Sometimes I get tired and retreat into a safe echo-chamber where everything will agree with me. On that note, I downloaded The Black Swan and bought a paper copy of The Bed of Procrustes.
Perhaps my expectations were too high, but The Black Swan seems dated and overly reliant on Kahneman’s Thinking Fast and Slow.
I will share some gems from The Bed of Procrustes when I am done, but for the most part it doesn’t have the insight porn quality that I was looking for.
On another note, I noticed some autumnal waistline creep and decided that I should take measures.
During a moment of intense boredom with a hint of sadness, I complained that had I not been watching what I eat, I could have had a chocolaty pick-me-up, alas I am on a diet, so I will just sit here and be sad.
I was and am fully aware of how pathetic that is, but I figured sharing my feelings is better than comfort eating.
The reason I am sharing with you now is the response I got, which was:
How will food make it better?
It hit me like a ton of bricks.
I guess normally I would have said, it would make me feel better. However, I was just after writing an essay on appearance vs reality in Macbeth and the idea that the reality won’t be better crystallised for me.
The world weighs a little heavier since that realisation, but maybe I won’t.