Nugget of Wisdom #707

According to Make It magazine; a product of "world leading" news channel CNBC, Harvard researchers report that, "Hi. How are you?" is the worst thing you can say when greeting an associate. They advise that this is too vague and not likely to generate an authentic connection.

Hard to argue that, I say. But what if it's an associate we don't exactly crave an authentic connection with? Maybe it's perfect?

Three superior options, claims Make It:

• “Hi. What are you looking forward to this week?”
• “Hi. You remind me of a celebrity, but I can’t remember which one — who’s someone you relate to?”
• "Hi. What are your three favorite colors?"

Um. Yeah.

Confession: Only two of those were recommended in the article and one of them is my own throw-in. Though I can't imagine using any of them. Also, I find it a bit odd that they issue their number one piece of advice; "be authentic," right before providing canned dialogue.

Oh and here's their actual third suggestion. Ready?

• "Hi. What's your current state of mind?"

Can you imagine?

Pretty sure my response to that would be, "Suddenly cringed the fuck out, actually. Will you excuse me?"

The preceding nugget may or may not contain authentic wisdom. Either way it is not endorsed by the army of monkeys known as Fantasy Writer Guy. 

Everyday Heroes

I was 17 when I met two particular cousins for the first time. Their mom had rescued them from a not-great dad and my uncle took them in as his own, gave them solid love and shelter, this during a 12-year period when I was separated from the whole family at large. All four made me feel extremely welcome (as did the whole excellent family) at a time when unfavorable high school dynamics had turned me socially inward. The cousins, being my age, took that opportunity during our somewhat-brief association, to respond to my demeanor effectively; with a slightly puzzled respect. They marveled at my "mellow" manner and interpreted it, whether mistakenly or strategically, as something rare to be applauded. When introducing me to their friends it was often revealed that the reputation they conceived of me had preceded the introduction, and not that of a "loner", as some kids mistook me as, but as more of a confident outsider, like a tame Clint Eastwood perhaps, minus all the guns and bravado! And though this interpretation was also off the mark, it no-doubt drove my social turnaround, at least initially. They were the first to coax me out of my shell, whether by fluke or by design. I never did ask; never got to speak my loving gratitude.

Meanwhile Aunt K, who I was only just meeting, accepted me at once like family. I remember her saying "You are welcome in our house ANY time!" I've never been specifically told that before or since.

The boy, who struck me as an extremely pleasant and friendly dude, had a tragic knack for trouble of the wrong-friends variety, and gradually dissolved into some underworld apart from my understanding. In hindsight I would gladly go back in time, and decline that gift he gave me, if only I could trade it for the privilege of supporting him instead, and boosting whatever strength he needed so that he did not need the support of his unworthier allies. If only I could have helped tip that equation. Maybe we'd still be friends. I don't even know if he's alive.

"I hope he stays out of trouble now," said his sister to me one summer day in our youth.

'He will!" I said, like it was obvious.

She laughed. "You're so confident!" But I was a fool. I also later assumed she would defeat her breast cancer. She did not.

I was told there was no funeral and not told of a memorial celebration that happened later. I was very disappointed. If it was too late to praise her for her kindness, I wished at least to tell her loved ones.

Years went by, never getting to see Aunt K. I wanted to. I wondered if she was upset with me (and other family) for not supporting her daughter enough. K's absences from small family gatherings were always attributed to the great physical suffering she'd been enduring.

The other day, as I pushed my walker up the ramp to the little handicap bus, I sensed another guest on board. Sometimes we share.

"Hi Rich," she said. I looked up, but already knowing that lovely gritty voice. I was completely disarmed, as if caught in a long long exhale.

"It's so good to see you," I managed to say. Such an understatement. It was so good to see her I could barely form the words.

She did not seem upset with me at all. We caught up in a hurry. I was teary. There was a hug of sorts, as much as possible given the logistics. I got the chance to praise her daughter. It didn't surprise her. She knows her daughter. The pain of losing her... I can't imagine.

But she continues to put one foot in front of the other, as hard as that must be at times, or maybe all the time.

 

Homework? Really?

I've started the medical diet through the bariatric clinic as a weight-losing measure to better prepare me for the surgical program which will create significantly more permanent weight-loss. I'm on robust prescription meal-replacement shakes and non-carbonated, non-caloric fluids and nothing else; nothing resembling food until week thirteen. If I last until then. This seems like torture at times.

The program includes weekly Zoom classes. I'm about to do my homework which I think consisted of three questions. Excuse me while I go find them.

Let me think carefully and answer honestly:

1. To avoid diabetes. To avoid heart disease/heart attacks long enough that my Mom doesn't have to bury me. To increase my chances of being able to properly walk again so I can better pursue my goals rather than giving up on some of them.

2. My mobility, my mortality and... people will not worry so much about me.

3. None. I no longer have any confidence that I will succeed. I am really, really, REALLY not liking this experience. What I would like is some FUCKING FOOD.

What abilities at least give me hope of possible success?

Great question.

My ability to be at peace with my circumstances, which... I have not utilized very well up to now. Can I summon it? Surely I should be able to but I WOULD RATHER EAT.

Going places

Dear Diary:

I thought about getting out of bed eventually, and then finally did. I'd showered and laundered yesterday so today would be a breeze. And only one bus to take. Well, two if you include the little DARTS bus.

I'm in clean clothes with Jim Morrison shirt anchored under my Jabba-the-Hut belly. Got my standard gear, two bottles of wine, birthday card, notebook, pens. Forget the coat; its like summer almost. And forget my Presto (transit) card because it's lost and therefore I must buy a GO ticket from a machine and swiftly because DARTS was 22 minutes late picking me up. But both machines at the GO station reject my purchase attempts (three times each) and I can't seem to stop myself from loudly cursing though I've no wish to draw attention. I cannot miss this GO bus! and at the last minute I'm on it and pleading my case to the driver who lets me in with no ticket.

Another nice man gives up his roomy front seat so I can sit there with walker before me, clinging to it, even with its ornamental "brakes" supposedly engaged, trying to keep it from crashing around the wide aisle as the bus careens around corners.

My folks and I converge at the park-and-ride and they haul me and my gear to brother's house where we celebrate Pops' 76th birthday with booze, nibblies, excellent coffee and of course a hockey game on the toob. And eventually dinner and cake. The niece is two now and starting to gab, and its a joy to finally communicate with this beautiful creature. I gape and snicker at anything she does and she giggles at me delightedly.

The boy is now in grade one and a veritable encyclopedia of animals and dinosaurs. He reads me a simple story about fire trucks before springing into his typical hyper hijinks. Mom, Dad, Grandpa and Nana all take their turns admonishing him and on some occasions he seems hurt. I never do that. Surely we need at least one good-cop; no?

He squeezes onto the couch between my mom and I while she reads a storybook aloud. I make one teasing gesture at him and he's off on a wrestling/boxing campaign against me. I do my best to survive for some time and then beg a reprieve. Dad barks at him. "It's my fault," I say. "I wound him up."

"Stop trying to take the blame for my kids' behaviour!" he says. I didn't know I'd done that before.

The night gets on and the boy wants me to come see his room. I remind him that Uncle has bad legs. He suggests I could at least try. And I do. I climb the damn stairs and arrive at his room. "I have to sit!" I say.

"He points at the comfy armchair; he and mom's reading chair, and says, "I have a chair for people with leg problems!" Later the others would have a great laugh at that.

Soon its time to leave and I struggle and rise. The boy looks sad and presses his cheek to my hip. I cup his shoulder. "I'll see you again soon. Okay buddy?"

The bus home features a more typical arrangement at the front. Two trios of inward-facing seats which are hinged. One set is up, out of use and blocked by bulky luggage. On the other is a young white athletic man, a black woman and a little girl of middling complexion, my niece's age. I cannot possibly sit on my walker seat or leave it alone to become a loose cannon. And I cannot fit it down the narrower aisle toward the rear where there might be a couple available seats. I hesitate and look around.

"I'll move," says the black woman and she jumps up and moves a few strides down to the first empty seat.

"No, I don't want to split you up!"

"It's okay," they say. Their stop is coming up soon. I sit down gratefully and try to rein in my mechanical beast.

"That's what these seats are for," says the guy, nodding at the beast, his daughter on his lap.

I nod at the stroller and say, "Well you've got your burdens too." As if to explain, I then add, "I just came from my brother's place. He has a girl the same age." Dad and daughter have much fun together and I am very happy. These colourish kids strike me very dearly. It's like looking into the future. It's like they carry the flame for a better humanity one day. 

At the end of my ride he wishes me well and I can't resist touching him on the shoulder and saying, "You have a very beautiful family." He thanks me and his expression is that of surprisingly real gratitude.

Thankful part 2

 

Thankful

Yesterday

I accept a meeting request with the VP of the Tigers, along with the new fundraising specialist and the new game-day specialist who has worked with the local pro football team and the local pro lacrosse team. Their resumes are superb and their appearance should be a load off my mind. I can concentrate on writing articles, producing videos and running the web site. Our social media guru is still on board.

But this is the first time in three years I have made a commitment to a volunteer organization. I've been on hiatus. There's a dull shadow of nervousness back in some recess of the mind.

Coincidentally I have graduated from the wait list and will go on the bariatric medical diet within two weeks. This day I attend my first virtual class. The other participants seem very reserved, many too shy to undarken their cameras. This will be a weekly commitment for about 24 weeks.

I also attend a phone appointment with another doctor. I have the hardest time with his accent. I gather though, that I will have to take blood sugar readings every other day and go to my doctor's for a weigh-in every other week.

All this just after committing to my dearest writing pals that I will join them for live November write-ins. The commitments are piling up all of a sudden. Over-commitment has proved a very dangerous threat to my health in the past. It leads to neglect. I know I have to be careful. It weighs on me. The doctor is full of bravado and talks about changing the doses to all my medications. I'm thinking he can go to hell, this stranger, and no one is changing my meds except my family doc who I trust with my life.

I sense all this weight but it's not demanding; just lurking. And ah, the miracle of facebook and it's glorious insights. This day I gain the insight that my regular sushi friends are celebrating an outing at our fave sushi joint and I wasn't invited. Well, I can't complain. If they didn't choose me then that's on me, not them. I have not been the kind of person they want to sushi with currently. So be it. Oh well. I do not suffer the illusion that when I am de-grouped it is someone else's fault. 

But it's a little haunting, and the feeling brings back that from a couple weeks prior, on Thanksgiving day. Me sitting on my walker on the driveway, getting my daily dose of outdoors, planning cheese sandwiches for dinner because I have not received my October assistance payment due to some problem; a problem which adds more weight.

And through the open window of my next door nighbours I hear the celebration going on. A bunch of folks I thought were my friends, who I have thanksgivinged with several times before, are dining without me. It's a little shocking but I'm okay. Maybe they'll send a plate home with my housemate who is there. But they didn't.

At darkfall I call Mom and we skype. She loves me like a rock. And the faint little pit of hurt is diminished.

Today

I hear from my caseworker finally. She releases my October payment. I'll have it in a day and a half and then my November payment right on it's heels. And she tells me there is a $150 benefit languishing on my profile and though it is not properly triggered she's sending it to me anyway. She tells me to treat myself to whatever I want before graduating to Disability benefits within a month, and by the way, Disability will have a nice retro sum waiting for me as well. Just in time for my new diet launch with a very pricey bill attached at the outset.

Today I shower, go for a walk, do laundry, make a healthy meal, dog-sit, read a chapter, work on projects. I'm feeling better and it's a banner day. The shower is barely painful at all. I am physically improving and it's not fully understandable why. I've hit no real milestones yet, only improved some habits.

So I'm thankful this thanksgiving season.

For being alive. For the biosphere hanging on still. For being human and not a cockroach or a lobster.

And for knowing more clearly who my friends are. Or aren't.

And even for those who are not but who used to be. My failures have not diminished special memories.

Yes I'm still a movie junkie

I'm just rolling over the half-way hump of film Kate (USA 2021) starring Mary Elizabeth Winstead as the nasty Mercenary/Pin Cushion/Walking Bruise, Miku Patricia Martineau as the headstrong Japanese teenage crime boss daughter (and the only thing resembling a good guy), and the sparingly-used Woody Harrelson as the subtly-creepy sidekick; the supposed-supporting role.

Looks like a great flick if you want to pick someone to root for and then celebrate the colour red in the form of fountains of blood gushing and splashing all over the goddam place in every scene. Personally I'm having trouble staying awake.

I'll give it zero blood-splashy stars out of five. Probably. If I make it to the end.

The champ

Six hours into this day I have:

• slept in magnificently
• brushed my teeth
• made a coffee
• took my pills
• went for a walk
• solved a crossword puzzle
• created a crossword puzzle for my collection
• read a chapter of Dark Tower book 8
• met a new dog named Tonks and told her pet human Tabatha the Tale of the Squirrel Invasion
• took in recycle and trash bins
• made pork chops, tomatoes and tator salad for dinner
• checked email and messenger, charged phone and updated calendar
• watched a documentary about the America's Cup
• won a game of chess
• may or may not have lost a few games as well. Shut up.
• listened to two Lemon Jelly albums

How's that for a list of accomplishments? I'm probably the champion of the world now.

Levelling up

 Here's a neat tool I've been using for a couple months, rarely missing a day: lvluplife.com

At first glance it's a cute way to turn life into a Dungeons & Dragons styled role-playing game and a motivation tool with regards to your goals, whether it's getting out of bed in the morning, acquiring your MBA degree or everything in between. But you'll see it's more than that.

A selection of fairly simple goals are available, sorted into categories such as Creativity, Social, Health etcetera, and each goal has an experience point (XP) value plus one or more ability points in one or more of the six categories above. You'll find three of those ability categories familiar but with Culture, Environment and Talent in place of Wisdom, Dexterity and Constitution. With each level increase, more goals are unlocked and at increasingly higher values.

But you can create custom goals any time, at a maximum value commensurate to your level at the time. 

Collecting XP moves you up levels. But your ability scores are not really numerical and move on a floating scale. Your most-exercised ability is automatically 100% and the rest are at the appropriate ratio. So volume of achievements moves you up levels but only life balance improves your ability meters, which is very wise!

Balance is also encouraged as follows: The higher the goal's point value, the less frequent it can earn points. The minimum goals are each once per day. Some of mine now are once per week. This stops you from loading up on "Play Grand Theft Auto for one hour" and scoring it eight times a day!

So it serves as a daily planner. You can mark which goals are "current" (intended) and filter on those as a to-do list. Any goals that are not point-scorable are greyed out. So the goals available for points are the goals that are "due."

It's so much more useful than it looks at first glance.

From the office of the Search for Terrestrial Intelligence: email of the week

From: Support Prime ID:834614608 <no-reply@gozagoza.com>

Sent: September 21, 2022 2:29 PM
To: nathanael_13@hotmail.com <nathanael_13@hotmail.com>; eladmarom@hotmail.com <eladmarom@hotmail.com>; mzrray@live.com <mzrray@live.com>; marcsearllegend@live.com <marcsearllegend@live.com> +95 others

Subject: Re: Reminder: [Activity Report] Your account is sign in on a new device. Wed, September 21, 2022 6:29 PM #[5024281770]

A Message From Amazon Prime!

Hello.

There is a forced login on your account that we think is suspicious, we will include details of the suspicious login:

Date : Wed, September 21, 2022 6:29 PM
Country : Texas, United States

Our system has canceled all your pending orders. Your account will remain on hold. To fix this problem, please verify using link below.

You need to verify your account before "September 23, 2022" or your account will be permanently suspended.

___________________________________________

To: jong-un.kim@korea-dpr.com

Sent: September 22, 2022 1:15 AM

cc: Support Prime ID:834614608 <no-reply@gozagoza.com> nathanael_13@hotmail.com <nathanael_13@hotmail.com>; eladmarom@hotmail.com <eladmarom@hotmail.com>; mzrray@live.com <mzrray@live.com>; marcsearllegend@live.com <marcsearllegend@live.com> +95 others

FWD: Re: Reminder: [Activity Report] Your account is sign in on a new device. Wed, September 21, 2022 6:29 PM #[5024281770]

Dear Kim,

These cowboys who I told you about: Not content with roping calves and squeezing Bronco's testicles and all that yee-haw nuttery, now they tried to penetrate my Amazon-Prime account on "September 23, 2022" and now my pending orders are cancelled! I can't take it anymore. Please send all of your nukes to Texas, pronto.

Maybe spare the children if you can?

Thanks Kim and congratulations on the "heinous isolation" campaign and your recent coitus with the Nukes goddess. Say Hi to Jinping for me next time you're at the Great Hall! 

jigeum-eun annyeong,

NDR

Let's be brief

So much to talk about I suppose but still I'm in no hurry. Let's start at the bottom tier for today and then see what tomorrow brings:

The... League of Slither. Nope. The... Professional Schizoid Slither League. Yeah that's better. Here's a random profile of the day:

This is Bluebird Sausage. He's the newest member of the tour, finishing 30th of 31 entrants in his first pro competition; the prestigious Gotham City Tourney earlier this month. A very tough venue to start a career at, and this week, his second appearance, it gets no easier with another Grand Slam event, the Torneo Strangiato. After two rounds he sits in 18th spot. With just a little more improvement he could finish in the money. 

Speculation around Bluebird being a blood-relative of tour-favourite Earlybird Pancake (now sitting fourth at Strangiato) does not fly. They've never even met until this week.

Kiss Me You Tool and Mister Squishy are the surprise leaders at the mid-way break in Macedonia with a stunning 4K lead over the rest of the field! 

And that's it for all the sports news that matters. Everything else is baloney. Good luck in your two final rounds in Macedonia Blue!

How I survived the war

Miraculously I did not procrastinate in my preparations for leAvIng tHe hOUsE and did not suffer a bout of anxiety and regret and did not cancel at the last minute. Hurray!

The Gimp Bus ride was mildly problematic as was navigating this alternate new-to-me train station but I made it aboard and rode for free because I couldn't figure out how to pay! Believe me, I tried and tried until I thought they would leave without me if I didn't give up.

At Destinationville Station the walk to the city bus area was a real chore but nothing compared to the walk to the church from the "nearest" stop. Thank god I had over an hour to kill and a seat-on-wheels to repeatedly stop and rest on. 

Father/Pastor/Minister Jim saw my arrival at the rear loading door/gimp access area and ushered me in, gave me water, elevatored me up to the sanctuary and installed me on the wrong side of the gallery which was fine! Groom #2 is also a friend, just of less seniority.

The ceremony was magical with a couple goofy moments and I teared up of course.

Another rickety elevator ride, another slogging journey 'round...

to...

the front...

of...

the church...

where my first post-covid mob of humanity awaits and I'm late-oh-well for the photo shoot. 

Sweet Michael is Roddie's best man and we fall in together, laughing. It's been too long. He's giddy and inaudacious as always and introduces me to his charming and gentle partner (now co-homeowner). He seems to have grown up and not changed! They are a gorgeous couple.

I've anticipated asking Roddie's daughter if she remembers me (with little hope) but so surprisingly she sneaks up from behind me and says, "Hey, you probably don't remember me...!" Oh but of course I do, sweet one. Of course I do!

Her little brother must be... 19 by now? He's at home with brand-new Covid and the separation is hurting he and Dad.

Roddie remains unclear about the plan to get me and my walker to the distant reception hall until the parking lot empties along with my will to protest. The driver demands the walker which he easily deposits in the yawning trunk and I am ushered into the limo. I'm in nice casual (but not quite dressy) trousers, aging black dress shoes, spiffy shirt (not well pressed) and blossoming tie. The five-guy wedding party are decked out in snappy greys, bowties and actual flowers. I really don't want to infect the onboard wedding photos but I relent, enjoy the company and the champagne and try to cling to the shadows when the photographer, riding shotgun, spins and fires.

At the hall I make friends and play at the illusion of conversation while choking on the DJ's pounding din.

The meal is too good to be true , highlighted by decadent fresh raviolis, ample filet mignon and the best crème brûlée ever. The red wine is premium and the cute considerate waiter delivers bottle after bottle seeing that I have mobility issues. I drink copiously of that and of the Stella Artois (because it's not Coors or Keith's thank god) and of the Johnny Walker for some goddam reason. Because it slightly reminds me of real scotch? I knock back four doubles in total. Maybe I thought I'd grow accustomed to it. I didn't. I sure hope I didn't think it would make me look cool. I do realize that nothing makes me look cool. Look I hate to sound like a snob but I don't know how you people drink that swill!

Ah I'm sorry! Personal taste is so arbitrary I know. But it's fun to complain.

Fucking swill drinkers...

Spending this night with Roddie and Michael and their marvelous mates was... just brilliant. The best time I've had in years. How did I manage to stay away from such lovely friends for so long? I must be nuts.

The next day I feel the pain. My body is broken. Ah well. I feel like a hero home from a journey to the kingdom to romp with royalty. And this is despite the gentlest return possible. Those sneaky devil friends would not hear of me bussing and training home. "Your carriage awaits!" said Michael, when the party was undeniably over.

"What are you talking about!"

 An Uber of course. They're too sweet.