Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Daring ... You either have it or you don't
Somehow I got sucked into watching a marathon of America's Next Top Model this past weekend when I was really supposed to be preparing for finals. As I watched some very annoying model hopeful dissolve into tears when she was told she was going to be attached to a wire cord and hoisted up in the air so that photographers could snap pictures of the girls in karate poses, ala Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, I realised that daring is one of those things that you either have or you do not. It's very hard to tell someone that they have to buck up and act daring. I realise that models acting on a painfully contrived show are not the best example for this kind of thing, but I think it is pretty common across human nature. It's either naturally part of a person's personality, or one is just not that type of person. That is not to say that the daring among us are daring across the board. I would have absolutely jumped (no pun intended) at the chance to flit around in the air striking martial arts poses, but there are quite a few things I cannot picture myself doing with ease. I will probably end up sky diving at some point in my life, but it will be the result of a great deal of nerve and mental work. I do not suppose that I could simply get on board the aircraft, cooly fly to 10,000 feet, and then walk over, cross my arms, and fall out of the plane. So if I have daring, it is of the rather timid variety, I'm afraid. I have to work a bit to bring it out, but it is there, hidden beneath the surface. But there are those people who just exude it. People you can imagine energetically going after anything they wanted, or doing anything they got into their heads -- these are the truly intrepid. More than blithely doing stunts that make it onto network reality shows, they have a "just go for it" mentality when it comes to all sorts of things. It's curious; they often know and appreciate all the dangers involved, but the risks do not phase them. I envy it really, this unabashed view of life, but I cannot imagine taking that mindset and implanting it successfully in the mind of someone who did not already think that way. So, again, you either have daring or you do not, and more power to the people to whom it comes so easily.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Do not go . . .
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
-- Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
-- Dylan Thomas
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Election 08
It makes me chuckle to see just how abstract all my postings tend to be. I'm always, it seems, talking about things 'in theory', and with a lot of stream of consciousness thrown in to boot. I am not quite sure how I get caught up in that trap, but it's pretty amusing nevertheless. In some ways, I find that I cannot help myself -- the big picture interests me far more than the little everyday things that go into the big picture, and I hope I can train myself to somehow wrap my mind around part of that big picture some day. In the meantime, however, I'm afraid I am going to sound pompous and insufferable.
TodayI thought , I would take a break from mysilly musings , though -- a bit of peripeteia if you will. In that spirit, I am going to talk about practical and only practical things. And here is where the presidential election comes in. I could go on and on about the innane little tidbits of electoral history I've picked up from somewhere or another, or how we seem to be walking down the road toward a battle between two political dynasties called Bush and Clinton. But I will, instead, restrain myself, and just say that I really haven't a clue who I am going to vote for.
Of course, in any other year, when the election process gets started at the reasonable one-year mark, that would not be a problem. But in the 21st century, where it seems that these campaigns kick off earlier and earlier, the fact that I don't feel I zealously support one candidate or another is a source of concern. After all, we've certainly seen and heard enough of them to feel as though we are getting to know them, whether we like it or not. But that's part of the problem, I think. Because they all know they are in for a long haul, they are careful not too rock a boat that is supposed to keep them afloat for a year yet too much. Capsizing this early in the game would just be embarrassing. So instead we have these sorts of mediocre characters who occasionally say something defined and controversial, but two days later quickly step back from that show of guts. At this point, I think I would be more attracted to a candidate who went out and firmly and with gusto laid out his agenda, even if that agenda made me hate him (or her). I would prefer that to these pathetic feelings of indifference.
In any case, here is the present run-down. It was helped along partly by a grid that MSN has come up with to rank the candidates according to their take on the issues. Supposedly, once you go through and fill the whole thing out, you will be able to separate the candidates you support based on the number of green squares they have under their name from the ones who have red squares plastered near issues on which you diverge. Happily, this set everything straight for me: at the end of a well-spent half hour I was sitting and staring at a grid awash in the muddy green and red squares of neutrality. Nevertheless:
Hillary Clinton -- Undoubtedly smart and experienced. Oily, however, in the answers she gives to just about everything. Plus, I just cannot trust her. And she is going to have to decide whether she wants to wear the badge of her sex proudly or as a millstone round her neck that the male candidates tug on from time to time. She can't play both cards.
Barack Obama -- I like the guy, I really do. He seems more honest and less given to puffing up statistics so that they favor him. He is humble and well-spoken. And he has held his ground in the Iraq war, which is admirable. But as much as I would love to vote for candidates solely based on their positions on issues (and we see how far that silly grid got me) I think you also have to factor in ability and leadership. Now Obama is young, so maybe the leadership will come in time. The problem, however, is that we need a strong leader and we need him or her now and I don't think we can wait a year or two for a candidate, no matter how likable, to mature without paying a high price for it. Also, I am nt wild over his stance on foreign policy. I agree that dialoge and diplomacy works a deal better than going into a country guns a'blazing, but promising unequivocably to talk to any foreign power at pretty much any time could dampen considerably the delicate behind-the-scenes work of the State department.
Bill Richardson -- My suprise candidate. Unexpectedly, his position on the issues aligned with mine more than any other candidate. Plus, he has significant executive experience. And he's from New Mexico, and so occupies a special little place in my heart. But does he have the grit it's going to take to win a general election?
The rest of the Democrat playing field -- Edwards is unappealing, despite the shiny silky hair. Kucinich is interesting but impractical. And Joe Biden is just a little insane.
Rudy Giuliani -- The man cannot get his story straight. And he needs to understand that although he did lead New York through the chaotic days following 9/11, New York is one small and uncommon part of a much bigger country. He faces the very real possibility of not resonating with voters west of, well, the Hudson. Also, he cannot get his facts right to save his life. He seems determined to take perfectly straightforward statistics and tweaking them so that they fit his needs, but no longer are perfectly straighforward. (See relentless comments on prostate cancer in the UK).
Mitt Romney -- In case you haven't heard - he's Mormon. With all this talk abotu religious tolerance, it's pretty laughable that people are willing to vociferously writing him off for this reason alone. Fiscally, I think he's got some interesting and workable plans, and his focus on education is dead on. Socially, I cannot agree with him as much as I'd like. His position on immigration is one of the most perceptive out there, but his views on gay marriage are inconsistent and contradictory. I like the alternative fuel goals, but I think we need to stop looking at drilling in Alaska as a feasible idea; it would only be a very short-term fix in any case.
The remaining Republican playing field -- Ron Paul has taken fundraising to new heights, but for what exactly, I am not quite sure. Duncan Hunter is intimidating as all ____. And I liked Fred Thompson better on Law & Order.
TodayI thought , I would take a break from mysilly musings , though -- a bit of peripeteia if you will. In that spirit, I am going to talk about practical and only practical things. And here is where the presidential election comes in. I could go on and on about the innane little tidbits of electoral history I've picked up from somewhere or another, or how we seem to be walking down the road toward a battle between two political dynasties called Bush and Clinton. But I will, instead, restrain myself, and just say that I really haven't a clue who I am going to vote for.
Of course, in any other year, when the election process gets started at the reasonable one-year mark, that would not be a problem. But in the 21st century, where it seems that these campaigns kick off earlier and earlier, the fact that I don't feel I zealously support one candidate or another is a source of concern. After all, we've certainly seen and heard enough of them to feel as though we are getting to know them, whether we like it or not. But that's part of the problem, I think. Because they all know they are in for a long haul, they are careful not too rock a boat that is supposed to keep them afloat for a year yet too much. Capsizing this early in the game would just be embarrassing. So instead we have these sorts of mediocre characters who occasionally say something defined and controversial, but two days later quickly step back from that show of guts. At this point, I think I would be more attracted to a candidate who went out and firmly and with gusto laid out his agenda, even if that agenda made me hate him (or her). I would prefer that to these pathetic feelings of indifference.
In any case, here is the present run-down. It was helped along partly by a grid that MSN has come up with to rank the candidates according to their take on the issues. Supposedly, once you go through and fill the whole thing out, you will be able to separate the candidates you support based on the number of green squares they have under their name from the ones who have red squares plastered near issues on which you diverge. Happily, this set everything straight for me: at the end of a well-spent half hour I was sitting and staring at a grid awash in the muddy green and red squares of neutrality. Nevertheless:
Hillary Clinton -- Undoubtedly smart and experienced. Oily, however, in the answers she gives to just about everything. Plus, I just cannot trust her. And she is going to have to decide whether she wants to wear the badge of her sex proudly or as a millstone round her neck that the male candidates tug on from time to time. She can't play both cards.
Barack Obama -- I like the guy, I really do. He seems more honest and less given to puffing up statistics so that they favor him. He is humble and well-spoken. And he has held his ground in the Iraq war, which is admirable. But as much as I would love to vote for candidates solely based on their positions on issues (and we see how far that silly grid got me) I think you also have to factor in ability and leadership. Now Obama is young, so maybe the leadership will come in time. The problem, however, is that we need a strong leader and we need him or her now and I don't think we can wait a year or two for a candidate, no matter how likable, to mature without paying a high price for it. Also, I am nt wild over his stance on foreign policy. I agree that dialoge and diplomacy works a deal better than going into a country guns a'blazing, but promising unequivocably to talk to any foreign power at pretty much any time could dampen considerably the delicate behind-the-scenes work of the State department.
Bill Richardson -- My suprise candidate. Unexpectedly, his position on the issues aligned with mine more than any other candidate. Plus, he has significant executive experience. And he's from New Mexico, and so occupies a special little place in my heart. But does he have the grit it's going to take to win a general election?
The rest of the Democrat playing field -- Edwards is unappealing, despite the shiny silky hair. Kucinich is interesting but impractical. And Joe Biden is just a little insane.
Rudy Giuliani -- The man cannot get his story straight. And he needs to understand that although he did lead New York through the chaotic days following 9/11, New York is one small and uncommon part of a much bigger country. He faces the very real possibility of not resonating with voters west of, well, the Hudson. Also, he cannot get his facts right to save his life. He seems determined to take perfectly straightforward statistics and tweaking them so that they fit his needs, but no longer are perfectly straighforward. (See relentless comments on prostate cancer in the UK).
Mitt Romney -- In case you haven't heard - he's Mormon. With all this talk abotu religious tolerance, it's pretty laughable that people are willing to vociferously writing him off for this reason alone. Fiscally, I think he's got some interesting and workable plans, and his focus on education is dead on. Socially, I cannot agree with him as much as I'd like. His position on immigration is one of the most perceptive out there, but his views on gay marriage are inconsistent and contradictory. I like the alternative fuel goals, but I think we need to stop looking at drilling in Alaska as a feasible idea; it would only be a very short-term fix in any case.
The remaining Republican playing field -- Ron Paul has taken fundraising to new heights, but for what exactly, I am not quite sure. Duncan Hunter is intimidating as all ____. And I liked Fred Thompson better on Law & Order.
And there you are . . .
Monday, October 29, 2007
Grief
Grief has a strange evolution. At times, it seems like it will never end or even fade. It makes the days pass slowly and painfully, excruciatingly dragging out moments of loneliness and regret until they themselves seem to last for days. But then, all of a sudden, years have gone past, and you look back and realise that you have inched your way out of the worst parts of grief.
I cannot believe that it has already been a full year and a half. And yes, I still feel like half an orphan many times during the course of a day. But I've come to accept it in a way that I was not able to in the months immediately after my father's death. There are times when I am smacked with the desire to talk to him, to ask him questions I know he would be able to answer. I continue to wish that I had gotten to know more about his life and what kind of person he was outside of simply being my father. And I still feel guilt that my life had more of my father in it than have my brother and sisters'; I don't think I will ever be able to stop regretting that my youngest sister will have no virtually memory of my father, nor he of her. But I no longer mourn the conversations I never had but should have. For one, I would drive myself crazy that way, and the pragmatic part of me has finally made itself heard and told me that if I had all the conversations I wanted to with all the people who warranted them, I would neither sleep, eat, nor do anything else. Perhaps there were some things I was just not meant to know.
And I cannot help but perversely note that, in some ways, I am closer to my father than I was when he was still alive. I realize now just how fortunate I am to have a loving family and what a difference it has made in my life. I am more determined than ever to do what would make my father proud. His death has allowed me to more fully appreciate and understand ideals like humility, patience, fraility and basic human pride; and while being grateful for that may seem inexcusably selfish, I can only hope that someday, I am able to do the same for someone else. And it reassures me that even as we leave this earth, our last moment can be of value.
And so I don't think I am completely over my grief, nor do I believe I ever will be. But it has morphed into something different than it once was. I still grieve, but with that grieving comes a sincere gratefulness for what I had, even if it did not last as long as I might have liked.
I cannot believe that it has already been a full year and a half. And yes, I still feel like half an orphan many times during the course of a day. But I've come to accept it in a way that I was not able to in the months immediately after my father's death. There are times when I am smacked with the desire to talk to him, to ask him questions I know he would be able to answer. I continue to wish that I had gotten to know more about his life and what kind of person he was outside of simply being my father. And I still feel guilt that my life had more of my father in it than have my brother and sisters'; I don't think I will ever be able to stop regretting that my youngest sister will have no virtually memory of my father, nor he of her. But I no longer mourn the conversations I never had but should have. For one, I would drive myself crazy that way, and the pragmatic part of me has finally made itself heard and told me that if I had all the conversations I wanted to with all the people who warranted them, I would neither sleep, eat, nor do anything else. Perhaps there were some things I was just not meant to know.
And I cannot help but perversely note that, in some ways, I am closer to my father than I was when he was still alive. I realize now just how fortunate I am to have a loving family and what a difference it has made in my life. I am more determined than ever to do what would make my father proud. His death has allowed me to more fully appreciate and understand ideals like humility, patience, fraility and basic human pride; and while being grateful for that may seem inexcusably selfish, I can only hope that someday, I am able to do the same for someone else. And it reassures me that even as we leave this earth, our last moment can be of value.
And so I don't think I am completely over my grief, nor do I believe I ever will be. But it has morphed into something different than it once was. I still grieve, but with that grieving comes a sincere gratefulness for what I had, even if it did not last as long as I might have liked.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
The Allure of the '60s
Yes, it is true. My second post in as many days. What, you may ask, is the occasion? Well, to be perfectly honest, after writing about the broadcasting market in China and the origins of the National Bank for hours straight, I needed a break. With such thrilling topics I know it is unbelievable that I could grow tired, but there it is. And somehow, sitting on here and typing more or less without purpose for a few minutes won't make me feel as guilty as just taking a break. So, for the sake of my psychological welfare, here I am again.
And since I have been tapping my feet the past few days to the soundtrack of the hippie-inspired film Across the Universe, I have decided to bless the world with my views on the 1960s. Perhaps it's just because I've seen so few films lately (and the most recent before this was the most unfortunate The Game Plan with some of the babysitees, which I can only assume The Rock, or whatever his name is, will come to regret). But this one really got me. The entire score is done to Beatles' songs, but they weave together a remarkably coherent story. It traces the life a young Liverpoolian, coincidentally named Jude, as he travels to America, gets involved with the anti-war movment, and falls in love with a And, with the exception of Bono, none of the actors are very well known, but they did a fantastic job. And it made me fall in love with the Beatles' music all over again. They certainly put a lot out into the world while they were together.
And as I happily listened to "Revolution" for what must be the 40th time earlier today, I got to thinking -- what would I have been like had I grown up in the 60s? They were such an explosive time, and proved definitely that the young and idealistic could in fact move the world. And I do so feel like I am at that painfully idealistic stage in my life, where nothing seems satisfactory, but there's still that glimmer somewhere on the horizon that tells me that we can in fact make things better. I want to believe it; I have to believe it. And while books I've read and what people older than I have said tell me that the feelings of idealism will fade a little bit under the pressure of pragmatism, right now I can empathize with the hippies' drive to create a new world order.
But I have to wonder if that's only because the legacy that the generation left us. Would I be so quick to understand the desire for a revolution if it were not for all the stories, and policies, and music left behind by the 60s? Somehow, I suspect that by giving importance to those teenage feelings of energy and revolution that had been quashed or hushed for generations before, the hippies really changed the world a little bit for all of us who came after. We were all forced to approach everything just a bit differently.
I'm not sure what kind of hippy I would have made, though. The clothes are right up my alley, the music still makes me grin, and the some of the ideas still strike me with their power. But drugs don't make any sense to me, particularly if you're trying to make the world a different place -- kind of hard to do so if you're high all the time. Plus, kaleidoscopes make me dizzy, and all the drug-induced art I've seen seems to involve far too much kaleidoscope imagery. So I suppose that means I would have made half a good hippy, and that's good enough for me.
And, with that, now back to the ever-scintilating growth of the Chinese TV market . . .
And since I have been tapping my feet the past few days to the soundtrack of the hippie-inspired film Across the Universe, I have decided to bless the world with my views on the 1960s. Perhaps it's just because I've seen so few films lately (and the most recent before this was the most unfortunate The Game Plan with some of the babysitees, which I can only assume The Rock, or whatever his name is, will come to regret). But this one really got me. The entire score is done to Beatles' songs, but they weave together a remarkably coherent story. It traces the life a young Liverpoolian, coincidentally named Jude, as he travels to America, gets involved with the anti-war movment, and falls in love with a And, with the exception of Bono, none of the actors are very well known, but they did a fantastic job. And it made me fall in love with the Beatles' music all over again. They certainly put a lot out into the world while they were together.
And as I happily listened to "Revolution" for what must be the 40th time earlier today, I got to thinking -- what would I have been like had I grown up in the 60s? They were such an explosive time, and proved definitely that the young and idealistic could in fact move the world. And I do so feel like I am at that painfully idealistic stage in my life, where nothing seems satisfactory, but there's still that glimmer somewhere on the horizon that tells me that we can in fact make things better. I want to believe it; I have to believe it. And while books I've read and what people older than I have said tell me that the feelings of idealism will fade a little bit under the pressure of pragmatism, right now I can empathize with the hippies' drive to create a new world order.
But I have to wonder if that's only because the legacy that the generation left us. Would I be so quick to understand the desire for a revolution if it were not for all the stories, and policies, and music left behind by the 60s? Somehow, I suspect that by giving importance to those teenage feelings of energy and revolution that had been quashed or hushed for generations before, the hippies really changed the world a little bit for all of us who came after. We were all forced to approach everything just a bit differently.
I'm not sure what kind of hippy I would have made, though. The clothes are right up my alley, the music still makes me grin, and the some of the ideas still strike me with their power. But drugs don't make any sense to me, particularly if you're trying to make the world a different place -- kind of hard to do so if you're high all the time. Plus, kaleidoscopes make me dizzy, and all the drug-induced art I've seen seems to involve far too much kaleidoscope imagery. So I suppose that means I would have made half a good hippy, and that's good enough for me.
And, with that, now back to the ever-scintilating growth of the Chinese TV market . . .
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
It's been a month . . .
I know, I know: it's been a whole month since my last post. And while blogging should be something like mother's milk to me at this stage in my life, where I feel in desperate need of some sort of soap box, but where, ironically, very few people care to listen to me, I find it hard to set aside the requisite time. I am not so talented that I can sit down at a moment's whim and spurt out an intelligent, or even reasonably intelligent, set of paragraphs that get across the point I'd like to make. Sadly, my writing requires much more deliberation, and usually about two of three drafts and some editing before I am confident enough to put it out there and say "This is what I mean. Period."
I've seen articles written by rabid bloggers who claim that posting their thoughts, hopes, and frustrations online has become a daily therapy session they cannot live without. I'd like to send them some of my work, since they seem to have so much idle time on their hands . . .
Maybe I am just a poor prioritizer, but any free moment it seems I do have, I am overwhelmed with the desire to climb into my bed and snag a bit of sleep. Laziness, of course, could be the answer as well, but I shudder to admit that, however accurate it may be.
In any case, to prove that I have in fact been managing to keep up with important current events despite all the tedious midterms I've been glaring at recently, I will include the following thought from a very amusing little article on the BBC.
"In America, every election has been more expensive than the last, and yet the White House has passed from a Bush to a Clinton, back to a Bush and, many believe, may pass back to a Clinton.
It seems an awful lot of time and money to spend on what looks to outsiders like two rival dynasties fighting over the same address. " http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/7036876.stm
I would copy and paste some of the tedious midterms here as well, but let's be honest and acknoweldge that no one has the slightest interest in reading anything of them.
Until the next time . . .
I've seen articles written by rabid bloggers who claim that posting their thoughts, hopes, and frustrations online has become a daily therapy session they cannot live without. I'd like to send them some of my work, since they seem to have so much idle time on their hands . . .
Maybe I am just a poor prioritizer, but any free moment it seems I do have, I am overwhelmed with the desire to climb into my bed and snag a bit of sleep. Laziness, of course, could be the answer as well, but I shudder to admit that, however accurate it may be.
In any case, to prove that I have in fact been managing to keep up with important current events despite all the tedious midterms I've been glaring at recently, I will include the following thought from a very amusing little article on the BBC.
"In America, every election has been more expensive than the last, and yet the White House has passed from a Bush to a Clinton, back to a Bush and, many believe, may pass back to a Clinton.
It seems an awful lot of time and money to spend on what looks to outsiders like two rival dynasties fighting over the same address. " http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/7036876.stm
I would copy and paste some of the tedious midterms here as well, but let's be honest and acknoweldge that no one has the slightest interest in reading anything of them.
Until the next time . . .
Sunday, September 9, 2007
The trials of being sick
I've managed to get quite sick this weekend. And since I know that noone really wants to hear me complain -- I am in fact annoying myself with the constant coughing followed by little miserable whimpers -- I figured I would complain online. That way, when someone's decided they've had enough, a deft little click to the corner 'x' will relieve his pain.
In any case: being sick.
Everyone knows it's miserable. But I want to take just a moment here to discuss how visiting the neighborhood drug store does very little to make you feel any better. I went this morning, and am now about $35 dollars poorer, and have the dubious distinction to own half the cold products that they sell. And these things probably have much the same ingredients, and in the end, probably address the same symptoms. But there's an instinct when you're sick to make sure you cover all your bases in a frantic and usually desperate attempt to try to avoid the thing at any cost. The makers of Dayquil capitalize on this, and stick about 20 different kinds of their silly medicine on the shelves, making you feel guilty if you don't buy them, in case it turns out that the particular concoction in whatever box you decided not to pick up happens to be the one you need.
Mostly I do this for other people's sakes. I can't afford to be more cranky and unpleasant than I already am to people, so I want to make sure that if the medicines do not help me feel well enough to make a go at being amiable, they at least drug me up enough so that I am not too wretched.
But now, as I've spent the last ten minutes whining about being sick, unsuprisingly, I have developed a headache, and am going to go consult the growing dispensary in my medicine cabinet and take a bit of a nap.
Three cheers for Dayquil "for sinuses and headache pressure" . . .
In any case: being sick.
Everyone knows it's miserable. But I want to take just a moment here to discuss how visiting the neighborhood drug store does very little to make you feel any better. I went this morning, and am now about $35 dollars poorer, and have the dubious distinction to own half the cold products that they sell. And these things probably have much the same ingredients, and in the end, probably address the same symptoms. But there's an instinct when you're sick to make sure you cover all your bases in a frantic and usually desperate attempt to try to avoid the thing at any cost. The makers of Dayquil capitalize on this, and stick about 20 different kinds of their silly medicine on the shelves, making you feel guilty if you don't buy them, in case it turns out that the particular concoction in whatever box you decided not to pick up happens to be the one you need.
Mostly I do this for other people's sakes. I can't afford to be more cranky and unpleasant than I already am to people, so I want to make sure that if the medicines do not help me feel well enough to make a go at being amiable, they at least drug me up enough so that I am not too wretched.
But now, as I've spent the last ten minutes whining about being sick, unsuprisingly, I have developed a headache, and am going to go consult the growing dispensary in my medicine cabinet and take a bit of a nap.
Three cheers for Dayquil "for sinuses and headache pressure" . . .
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