I just recently flipped through The Pale King and started reading a chapter I really liked. The chapter tells a story of an accountant recounting his college days before he decided to become a tax accountant and how he was a general wastoid. There’s a section dedicated advice giving. It interested me enough to consider thinking about it and thought…fuck it, just write something on the subject.
There’s a certain arrogance when it comes to dispensing advice. It feels good to just speak generally on things that you think about life. Realize that giving advice is just an opportunity (and this is right after I make the mistake of typing oppUrtunity for the umpteen billionth time and realizing right after I finish typing it only after the red line shows up) to seem wise, and thus can be really self-indulgent. It changes nothing or next to nothing to the person you’re dispensing advice to, even if it is really good advice. Good advice can sometimes even come with empty praise that can instill some sort of empty self-aggrandizement too, if you’re not too careful when talking to someone who will believe in anything. It’s difficult to actually say something with any depth or validity without seeming like you’re insulting them or their intelligence, being cliche, being mean, or seem like you believe you’re even a good example of whatever advice you’re giving. It’s actually pretty goddamn difficult to come up with anything to say that would stay with anyone for longer than some brief period, something to not be forgotten about, tossed aside like some dumb shit someone said to you. Especially explaining it in just the right way to be the most effective. It’s a matter of snapping a sense of self-driven skepticism into those you care about, rather than the distraction driven default.
How many times do you really get good advice and actually listen to it in a lifetime?