My new advice column, with a touch of alliteration.
If you check this blog often, I'm not sure why. But if you do, you may have noticed that I don't write anything anymore. At least not since late September. Which means my blog's first birthday came and went in mid October without so much as a notice, even from me. I was only reminded this morning when I was thinking about how much I hate when people say "Turkey Day" and how I thought I remembered writing such last Thanksgiving. So to celebrate the approximate 13-month anniversary of the unfortunately acronymed GAFFI, here is a post.
Recently, a regular reader and relative of mine told me the following story (slightly shortened): "So I was just reading your blog to my good friend when she said 'I wonder what he thinks about making one's bed.'"
Four things struck me when I heard this. First, that my battle-hardened older cousin apparently still has a problem admitting that he has a girlfriend. Second, that people believe that what I write in here is necessarily what I actually think (hence the new disclaimer up on the right). Third, that I would love to drive one of these—but that's only because my mind has a tendency to leap from topic to topic like I'm a 1st grader with ADD. Fourth, and most curiously, was how this girl friend instantly pegged my blog as some sort of nonsense machine, to which you input any old topic and receive a dependable output of ranting.
Is that what you thought (this is assuming it's being read to her again), 'friend' (who is a girl) of my cousin? That this blog is like some perverted take on an advice column, where I write about my opinion on whatever you throw at me? The real problem there is that I don't think have any particularly strong feelings about this particular matter. There's no fiery passion in my core to get a real good post going. "But," you might be saying, "it seems as if everything on this blog is just hyperbolic railing of the most inconsequential sort. Surely you just have a talent for manufacturing such 'opinions' about all those things that don't really matter." And you just might be right. So if you want my opinion, I'll give it a shot.
I think fundamentally it's a question of physics, economics, and evolutionary psychology. An unmade bed is in a high-entropy state, and taking it to a low-entropy state ("made") requires expenditure of energy. Determining the worthwhileness of this endeavor requires some cost-benefit analysis. Now, all members of the animal kingdom have been finely tuned by millions of years of natural selection to be excellent unconscious practitioners of cost-benefit analysis. The energy expenditure, at the cost of our scarce and precious food resources, is justified if it somehow serves as a precondition for the ultimate goal: that is, being 'fruitful and multiplying'. Pigeons usually waddle out of the way of people walking down the sidewalk, but a sudden movement will have them taking to the air. Flying is incredibly more energetically taxing than walking, but even pigeons understand that being alive is one of the more important prerequisites for making pigeon babies.
Not that making a bed is often a life-or-death decision, but it could be a reasonable chore if it somehow furthers one's chances at reproductive success. Maybe a certain gal feels most comfortable in a tightly-tucked bed, so she gets better sleep and earns a boost in her prowling prowess at the college bars the next evening. And guys know that ladies don't often like their men sloppy, so making a bed is a good idea if any women will ever be in or around their bedroom (especially in a directly romantic capacity). In conclusion, the rule of thumb, in a modern environment where societal interactions are predicated mainly on facades and boning, is thus: if you're looking to invite someone to share that bed with you, you should make it.
Recently, a regular reader and relative of mine told me the following story (slightly shortened): "So I was just reading your blog to my good friend when she said 'I wonder what he thinks about making one's bed.'"
Four things struck me when I heard this. First, that my battle-hardened older cousin apparently still has a problem admitting that he has a girlfriend. Second, that people believe that what I write in here is necessarily what I actually think (hence the new disclaimer up on the right). Third, that I would love to drive one of these—but that's only because my mind has a tendency to leap from topic to topic like I'm a 1st grader with ADD. Fourth, and most curiously, was how this girl friend instantly pegged my blog as some sort of nonsense machine, to which you input any old topic and receive a dependable output of ranting.
Is that what you thought (this is assuming it's being read to her again), 'friend' (who is a girl) of my cousin? That this blog is like some perverted take on an advice column, where I write about my opinion on whatever you throw at me? The real problem there is that I don't think have any particularly strong feelings about this particular matter. There's no fiery passion in my core to get a real good post going. "But," you might be saying, "it seems as if everything on this blog is just hyperbolic railing of the most inconsequential sort. Surely you just have a talent for manufacturing such 'opinions' about all those things that don't really matter." And you just might be right. So if you want my opinion, I'll give it a shot.
I think fundamentally it's a question of physics, economics, and evolutionary psychology. An unmade bed is in a high-entropy state, and taking it to a low-entropy state ("made") requires expenditure of energy. Determining the worthwhileness of this endeavor requires some cost-benefit analysis. Now, all members of the animal kingdom have been finely tuned by millions of years of natural selection to be excellent unconscious practitioners of cost-benefit analysis. The energy expenditure, at the cost of our scarce and precious food resources, is justified if it somehow serves as a precondition for the ultimate goal: that is, being 'fruitful and multiplying'. Pigeons usually waddle out of the way of people walking down the sidewalk, but a sudden movement will have them taking to the air. Flying is incredibly more energetically taxing than walking, but even pigeons understand that being alive is one of the more important prerequisites for making pigeon babies.
Not that making a bed is often a life-or-death decision, but it could be a reasonable chore if it somehow furthers one's chances at reproductive success. Maybe a certain gal feels most comfortable in a tightly-tucked bed, so she gets better sleep and earns a boost in her prowling prowess at the college bars the next evening. And guys know that ladies don't often like their men sloppy, so making a bed is a good idea if any women will ever be in or around their bedroom (especially in a directly romantic capacity). In conclusion, the rule of thumb, in a modern environment where societal interactions are predicated mainly on facades and boning, is thus: if you're looking to invite someone to share that bed with you, you should make it.
posted by Peter at
12:30 PM
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