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Birthday and books

So this was my birthday month, something none of my online friends noticed... But in any case I got a new 1tb hard drive, which is good because my other hard drive was totally full and I was looking for stuff to delete to make room for new stuff.

I'm still looking for a job. :( That's quite a depressing state of affairs but oh well.

I'm sure there was more that I wanted to say but right now I can only remember some book news. I read Stephen Fry's autobiography (The Fry Chronicles) and definitely recommend it. It's a lot of stage and TV stuff but none of that really matters because it's worth reading just to see how beautifully he uses language. I include here an extract (which was shortened and used as the blurb):

"Never, at any point in my life, can I remember feeling that I was any part of assured, controlled or at ease. The longer I life the more clearly one truth stands out. People will rarely modify their preferred view of a person, no matter what the evidence might suggest. I am English, Tweedy. Pukka. Confident. Establishment. Self-assured. In charge. That is how people see me, be the truth never so at variance... It may be the case that my afflictions of mood and temperament cause me to be occasionally suicidal in outlook and can frequently leave me in despair and eaten by self-hatred and self-disgust. It may be that I am chronically overmastered by a sense of failure, underachievement and a terrible knowledge that I have betrayed, abused or neglected the talents that nature has bestows upon me... All these cases may be protested, and I can assert their truth as often as I like, but the repetition will not alter my 'image' by one pixel. ..
What I wanted to say about all this wailing is not that I expect your pity or your understanding (though I wouldn't throw either of them out of bed), but that I am the one actually offering pity and understanding here. For I have to believe that all the feelings I have described are not unique to me but common to us all. The sense of failure, the fear of eternal unhappiness, the insecurity, misery, self-disgust and awful awareness of under-achievement that I have described. Are you not prey to all those things also? I do hope so, I would feel the most conspicuous oddity otherwise. I grant that my moments of 'suicidal ideation' and swings of mood may be more extreme and pathological than most have to endure, but otherwise, I am surely describing nothing more than the fears, dreads and neuroses we all share. No? More or less? Mutatis mutandis? All things being equal? Oh, please say yes."

I'm now reading Breaking the Spell by Daniel Dennett.
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