There is a platform in a distant land
It has views of the whole of my life,
Subtle and complex.
Symphonies can be conducted there.
Entire beautiful worlds can unfold in the hidden mathematics of musical conduits
But I am here.
There is no found road to there.
There is only here, with the walls that vanish into the sky
And the idea of a platform in a distant land
Where symphonic life is possible.
We have all read or heard the words “Know you are loved.” Everytime I hear them being spoken or written to strangers I just want to scream. On Tumblr you see variations of this posted in quotes or pseudo psycho babble posts that are meant to encourage.
The writer has no idea if the person reading is loved. If they want to suggest that they love them it’s worse. Because they don’t, obviously. They don’t even know them.
Lets stop demeaning Love by using it as so much confetti to be thrown into conversations.
Love is both an act and an emotion. It is something you feel, something you do to demonstrate that feeling.
What it is not – is the word. The word is not love. Using the word does not make love appear. I do not feel loved because a someone says “You are loved.” or “I love you.” unless there is actual reason to think that.
Do you know what constitutes reasons to believe that? KNOWING ME.
If you are a stranger to me, don’t say “I love you.” Love is not something you feel for strangers or even bare acquaintances. You cannot love everyone.
You can be kind. You can be generous. You can be sympathetic. You can be helpful. But you cannot love unless you know me.
I get the impression sometimes that people find it easier to say to acquaintances and strangers and rarely say it to those they truly care about. There is a reason for that. Love is a huge thing. It’s hard to say when you deeply mean it because it’s expands in quality when it uttered. The more you mean it the more it becomes your source of fragility to rejection and loss.
If you don’t mean it, saying you love someone creates a sense of imbalance and incongruity in conversations. It feels out of place, makes me question your integrity because it has no context.
Love is not just a word. Its an action and emotion and you don’t create it because you write or say it.
You demean real love when you toss it into conversations until it litters the world like cigarette butts at highway exits.
I started 40 years ago when I realized the world also contained Captain Crunch and Cocoa Krispies, but still, a statement must be made.
John Harvey Kellogg invented corn flakes to stop people from masturbating. I know! Its horrible. I can’t imagine why he was so against it. Maybe he was doing it wrong?
Still, Corn Flakes are clearly an epicenter of sexual oppression. Or at least get in the way of a good time. Or something…
Anyway, we need to show that dead sexually repressed man a thing or two.
Stop the Madness – Don’t buy Corn Flakes, People!!!!
OK. Are they are sending mixed messages here or is that just my imagination? Because, frankly, Mr. Phelps is a mastabatory epicenter for many many people. And I’m just saying this just doesn’t seem consistent with the previous Kellogg’s Corn Flake info.
I mean John Harvey Kellogg had a personality that would certainly stop masturbation cold. And his face is NOT on any of the boxes. 
They are putting Michael Phelps and a particularly odd chicken on the boxes.
Also, I’m really not sure how the chicken relates. Do chickens masturbate? I think this chicken may be a masturbating king. And I think we all know its partying downstairs to things that John Harvey Kellogg probably never even dreamed were possible. Poor Man. 
Maybe Poor John Harvey was just a victim of an age without Google. I mean until we have been properly exposed, as it were, to the infinite variety of pleasurable perversions, we may never find our maturbatory niche. Maybe we should be lamenting the sadness of his painfully hands free genitalia.
Well, I’m not sure where the modern Corn Flakery People stand on the subject of self pleasure, but let’s be safe. Don’t eat them. They taste like wall paper anyway. The Captain always was a better time.
If I don’t think I’m attractive, calling me attractive will not make me feel attractive. I assume you are just lying but doing so to make me feel better. But if you tell me that you think I look attractive in an outfit I like, I will accept it. Because I looked at myself in the mirror that morning and thought the outfit looked good. You tied my attractiveness to something I agreed with and so I accepted it.
Also, don’t say things you don’t mean. The more often you do, the more I am going to discount all your future comments to me.
We all do it. We toss out generic compliments or words of encouragement that we don’t mean because that is what is expected and that is how we make connections.
We do it so persistently that when we do say what we honestly think, no one is really sure if its real. We no longer believe each other because most of those phrases have become background filler conversation.
I posit that poorly considered compliments are worse than saying nothing or even criticism.
Saying something to the effect of “intelligent, kind, gutsy, loyal, adventurous, artistic, empathetic, persistent, capable, beautiful or whatever person.” is just pointless. Lovely adjectives that don’t seem related to the person that you tossed them to and so the person doesn’t actually know why you think that. Therefore it can be assumed to be part of the connective filler conversations that don’t mean squat.
On the other hand, if you say,
“Wow, you are solved that software glitch. No one else who tried figured that out,”
“You are kind to her even when she is trying to be mean to you, you never say a mean thing back.”
When you tie a compliment to the reason you think it, the person will recognize you mean it. It’s not just words to fill a gap.
And if you are a supervisor this is HUGE!!! Do not say generic things like ‘You are good at the job’. Say something specific. ‘Your reports are easy to read.’ ‘Your feedback in the meeting really made a difference.’ ‘That idea is really going to save time.’
And more importantly, it doesn’t even have to be a compliment. Recognizing that someone does something is huge. ‘You were the first to take the call’ People like knowing other people are aware of those little things they do every day. It seems trivial but its huge in impact to mention it.
The only compliments I believe are ones that are tied to a specific thing. Because then I can find some internal logic to agree. And if I don’t agree at least superficially that there is something to it, the compliment is rejected and I suspect you didn’t mean it.
I don’t think I’m the only one who does this. And that is why so many people have a hard time accepting a compliment.
On a daily basis, let’s stop throwing out generic compliments. We do it as conversational filler, as a way to get people to like us, or as a way to make someone feel better because their distress makes us feel awkward. But most of us don’t really believe those compliments.
For things to have meaning they need context. Please stop and think because your good intentions are actually rather pointless to your intended recipients.
It was beautiful that day.
I was thinking that.
It was beautiful.
And while I was thinking that,
it changed.
Not suddenly or obviously.
Just slowly.
Slowly it became nothing.
Nothing that anyone would notice.
Its hard to grasp what nothing is.
Nothing is where everything stops.
And then it was ugly that day.
I looked to see what changed.
And you had moved the nothing into something.
And something was ugly.
Ugly is better than nothing you said.
I remember it was beautiful that day.
And then there was nothing.
And then something.
Something ugly.
People often share anecdotes when someone dies. We tell stories of how that person fit into our lives. Stories about us, really. And how our lives intersected with the person who no longer exists.
Ultimately, those stories are about how we were fractionally made into who we are by the deceased.
At one level this seems sort of narcissistic – to talk about oneself rather than talking about the deceased’s accomplishments.
But its not. If you have ever been bereaved, you know the fascination and comfort that comes from hearing these sorts of stories. They are life affirming and important to remembering the person meant something.
Compare that to the dry list of accomplishments that you often see in obits. Even of famous people. Its really not nearly as meaningful to hear that someone was a manager of this, or had 3 kids, or got an award for this, or climbed Kilimanjaro.
But to hear how they touched a life is immediately life affirming. Their life meant something – they touched someone. And honestly, it doesn’t even have to be in a profound way. Just a story, funny, touching or banal.
Humans are defined by those moments. We don’t think too much about it, but every time you interact with someone you influence in some small way they way they view life.
Human interaction is where life is enjoyed. You can own a yacht, but the yacht itself is not what brings joy. Having friends out to play on the yacht with you is what is enjoyable. Its the human part of equation that makes the moment.
Human interaction is where life gains meaning.
We don’t exist but for a moment in time. We are terrified of the loss of the moment. The only way to extend the moment beyond our own consciousness is to have a place in someone elses. And that only happens when we interact – when we touch other people mentally and emotionally.
So the next time you don’t know what to say to someone who has lost a dear one, see if you can’t share a story about the deceased. If you knew them at all, you probably can. If you can’t, sit down with the bereaved and ask them to share stories about the person.
I like Ocean. I grew up around it. My entire body seems to lighten when I even see it in the distance, much less get to be near it on a beach or a boat.
There are lots of coasts in the US.
But I prefer my water like the water I grew up near. (Puerto Rico) Clear and turquoise. Now, I don’t hate other beaches, in fact I find every beach has its own personality and enjoyment.
My first visit to a beach after we moved to the States was rather disappointing. It was in New Hampshire. (we lived in CT at the time.) The water was brownish grey. The sky was overcast. It was basically like this.
I grew up with this. Literally – this is an island we used to sail to regularly and swim.
So, what should have been a lovely day at the beach was a bitter day for a 14 year old who thought all beaches were essentially like the turquoise one above.
All of this is a story about expectations. About how our internalized world view ruins moments that should be wonderful.
Now I look at the New England Beaches with pleasure and see the beauty. But that’s because I’ve adjusted my world view to accept that beaches are different and each has their own energy and landscape.
The reaction of my 14 year old self was for the same reason so many of us found the idea of two men kissing or two women kissing so uncomfortable when it was first brought to our attention. Because we had internalized a view of the world that didn’t have a place for that. Once we reorganized our brain, let it get used to the new configuration – voila – no more feelings of ick at the idea.
It doesn’t have to be the big things in life – like homophobia. It can be the small disappointments or the awkward moments. What is it that makes you angry, sad or disappointed?
The next time something seems terrible to you and other people seem to find it perfectly acceptable, or even like it – stop for a moment and consider.
Do you hate it because its just not the way your brain organized your views? Did you expect clear blue water at a beach powered by North Atlantic waves on a cloudy day? Is there room for a new view?
I was admitted to the hospital about 15 years ago, with acute abdominal pain. It had built up for months, with me thinking it was just a normal side effect of my gastric bypass.
Until one day it crossed the line, and I could no longer just ignore it and couldn’t function at all. But instead of going to the ER, I made an appointment with my GP. I really didn’t think it was that important.
After barely examining me, he called the ER to tell them I was coming.
In the ER, I was curled up on my side wondering why the IV pain meds weren’t really working and becoming more and more frightened.
And then, (after multiple tests) the surgeon came in and explained. I had an adhesion on my bowel (which wasn’t what I thought it was) and I needed surgery immediately because it looked like there might be some leakage.
I thought that surgeon was the kindest most wonderful person EVER.
Imagine if Morgan Freeman walked in as a doctor and explained what was happening and how it was going to be fixed. That was this doctor.
And then.. he said he was going off duty and his colleague would do the surgery.
To me, he was God and then he handed me over to some regular human to deal with my surgery. I cried. Literally. I didn’t beg but I did ask him if maybe I could wait until he was back on duty. But no. It was apparently urgent.
After he left, I knew I would die at the hands of unknown cretins. So I cried.
Of course he was just a human. And my association of him being the perfect doctor was entirely unfounded. I thought he was wonderful because he solved a terrifying mystery. Because he was kind. Because he was late 50’s and sounded like he had both confidence and experience. I felt safe with him.
The surgeon who did the procedure was a cocky young asshole, who turned out to have a great reputation, and was probably a great surgeon. I recovered and he was still an asshole. But the IMPORTANT part is that he was a great surgeon.
We don’t remember that enough. We are focused on how we feel about an interaction rather than actual competence. And I FELT so safe with Dr. Trustworthy. I WAS safe with Dr. Asshole. I never liked him but I have been told by two doctors since then that he is one of the premier surgeons in the area.
Dr. Asshole will probably be sued one day, if he hasn’t been already. I bet Dr. Trustworthy has never been sued. Studies show that we don’t sue doctors we like, we sue the ones we don’t. It has little or nothing to do with actual competence.
Still, I love Dr. Trustworthy. I have no idea whether he was any more or less competent than Dr. Asshole. Which is the most terrifying part of this entire thing. I only know Dr. Asshole is a great surgeon because I have had 2 separate doctors say so later, unprompted. Most people don’t have that luxury and certainly don’t have it before an emergency procedure. People just get the lottery of surgeons, just like I did.
Poor student. The Doc sent him in alone at first. He looked like he graduated from high school yesterday.
He apologized, repeatedly and in many different ways.for everything he asked, everything he said and for just being there.
I wanted to just stop him and give him some stage direction. “Listen, Martin. You need to start projecting confidence. Act like you have it all covered. Be the doctor you want to be. PRETEND.”
At the end it just became farcical because he couldn’t get the blood pressure cuff to work. It was awkward. The nurse took my blood pressure in like 10 seconds. He fumbled with that thing for 5-8 minutes before just surrendering.
He finally left and I figured the debrief would take a good long while. When that many mistakes are made, it requires some telling. It wasn’t as long as I expected.
Then my regular doc came in and was his usual cheerful self. I am glad Martin has my Doc. He’s kind and generous and has a sense of humor, so I think Martin will probably calm down under his tutelage.
He upped my antidepressant dosage and told me to come back in 3 weeks. If my insomnia doesn’t get under control he might put me on on Trazadone to help. I don’t want Ambien or anything like that. I really feel like that made the depression much worse when I was on it.
Anyway, Martin and I survived the doctor appointment. Although I think Martin was a bit battered from it.
I listen to a podcast called TLDR. They did a story called Quiet, Wadwa. It was essentially a conversational interview with Amelia Greenhall, who wrote a blog post called Quiet Ladies, Wadwa is Speaking.
Vivek Wadwa is a researcher who is regularly quoted in articles about women in Tech. Vivek is a man. He is very in favor of diversity in tech jobs. He’s written books on the subject. Except when an excerpt was published in the Huff post it was written by two women and it’s Wadwa’s picture and name on the byline. But you know…these things happen. Publishing decisions apparently.
The problem, of course, is that the media and corporations are going to a man for information about how to get women into tech jobs. Ironic. Greenhall found it annoying. And so she and Meredith Haggerty discuss it. Haggerty never interviewed Wadwa for his response.
A shit storm was brewed after the podcast and Wadwa cried foul after he got lots of mean tweets and facebook crankiness. So they took down the podcast and interviewed him.
He probably should have just shut up. Haggerty just lets him bury himself in a defensive whine. He’s angry and butt hurt. Because people have been mean.
He has in fact been on the receiving end of abuse commonly received by just about every women who acts in a very public way on the internet. He doesn’t seem to recognize it. He’s just trying to help, why is everyone not seeing that?
He finds it deeply unfair, but doesn’t get the irony that he is experiencing just a taste and for a short time of the sort of abuse that gets heaped on women in this position regularly when they speak on issues.
Wadwa is representative of good intentions in a system that can’t support them. Good intentions don’t change his inability to truly understand the subtle complexity of what a woman experiences in her daily interactions with the world. He, possibly innocently, invited a woman he was in a twitter argument with to have a private chat with him. Invited women he didn’t know to come to his office and discuss the issue privately. Those kinds of things are laden with all kinds of issues for women. None of them are present between two men. And he apparently doesn’t know it.
Being an advocate for women’s issues doesn’t mean you have to be a woman, but if you aren’t, you shouldn’t be the public spokesman.
TLDRs follow up podcast on him is symptomatic of a system that is squeezing women into corners and then telling them they are not accurately measuring the corner angles when women complain that there is no way out of the corner. Wadwa is a classic example of angle measurement. He wants to discuss ways that he was wronged and so now the story is about that. The larger problem is getting out of the corner. And whenever we drive issue by an example, we lose sight of the bigger problem while we all discuss angle measurements in this corner of it.
The more women allow ourselves to be dragged into measuring angles in each unfair scenario, the easier it is for us to be kept in the corners. We can only lose because its not about the particular angle, its about getting out of the corner. So that even if we miraculously emerge victorious from a particular issue battle, we are still in the same fucking corner.
The examples need to be there. They need to be bricks in the path we walk out of the corner. But the bricks of a path are many and no particular brick is the one that makes the path work or fail. Its about many bricks making a structure. Not about each individual brick.
Which is not as interesting and a whole lot harder to sell.
It's a Thought 