Tag: tiny wisdom

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personal

Logan’s 52

Looking down the ladder

Him: Sometimes it feels like everyone’s doing so much better than me.
Me: That’s cause you’re spending alla your time looking up the ladder at everyone that has more than you. You need look down every once in a while and see how much more you have than the rest of the world. 

This fella once said, We are what and where we are because we have first imagined it.

    • Living in Queens, there was once a time I dreamed of living in Manhattan.
    • Growing up as a fat kid, there was once a time I dreamed of being physically fit.
    • Being bullied throughout childhood, there was once a time I dreamed of living knowing how to fight.
    • Being a friendless kid as well, there was once a time I dreamed of having friends.
    • Being a fat, clumsy, nerdy, dude, there was once a time I thought I’d never be with a beautiful intelligent woman.
    • After struggling for years to have a kid, there was once a time I woulda given anything to have my son.
    • And I never imagined that I’d be part of a creative team that’s close to hitting a million followers…le wha?

I’ve found a lotta peace in my noisy brain these past few months because I’ve really been focusing on two things:

    1. That quote above where I realize that everything I have right now is stuff I once dreamed to have and then spent years struggling to get.
    2. Instead of being upset that I’m so far away from my next/latest dream, I’m realizing that I’m actually right in the middle of living the last dream I had.

I’m so grateful for all the things and people that I have in my life that I never thought I’d ever have.

Pretty sure that if 14-year-old me saw 52-year-old me, he’d be both shocked and impressed.

TBH, when I really think about it, 52-year-old me is shocked and impressed with my life.

We should all be shocked and impressed with our lives.

Location: earlier yesterday, Kalahari water park in PA
Mood: like I said, shocked and impressed
Music: looked great for nearly 53. Well, lucky you found me (Spotify)
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There’s no limit to skill or knowledge

Zero is plural

Me: Is zero singular or plural?
Him: I dunno.
Me: Use it in a sentence.
Him: “There are zero apples.” (thinking) Plural?
Me: Yes. All whole numbers are plural except for one – negative one is also plural, which is weird but here we are.

I spend a lotta time in my head, mainly because that’s where I’m the most comfortable.

Family aside, my entire childhood was essentially spent alone. Grade school, middle school, high school, etc.

College was different, though, which I found odd but nice.

I had a lotta friends, several close ones, and yet, I spent most of my time either at a girlfriend’s or by myself in the city when I’d come down by myself.

You get used to things.

Was chatting with Rain the other day and we both commented how similar we are when it comes to enjoying our solitude.

We’re good with people; we just choose not to interact with them unless there’s a good reason.

My son is different.

He not only doesn’t like to be alone, he craves human interaction.

I wonder if that will make his life better, worse, or just different.

The hope is for him to be happy and productive, whatever either of those two things mean to him.

In my younger years, being alone was hell.

But now that I’m older, I think being with random people is hell.

The more news I read, the more I think I want to just stay home with the Firecracker and the kid and never walk out the door.

Him: Why do I need to learn all this?
Me: Because there’s a limit to strength, power, or money. There’s no limit to skill or knowledge. You can always make yourself a little smarter every day.
Him: But why?
Me: Because it’ll mean that you can always be better tomorrow than you were today. That’s a powerful thing.

Location: my back bathroom, wondering if green tile is the way to go
Mood: slightly nauseated from too much cheese
Music: Should I try to do some more? Twenty-five or six to four (Spotify)
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Where’s my flying car?

A Skybridge to Nowhere

Him: What is that?
Me: That’s a skybridge. When I was a kid, people thought that – by 2025 – we’d all have flying cars so they would build these bridges between buildings so people could get around easier if we were all flying around. There are still a few left in NYC.

The kid noticed the below skybridge one late night when we were out with the Firecracker just outside Penn Station.

Now we’re on a quest to visit some of them if we can.

From ScoutingNY

Learned how to speed read around middle school.

I’d already read pretty quickly but I read something once that said that the simplest way to speed read is to read with your finger, but for a peculiar reason.

Take the sentence:

The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.

Most people don’t read it like that, they read it like this:

The quick quick brown fox fox jumped jumped over the the lazy dog dog.

They go back at least one word, sometimes two.

You probably do it too. Try it.

Just read a sentence with your finger and force your finger to constantly move forward.

At first, it’s a bit disconcerting but you get used to it after a few weeks.

That alone should increase your reading speed, significantly.

Nowadays, I probably read normally around 650 words a minute with full comprehension and as much as 750 if I really focus.

Now, I’m not telling you this to brag but to say that I was sitting bed one day watching this clip of Bill Barr commenting on meeting flat earthers.

It allowed me to finally answer the question: Where’s my flying car?

By Mr.choppers – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=152037030

See, I assumed that, by now, I’d be flying around in my car. Instead, we got this monstrosity.

What happened?

I think that humans take two steps forward and one step back.

Constantly.

Like we got rid of the measles.

Because most people have no memories of just how horrific the measles were.

Then fucking morons like RFK Jr come along and say that measles aren’t a big deal because they have no fucking clue.

Then a lotta people die.

Then we gotta figure out the measles again.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

The Arabs were once some of the most brilliant people on the planet, giving us algebra (al-jabr) and the House of Wisdom, among other things.

Then religious zealots took over and burned books and so much knowledge was lost.

Although, to be fair, this happened everywhere: China, England, Nazi Germany, even right here in the good ole US of A.

The US even had one just last year.

That’s why people, particularly the willfully ignorant ones, are such a disappointment to me.

There’s no end to stupid people doing stupid things and other stupid people cheering them on.

Him: Why don’t we have any flying cars, papa?
Me: Because there are so many stupid people in the world, kid. For every two steps forward, we make as a society, we take one step backward.
Him: Awww…a flying car would be cool.
Me: It really would be.

As I was writing this entry, this article just came out about almost all Tesla Cybertrucks needing to be recalled.

You cannot make this stuff up.

Location: The sunny upper west side
Mood: disappointed
Music: Boy, I don’t understand (Spotify)
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On teaching well

Must be a natural

Him: Whoa, you’re really good at that [move].
Me: It only took me 22 years. Must be a natural.

My elbow injury was the first one that I’ve had in a while.

Since I couldn’t go to the gym, I’ve been catching up on work – Scenic Fights and otherwise, as well as watching a few videos.

This fella named John Danaher – whom I used to run into alla time back in my club days – is probably the most well-respected BJJ coach on the planet.

He’s made a lotta the biggest names in the sports.

Anywho, I came across the below video of him explaining his teaching methods and it really made me think.

My very first coach would regularly completely flip out – I mean screaming in the gym like a madman, making grown men cry in front of everyone, physically assaulting his own students – when you didn’t do the move exactly as he did them or any one of a thousand little offenses to him.

Spent (well) over a decade with him with almost nothing to show for the time – a ton of other people had the same experience.

Recently, however, my skill has been expanding by leaps and bounds, precisely because I just started doing things that felt right to me.

Danaher even mentions that the goal isn’t to make robots that fight just like the coach but express themselves their own way – that’s the “art” side of “marital arts.”

That’s what my old coach never seems to have gotten.

Don’t think he realizes just how many people absolutely despise him for how much of their time he wasted.

While he certainly wasted a ton of my time, I don’t hate him.

Quite the opposite. I feel so much pity for him.

He wanted nothing more than to be a great coach but, instead, he’s just become a lightning rod of ridicule at best and full-on animosity at worst.

He’s had some stellar students, to be sure, but I gotta think that’s more a testament to their own innate skill than anything he did.

What a heartbreakingly sad thing: To be so profoundly bad at the one thing you based your entire life upon.

Location: home, with a bad back and elbow
Mood: bleary-eyed
Music: It’s not right, not okay, say the words that you say (Spotify)
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Goodnight, Peter

He was my friend and I’ll miss him

Her: What are you writing about?
Me: Peter.
Her: Oh, did you know him well enough to write about him?
Me: Well, his life is his story to tell. I’m just gonna write about my life and his role in it.

Pausing the usual nuthin again.

Almost exactly 17 years ago, I wrote about my buddy Mike, who was a regular in my kali class.

Older fella, I still remember that Mike had a six-pack at 65+.

Mike was the first guy that I knew as a friend that died.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t the last.

Mike died before social media so I’ve forgotten what he looks like.

But he was my friend, and I miss him.

Peter Moretti was like Mike in that he would always come to class and be a bit confused and not get certain moves because, like Mike, he was older.

But he never stopped coming and never stopped trying to be better.

This is him just a few days before he died.

His dedication, plus his incredibly easy-going and kind nature, was how I always saw him.

His Facebook feed was/is fulla things like him feeding birds like woodpeckers and ducks.

After knowing Peter a few years, I found that he was a karate instructor and fighter who could do things that I only dreamed about being able to do.

In fact, he just posted a buncha photos of himself as a young man two days before he died.

 I realize now that Mike and Peter are essentially me.

They were both skilled and dangerous fighters that were once in peak physical shape.

But time takes its toll on alla us.

I figure that, in a few years, I’ll be the guy that people have to help with certain moves or things.

And they too will be surprised that I was once anything but an older fella.

In any case, I just saw Peter maybe two weeks ago. I worked with him some.

We weren’t close, at all, but we got along well.

He died in his sleep and left a buncha people that loved him and will miss him.

That’s a good way to go, if you’ve gotta go, I say.

Goodnight, Peter.

You’ve worked hard enough, and you’ve earned your rest.

Her: You don’t want to make his death about you.
Me: I get that, but I also don’t ever feel right telling someone else’s story.
Her: That’s true.
Me: It’s a delicate balance. I suppose the main point is that the people in our lives are part of the fabric of it and Peter was a part of mine. I’ll never see him again and he was someone that I always liked seeing.

Location: last night, the surgeon’s, drinking up a ton of rum
Mood: wistful
Music: You’ll have to learn, just like me and that’s the hardest way (Spotify)
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Not everybody

Two good samaratins pulling a guy off the tracks at Times Square the other day.

Joan Murray survived a 14,500 Foot Fall

Last year, I saw a guy fall into the tracks at Times Square.

Two fellas immediately hopped into the tracks to save him, which I thought was pretty admirable.

But whenever I see something like that, I think of an old joke that goes something like this:

A songbird was flying one winter day when it got so cold that he dropped right outta the clear blue sky onto a farm.

The bird lay there helpless and injured until a horse walked by and, not noticing the small bird, dropped a huge steaming pile of hot poop on him.

The poop, however, was warm and made the bird feel much better – so much better, in fact, that he started to sing. But then a cat heard him sing, found him, and dug him out.

The bird was happy to be outta the poop, but the cat didn’t give him a chance to thank him because the cat gobbled him up and went on with his day.

There are three (shitty) morals to his story:

    1. Not everybody who shits on you is your enemy.
    2. Not everybody who digs you outta shit is your friend.
    3. When you’re in deep shit, shut up.
This is a picture of when a bird pooped on the Firecracker – which happens with alarming regularity.

Now, there’s actually a real life version of this joke about a woman named Joan Murray who survived a 14,500 foot fall, which is almost three miles of free fall straight down.

See, she was sky diving and BOTH her parachutes failed.

Normally, this would be just a death sentence, but she ended up crashing into a huge ant hill – but not just any ant hill, a fire ant anthill.

If you don’t know what a fire ant is, it’s a venomous ant that can these intensely painful stings.

Normally, if you fell onto a fire ant hill, that would be at the very least, an incredibly painful experience – most likely you’d end up in the hospital.

In Joan’s case, however, the softness of the mound coupled with the intense pain of the venom kept her alive with the former softening her impact and the latter keeping her heart beating.

She ended up in a coma with shattered bones on the right side of her body and a few lost teeth, which required 20 reconstructive surgeries, 17 blood transfusions, a metal rod into her right leg, and 5-inch spikes grafted onto into her pelvis.

But she survived.

And she survived precisely because these fire ants were trying to kill her.

Joan actually died in 2022, 23 years after her accident, of cancer (unfortunately – fucking cancer…) with nary a parachute nor fire ant in sight.

(c) Unilad

I’m telling you this story because I see how the kid sees the world: In simple terms of black and white.

Children and the stupid see things so simply binary.

It’s difficult for me to figure out how to explain these subtle nuances in the world, especially in light of world events, to him and, well, generally stupid people, who are uncomfortable with grey.

Soupy grey is never appealing, but it’s still more realistic than stark black-and-white.

Him: If Donald Trump lies all the time, how did he become president?
Me: (whistling) Hoo-boy. That’s gonna take a little while to explain. Not now though.

Location: downright balmy 40+ degree NYC
Mood: not completely frozen
Music: it’s your heart, it’s alive, it’s pumping blood (Spotify)
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Christmas 2024

What are the chances?!

The Firecracker and I had such a good time at Bryson’s for hot pot that we invited the Firecracker’s sister and her family over for some at our pad.

It was the first time I’d ever had hot pot in my pad so that was a nice (almost) Christmas experience.

Boy: It’s a giftcard [from the Firecracker’s sister]!
Me: Under the penumbra of this apartment, I get 10%.
Firecracker’s BIL: I don’t think that’s how that word is used.
Me: Well, I’m thinking of it in legal terms as it was used in a famous Supreme Court case.

There are a lotta things that mean one thing to a lawyer – like penumbra and proximate, which immediately spring to mind – that mean other things to laymen.

Me: I don’t understand why I didn’t get invited to more parties as a kid.
F-BIL: (slowly nods) It’s a mystery.

In any case, I did not get 10%.

I may appeal.

One of the traditions that I’ve now learned to truly love is spending time with my in-laws for Christmas.

I love that, despite Alison not being here, that the kid gets to experience something similar to what he woulda experienced had she never died.

It’s cold comfort but better than no comfort at all.

In any case, the kid and met up with my SIL in Hoboken and hitched a ride out to see them.

Now, before I tell you about my Xmas, wanted to relate onea my favourite stories in life:

Decades ago, I went to my parents to help them fix a computer and upgraded a small 2.5 harddrive for them, and put the old 2.5 harddrive into my breast pocket.

Afterward, I stopped by and visited my buddy Danny the Good’s pad and, while I was there, Danny and his wife were discussing their own computer issues.

His Wife: What’s wrong with it?
Him: The harddrive’s shot. We need to get a new one.
Me: Wait, I’ve got one on me! (reaches into pocket and pulls it out)
Her: (laughing hysterically) Only Logan would have a spare harddrive in his pocket.

OK, back to the present: I’d bought my in-laws a mesh router and offered to set it up for them.

FIL: I don’t know if we need one. The old one works fine.
Me: Welp, I’ll just leave it here then and we can always install it at some point in the future.

Wouldn’t you know it, the router ended up failing repeatedly while I was there.

MIL: (joking) It seems awfully coincidental that our old router fails right when Logan brings a new one for us.
FIL: Very suspicious.
Me: (laughing) You should just be happy I have it.
Her: What are the chances!?

So, I set it up for them so that worked out.

As for the kid, he got a ton of loot that he wanted.

And I got plenty of food…

…and my SIL made her amazeballs eggnog, which is essentially just an adult milkshake.

Promised the kid that I’d stay for Christmas breakfast and lunch but then I had to run because I had to meet up with the Firecracker.

Him: You can’t stay for dinner?
Me: Sorry, kiddo. I promised [the Firecracker] that I’d see her.
Him: (nodding sadly) OK.

Had to keep my promise to the Firecracker for really good reasons that I’ll tell you all about in the next entry.

Location: Back home with the kid
Mood: sick but getting better
Music: I’m getting confused cause this isn’t our room (Spotify)
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The choices we make

A matter of inches

Me: (seeing a pic of the Firecracker) You were so young back then!
Her: Yup – now look at me. I’m with a very old Chinese man.
Me: Well, I wouldn’t say very old.
Her: Right. Because you’re not doing back exercises eight times a day and buying orthopedic butt supports?
Me: …
Her: Yeah…

The Firecracker was kind enough to surprise me with a back brace the other day for my crap back.

Gone from rolling around and fighting 20-somethings to sitting in cushioned chairs wherever I go and wearing a back brace.

On that note, I’ve also started seeing a chiropractor to add to my stable of doctors, physical therapists, and general clinicians.

Oddly, the first thing I thought of when I got the brace was the presidency and both Trump and JFK.

The assassin that missed Trump missed ending his life by perhaps an inch in several directions.

Between when the gunman pulled the trigger and when the bullet hit, enough time had passed that Trump shifted his head just enough to be merely grazed.

Contrast that with JFK, who was killed on the killer’s second bullet.

This is meaningful because the first bullet shoulda caused JFK to fall forward, as it did his companion John Connally, but it didn’t.

Because JFK was wearing a back brace due to his own major back issues.

A back brace changed the world.

Always find it so interesting that so much of life for the world writ large hinges on these rando choices we all make.

Then again, I should probably think longer about some of the choices I make.

Her: (cleaning and dancing about when I enter the room) How are you feeling?
Me: Eh, ok, I guess. (pausing) What are you doing?
Her: My sexy cleaning dance.
Me: Oh, when’s it gonna start?
Her: God, you’re so rude!

I should probably think longer about some of the choices I make.

Location: home at a hot pot get-together
Mood: ache-y still
Music: Woo hoo just a little bit of c’mon bring that back (Spotify)
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It was my mom’s birthday

Parthian Chicken

It was my mom’s birthday the other day.

We were originally all going to see some other relatives before we saw her for dinner.

So, I rented a car since it was the four of us: Me, the kid, the Firecracker, and her kid.

But, at the last minute, my other relatives cancelled, and it was too late to cancel the car.

Since we had it, we just went on a little car-ride to Ikea out in Long Island where the kid had their Swedish meatballs and I got (another) planter, this time for a lemon tree that Bryson got me.

The Meyer Lemon tree that Bryson gave me. He insists that I can grow lemons at home; the jokes on him because I am incredibly bad at getting plants to produce flowers or fruit.

Afterward, we drove back and I picked up dinner for everyone – it wasn’t a lot because most of us were full, including my sis and her kids.

It was still good, though.

Anywho, my mom’s getting older but still working because her job gives her joy.

I envy her, in many ways; she found purpose in her life that inspires her and keeps her active, both mentally and physically.

Feel lucky that she’s still around and gets to see the boy grow up.

This year will be the first year that we’re doing Thanksgiving at my place – the first time in close to 30 years of my being here (!)

So, I’ve been practicing making Parthian Chicken, which is a 1,500 year-old recipe that I got from a YouTube Channel I like called Tasting History.

It’s unlike any other chicken dish I’ve ever had because it has this spice called Asafoetida (“hing” in Indian groceries) and…well, it absolutely stinks.

As does the garum/fish sauce that is used to season it.

I bought this one. It does not smell good.

But the taste is just killer, and the smell essentially transforms into this really lovely thing after an hour of baking.

The Firecracker and I love it; her kid likes it, and my kid is less than thrilled.

Still, I think that it’ll be a nice change up from the usual Turkey and stuffing.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Location: standing in front of my desk because my back is absolutely killing me
Mood: guess
Music: Say you’ll be there, when I need you (Spotify)
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Oh, Ruth, Joe…what have you done?

Everything is crumbling away

Her: You were a nerdy kid when you were younger? I don’t believe that.
Me: Do you remember the kids that never got picked for any sports games?
Her: (laughing) Yeah. That was you?
Me: No. I was the kid that those kids beat up.

Years ago, I told you about a legal saying that really changed how I looked at the world: Sine qua non.

It’s Latin for, “But for…”

Meaning, But for John losing his job, he never would have started drinking, which lead to his suicide.

The self-importance of these people is what’s galling.

Or, But for the girls’ bullying, Annie never would have changed schools.

Thought of that and Ruth Bader Ginsburg the other night when Trump won the election.

Ruth was asked – begged, really – to step down while Obama was president so that he could appoint a liberal judge that would protect Roe. And yet she refused.

    • But for that refusal, Trump never would have been able to appoint three justices to the bench.
    • But for that appointment, the Supreme Court never would have been able to overturn Roe.
    • But for that appointment, the Supreme Court never would have been able to expand the power the presidency for Trump.
    • But for that expansion, Trump would probably have done his last few weeks of campaigning at the height of a trial for keeping classified documents.
    • But for that trial being dismissed, Trump may not have won the presidency.

Couple her arrogance with that of Biden’s – who should have stepped down years ago to allow a successor that could actually be likeable enough to win – and here we are.

In the end, it wasn’t that the country voted for a complete pig of a human being…

…it’s that the Democrats were so arrogant they couldn’t even beat a complete pig of a human being.

And now – Ruth, Joe – how sad it is that everything you spent your life trying to help and protect is crumbling away by your own self-importance and arrogance.

There’s a lot to be said for accepting the world as it, not as you wish it to be.

And this is why I drink.

Location: the kid’s schoolyard, talking to his teacher, hoping they’ll all be ok with a gunman on the loose
Mood: carb-eating, rum-swilling, machine
Music: this song is about you, playa (Spotify)
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