So this thought just blew my mind a little. Especially when applied to Facebook & Twitter posts.
The end of this is the difference between “good” and “brilliant.”
I just want to say one thing about optimism and pessimism, because I have this conversation with my kids. They say that a pessimist says the glass is half empty, and the optimist says the glass is half full, and my kids and I figured out there’s a third kind of person. I don’t know what you call them, but it’s somebody who sees that the glass is always full because it’s half filled with water and half full with nothing.
I’ve always seen it as half-empty. Not because I’m a pessimist, but because who only pours themselves a half a glass of water and then stops?
David Lynch (via bbook)
This is so sad and so true.
It’s sad but not totally true. I feel like, if anything, I’ve been a few different people. I’ve liked some more than others.
But still. It’s a beautiful idea and all beautiful ideas are true.
why he is here."
— Don DeLillo’s 7-word autobiography, alongside those of other cultural icons. (via explore-blog)
(Source: , via explore-blog)
Or why a lifelong baseball fan considered cheating on his favorite team and faced the existential question of how our teams define us.
by Tom Elia
I bought a Pittsburgh Pirates baseball hat. Bought it just after pitchers and catchers reported for MLB’s spring training in February. I stared at it for a while before putting it on. Admired its newness and nuances from various angles. Flipped it over and peered inside, hoping for a glimpse of the rabbit the ol’ ball club might pull out this year.
No rabbit, though. Just pretty much what I expected: a standard-issue Pittsburgh Pirates baseball hat. Black. The letter “P” with her double meaning stitched to the front in that peculiar serif. Its yellow thread like strands of sunlight plucked from the front end of a July doubleheader.
(Disclosure: I briefly considered ordering one of those ‘79 Willie Stargell, yellow-and-black-striped, tootsie roll, bumblebee caps, but it seemed a little too much for me. Hell, it was a little too much for the late ‘70s.)
If I’m waxing on about a men’s adjustable baseball hat, let me say that I’m one of those fans who believe that a cap bought in spring holds the potential of a new season in its adjustable Velcro straps. Like a magic seed planted on your head for 162 games, a good hat sits there straining to sprout a beanstalk that leads upward to a pennant and, just maybe, a ring.
I’m also older than many of the players I root for these days. Like around 95% of them. (Even the ones with suspect birth certificates.) But still, come Opening Day I think to myself: Hell, this could be the year. And hell, I’m not that old. And as I sit at my desk and flex my calf-muscles, I can’t help but think: Hell, I can still get on my horse and cover some ground, gallop through the endless centerfield grass, ghosting a long, high bullet – crack! – as it tears ass across the blue sky, back-back-back, back-back-back, back-back-back, until– thwack! – the ball slaps against my mitt, like old friends high-fiving at the rowdy end of the bar, the sound louder than the roar of the crowd curling to the heavens behind me, as I toss the ball into the stands to the gangly kid dangling dangerously over the side, screaming as if the center of that cowhide held the cure to adolescence – and everything else that follows – as I jog back to the dugout, head down, humbly tipping my cap, as I make it look so-so-so easy.
It was with those dreams knocking around the diamond of my mind, that I tried on the hat. Didn’t feel right – but most new hats don’t – so I threw it into the wash. After it dried, I put it on again. A little better, but still something was off. I watched my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Was it the adjustable straps? The fabric? The brim? Maybe my head was just not made for a Pirates hat, the way Joey Cora’s head was not made for any baseball hat.
Could be all of those things, I told myself. But I knew it wasn’t any of them. That Pittsburgh Pirate’s hat didn’t fit for one simple reason.
I’m a Yankee fan.