ASO bound

Ready or not, local cultural event venues and all your supersilly denizens, here I come. That's right - like it or not, I'm going to the Atlanta Symphony tomorrow night. The band will be performing, by my calculations, about an hour-and-a-half of lesser-known Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 1, which is top-drawer; the Violin Concerto, which is a bit soloist-indulgent but still quite good; Francesca da Rimini, which just barely qualifies as music in my book. But FdR might really shine when performed live with a laser show and Marshall stacks, y'know?

So there's a behind the scenes tour before the show, then the actual jam session, and finally a meet and greet of the group afterward. Plus a free beverage. Y'know, your jealousy is not becoming.

This book I'm reading, 50 Psychology Classics, despite its abbreviated (at times to a somewhat ludicrous degree) treatment of several masterworks, is very instructive. It's a great way to find books that interest you. Or just to gain a little knowledge that you can then leverage into know-it-all status for yourself, which is how I'm planning on using it.

Me

Of particular note is a volume from '04 entitled The Paradox of Choice: Why More Is Less by Barry Schwartz. Bear states that all the choices we have nowadays do not make us any happier; in fact, they make us more miserable. I'm down with that noise, for all I do is stress out about all the entertainment options there are. And then end up watching reruns of "House" while worrying about what the opportunity cost is.

But I'm not the only one, it would seem. And that's good news in my book. Why all these references to my book? Because I do actually have one. And it's based on my Xanga blog of old. I might tell you more about it later if you'd quit sneezing and let me get a word in.

Anyone who happened to be sneezing while reading this entry should be sufficiently creeped out now, I'd say. And, as always, that was my sole intent.