Originally Posted by mafoofan
Even if that is my failure, it is far easier to stomach than yours.
You see, at the worst, I wind up with an ugly living room. But what about you? Jeezus, it makes me actually feel sorry for you--to live everyday of your life knowing you are neither as intelligent nor as talented as you wished you were, unable to actually convince anybody of anything under even the lightest scrutiny. What are you? A failed architect? Worse? An architectural student that didn't get good enough grades? No, if i had to guess, what you attempted to do with your life was such an utter failure that you cannot bear to talk about it anymore. Instead, you've resorted to a secondary interest. Perhaps one where the peers who sneered at you in your chosen field will be less likely to come across your vapid ramblings and cheap bravado. I wonder, does it pain you under all the miserable sneering to realize of yourself, even here, you truly are nothing but a mediocrity? A lightweight? Or have you sufficiently numbed yourself? Do you actually believe your pretense--that you have taste? Yes or no, I'm not sure which would be the worse fate to suffer. Condolences.
Massive, massive fail. You completely lose your bottle when someone tries to psychoanalyze you. It seems hardly fair to try and do it to someone else. Nasty ad hominems directed at someone just because they refuse to play your game on your terms are not full of win.
You may disagree with his theory of interior design but he certainly has one. Read this carefully.
Originally Posted by StephenHero
Foo, you seem incapable of realizing that all you're doing is senselessly micromanaging a bunch of obnoxious shit you bought out of a catalog, hoping it can overcome the glaring sterility of the domestic showroom you feel obligated to maintain for third parties. There isn't a single object in there that indicates you or your living habits have an introspective quality to them at all, which is a requisite form of individualism that without having, makes your whole living room an utterly meaningless scrap heap of bubbled-wrapped vanity. You're playing a game that others like Matt and Labelking can succeed at, largely because they posses a humor and self-awareness about the absurdities of accumulating obnoxious things that still escapes you as you photoshop coffee table books into your floor plan without any sort of irony or personalized distinction. If you can't find a joke to tell through all this, you'll simply be it.
Now you are one of the least ironic people on SF so this may not be your cup of tea. Fine. But I can certainly see how this approach could work. In fact, it could work particularly well for you if you had the temperament for it.
And what about your wife? I'm guessing she has a personality, too. Perhaps it is better suited to this sort of thing than yours. Just as an experiment, would don't you leave everything entirely to her? You might be surprised at what she come up with.