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You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with

We become like the five people we spend the most time with


This fella named Jim Rohm, whom I’ve mentioned before, said something once that is the inverse of what I believe.

I believe that our friends mirror some quality of us. After all, people become our friends precisely because they see some part of the world we see.

For example, I don’t have any rabid football fans as friends because I’m not a rabid football friend.

Most of my friends are rum-swilling, chili- and gyro-eating, ambitious nerds because I’m a rum-swilling, chili- and gyro-eating, ambitious nerd. It’s my tribe.

But Jim Rohn said that we’re the average of the five people we spend the most time with.

We become like the five people we spend the most time with.

I think this is true too and yet another reason why I end up cutting so many people out of my life – because I want to be around people that point me in the direction I want to go.

Wanna be at least half as good a writer as my writer friend, at least half as a wrestler as my coach, at least half as good a lawyer as my boss, at least half as good a fencer…

Oh, you get the point.

I have 11,680 days left. I want them to matter.

Looking at the silliness I call my life, had five tickets to give out. Think I’ve chosen wisely.

You?

Location: caught in rain again, dammit
Mood: wet again
Music: I’ll admit I’m just the same as I was
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Pathological Altrusim

When kindness hurts


Perhaps one of the most disturbing things I’ve ever come across in my life is the true story of the victim that almost escaped Jeffrey Dahmer.

It’s so disturbing, in fact, that I’m unable to summarize it here. If you want to know more about it, google him and “escaped victim.” I caution you to think twice before you do, though.

In any case, had another night of insomnia recently and thought about a report I read recently by Oakland University professor Barbara Oakley, who coined a new term for something I’ve seen myself repeatedly: Pathological Altruism.

Simply put, it’s when being kind is the worst thing one can be. The Dahmer story is an extreme example but it’s an almost daily occurrence – like soccer trophies for just showing up.

We think we’re doing something kind when in fact we’re doing the exact opposite.

The wife and I watched Jamie Oliver’s TED talk about nutrition over the weekend where a grossly overweight woman came to the realization that she was – literally – killing her own children with a diet of fast food and soda.

She and I also talked about a friend I cut because he ended up being that one drunk idiot at our wedding amongst other questionable actions. He’s also had a string of really bad relationships and I’ve tried to explain that the common denominator in it all is…him.

But he keeps doing what he does and keeps getting what he gets. And I can’t surround myself with people that have no interest in being better than they were yesterday.

More on that Wednesday.

Getting back to pathological altruism, a buddy in college once came back from spring break and told me this story:

He’d been speeding home when a cop pulled him over and wrote him a ticket. The cop said he was sorry he did it but my buddy was going 50 in a 35 zone and it was foggy, as it often is in upstate NY. Stepping back into the car, my buddy continued on his way, depressed and irritated. Suddenly, a deer jumped out in front of him and he slammed on the brakes.

He said that the ticket probably saved his life, and at the very least, saved the life of the deer and his car.

Best ticket I ever got, he said.

In any case, one thing I can summarize here is a joke that goes something like this:

A bird was flying south for the winter when he became tired and fell out of the sky, landing in snow. Almost freezing to death, a cow happened to defecate on him. As the warm dung revived him, the bird began to sing. A wolf, hearing this, immediately dug him out of the dung and devoured him.

There are three morals to this story:

  1. Not everyone who craps on you is your enemy.
  2. Not everyone who pulls you out of crap is your friend.
  3. If you’re buried in crap, it’s best to keep quiet.

 

Location: caught in rain immediately before a 90 min phone call
Mood: wet
Music: Don’t take to heart the words that he says
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Things to help me sleep / Insomnia is like alcoholism

I have a ritual I do to help me to sleep


You could pretty much sum up this entire blog with the following set of words:

  • Dating
  • Rum/Chili
  • Observations
  • Family
  • Insomnia

While the first four things are (generally) good things, that last one is assuredly not. It’s wretched misery.

Insomnia has been an unwelcome constant throughout my life but I had a breakthrough a few years ago when I started thinking of it being similar to alcoholism.

After all, an alcoholic has to accept that (a) he’s an alcoholic, (b) at any moment it can take over every aspect of his life, and (c) it’s not a personal thing – it affects everyone around him.

So it is with insomnia.

I still get invited to a lot of things; a by-product of my old credo to never turn down an invitation.

But do turn them down now. Because I have a set of rules to keep control of the insomnia.

I:

  • Have a curfew – anything that’s not an ebook reader is turned off by 10PM and I’m in bed by 10:30 PM.
  • Stop drinking anything with caffeine after 3PM.
  • Stop eating after 7PM.
  • Try to take a bath when I have time.
  • Read before bed and in bed. I also keep a book nearby to help.
  • Exercise at least four days a week. More if I have the time.
  • Take melatonin every night. Harder stuff if I need it.
  • Stretch and meditate/pray for a few minutes every night.
  • Keep a different types of blankets on hand so I’m always comfortable.
  • Keep my phone or something to write on next to my bed so I’m not awaking telling myself to remember something.

The good byproduct of my insomnia is that I speak rudimentary German, I often find chili waiting for me when I wake up, and I look pretty good for a 40 year old.

And the bad? Well, you know those invitations you send out on Facebook to be friends with someone? Many of those are unanswered.

Can’t blame them. I was a truly terrible person when I didn’t sleep. You know how short tempered and irritable you are when you haven’t slept?

That was the majority of the 90s and 2000s for me.

I want to say, I’m sorry. It wasn’t me, it was the lack of sleep.

But that’s just it, isn’t it? It’s like alcoholism. It was me. It was the worst version of me, but it was me.

You can apologize all you want but in the end, you’re the one that chose to pick up the bottle. I’m the one that didn’t treat it like something that was ruining my life and people around me.

But like everything else, I’m trying to do better.

There’s slightly less chili in the house but it’s a fair trade. I’m down to about one terribly sleepless night a week.

Her: How’d you sleep?
Me: (grumble)

Location: gonna see El for dinner
Mood: achy
Music: think I’m breaking down and I’m afraid to sleep
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Laraha, Valencia, Curaçao, and Superman

Nurture versus Nature or Superman the Shoe Salesman

Nighttime Shot of Malaga Spain
After the Boston bombings, there were a number of people I knew that immediately spouted their conspiracy theories. And several of them argued that Americans somehow brought this upon themselves.

Of course, they are Americans but hold themselves separate and superior from the rest of us. Which is odd because several of them stopped formal education at high school.

The most recent events in London made me think of the whole nature versus nurture argument.

And oranges.

And Superman.

Because there’s this orange from Spain called the Valencia orange that’s supposed to amazingly delicious and sweet. They were hybridized in America from orange trees in Valencia, which in turn came from India.
Valencia Orange, picture from Wikipedia

Those same trees were planted on the island of Curaçao, where the soil there caused these delicious, sweet, bright orange, oranges to transform – on their own – into small, bitter, green, “oranges.” They turned into the Laraha fruit.

These fruit are so bitter that it’s said that goats on the island would rather starve to death than eat them.

Let me stop for a second and paraphrase a joke that I heard once, which says that: If Krypton never exploded and Kal-El/Superman stayed on the planet, what if he became a shoe salesman?

After all, he’s only Superman because he came here; home he would have been Al Bundy.

As the son of recent immigrants, I wonder about my possible pasts: what if we never came here from Taiwan? Who would I be, what would I be? It’s pure dumb luck, my lot in this world.

Turning back to the recent events of England, it was odd hearing the attackers speak clear British English. Is there some inherent glitch in people like this or is a unique combination of nature and nurture. I’m guessing that’s the case.

Wonder what these people’s  lives would had been had they not gone to the UK. And what then?

I’ve no answer.

Suppose not everything that heads off to distant lands become better with time, like rum.

Location: heading to the gym
Mood: muggy
Music: Who killed tangerine? The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen
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We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are

We reveal a lot more of ourselves than we realize

Got injured in my ribs about two weeks ago so I’ve not been wrassln for a bit. Went back for the first time on Monday and it seemed fine. When class is over, we all stand in line to be dismissed.

While standing there, I realized I couldn’t breathe right as I couldn’t get my diaphragm to move. Things started to get get wonky and the next thing I knew I was on the floor.

Ended up being fine but the funny thing is that as it was happening, the first thing I thought was, “If you end up in the hospital again, the wife is totally not gonna let you wrassle or fence any more. Don’t hit your head going down!”

Being married really changes how you look at the world.

———-

Regarding my post from last week about mixed-race couples, someone I only kinda know on FB contacted me. We ended up chatting about China in general:

Him: Have you even been to China before?
Me: Actually yes, several times, in fact.
Him: As a tourist I bet.
Me: Nope, I was there on business.
Him: I bet you just saw all the tourist sites and had pictures of yourself eating dumplings.
Me: Neither, I didn’t have time to see anything, I was pressed for deadlines the entire time. And I don’t think I had any dumplings while I was there; in fact, I don’t even think I have pictures. And why pick on dumplings? What they’d ever do to you?

He finally ended up saying that, because I had a Caucasian wife and that must mean I don’t find Asian women attractive.

Him: It points to a lot of self-hatred.
Me: That’s a pretty big leap. OK, do you think Brad Pitt’s a good looking guy?
Him: (pause) I guess so.
Me: I do too. But if he asked you out right now, what would you say?
Him: I’m not gay .
Me: Nor am I. But, what you’re saying is that you find him attractive, just not in that way. You have preferences.
Him: It’s not the same thing!
Me: Why? Are you saying one’s natural and one’s unnatural? We all like what we like. Attraction is not a choice.

That’s when I realized it was all a waste of my time.

This woman named Anais Nin once said that, We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.

Her: He thinks you hate being Chinese? You love being Chinese!
Me: I know! We’re lovely and have the best dumplings.
Her: Well, those are just Chinese ravioli.

Location: not the gym
Mood: hungry
Music: sailed to Hong Kong harbour, the winds were warmer then
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Everybody knows, but no one really believes it

Look for the red things

Me: The thing is, there’s a difference between seeing and noticing. Noticing is when you consciously become aware of something. For example, if I said right now, Look for everything that’s red. You’d see a lot more red things.
Him: (looking around) Great, now all I see are the red things.
Me: (laughing) That’s what happens. You can’t un-notice something you’ve noticed. It’s called the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon.

Updating this blog a bit late because I’ve been trying to finish up a few assignments for clients.

Been watching the news about the three women they found; obviously it reminds me of the Jaycee Dugard story. Just like with her, compounding the basic horror of it all is also the fact that they were cheated out of those years.

Life is so short as it is.

I blinked and I’m 40.

Spalding Gray once said that Everybody knows they are going to die, but no one really believes it. Late at night, when I can’t sleep, I realize what it means and it keeps me up the rest of the night. Like last night.

Doubt you ever noticed, but for the past few years every time I write about dying, I put up a picture of a clock.

As I get older, I see notice more clocks and think about how short it all is.

And you can’t un-notice something you’ve noticed.

 

Location: in the basement of my brain again
Mood: nostalgic
Music: I don’t mind waiting in line
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Goodwill is a function of marketing

Having a good reputation means burgers

 

Was running around to meetings all last week and hopped onto a bus going downtown. Sat right near Tina Fey.

Me: Just so you know, my wife and I loved your book. We literally laughed out loud.
Her: Thanks! That’s great to hear.

I tell people all the time that real New Yorkers ride the bus when it’s nice outside.

Been going to meetings to wrap up a slate of work this past week and month. It’s a good feeling to finally not have something on your mind.

My three business credos have been helping me out greatly, now that the economy has improved. On a regular basis, I’m getting phone calls that begin with something like, Hi, my name is X, I was referred to you by Y.

What a lot of people don’t realize is that goodwill is a form of marketing. It’s probably the best form. I mean, you buy something because you heard or figured it’s good, right? I read Fey’s Bossypants precisely because I liked her other work and figured I would again.

The wife and I regularly order around the way from our local diner. I was short $0.50 last week when I picked up my usual burger on whole wheat toast and lady said, Don’t worry about it, pay it next time.

The next morning I stopped by and returned the $0.50. I did it partly because it’s right and partly because I’m sure I’ll forget to bring the right amount again in the future. I’d like to be known as someone that pays his debts.

That plus they have some of the best fries in the UWS; I have to support that.

Owner: Hey, you really don’t have to do that.
Me: (handing over two quarters) Of course I do.

Location: more meetings, midtown
Mood: hungry
Music: It’s still hard to wait around. The problem is this seems so easy to miss
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The difference between Knowledge and Wisdom

Understanding what it really means/Seeing the grey

10th Avenue in Manhattan, NYC

Worked pretty much this entire weekend. Beat tired.

Life was simpler when you’re young. There was ever only black and white, good and evil, heroes and villains.

As you get older you realize there’s a lot of grey. Unless you never grow up. If you never grow up, then the world remains black and white. You don’t see the grey. Or all of the luck, stupid luck, and stupid involved in life.

If you see the grey, you see that there’s a lot of stupid involved in life.

Have you ever noticed that it’s the least educated, least traveled, least read of the people you know that have conspiracy theories? Because they have no background on which to base a logical conclusion, they make their own out of bits and pieces of trivia and fact.

They can’t discern the difference between knowledge and wisdom.

There’s this example in one of Malcolm Gladwell’s books where a writing teacher says to a buncha students that the election is the next day.

They’re to write about what it means.

And most of the kids write about the democratic process, the history of nation, the candidates, etc. Information, data, knowledge.

But one student understands what this really means. It means: No school tomorrow.

That’s wisdom. Understanding what things mean.

There’re people with the ability to see the grey and everyone else.

Stranger: How do they know they got the right guy? I mean, besides the shootout, the cop they shot, and the pictures, what evidence do they have these guys did anything?
Me: That’s true, besides the shootout, the cop they shot, the pictures – and the chase, the video, the ATM pics, the multiple eye-witnesses – besides those things, I suppose you’re right, they don’t have anything.

Location: in front of more papers
Mood: weary
Music: giving the academy a rain check
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The greatest trick the devil ever pulled

On evil: Nothing is ever anyone’s fault

Incandescent light bulb

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist. And like that, poof. He’s gone.
Verbal Kint, The Usual Suspects (film)

The insomnia’s been pretty bad lately. I should just stop wasting your time and my time and just write, “insomnia” and move on.

Insomnia.

Being awake at night, thought about Boston, Newtown, and Aurora and the nature of evil. Something about the dark turns one’s thoughts dark, I suppose.

People wonder if there is evil even actually exists.

I believe it does.

People are always surprised by that. They think I’m naive, but I submit that I think you’re naive if you don’t.

I think some people are evil not because of how they were brought up, or what happened to them. Theyr’e just twisted with no other explanation for it. Not biology, not upbringing, not society.

Nothing happened to me, Officer Starling. I happened. You can’t reduce me to a set of influences. You have given up good and evil for behaviorism, Officer Starling. You’ve got everybody in moral dignity pants – nothing is ever anybody’s fault. Look at me, Officer Starling. Can you stand to say I’m evil?
Hannibal Lecter, The Silence of the Lambs (novel)

Put a little less eloquently, some people are just born ______-up.

Don’t believe it when people try and convince you that there’s no such thing as evil. It’s there. And the sad thing is that you don’t need to go far to see it.

As I wrote the above, I got a news alert on my computer that five people were dead in a shooting. This just happened.

Which just makes me wonder if evil is a self-destruct sequence for our kind. Then again, all this is just my opinion. What do you think?

Me: Do you know why I hate things like the Disney films?
Him: No, why?
Me: Because the monsters all look like monsters. But Hitler, Mao, Pol Pot, Mao – these guys were just normal, plain-looking dudes. No one would have looked at them and thought, “Monster.” But that’s what they were. (later) Thanks for not choking me until I passed out.
Him: (laughing) Anytime, man.

Location: about to run to Chelsea
Mood: pensive
Music: I saw Satan laughing with delight the day the music died
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Growing into one’s self

Solitary trees, if they grow at all, grow strong

Tree in the West Village

Me: Winston Churchill once said that, “Solitary trees, if they grow at all, grow strong.”
Him: Well that’s the thing, isn’t it? (thinking) “If they grow at all?”

Had lunch with my coach the other day and we were discussing this kid in our class. He’s one of the only teenagers we have and we all look out for him for various reasons. The life of a bullied child is a lonely one.

As luck would have it, tomorrow is Winston Churchill day so I thought the quote fitting.

Remember that scene in Forrest Gump where Forrest truly runs for the first time and realizes that the heavy, metal braces that held him back as a child let him run faster and longer than anyone else as an adult?

It made him antifragile.

Without belaboring the point, there were times when I was younger that I didn’t think I’d make it to adulthood.

I’m glad I stuck around because Churchill was right; I’m stronger because of my childhood rather than despite it.

Me: What are your thoughts on dive bars with wings?
Claire: I feel hugely positive about dive bars and wings.

Thought of that again as I had dinner with my friend Claire the other night. She said that she had a friend that grew into himself after college. I think that’s a good way to put it.

The lucky never realize they are lucky until it’s too late.

I should mention that while Claire, who moved here from LA, and I have written and chatted to each other for years, this was the first time we actually met in person.

Her: I’m glad you’re as nice in real life as you are over email.
Me: (laughing) I try to set the bar really low.

Life is made more bearable by the good souls.

As for the kid in our class, I hope he makes it past these hard times. If he can, I hope he’s the better for it.

As for me, my childhood seems farther and farther away these days. I’m turning 40 next week.

Still trying to process my thoughts on that.

Location: last night, my fave dive bars
Mood: sleepy
Music: I was a lonely soul but that’s the old me
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