Last week I biffed pretty bad socially. More than once. No shock. But this one was full of extra suck since it was right in front of— hell, it was right AT— a major crush who I had managed to play it cool with before.
I over think this shit, get a little cocky with the slightest success, and then blow it in the clutch.
Am I being vague? Hell yeah. At least one of you knows her IRL.
To maintain order, the Emperor would generally need a MASSIVE, MASSIVE bureaucracy. The Old Republic built up a serviceable one over thousands of years, but that took a lot of time, money and effort, and in the end it was bloated, ineffective, and ultimately subverted against the Old Republic.
The more you spend on bureaucracy, the less control you have directly over your Empire. The less you spend on bureaucracy, the more you have to tighten your grip, and the more star systems slip through your fingers.” —Overthinking Star Wars | The Economics of Death Star Planet Destruction | Overthinking It
… possible moments they had to have a photo of it HAD to be that one.
Who I would be talking to and what I’d be talking about today I would’ve recommended a reliable mood stabilizer.
It’s the damnedest thing.
Ever since I moved to LA I’ve gotten more positive comments about my geeky T-Shirt collection— often from total strangers— than I ever did in the Bay Area. Perhaps this is just a function of the Bay being over geeks in a way that the Southland is not. Or it could be that the Bay is more self-consciously cool than it would like to admit.
Today it was a random dude giving me props for my Red Lantern “T”. Just a lanky hipster grabbing some Chipotle before he hit the Trader Joe’s in Glendale.
Last week it was the most freakish occurrence possible: a eye-blindingly cute young lady in my [redacted] class who complemented me on my Halo UNSC shirt (pictured above) before engaging me in a conversation about card games. By card games I do not mean blackjack or baccarat, but the deeply nerdy kind that you have to buy from a speciality store. The kind of store I worked at for one Christmas season, forever souring me on my fellow gamer geeks as a sub-sub-culture.
I had to squint to make sure that her skin wasn’t a blocky, chalky white. That I hadn’t been transported to Bizarro World.
The strangest part: this happens every time I pick up one of these T’s and tell myself it’s time to start wearing grown-up clothes again.
Most things suck.
What are we doing to fix that today?