26/03/06

I'm tired. Stupid clocks.

So. I have a theory (yeah, shut up).
I keep seeing self-help books of one sort or another - I've been spending too much time in train stations lately - and I often end up having a flick through them. Because they're so shiny, and the front covers always suggest that This Is The Book. You know, the one that will just Sort Your Life Out. Then I start reading and ... well. It doesn't work, does it? People can give you endless reasons why they don't work - that the advice is cliched or obvious or obscure or impractical. Whatever. But sometimes it is good advice, and the book is interesting and well written, and I get the impression that if I applied this stuff properly, then it might actually change my life. But there's still a problem.

So yeah. My theory - Self-help books make life boring. Seriously. Lately, I've felt like there is no subject under the sun that you can't get really good advice on. Someone, somewhere has not only been in the exact same situation as you, but they've dealt with it in a more efficient fashion than you could ever dream of and then written a book about the results. All you have to do is go to the library or on a course or get a psychologist or a personal trainer, and then do exactly what they say for the rest of your life and you'll never make another mistake. Ever.

Now, I'm not saying that all of the above aren't very useful in some cases. Sometimes you really do need help because the mistakes you're making are too big, or you're in a hole that you'll never climb out of on your own. But currently, the more advice I get the more I feel like I'm going to start screaming and setting fire to things. Because I want to find things out for myself. And I don't want to feel like everything I'm doing has been done better by someone else about fifteen years ago.
But ... there's another problem.
It's like, bad advice is fine, I can ignore bad advice. But good advice is a killer. Because how can I justify ignoring that?