Tag: human condition

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personal

Not getting shot by the authorities and seeing old friends

View of Madison Avenue sky, NYC

Her: Are you eating Cheetos at 8AM?!
Me: (Cheetos in mouth) No…?

Yesterday, had a pretty busy day; started at 7AM and didn’t finish until 10:30 PM. On Tuesday nights, walk a few blocks south of my pad to go to my fencing class. Been doing it for maybe six years?

So for the past year or so, some person’s been tossing a bag of dog poop in front of my building. Asked onea the next door doormen to keep and eye out for who it was. Stepping out last night, the doorman points to a woman walking down the street with a dog and then another bag of poop in font of my door.

“That’s her,” he says and without thinking, I give chase.

Catching up to her, she turns to me and I realize three things:

  1. She’s old. And tiny.
  2. I’m carrying a large weapon (for my fencing class).
  3. I’m sweaty, breathless, and angry.

This is how people get shot by passing police officers. Also I realized that yelling at her wouldn’t do any good. So instead:

Me: Hello, my name is Logan. Can I go to your apartment to dry off?
Her: What? No. I don’t know you.
Me: Fair enough. But I know you. You see every week for a year, I pick up a bag of dog poop you toss in front of my building. So I figure that that’s earned me at least the right to go up to your apartment, dry off, and maybe get a cuppa tea, don’t you?

She turned bright red and started to apologize – well, more blamed the city for not putting trashcans everywhere and THEN started to apologize. After a few more words, she came back to my apartment, picked up the poop, apologized again, and said I was a nice young man.

Seriously have no idea how some people’re raised. Animals, they are.

Admit that screaming at her woulda made me feel better; but I think getting what you actually want in life’s more important. Hopefully, that’s the last bag of dog poop I’ll have to pick up in a while.

Plus, did not get shot by the authorities, so a net-net win, I’d say.

———

FemaleFriend1: I know you’re not, but if you did  cross over, who would you want?
FemaleFriend2: Kim Kardashian.
Me: (laguhing) As a dude, I totally respect your dudeness!
FemaleFriend1: What about you?
Me: (thinking) Hmm, Brad Pitt?
FemaleFriend3: Really?
Me: (scoffing) Oh, I could totally get a Brad Pitt.

Met up with a buncha co-workers I’ve not seen in a while. Only have two real comments on that:

  1. Seeing old friends is always good cause not just cause you see people you’ve not seen in a while, you get to hang out with a version of yourself you’ve not seen in a while either.
  2. Traveling 30 mins outta the city, the price of a rum and diet coke drops to a third of what you pay in the city.

Note to self, move outta the city (someday).

Location: waiting for a phone call in the UWS
Mood: still productive!
Music: red is the colour of the sun with my eyes closed
YASYCTAI: Look up land around you; maybe build a house? (days/1 pt)
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business personal

Justice isn’t blind, she chooses not to see / Don’t go to law school

Portrait of justice in the Musée du Barreau in Paris

To continue my odd fixation on things that have that have an air of truth but no real truth to them, y’know that saying, Justice is blind?

That’s completely wrong.

Not only is it completely wrong, it completely misses the point. Justice is not blind, she chooses not see.

Look at every statue, every portrait, and you’ll see she wears a blindfold. For example, the picture above is from the Musée du Barreau in Paris. Blindfold.

She has the ability to see, to judge with her eyes, but instead, she judges with her ears; listening to the facts and deciding. The problem with most things in life is that most people judge far too quickly on far too superficial data. Judgment without processing any true information is the key to injustice. Taking it all in and changing one’s mind in light of new information should never be a bad thing.

On an unrelated point, an election year is coming. Let’s see what’s for sale.

———-

On the topic of lawyers and law school, don’t go to law school. First of all, when I went, the job market was crazy-good; now it’s crazy-bad.

But if that’s not enough, don’t go cause you could start Facebook instead.

In fact, I started Facebook in 1999. Well, I started a website that let you post pictures, leave comments, write stuff, etc, called “cobaltblue.com.” But it never really took off causa a number of boneheaded moves on my part and cause I was going to law school.

While I do love the law and my particular field of it, there’s a sense that my life might have been radically different if I had never gone. Perhaps it woulda been far worse, or far better. Never know.

Think that law school’s a honeypot; it’s a place that many people go cause they haven’t figured stuff out yet. It’s one thing to spend three years of life and $150K if you’ve been dying to be a lawyer your whole; quite another if you’re just trying to be “safe.”

Especially cause it’s not safe.

With my love of my practice, I still mighta gone knowing what I know now. Not sure.

If you’re thinking of going back to school just cause you’ve got no other idea, consider paying back the aether instead. If you’re lucky, you’ll change the world and make a mint while you do it.

Just remember to hire me when you need some legal advice.

The above may potentially be seen as advertising for a real estate attorney in Chicago per NY Rule 7.3(a)(1). See what a pain being a lawyer is? Imagine you’re just writing something for your blog, which no one reads, cept maybe your mom hoping that this time, someone will see the genius that is her progeny, but no, mom, only you think that) and you’ve got to throw up a disclaimer. A disclaimer! It’s the height of ridiculousness. Between my mom and me, and occasionally Heartgirl out of pity, I’ve got three readers. And yet…disclaimer. I should have just stuck to building networks. Are you still reading this? If so, I’m thinking of killing the livejournal.com portion of the blog and just doing this at my regular loganlo.com blog. What do you think? Again, not that anyone reads either of them (mom, there’s no need to write a comment as “anonymous” as I’ll know it’s you. I’m fine, although under the weather; married life is great and the the house is spotless). Also, I’m contemplating selling canvas prints of my photos do you think there’s a market for them? What if I include a recipe for chili? Ok, I’ll stop now. Don’t go to law school.

Location: getting dressed for work while hoping not to pass out
Mood: really sick
Music: everybody’s got a price, I wonder how they sleep at night
YASYCTAI: Don’t waste your time, you have less than you think. (time/3 pts)
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business personal

It’s hard fighting the intertia

Fruit stand in NYC, midtown

Got another lecture to give today, which’s great. The only issue’s that I’ve had three hours of sleep. Never know when my next bout of insomnia comes but it always comes when I’ve got something important to do.

My insomnia’s like a cock-blocking friend at a party; it always shows up at the worst possible time.

Life’s been slowing getting back to normal since returning from Europe last week. After catching up on some work, met a young guy that’s starting a real estate venture. He’s like 27. Also finally saw The Social Network.

There’s something about being younger that let’s you take some crazy chances. Told the guy somea the stuff I used to do when I was younger and he was fairly impressed. But I think about people like Mark Zuckerberg who took these even bigger chances; it’s humbling.

The problem in life’s fighting the inertia, I think. It’s so much easier to just let things be. And as I get older, finding it harder to shake it off and force myself to take these chances.

No time to really think about it now I guess.

I’m on at 10AM…

Location: home, picking out a suit
Mood: tired
Music: wonder how they sleep at night
YASYCTAI: Shake off that inertia. It’s only ever death, man. (time/2 pts)
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personal

Why would you want someone that doesn’t want you?

Diego the plant

Her: What name should I give it?
Me: I like Harold.
Her: No…I think Diego.
Me: Diego…OK. I like it. Diego and Harold.

We’ve bought furniture and a plant together. Suppose there’s no returning to single-hood. Harold, has to get over his jealously; a bit concerned he may start smoking again.

Speakinga singlehood, a buddy of mine’s newly single. Gave him my usual spiel, which boils down to, No matter how hard it is, why would you want someone that doesn’t want you?

He got his walking papers in  fairly harsh way: she kicked him out. And for no other reason than talking with a female friend he’s known for 13 years. Told him to take the high road.

Him: And what’s that?
Me: Leave. And don’t build her up like she was a saint or rip her down like she was a monster. Just leave. If a woman tells you to leave, you get up, pack your bags, and walk out the door. Cut it deep, cut it clean, but cut it.
Him: I’m super busy today, I can’t just pack up and leave.
Me: Cut it quick, cut it deep, cut it clean, but cut it. And don’t try to read her mind like some rapist and say, “Well she really meant…” You can’t assume anything is true but the words that come out of her mouth, which was, “Move out.”
Him: Damn, I guess I’ll have to look for a place.

He moved out that night.

He’s erasing his map – in stark contrast to our other buddy who floated back and forth with his girl for a year. That girl actually ended up marrying the guy she cheated on him for a year and that friend just caused a solid year of pain for himself. This friend, however, sees the writing on wall.

Speakinga seeing the writing on the wall, recently had two clients hand me checks in very different ways.

One paid me a bonus for a job well done; the other paid me 50% of what was agreed upon. Not to get all schoolyard but a deal’s a deal. If I’ve ever learned anything from working for myself for 18 years, when a client hands you a check, you smile, take it, and make a mental note.

It’s all related, y’know? Why stay where you’re not wanted? Anyone that tells you, Move out, doesn’t want you.

Any client that pays you 50% of what you agreed upon doesn’t want or respect you.

Any client that pays you more than you asked does.

Even if you don’t like what you hear, people are telling you stuff all of time.

 

Location: Sitting in my living room, wide awake at 4AM
Mood: hungry!
Music: you open up the dirty windows, let the sun illuminate
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business personal

Signal versus noise: My plans, my pad, my people, my poison, and my person

From my sis regarding my mom. Except for the Vietnamese and the fact nonea us were ever the valedictorian, it’s pretty accurate.

Find it oddly touching for reasons I can’t fully explain. Says Happy Mother’s Day better than anything I could write so let’s just leave it at that.

Brunch foor

Stayed over at my parents and then had brunch over at my old college buddy’s place downtown over the weekend. A report came out that said that the key to happiness is human relations – you can watch it here.

Sounds right to me, iron sharpens iron and all of that.

The bacon doesn’t hurt, either.

A business blog I read’s named Signal Vs. Noise. The name comes from an engineering phrase that differentiates between the amount of useful information being transmitted versus that which’s just useless noise.

People around me’re always telling me stuff. I could be a great ______ if only I ______.

The assumption is, of course, that I dunno what I’m doing, which’s a bit insulting in and of itself. Actually do have a plan and, despite unexpected calamities, have managed to stick to that plan.

Y’know the difference between strategy and tactics? A strategy’s the big goal (Capture or kill Osama bin Laden); tactics are how you attain that goal (conventional warfare or propaganda). People confuse the two all of time, which’s fine, except when they try to push their inability to differentiate upon me.

My tactics shift constantly, as they should, but my strategy never changes.

There’s this section in Made to Stick where the author talks about the Tapper Game. It’s comprised of two players; one’s a tapper that taps out a song on a table, and the other’s a listener that tries to figure out the song. Participants thought they’d get about 50% right; the actual number was less than 2%.

Why?

Cause the tapper, the one tapping out the song, already knew the song in his head and could “hear” it. The one listening to only the tapping couldn’t.

That there’s, in my opinion, about 90% of what’s wrong with all human relationships. The stuff you hear in your head isn’t what the other guy hears. After a while, y’get tired of explaining stuff and either give up or continue to argue.

Am old enough to try and listen to other points of views and make my own decisions. But I’ve got a plan, a strategy, a song I hear in my own head. And I’ve got the results I wanted from these plans – my pad, my people, my poison, and my person. Which means that the song in my head is the right song for me.

And that’s the other thing, it’s my song.

It’s noise to you but signal to me.

Location: in front of my computer as always
Mood: irritated
Music: (the song in my head)

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personal

Logan’s 38 / What you pay for being alright

Logan LoJust check’n if all my hair’s still there.

Joe: Did they hurt you in there, Mitchel?
Mitchel: Not so you’d notice.
Joe: They hurt me in there, Mitchel.
Mitchel: I know they did, Joe. It’s all right now. Here. (gives him money)
Joe: You don’t have to do that.
Mitchel: Yes, I do. It’s a tax you pay for being alright.

— London Boulevard (film)

You know you’re old when you fondly remeber being 30.

Started this blog five years ago because of my breakup. Then it somehow morphed into my admittedly peculiar dating life punctuated with some really cool highs and some awful, awful lows. Now I’m just a boring married guy.

But at some point in the future, there’ll be more really cool highs and some more awful lows. It’s all about waiting for the next high, I suppose.

I’ll take the awful lows, though – as best one can. And I’ll try to do my own little bit to contribute something to world. It’s all parta the same thing anyway.

Think the above quote’s spot on, paying back to the aether’s the tax you pay for being alright. Isn’t that what a tax is? It’s what you pay to be alright.

I’m alright right now, and feel the need to pay a little more this year. Duuno what that is but I’m looking.

Having said that, you know the drill. Wish me a happy birthday and say something, all of you bastards that read me but never say anything.

Location: home, listening to the rain outside
Mood: hopeful
Music: One girl, one boy, Some grief, some joy
YASYCTAI: Oh, you know… (60 mins/1 pt)
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15 Things Every Man Should Know

Things a guy needs to know to be a man

Me: Do we have any crazy glue?
Her: I think so, why?
Me: Sliced open my finger.
Her: Do you need stitches?!
Me: That’s what the crazy glue’s for.

My boss recently commented that, cause I don’t watch or play any sports, I’m missing something in the manhood realm. Thought that was pretty funny. Cause I got my own lista of what a man should know/be able to do and sports’s nowhere in it. Suppose we all do.

Here’s mine in no particular order – a man has to be able to:

  1. Cook something.
    • At least one thing very well without consulting a recipe. For me it’s chili – it can be any type of food but you gotta know it well.
  2. Tell a story well
    • Can pretty much assure you, it’s the difference between a good night or a great night. Basic rule: if it adds nuthin to the story, leave it out. Eg, if you mention that he’s wearing a white paisley belt, it’d better be crucial to the story. You have to be funny and engaging enough so that a girlie touches you on your shoulder or arm three times in a row. BTW, if that happens, you must kiss her. Unless you’re married or otherwise involved, at which point you smile and politely leave.
  3. Throw a punch and take a punch
    • I like the good old fashioned cross, but that’s just me. You gotta know how to throw it, pull it back, and throw it again. As for taking it, try not to do it often. Ducking’s a good secondary skill to possess. As a corollary, if you’re defending your pride and have a mortgage, a wife, or a kid, walk away. If you’re defending the cause of your mortgage, your wife, or your kid, keep moving forward.
  4. Do 50 push-ups
    • If you can’t, you’re an old man. The thing is, most fellas don’t have to be old men for a while.
  5. Know that what people think of him is none of his business
  6. Be loyal
  7. Know how to keep a secret
    • This is important. If you’re known as a guy that can be discreet, you will make more money and have more respect than the guy that can’t. Plain and simple.
  8. Use the right tools for the job
    • Traditional: Hammer, screwdriver, wrench (monkey, adjustable, and combo), etc.
    • Modern: Google operators, Ping, POP/IMAP, etc.
  9. Quote something that actually means something to him
  10. Have some female friends and not try to bang them.
  11. Know that his parents did they best they could
    • Or didn’t, whatever, you’re a man, let it go. They were probably kids when they had you and had no idea what they were doing.
    • Extra credit if you realize you were no prize either.
  12. Know when to use F__ and when not to use it
    • It’s like salt, a little goes a long way and too mucha it ruins a lotta hard work.
  13. Give and take a compliment
    • For the former: The occasional and honest Nice XXX with a quick nod works wonders.
    • For the latter: Yeah? Thanks, is appropriate for just about everything.
  14. Control the fear
    • It’s always there. If you’re not afraid, you’re nuts, stupid, or grossly underestimating the gravity of a given situation. Unclench your fists, breathe in deeply through your nose, out through the mouth – imagine you’re filling up your lungs from the bottom up, like a glass of water. Then think. Quickly.
  15. Stop bleeding
    • Minor wounds – pressure, hydrogen peroxide, crazy glue or bandages with lotsa changes.
    • Major wounds – pressure, call a professional, more pressure
    • Also, studies have shown, saying positive things to a gravely injured person increases their chance of survival. No, don’t have a quote, wish I did.

There are more things one should know how to do but aren’t specific to men, maybe people in general. That’s for some other time.

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Location: surrounded by papers (they’re going to kill me)
Mood: good, except I need to fix my car, I’m DIY so The Car Starter is for me.
Music: sweet woman and my two grown up sons
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Paying off debts

Someone always has to pay the debt

Her: That is the bomb.
Me: Do people still say that?
Her: No, just me.
Me: I’m totally putting this in the blog.
Her: Don’t you dare. I don’t want anyone to know how dorky I am.
Me: OK.

In unrelated news, gotta leave the country for a while.

Potentially got some work in Europe. Italy’s interesting to me cause I’m such a fan of The Godfather and there’s this whole sequence there.

There’s this scene in The Godfather book that’s not in the film – dunno why the director kept cutting out these important scenes.

Michael kills his brother-in-law, Carlo, and his wife Kay secretly leaves him. Mike’s brother tries to stop her but she says she can’t stay because she can’t be with a man that can’t forgive.

Mike’s brother says something like, even if Michael truly, truly forgave Carlo, Carlo still “had to be killed. Because treachery can’t be forgiven. Michael could have forgiven it, but people never forgive themselves and so they would always be dangerous….[Michael] loves his sister. But he would be shirking his duty to you and his children, to his whole family, to me and my family, if he let…Carlo go free. They would have been a danger to us all, all our lives.”

Said once that that a debt is created every time something shady happens. Always.

As for France, this interesting article came out about them the other day. In it, the writer says that the French are a lot nicer to Americans these days.

The general hypothesis’s that the recession’s making everyone nicer but this writer disagrees. He says it’s because all of the older French’re dying off; the ones that were alive when the Nazis came over. It was the older French that were ashamed of the fact that they (a) collaborated with the Nazis, killing a buncha their own citizens, and (b) needed the Americans to come and rescue them.

There was debt to pay and you can’t pay back a debt like that, not even if you have IVA advice from a debt manager. So came about the dirty American. The younger French feel no such burden and can afford to be kind.

That’s the argument, anyway.

I believe it. Cause it’s the debt and the deuce. Someone’s always gotta pay the debt, man.

So, France or Italy – or maybe England. I kinda speak the language in England.

Location: Crooklyn
Mood: patient
Music: e rido e piango e mi fondo con il cielo e con il fango
YASYCTAI: Find some more cool foreign songs. (60 mins/1 pt)
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Comedy, by Gilbert Gottfried

Following the 2011 Earthquake / Tsunami / Nuclear disaster, the following were jokes made by former AFLAC spokesman, Gilbert Gottfried; all jokes copyright of Gilbert Gottfried as author.

Photo (c)Kamoshida/Bloomberg
What does every Japanese person have in their apartment? Flood lights.

Photo (c)Kamoshida/Bloomberg
Japan called me. They said “maybe those jokes are a hit in the US, but over here, they’re all sinking.”

Photo: REUTERS/U.S. Navy/Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Dylan McCord
I was talking to my Japanese real estate agent. I said “is there a school in this area?” She said “not now, but just wait.”

Photo (c) Reuters
I just split up with my girlfriend, but like the Japanese say, “They’ll be another one floating by any minute now.”

Mood: appalled
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personal

The people that point and the people that run in.

Her: (glancing at clock) It’s 11:11 – make a wish.
Me: (thinking) I hope those people’ll be ok.
Her: That’s a good wish.
Me: (as clock changes to 11:12) Made it just in time. Maybe it’ll come true.

There’re people in life that you’ll meet that’ll always say a contrary position. If you say it’s black, they’ll say it’s grey. Daytime, it’s early evening.

These people aren’t necessarily bad, but they are needy. They need to feel superior, to be listened to, to matter.

A variation, however, is the pointer. The ones that feel they know some truth hidden from the rest of us. The ones that spring up at every tragedy and say, “God is punishing (insert childhood issue here)” or “Well, they really brought it upon themselves.”

In all of human history, there’s no tragedy so great where some cruel person won’t stand to the side and point, not at the calamity, but the victims.

Some, like Gilbert Gottfried, point and laugh. Some like Glen Beck, point and blame. The reason’s the same, that neediness. Coupled with an inability to do anything but point.

But often, there’s no tragedy so great where there won’t be someone else that runs past them to stand in front of complete strangers and say “Stand behind me, I’ll protect you.” It’s people at their very best.

As of this writing, 50 people keep walking back into a nuclear reactor to try to get it under control. Can’t even wrap my head around that.

Said once that troubles strip away the fat of your lives to who we really are. Sometimes, under the fat, you find a Gilbert Gottfried there, sometimes you find a hero.

Both make you shake your head in disbelief but for totally different reasons.

Location: watching this all unfold
Mood: pissed off
Music: we could be heroes, just for one day
YASYCTAI: Text that number – REDCROSS to 90999. (10 secs/3 pts)
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