We tend to attach ourselves to people.
On the one hand, relationships and human connection are part of what makes life so wonderful. But on the other hand, we bastardize it, running it into the ground and ruining it before it’s even had an honest shot.
We find someone we like and we want to put them in a box. And put that box in a bigger box and then move that box into a place together and send photos as proof of that box all over our lives. We want to harness, hold, hug, control.We want to hang all of our needs and wants and dependencies on others, and we want “being together” to make everything okay.
Men dish all the time about their quibbles with getting blown, and it typically comes down to two chief complaints: they don’t get blown enough (or at all), or they get blown badly. Bad blowjobs are often chalked up to too little skill and too much teeth (some guys memorably describe it as “putting their dick in a pencil sharpener”). Okay, okay, we get it. We’ll unhinge our jaws next time.
Eighteen months ago, I got an assignment from a magazine editor: Check out those “sitting is the new smoking” articles and see if there’s any truth to them. So I read the studies, interviewed some doctors, and dug into the science. As I read all this material about obesity and sitting and cancer and death, it occurred to me that I weighed 293 pounds, and that my job entailed sitting all day, typing. It “occurred” like a pile of bricks on my chest, in the way that imminent suffocation might. I had to do something.
Bertrand Russell is a strange name to bring up when we consider the merits of working less.
Though he was a philosopher and mathematician by trade, his prodigious output suggests he was just as much a historian, a social critic, and a political activist.
Today, Russell is most famous for his book A History of Western Philosophy, which is the most important summary of how many of Western culture’s great ideas came to be. When he won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1950, this book was cited as a big reason why.