Actions or Goals: More Housemate Complaints

Stealing from AI summary slop for a moment...

Action-oriented refers to being willing or likely to take practical action to deal with a problem or situation. It involves focusing on taking action rather than just planning or deliberating.

Being goal-oriented means focusing on reaching or completing specific tasks to achieve a planned outcome. People who are goal-oriented are driven and motivated by purpose, often referred to as being task-driven or results-driven.

I put these definitions here to acknowledge and immediately discard them. I am here to complain about my housemates. For the purpose of this post we're talking about actions being "doing a thing" and goals being "accomplishing a task." You'll get it in a second.

So, yes, housemates. I'm so fucking tired of the two of these ~40 year old men not understanding that there is a goal at the end of every action. For a simple example, take turning on the light. The goal is to, say, illuminate a room. The action one might take is flipping a light switch. For the both of them that's where it ends. Some synapse says "I've flipped the switch" and they're done. They've checked out. They have completed the action they wanted to do - it doesn't matter if the goal was accomplished. "What if the light bulb has burned out?" or "what if the breaker has popped?" might come to your mind, but it does not enter theirs; they have flipped the switch and therefore are done. They'll sit in the dark - metaphorically appropriate to this post - happy in the knowledge that they've performed an action.

"Certainly you're not getting angry about light switches!" you might think, and you're correct. I don't know how best to lay out my annoyances, so here's three.

• "Feed the cat" = put cat food on a plate. Don't check if the cat actually eats it. Don't smash the pâté like the cat likes. Merely placing the food on the plate is the action necessary. This certainly does not also include picking up the dish afterward so ants don't crawl into the house.
• "Wash the dishes" = rub a sponge on the dishes. Don't check if the dishes are actually clean. God forbid we have clean dishes. No, just move a sponge around a bit. This certainly doesn't include making sure the drying rack is clean - no, put the "clean" dishes on a moldy drying surface. If they cleaned the drying rack it might cut two minutes out of the time they could be watching wrestling reruns.
• "Clean the living room" = push the vacuum around. Don't move any furniture. Don't tidy anything. CERTAINLY don't dust anything. Just push the vacuum for five minutes. Oh, and don't worry about emptying the vacuum container - why would you care about maintaining your tools? Weird that the last two vacuums have burnt out (not that they noticed, of course, they have both pushed vacuums around that weren't actually running).

I really don't know what to do here. I've laid out three scenarios, but it's everything. I've mentioned things where they underdo it, but it's also shit like overdoing it on soap and laundry. WON'T uses a bar of soap every week. He sits in a chair 16 hours a day and screams at the TV - he's not a coal miner or anything that might get him actually dirty. But the action of taking a shower includes using a significant portion of a bar of soap. CAN'T uses a month's worth of detergent in every load of laundry. I bought a five-year supply thinking I'd save money buying in bulk. Five months later and we've run out. He's also not a coal miner - the laundry he's doing is moderately sweaty clothes. But he knows the action of doing laundry includes adding powder, so he just dumps it in. Honestly, I'm not sure how he hasn't developed rashes from all that detergent on his skin.

This is all without mentioning that these two ~40 year old men still work on the "I didn't use the last of it" principle as if they were children. Toilet paper, towels, tissues, coffee, creamer, milk, and more. That's a separate complaint - a wonderful life hack where they don't have to contribute to the house if they didn't physically use the last bit of a thing. It just "magically" appears because - this is crazy - I want to wipe my ass when I'm done taking a shit.

Again, I'm not really sure how to end this post. I suppose I'll indulge in their logic - I've engaged the action of typing up a post, but it's unlikely I've accomplished the goal of putting something interesting up on the blog. Sorry?

Chasing Waterfalls

 The inclined plane is a simple machine that has been in use since prehistoric times. Used as a machine it allows for motion from one plane to be transferred to another plane with mechanical advantage - that is, for example, to push a vehicle up a ramp (pushing horizontally makes the object move vertically), to split wood (chopping “down” makes the wood split “sideways”), or convert rotational motion to longitudinal motion (a screw twisting into wood or a propeller propelling a ship through water) with less effort than simply lifting, tearing, or pushing. This is all to say that the inclined plane is ubiquitous - I suspect there’s one within eyesight of wherever you’re reading this.

When we think of machines, we often think of humans doing work. Work, however, can be done by gravity. Think of a marble at the top of a ramp. Gravity pulls the marble “down” and the inclined plane transfers that motion “sideways” - instead of ending up directly beneath where it started, the marble will end up somewhere else horizontally (assuming the ramp is not also a helix).

This is all to say this is a simple concept. A ubiquitous concept. A prehistoric concept. Yet, it’s a concept that seems to escape people all around the world. Especially people who have to deal with water.

I am going to blow your mind: water generally flows downhill. Crazy, right? Obviously I’m being sarcastic, as you certainly already know this. You know who doesn’t know this? Bathroom contractors, the streets department, and my housemates.

Availability

It's easy to decline
flaky friends of mine
I merely need to say
"come by anytime"

They often say "okay"
and despite keeping them away
I don't think they catch
my little play

So months and years pass
and excuses amass
though it's plain to me
I was never a priority

[21 Jan 2025]

Am I Worth It?

 [As with several other posts, this is actually from ~ the future ~ (January 2025). I've buried it in the past so my whining is not at the top of the timeline. Also I'm not drunk, but wish I were, if anyone got caught up on that tag.]

Betteridge's law of headlines is an adage that states: "Any headline that ends in a question mark can be answered by the word no." Am I worth it? No, I suspect not.

I'm not sure how many times I have to be taught this lesson, but apparently it must be smacked into me a few more times. A few memorable homework assignments are Fuck Hope from 2013 and Backup Dick from 2018 (also hidden, to appear in 2016). Will the lesson stick this time? Probably not.

Sometimes

Sometimes I forget I'm ugly
Sometimes I forget I'm fat
Sometimes I forget I have no friends
Sometimes I forget myself
.
I often forget I'm no one
I often forget my status
I often forget I'm uninteresting
I often forget myself
.
I don't know I'm stupid
I don't know I'm dumb
I don't know folks just don't care
I don't know myself
.
I ask too much of others
I ask too much of friends
I ask too much of just one poem
I ask too much of myself
:
:
:
Meat Man
Stack of Carbon
Assembled Atoms
Worthless
:
:
:
N'one will write a poem for me
Not even a single verse
I suppose it's one more proof
That I am just the worst

Discovery

I will never find love
I will never find love
I will never find love
I will never find love
I will never find love

.

It is important to remember.
Halfway around the world.
I am not immune.

.

Girls break up with boys.
Not to be with me.
Never me.

.

I am traveling by myself.
Not just this year.
Forever.

.

I will never find love.
I will never find love.
I will never find love.
I will never find love.
I will never find love.

Lucky Ducky

Good luck monster at your door
Invited by your charm
Here to help, here to stay
Figure you'd do no harm

Weeks ago you took a hike
Later ate some food
Things were looking up and up
A boon for monster's mood

You even spoke of Chinese thought
of guests and gifts and Tao
A generous host reaps great rewards
Both for future and for now

But things turned sour quickly
On just the first work day
You locked the monster to a desk
And threw the key away

But good luck monster isn't dumb
Some might say it's smart
When it comes to faking smiles
It's a master of the art

When you feel you're winning
When you see it toil
You'll never know which aspirations
Good luck monster wants to foil

With arrogance you unchained it
You thought that you had won
The monster slunk to lick its wounds
And steel itself for what must be done

Good luck monster found a bar
A private place for tears
Where it came up with its plan
To curse you for many years

It knows your weakness, it knows your mind
It's even searched your soul
Now planting small destructive seeds
Has become its only goal

So when you see it smiling
So when it says "can do"
Know well that it's bad luck code
It's put a hex on you

Bad luck monster in your house
Transformed by hollow charm
Here today to hurt tomorrow
Only causing harm

It's never been about the Money

Since Hoss has been posting a lot of his autobiographical stuff and I'm in a real weird spot (geographically and mentally), I figured I'd write a little piece about my own pile of shit. As with the piece that will be published on my travel blog on Christmas, this is going to be a lot of me complaining and generally being grumpy.

Trying to come up with a title for this piece, one of my thoughts was "Sweet & Sour". I don't know if that's still a good title, but it might work for splitting this into two sections. My grumbling and griping followed by a bit more perspective. It's a good exercise for me to do more often, as I'm still a human reacting to what's around me rather than thinking about the arc of my life. Beware, dear reader - every sentence I type under "SOUR" needs an asterisk - I'll try to broadly address my own logical faults in the "SWEET" section.

I guess no one reads here...

Locked Library
Little Surprise
Always Disappointed
in TTDI

***

Work Harder
Work Faster
Do what I say
Your urlaub
means nothing
Don't you dare play.

I know what I want to write about...

Writer's block
What a cock
My dumb pen
Don't wanna talk

Spread some ink
You little fink
'me no write good'
Is what I think

But here I am
Pen in hand
This little book
Word quicksand

Now verse four
I write some more
One more line
I'm out the door

Accessories

[Shoes]

Clomp, Clomp, Clomp
you can hear them
rounding corners
that heavy female step

Clomp Clomp Clomp
they announce one's
down the hall
that heavy female step

Is it learned from high heels?
Is it natural?
It's almost as annoying as
those who shuffle
that heavy female step

&&&

[Phone]
Are you charging? Are you not?
Are you draining while plugged in?
Tell the truth you little snot.
Else I'll throw you in the bin.

Things my Housemates Do

Taking this blog back to its roots: a place to complain about things.

Things my housemates do:

Moldy milk at the bottom of a "clean" cup

• Throw silverware in the silverware drawer without regard to knives, forks, etc.
• Stack plates on top of bowls (instead of putting them with the other plates).
• Hoard any cup larger than 8oz in their room.
• Leave hair in the shower drain.
• Stack the five? ten? pound cast-iron dutch oven on top of a tupperware container.
• Use the last of a common item (e.g. aluminum foil) and not tell anyone.
• Break something (e.g. many, many pint glasses) and not tell anyone (and just leave the debris).
• Keep the TV on at all times.
• Keep the TV tuned to reality television at all times.
• Throw plastic bags in the recycling bin.
• Leave change everywhere.
• Leave time on the microwave.
• Complain, but never strive to improve.
• Leave cold water on the coffee table, so condensation makes a huge puddle.

Backup Dick

[written March 2018, but buried here]

I got cocky (excuse the pun). After more than a year as someone's first choice, I was stupid to forget that I am, and forever will be, "backup dick" for everyone I fall for.

I suspect there are several reasons for this. First and foremost, I tend to give freely of my attention. That is to say I let others - specifically those who I want to date - know that I'm interested in being with them. I feel this attenuates any desire on their part to pursue me and rather encourages women to seek someone they have (or are perceived to have) a harder time securing attention (and affection) from. This puts me in a difficult situation, however, as I'm not attractive enough to cause women I'm attracted to to seek me out of their own accord.

Second, but close behind, is my appearance. Probably also my demeanor. I can't pretend I've taken care of my body. I'd also admit I'm moody and demanding. Hell, my father called me "fat, lazy, and whiny" to my face in the house I bought.

With these (and other factors, surely) combined, I am someone women seek out for attention (and therefore lead me on to lesser and greater extents) until they find someone who has a better balance of attractive to attention, at which point I'm given the boot.

Knowing all this, and knowing nearly a decade's worth of this pattern, I should be more numb to the most recent demonstrations of proof that I am, and will forever be,

Backup Dick.