Like a bakery opens because a guy wants to make bread. A tavern opens because a guy wants to serve beer to people. That’s why people start businesses. It’s because they want to do something with their time. They want that enterprise to be how they spend their days. But from an academic standpoint or from an analytical standpoint or from the standpoint of publicly held companies and investment class and everything, the reason the company started is meaningless. All they want to know is the share price going up. And for people like me that seems insane.
Littlehales has a unique and encyclopaedic knowledge of which five-star hotels are best suited to athletes and harangues the ones that aren’t up to scratch into upgrading their mattresses and bedding. Other important factors are the potential for total black-out from the sun and temperature control (16-18C is the ideal range). But the bedding is crucial. “If they don’t tick the boxes I’m bringing my own or we’ll try another hotel,” he says.
“It’s therefore very important to answer simple questions like, ‘How do you avoid a hangover?’
“Whilst further research is needed, this new research tells us that the answer is simple – drink less.”
I only tweet or gram (Is that a word? Kids these days!) when I have something interesting, funny or of value to share. In reality, 99% of my day is filled with non-interesting, non-funny stuff.
I know this about myself yet when I go online and read or see other people’s stuff, I assume they’re different, and somehow, their lives are awesome and interesting all of the time. That’s because all I see are their interesting bits and bytes.
Alex: I’m not talking about being humble economically; I’m talking about their attitude towards life. In the hood that you grew up, are they a humble and loyal people?
Tevez: Yes, I’m getting together with my friends 1-2 times a week in the hood. My friends don’t let me pay for anything. I have 5-6 friends [drinks water since he is getting choked up], of whom 3 have jobs. Every time I go see them they pay for everything, and I realize the kind of place I’m from.
Alex: That surprises you.
Tevez: It surprises me… we were always like that and nothing changed, not even for me.
Alex: Nothing changed for you after everything that happened to you?
Tevez: No, what we have is our day to day life.
Câteva sfaturi bune despre productivitate în materialul ăsta:
A lot of time can be wasted in pursuit of the wrong goal. The longer I have worked as a designer, the more I have learned establishing that you are working on the right thing from the beginning, not just working, boosts productivity. Sure, in the moment, time spent asking yourself, ‘Am I working on the right thing?’ makes you feel anxious, but it’s worth it. (…)
It’s important to make sure that when I’m not working, I’m not working. My job requires me to be in front of a screen all day, so I try to spend weekends away from screens—hiking, cooking, reading a book. And it’s important for me to have a life outside of work. Most of my friends aren’t in the design or tech industry. When life is interesting, meaningful, and offers different perspectives, then productivity at work comes naturally.
As it is with the democratic masses, so it is with the democratic prince. In reaction against what he perceives as the “money-grubbing” of his oligarchic father, he adopts an undisciplined, self-indulgent lifestyle that causes him to reject his earlier training and surrender to “insolence and anarchy and waste and impudence” (560e).
This internal imbalance leads to chaos in his daily life:
he lives from day to day indulging the appetite of the hour; and sometimes he is lapped in drink and strains of the flute; then he becomes a water-drinker, and tries to get thin; then he takes a turn at gymnastics. . . . His life has neither law nor order; and this distracted existence he terms joy and bliss and freedom. (561c-d)
Apropo de impulsul de a face aproape orice pentru a ne feri de întrebările care contează, se pare că cineva i-a luat-o înainte lui Louis CK:
Nobody diagnosed this problem as brilliantly as Friedrich Nietzsche, the cantankerous 19th-century German philosopher who argued in Unmodern Observations that we seek out distractions in order to stay mentally busy, so we can avoid facing up to the big questions—like whether we’re living genuinely meaningful lives. We tweet and click and dive into angry online arguments because “when we are alone and quiet, we fear that something will be whispered into our ear.” Worse still, even work that feels productive can really be a form of distraction, if it keeps us from addressing what’s most important. “How we labor at our daily work more ardently and thoughtlessly than is necessary,” Nietzsche wrote, is because “it is even more necessary not to have leisure to stop and think. Haste is universal because everyone is in flight from himself.”
If you follow this simple principle, I can almost guarantee that you will eat better every time you go out to a restaurant. Not only that, but rarely if ever will you come away thinking that you’ve wasted your money or your time. (…)
The vast middle, in other words, is where most restaurants sit.
To put it more precisely: the restaurants that the vast majority of people think about when they thinking about going out to eat.
And you can probably guess by now what I’m going to advise you.
That’s right: ignore them.
If you want to be a happier, more fulfilled diner, then you need to ditch the middle.
Instead of highlighting the realities of single life, Esquire‘s portrayal of bachelorhood was based on looking and acting the part of the swinging ladies’ man, even though most of the magazine’s readers were married. Esquire’s idealized postwar bachelor had no obligations outside of his own desire for women and luxury products (often considered one in the same). He bought his own clothes, drove his own car, and took solo vacations to exotic places. The bachelor became a symbol of postwar consumerism and hedonism, and as a result, became a symbol of freedom for white American men looking for a way to feel important again.