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Ordinarily I don't read or pimp self-help type websites, but I do stumble around del.icio.us a lot and often come across interesting articles there.

This one I really liked not so much because it helped me as because it's a very concise, supported-by-scholarship outline of things that I unconsciously learned years ago. The reason I don't get involved in wank (well, very often) or get infuriated by much is that I've internalised a lot of the article's advice. In some cases it hasn't all been helpful; I'm not certain I agree with everything he has to say about personal responsibility, but that's mainly because I don't think it's well-applied in cases of mental illness such as clinical depression and PTSD. As with anything, heed the words of Stephen Fry: Obviously, be sensible, and don't do anything because I tell you to. Or tell you not to. Live your own lives!

Still, I think it has a lot of good advice about being conscious of how ingrained personal belief can affect how we filter reality, and it outlines very basic, easy-to-remember components for managing negative reactions to others.

The ABCs of Remaining Cool in a Crazy World

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I don't care how awful it makes me, every single time someone walks to the exit doors leading to the elevator and gives them a big solid push...right before sheepishly grasping the handle and pulling, because the doors only open inward...my day gets a little bit brighter.

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M got fired from the box office today. She'd worked there longer than anyone else; she was the only one left who'd been there when I started. She walked in today and Big Boss told her that her services were no longer required. No reason, no warning, just a sacking.

She thinks it's because three days ago she asked him about the benefits and pay raise we were promised after a year (it would have been a year in early December). He didn't give her any answer at the time. I guess now she's got it. Either that or a hot young gay boy applied and he fired her to make room; he has a history of special treatment for people he thinks he has a snowball's chance in hell of fucking.

She doesn't seem too broken up about it; she was planning to quit in a month or two anyway, after she'd built up her savings a bit more.

Jesus, what a sad douchebag he is. I make more money than he does, now, which tells you something considering I make shy of forty grand and I've been on the job two weeks to his six years.

She's coming over tonight to be fed on roast steak and mashed potatoes, which I'm cooking now. R's going to take her out to the blues club after, probably to the bar where her sister works so they can get free drinks.

I am never more glad I quit when I did.