When I'm not engaged with this blog- and let's be honest, I seldom am anymore- I'm a Lieutenant on the front lines of a social institution's fight for survival. Or maybe more like an auctioneer at the fourth estate sale, perhaps...Either way it involves a lot of barking, a lot of noise, and always more losers than winners...
I'd like to think I'm good at what I do. I'd like to think I'm effective, that I get results. But let the record show there isn't a day goes by I don't wonder if I'm not a self-immolating sumo match over occupancy limits. This doesn't elevate my thinking of anyone, but it does serve to level the playing field for a time.
Honestly I don't know if I'm cut out for all this. If the holes I patch outstrip the shoddy stitches I can't help but rip. I feel I'm better suited for a dark room with minimal human intervention, as a gelatinous cube issuing unseen commands rather than impotently scuffling to bring someone to a correct conclusion of their own accord. Go ahead and call me a cheater, the other way's not worth it. Because that's the problem with taking yourself on: even if you win, you lose. Fuck it.
...incidentally this would also be a good juncture to remind everyone of the origins of Icarian Challenge...
