Tuesday, March 21, 2006
(7:56 AM) | Adam Kotsko:
Tuesday Hatred: Advance, uncorrected page proof, not for resale
I hate my "writing process," which is as follows:- Get out a stack of books
- Create a Word document with appropriate line spacing, margins, etc.
- Write up a "Works Cited" list for all books in the stack; put it in boldface so that books can be un-bolded as cited, then remaining boldface titles can be deleted when the paper is complete
- Spend approximately five hours dicking around on the Internet per every page written.
I hate that I was supposedly stepping down blog involvement, yet I'm still concerned about the level of commenting, traffic, and other related matters. I hate that there's very little than I can do (or, more properly, that I'm willing to do: I could put in a lot more time writing, researching, etc.) to influence the popularity of this blog.
I hate that every Tuesday Hatred veers toward being a Friday Confessional, and vice versa. I keep trying to get someone else to take over Tuesday Hatred, but alas, alack, it hasn't been possible yet. I hate noticing my own writing tics, in this case, excessive use of parentheses and of "etc."
I hate that my eyesight has apparently deteriorated noticeably since my last visit to the eye doctor. I hate getting skin tags. I hate neck pain.
I hate trying to staple a 30-page document, only to find that the staple only penetrated the first three pages, but is so mangled that it is still difficult to get it out. I have now found a workaround for this serious problem, but it was very upsetting when it first arose. A staple gun was part of the research leading to this workaround, but it turned out not to work, strangely enough.
I hate the neighborhood cat who is always harrassing Anthony and Hayley's cats. It gets especially bad during the summer, but Pippin (the psycho/existentialist cat) has already pissed on something in a futile attempt to retaliate against the outdoor cat. Incidentally, this was the same cat who once darted into the apartment, as documented in a post that I am currently unable to find, because a search for the relevant words ("cat," for example) returns hundreds of posts. It would help if I hadn't told Google to omit "clips" from the blog, but during a bout of lawsuit fever, it came to seem essential that one not be able to find my address off the Internet, and that was the only solution.
I hate Boston Market and their stupid commercials.
UPDATE: I hate it when Haloscan is flaky on Hatred and Confessional days. I hate those bastards over at Tuesday Love.
