I enjoy enjoying paying

Today I had a fun negotiation. My contractor said that he had invoiced me ahead of time for the plumbing because the plumber needs to buy materials. He asked if I could pay this ahead of time. (He usually invoices me at the end of the week for work that was completed that week, as per our contract.) 

I expressed my confusion. I asked a few questions: 

  1. What topics will he want me to pre-pay? 
  2. How does this work, considering I paid a larger-than-normal deposit (30% instead of the normal 20%)? 

He explained the position. 

Then, I said… no! 

It was a kind and friendly no. I was emotionally authentic and effusive. The best line was when I said, “I like paying you. I like looking at the things we’ve completed over the last week and feeling excited about it. This would be a different setup.” 

I also gave him an out. I said, “If it’s an emergency, I’m happy to re-consider this. But right now the process is working well for me, so I’d like it to continue.” 

I debriefed with Partner afterwards. Partner thought my “no” was just that we had a deal structured in a particular way, so continuing that way is good for record-keeping. The real underlying motivation is one of leverage. If I paid my contractor entirely upfront, who knows if they’ll actually show up to do the work? I like to think people take pride in their work and follow-through on their obligations, but good contracts make good working relationships the same way good fences make good neighbors. 

I once heard someone in therapy-world describe something like “Boundaries are the lines that enable me to love myself and you”. This setup is similar: these financial boundaries and processes allow me to feel excited when I pay my contractor. They allow me to gush about the work he’s doing, and to feel delighted by it instead of worried. 

We left it at “If it’s a problem, he’ll tell me.” And if it is a problem, I’m open to solving it. But this particular draw-down should be out of his account, not mine. 

So I’ll continue paying after completion, and I’ll continue enjoying paying him. 

Unambitious and okay

Partner asked me today if I wanted to do a one-person show. We had just watched a beautiful one-person show about ghosts and loss and intergenerational lessons. Partner asked me over a Georgian cheese boat: “Does seeing that show make you want to do a one-person show?” I told her: “No. Right now, I’m very unambitious. I’m building an apartment. I want to have a family. I’m enjoying working for [client x], [client y], and I’m interested in working with [client z]. I’ve even written a one-person show. And I like it – it’s pretty good. But not really.”

Recently, my life has been fairly boring, and that’s okay. I’ve enjoyed watching the Starcraft Brood War ASL Season 11 World Championships. I’ve enjoyed going to the gym.

If 17-year-old me could see 33-year-old me, I wonder what he’d say. In some ways he’d be disappointed: I wrote a 10-year-from-today day-in-the-life back in 2017. Now, it’s about to be 2027. I haven’t achieved most of the things on that list. I don’t really care.

A friend contacted me last week about publishing my book. I don’t feel motivated to do so. I’m fine not feeling motivated to do so. 

I remember reading Tim Kreider’s Lazy: A Manifesto. On my deathbed, I won’t regret failing to close a client. 

Today, Partner and I took two hours getting ready to leave the apartment. We ate sausage and peppers, inventoried lights for our apartment, lifted heavy, voyaged to a meal she had been wanting for weeks, watched a play, and then ate a cheese boat. That’s enough for today.

(Partner thinks ambition is an instrumental good: it makes one do good things. I used to have a lot of ambition. I used to do good things. Today I have less ambition. I still do good things.) 

Rest days, work days, and the Sabbath

Weeks don’t end, they loop.

I prefer working on weekends. 

Perhaps it’s the contrarian in me. I enjoy having free time on weekdays and working on Saturday. It’s certainly not respecting the sabbath. But today I ran through a bunch of necessary items for my apartment renovation. Lighting, mainly. Also contemplating a particular business situation. 

This gym session, I missed my bench press again. I’ve now missed it 4x in a row. After 3x, it suggests I deload. I did not deload. I should have deloaded. 

It turns out that the body decreases strength gains when it is too intensely stimulated. If you’re not increasing gains, you might benefit from another rest day, not another gym day. This is tough for me. So a program where I can still go to the gym, just at a lower level of intensity, is good. Better. Preferable. 

I’m learning about my body. Learning about intensity and how not to injure myself. Learning the value of pushing myself, but also the value of relaxing and resting. 

I like this style. I like this growth. I like this muscle. 

I can currently bench press 185lbs for 3 reps. When I can bench press my bodyweight, I will benchpress Partner. I might only be 12 weeks away. How nice it is to have a long-term goal. 

Humans experience beautiful variation. I like working on Saturdays and Sundays, and prefer taking some weekday afternoons off to compensate. Plenty of people (most, even) prefer the typical workweek. Maturity is a process of learning yourself. Plus I can get a pickleball court without waiting for 45 minutes. And weekday lunch specials / theater tickets are delish!

Then again, one friend of mine stays up until ~5am, then sleeps til the afternoon. He thinks it’s healthy. In his case, I disagree. 

The Bounty Hunter

On Tuesday, a friend told me they wanted to fire their therapist and felt uncomfortable about it. I asked how much they pays the therapist, and they said $350 a week. I offered them a deal: you give me a hundred dollars and I’ll send an email that fires your therapist. They laughed, then I said, “And the best part: then I’ll give you a hundred dollars back. So you get to have no therapist, and a hundred dollars!”

They said that they would go home and fire the therapist and that they wouldn’t come back to the office (we share a coworking space) until they fired him. 

For two days, I didn’t see her, which surprised me. 

Then on Friday, they text me saying:

  • “Okay, I have like 90% succeeded at firing my therapist, I am going to count that as enough success to return to the office today. I technically need to send a follow up email on Sunday confirming that today will have been my final session as we agreed I would think about it over the weekend but the groundwork is clear.“

I had thought she was joking! 

I find this very funny. Not only due to the amusing structure of someone wanting to fire their therapist but feeling unable to because they don’t want to hurt their therapist’s feelings (which is already funny). Not only due to the amusing financial machinations (paying for another session this week – at $350 – when I’m pretty damn sure the whole point of that session was to cancel), which is itself the sort of thing that a therapist should help someone upskill but apparently this therapist does not (lol at therapy financial incentives). But also due to the self-inflicted rule that was clearly some sort of self-enforced punishment to mandate a behavior, but which was quite possibly not good for anyone as it prevented them from working from their ideal location despite no meaningful connection between working from my living room and firing their therapist. 

Games played

I realized today what my job is: I’m a bounty hunter! I establish bounty-based contracts with people for achieving specific ends (often paired with a small retainer). I’ve now signed one agreement to this effect, with a ~70% chance of another coming in the next week. So far, I have happy clients. Now, ‘tis time for me to deliver. 

If only that friend had paid me the $100: she’d’ve saved $250 ($350 if she wanted the $100 back), and we’d both be better off. 

Brand Loyalty & Flightiness

Today I booked 14 flights for Partner and 4 flights for myself. She’ll end up taking 5 or 7 of them. I’ll probably take 2. I also cancelled 5 flights for Partner and 3 for myself. I have one final flight to book as soon as Partner’s Chase points transfer to her Southwest account. That’s 27 flight transactions in a single day. This isn’t how most people travel. But since Southwest allows for free cancellation and rescheduling (when one uses Southwest points for the purchase), Partner and I currently have a few thousand dollars worth of Southwest points. The flexibility is worth a significant amount of money to us; the company captures our revenue and earns the float on our points. We also have Companion Pass, meaning Partner flies for $5.60 on any flight that I take. 

We have a particular version of brand loyalty: the sort of loyalty that comes from aligned interests. If Southwest removed Companion Pass, I would drop them immediately. If they nerfed flight cancellations, they’d get less of my business (I’d fly less). That’s how I think about most versions of brand loyalty: I’m loyal to a brand because their promises are traits I want. But the moment they break those promises, I’ll leave. The best brands keep consistent values across generations. Nintendo started as a playing card company. Apple has had dozens of different product lines, some with impressive longevity (the iPhone is on its 29th generation). The successful years for Disney are the ones when they have compelling, family-friendly animation. 

I wonder if the dearth of options for previous generations, coupled with today’s novel speed of iteration, makes for less brand loyalty. Perhaps less loyalty in general. 

The world is a large, beautiful place. Explore. Fly somewhere. Use Southwest. 

Games Played

Partner, on the phone with Chase Bank: “I’d like you to… unsecure my account.”

Partner would like to clarify that she intended to say “un-scare”, which I also find amusing. (Partner’s credit card account was locked for security purposes.)

It’s hard to play the right amount of pickleball. 

It’s hard to play the right amount of pickleball. 

I think it’s the addict in me who seeks the previous high. And yesterday was a high! Even the first two games today were exciting and nurturing. I played well; I enjoyed the hits. But then my body just crumbled. I couldn’t control my muscles; my shoulder hurt; I cared less about winning and more about being done. 

But I played two more games.[1]

Who was I playing these for? Not for myself, for I would prefer a bath and a foot rub and an early bedtime. Not for my partners, for I’m not contributing my best to our team. Nor to my opponents, for my vibe isn’t ideal. 

I have a rule in New York City: when you need to use the toilet and a toilet is available, use it. Too many times have I wanted a toilet but not had one present that I established a rule. (NYC, unlike Seoul, is shoddy on public toilets.) 

I should establish a further rule about pickleball: If your muscles are no longer supporting high-quality shots and you’re not in a tournament, go home. 

Once, during warm-up for the last game, I thought, “This is not going to be a fun one. I could bail now, set them up with a different player instead.” But today I had friends willing to play with me. I didn’t grow up with many of those. I overvalue them now. 

“Something… something… therapy…” 

[P.S. I also set a personal record today for the incline bench press. Come on, Julian! Be intelligent, not just bull-headed!]

[1] Is it even fair to call these “played”? Nay: I suffered through two more games. I slogged. I trudged

Culture beats strategy

One of the players at the Riverside Park pickleball courts denigrates his teammates. He shouts “Come on!” when they miss a shot. He tells them how to improve. He’s the second-best player. No one wants to play with him. 

After my final match today, I hung back to chat with two of the players. Quickly, their comments changed to how awful it is to play with him. He’s good when he’s on. But what about those comments! And his complaints about the sun being in his eyes? Sure, it’s hard on lobs from the north side. But half of the shots he missed were groundstrokes! 

I laughed and listened and cracked a few jokes. I didn’t add to the opinions – gossiping about that player doesn’t help. 

One skill that clown school taught me: complicité. The ability to play with someone like they’re your best friend. The ability to know who’s minor (something like “follower”) and who’s major (leader). The ability to find joy and pleasure underneath suffering and failure and pain. 

This guy doesn’t have that. He’s not giving comments from a place of love. He’s not kind and gentle and light. His teammates suffer. 

His teammates don’t just suffer cognitively. They play worse. 

Pickleball is a team game. And it’s not one where a good player can cover their partner’s mistakes: The losing team is generally whichever team has the worst player. If you speak in a manner that makes your teammate worse, your team performs worse. 

There’s also an element of safety. Not only does your teammate perform mechanically worse when they’re self-conscious; they also perform worse as a teammate. There are plenty of circumstances where you and your teammate need to feel voids, fill space, and cover each other’s weaknesses. You also need to make macro-level shifts (if your partner doesn’t have a third-shot drop, you can’t close the distance to the kitchen). All of these improve when a player calmly observes the game. All of them suffer when a player feels nervous with their partner. 

Right before I joined this game, I felt nervous. After a few years off from pickleball, the rust was still coming off of my serve. I knew that I might miss some serves, which is a terrible sin (it’s a free win for the opponents!). But I also knew that I could make sure my peers enjoy the game. And in that case, even if I shank a serve or two, they’ll still want to play with me. Plus they’ll have a better time. Duh. 

My team won every game. 

You know how I said he was the second-best player? 

I’m the best.

My first gurgitation

Today, Partner and I rode the subway to Diversity Plaza in Queens for the annual NYC momo crawl. (Momos are dumplings originating in Tibet and Nepal.) 

When we arrived, the lines were long and the entry fee questionable. $15 for the passport, and then a half-hour per momo line? We walked to the end of the two-block festival. On the main stage, a woman announced the start of signups for the momo-eating competition. Immediately, I approached her. First name on the list. Partner scoffed at joining: she only recently shifted from soft foods to normal food after a medical issue. The competition was scheduled for 90minutes later, at 4:30pm. We both suspected we wouldn’t still be at the festival. Still, I signed us both up, following my sister’s sage advice: in New York City, grab the opportunity when it presents itself, and offload it later if you need. 

Partner and I ducked into a kebab restaurant that my foodie friends had recommended. We ordered a samosa and had a long talk about an important topic. When we returned to the world, it was already 4:10pm. We walked back to the mainstage. 

At 4:40pm, the announcer summoned me on stage. First to eat 6 momos wins. I arranged the momos on my plate. He counted down. Go! 

I stuffed the first momo in my mouth. Delicious flavor popped. 

Then the second. Third. 

1 minute 16 seconds later, the victor claimed his crown. I earned second place, at ~1minute 30 seconds. 

In the second heat, Partner competed in the very seat I had taken for heat #1. To spare her jaw the hard work, she ripped the momo into pieces, prompting the announcer to comment, “Very interesting strategy down here…” 

Partner received last place. I received second place. 

We both won, in that we both ate free momos. Even my sister won, since Partner brought her the two momos she didn’t finish during the contest.

My strategic update for my next gurgitation competition: 

  • Stuff my mouth with as much food as possible. Chewing is a planar force: twice the food in my mouth is chewed in less than twice the time. 

Next year, if I return, I’m winning that competition. 

Give me mo’. Give me mo’. Give me mo! 

Rock Never Dies

When I initially read the description of the Times Square Hard Rock Cafe show “Rock Never Dies”, I did not expect my review to be too much plot.

Had the show simply contained a loose plot of a time traveler going year by year, visiting great musical performances while out-of-work Broadway actors portrayed them on stage, that would have been enough. Had they removed the plot entirely and simply had a cover band with reasonable impressions of famous rockers, that would have been enough.

Instead, the audience received a melodramatic, plot-intensive weave through a young woman’s relationship troubles, the death of her father, her ouster from a rock band, her Scrooge-like visiting of historical female rockers, and a Prince who cannot play guitar. At one point during the show, stagehands deliver small lunch boxes to the tables. In these lunch boxes are multicolored ping pong balls, which we are encouraged to throw at the performers. I do not know how the performers feel about this. Perhaps they are excited to be involved in any sort of theater at all. I imagine it’s quite nice when you are an actor to have a job. I also imagine it is unenjoyable to have ping pong balls thrown at you.

When I was 15 years old, a friend and I used to play a game called sting pong. The game is played much like ping pong in that it starts with a point of ping pong. However, after the point, one player whacks the ping pong ball as hard as they can at the other player’s chest. Did I mention the game is played shirtless? It leaves welts. What can I say: we were teenage boys.

During tonight’s performance, the engenue protagonist, named Caroline, boasts four impressive features. The first is her singing voice, which is stunning. The second is her makeup, which is striking. Not striking in a good way, necessarily: simply striking, as though it is made to appear to an audience member in the 60th row and no one considered that the farthest audience member is only ~10 feet from her. The third and fourth are her left and right breasts, which are displayed before her in a clearly-intentional boosting. 

During the ball-throwing, one audience member was clearly attempting to land a ball between her breasts[1]. Another audience member commented how this was rude. I studied philosophy in undergrad. One key part of philosophy of ethics. One topic that we never discussed within my ethics schooling: If you are tasked with throwing ping pong balls at actors during an immersive theater event in Times Square, is it more rude to aim at the performer’s cleavage? In fact, I suspect it would be preferable if I were on stage to have someone throw said ping pong balls at any part of my body other than my face, and if the protrusion of my breasts attracts them to select this fleshy and soft part of my body rather than, as they say, the money maker, I would appreciate that selection. 

At the end of the show, I told the master of ceremonies – Egbert – that he had done a great job and suggested to him that he had been my favorite performer. He said thank you and that I had brought an incredible energy. It’s true: my table had been the most fun. First was me (always game to sing rock songs and throw ping pong balls at performers), then the four drunk women in their sixties, visibly on a girls’ trip together to New York City, who yelled “Boo!” and “Leave him!” at various points of the show as though they were heckling at a melodrama. The third most passionate was a man whose response to each performer mentioned was to tell us “I saw them live”. Least joyful was the woman one table away from us, who not only shot my table dirty looks but also threw the plastic ping pong balls at us rather than the performers. 

I received the tickets at an incredible discount, and it was worth every penny. Where else can you get a three-course meal, two ample breasts, and an egg-shaped maraca with which to demonstrate your enthusiasm? 

Plus, I can now say I’ve eaten at the Hard Rock Cafe in Times Square. I hear that is how one becomes a New York City local. 

[1] I recall teenage friends of mine playing a similar game at ~age 15, and dubbing it “boobsketball”. 

Return to the brine

Today I played pickleball for the first time in years.
My serve is rusty (and always was the weakest part of my game).
My reflexes are strong.
My touch is precise. 

At the beginning, I joined a middling game: a few people who think of themselves as rated at a 3.5 skill level. (Pickleball is the sort of game where everyone says they’re 3.5). 

The first game, I shanked 4/6 serves. I just didn’t have the mind-body connection. No idea what to do or how to do it. My team lost 11-9. 

The second game, I served 3 of 4 successfully. My team went down 11-3. (The opposing team hit every ball to my teammate, targeting the weaker player.) 

The third game, I served 8/9 successfully. My team won 11-5. I almost grabbed one shot on a rolling dive. When I’m playing a game, I’m completely in it

After the third game, I watched the remaining players. Only one game has players even close to my level. I’m certainly in the top 5 players out today, quite possibly top 2 or 3. Once I have my serve back, I’ll return to competitive. 

My serve has always been weak since I have no interest in practicing it. Every other part of the game, you can improve while playing. The serve requires drilling. (Why would I want to do that?) 

I watched for a bit, then headed home. I didn’t want to overdo it. I want to see how my knee feels tomorrow (after both the pickleball and the dive). 

I watched a few YouTube videos on serving. It’s amusing that I play so well but have such a poor serve. If I improve this one part, I level up drastically. (Turns out, that’s why.)

Maybe soon I’ll return to this park for more pickleball. It feels like running into a long-lost love that never broke up, simply petered out. It’s nice to see her, to touch her, to hold her hand in mine. The world is brighter when we’re together. The sounds quiet*, and the birds watch while together we dance. 

*dink, dink, dink…