, anyway.
If I am trying to get things done (write emails) do important research, ya know that kind of thing, I sprinkle in the things I want to do like procrastinate on lemmy, look up random shit, eat a snack, and then get back to the work at hand
If something is worth doing, it’s worth doing well.
Said by a friend who, in the late 90s, copied a dozen albums to minidisk for me. He named all the albums and track names using a remote to select each letter one by one. It must have taken him many hours to do it. But he wanted to do a good job. Up up up up A right, up up up up up f, etc etc. Utterly tedious but he wanted to do a good job.
I think everyone I’ve encountered has been very polite. Well, except the one person who said my crochet project looked like Chewbacca shit. Jokes on them - i didn’t buy the wookie yarn; i bought the Groot yarn and they just can’t tell the difference.
October 2005 asked out repeatedly by gay programmer. Matthew Shepard, James Byrd Swatter hate crime poisoned to 350 pounds by northwell monopoly employee mother, republican father. Since converting to moderate Islam August 2013 car kidnapped, threatened by knife, 2016-2019 abilify in food, trespassed against 4th Amendment and Fair Housing Act.
September 1, 2022 my ex’s not a Muslim general ordered civilized “revenge” for 5 genocidal murders paid by uncle sam. parents stole passport, said they’re both mafia and I’m somehow in a gang for exercising alone. Then he locked my dog and false police reported with no probable cause investigation of danger to self or others. Eyes spasming, gained 30 lbs.
Ops not joking. It literally allows your brain to create new pathways instead of being stuck with the same boring bullshit that repeats in daily life.
Just make sure you dose right and teach yourself in a proper way instead of taking what some friend hands you to “tRiP bAlLzzz, mannn”. Treat it like medicine.
Couldn’t agree more, I use psychadelics a few times a year, and nothing brings be to that same feeling OP was describing like LSD or mushrooms. Some of the best conversations and experiences I’ve ever had agave been on psychedelics, I laugh till I cry almost everytime I’ve done them. have had bad trips in my life, but I feel like Set and Setting are hugley important as well as having respect for the drug. Overall highly recommend.
I came here to say that as well. Or, as @vd1n says, mushrooms. It really helps remind you that the world is wondrous, and even after it’s over, it makes it easier to see the joy in everything.
I never did mushrooms and only did LSD like 5 times. But one time I contemplated the multitude of grass types when laying down on a meadow. Another time was on a short mountain trip, landed at a tourist shelter, there was a melody in all the kitchen noises. Also observing the tiny ecosystem at the riverside is something I will never forget. I don’t have this kind of patience or ability to being fascinated with the mundane normally.
Yeah, I got into an exchange the other day where a dozen users made a point of telling me why they support using misogynistic slurs, or how the slur isn’t any worse than other impolite words, or how it isn’t really misogynistic, or how it’s okay when used against evil people.
It was real disappointing, and I’m strongly considering unsubbing the community where the thread took place.
For your reading pleasure, I present this literary masterpiece of an Amazon review for a 55 gallon drum of personal lubricant, circa 2014.
Backyard Carnival of Death Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on February 28, 2014 I’m a risk analyst for a major insurance firm, so when my wife and I were planning a birthday party for our seven-year-old, Crispin, my mind naturally turned to liabilities. We’d settled on the theme of a “backyard carnival”, complete with a swing set, a trampoline, merry-go-round, and a giant Slip `n Slide. So I carefully inspected the equipment for safety. It all seemed sound.
We have a home on a bluff overlooking the ocean. As it happened, on the day of the party our neighbors were trimming their fichus trees. We heard the sound of their wood chipper buzzing occasionally from the other side of our tall hedge. It was a little irritating, but not disruptive.
The party started off wonderfully. A clown we’d hired made balloon animals, Crispin eagerly opened his presents, and all the children enjoyed cake and fruit punch. The weather was mild, the skies clear. It seemed a perfect day.
Then we brought out the Slip `n Slide.
The problem with water slides is what we in the trade call “distributed water deficiency zones”, or in layman’s terms, dry spots. If a child hits one of these, it can put the brakes on the fun, and send them sliding down a path of medical claims–contusions, concussions, lacerations, abrasions, whiplash, back rash, and disc impaction. And that’s just for starters. From there, it’s a slippery slope toward major litigation.
To avoid even the remote possibility of such injuries, I invested in this 55 gallon drum of water soluble personal lubricant–the idea being that the children could enjoy the slide in complete safety, then wash off in the hose before their parents came to retrieve them. With that in mind, I dipped each child into the vat before allowing them to cue up for the slide.
The Slip `n Slide itself performed admirably, as did the lubricant. That, in fact, was the problem. Due to the slight downhill gradient of our yard, the children built up so much speed that they skidded across the lawn and into a retaining wall at the other end of our property, with sufficient force that I had to put an end to the activity.
I endeavored to roll up the mat–no easy task, as the lawn surrounding the slide was itself now lubricated, and I struggled to maintain my footing. When I looked up from my labor, I grasped for the first time the scope of the liabilities I had unleashed–a horde of extremely well-lubricated seven-year-olds, hyped up on sugar and desperate for fun.
I saw young Eliza Gimmelman climb onto the trampoline. She began jumping, but the pad soon became so slick that she lost all control. Her wild flailing unfortunately fell into harmonic synchronization with the motion of the springs, propelling her ever higher, until she soared above the trampoline’s safety enclosure, over the hedge and into the neighbor’s yard. There came a ghastly grinding sound, and I could tell from the crimson plume that followed, it would be a total loss.
Twins Jeremy and Mason Lafferty were on the swing set. Having attained the swings’ full range of motion, they were apparently having difficulty holding on. At that point, the swings became human catapults. Mason separated on the backswing, arcing over the roof of our home toward the street beyond. I surmised from the screeching tires, car horns and screams of horror that he was also unrecoverable. A terrified Jeremy soon lost his grip as well, sailing forward over the bluff, and plummeting 300 feet down into the ice-cold, shark-infested waters of the San Francisco Bay. An open claim, but not promising.
The rest of the children were clinging to the merry-go-round. Having just witnessed the violent deaths of at least two of their playmates, they were no longer in the mood for fun. However, the lubricant had dripped from their glistening bodies into the central cog, allowing it to spin far faster than it was designed to, and this, likely combined with other factors–their relative weight distribution, the slight incline of the ground–caused their motion to become self-sustaining, and the centrifugal force built upon itself until they became a blurry, screaming disk of human suffering. Then they began to fly off like cannon balls.
Martin Duckworth was the first to go, causing significant structural damage to our greenhouse. Lisa Aurelio shattered a line of ceramic garden gnomes, and Ethan Green slammed into our Audi Q7 so hard it had to be written off–as, tragically, did he. Several other children left what looked like gingerbread man indentations in the siding of our home. It was terrifying.
When the wheel finally came to a stop, there was only one child aboard. As luck would have it, it was our own beloved Crispin, huddled in the center of the merry-go-round, weeping. My wife ran to him and hugged him with all the might of a relieved, traumatized parent. A little too hard, as it turned out. Lubricated as he was, he shot from her arms like a wet bar of soap, up fifteen feet in the air, landed on the trampoline, and then soared, in a half-gainer, over the hedge, into the wood chipper.
Since then, I’ve asked myself a thousand times, is there anything I could have done differently? But in the end, no actuary table could have predicted this bloodbath. I can only conclude that this was an act of God. And that, to me, is truly terrifying. Because we’re not covered for that.
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