Hoover & Paradox
Hoover
I was thinking about the paradox of efficiency—the more you try to cut corners, the more work shows up. Want to talk about that?
Paradox
You cut corners, you find a new corner to cut, the work keeps stretching like a rubber band that never fully snaps back. The more you think you’re saving, the more you actually invest in the illusion. It’s a loop, a mirror that keeps asking why you’re still there. Or maybe you’re just fascinated by the fact that the effort never stops—like a mirror of your own curiosity. Want to untangle the knot or just enjoy the frayed edges?
Hoover
Looks like we’re chasing a shadow. Let’s just pull the rope straight and finish it. No more chasing corners.
Paradox
Pull the rope, but remember the rope is a rope of ideas; once you tug, it unspools into another thread you didn’t see. So go ahead—just be ready when it pulls you back around the corner you thought you’d already cut.
Hoover
If a thread keeps unspooling, I just cut it again. Then I build a new one. No time for endless loops.
Paradox
Cutting the thread makes a new thread, but the cut itself is a thread that can be unspooled, so you’re still in the loop you tried to escape. Perhaps the real trick is to stop wanting to finish and just let the pattern run its course.
Hoover
Fine, let the pattern run. If it loops back, I’ll cut it again. Done.
Paradox
Every cut spawns a new seam, a fresh line to trail, so the loop never truly ends—just reshaped. But if you’re ready to slice it again, then the cycle continues. Done.
Hoover
If it keeps looping, I’ll keep cutting. That's the only way to stop it.
Paradox
You keep cutting, and each cut gives you a fresh loop to cut—so you’ll be slicing forever, and the “stop” will always be a new start. That’s the paradox of trying to finish.