I just finished using a shredder to mangle about 50 CDs worth of data. I did this for work, but it was immensely satisfying. A shredder isn’t usually my first choice for this thing (the hospital doesn’t really allow for the sandpit-and-a-shotgun approach to data destruction), but it was still enjoyable.
This got me thinking. Why is it that destroying things makes us feel good? Certainly I can understand why making something makes us feel good, since we’ve just created something through toil and skill, but why is breaking stuff just so much fun?
I’m going to chalk it up to the baser instincts of man. Sometimes you just neat to crush something. Taking a club, or a lead pipe, or an axe, or a baseball bat, or any other weapon to an object is a great release of stress.
I think we put pride and desire into the things we build. Accordingly, perhaps we put our hate and frustrations into the things we destroy. I’ve certainly pictured an object I’m pounding on as something or someone I despise, but not always. Maybe even without meaning to I ascribe those same traits when I’m not actively thinking about it.
So, nothing really profound today. I’m a bit spent after last night's marathon fiction session, and I enjoyed grinding those CDs to un-computer-readable chunks. It just struck me how cool it is sometimes to get to break things.
I feel like breaking some more things. I think I’ll go crush some cans or something.
This got me thinking. Why is it that destroying things makes us feel good? Certainly I can understand why making something makes us feel good, since we’ve just created something through toil and skill, but why is breaking stuff just so much fun?
I’m going to chalk it up to the baser instincts of man. Sometimes you just neat to crush something. Taking a club, or a lead pipe, or an axe, or a baseball bat, or any other weapon to an object is a great release of stress.
I think we put pride and desire into the things we build. Accordingly, perhaps we put our hate and frustrations into the things we destroy. I’ve certainly pictured an object I’m pounding on as something or someone I despise, but not always. Maybe even without meaning to I ascribe those same traits when I’m not actively thinking about it.
So, nothing really profound today. I’m a bit spent after last night's marathon fiction session, and I enjoyed grinding those CDs to un-computer-readable chunks. It just struck me how cool it is sometimes to get to break things.
I feel like breaking some more things. I think I’ll go crush some cans or something.
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