Tag: Love

The Community of my Community is my Community 

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Tonight I helped a friend of a friend think through his work plans. He lent me a book from his shelf that I enjoyed leafing through. 

I like this group of friends that this this friend has. I’m three for three on liking them (I’ve liked him and two of his friends). My normal hit rate on befriending people is probably in the single digit percentages. 

They’re 25 years old. I’ve got 8 years on them. Not necessarily 8 years wiser; just 8 years. 

The conversation started when he complained that the company he wants to work for re-posted the job he applied for. They didn’t reply to his resume and cover letter two weeks ago: just re-posted the job opening online. I suggested he walk into their office tomorrow. Dress nicely, bring a copy of your resume and cover letter, find a way to talk to the would-be-boss. Tell them “I like what you’re doing and would love to help.” Know some info about the guy. It’s an assistant role: be ready for that particular guy. It’s a big city: you gotta stand out. 

He liked my advice. He plans to execute it. Even if it fails, he’ll have Done The Thing. Doing The Thing increases your ability to do. If you walk into 400 theater companies in nyc, one of them will hire you. Or at least you’ll get some exercise. 

I wonder whether I like helping this group of guys because it’s the same generation as the youth group I used to advise. Similar friendly banter. Same camaraderie. Same desire for impact and intellect. Same idealism. 

I like being helpful. I like where life is. 

He lent me a book. How to Survive the Modern World. I would like to do that. I would like to Survive. 

I like exchanging gifts. That’s how you make friends. 

Games Played 

“You’re forgiven for making me leave the house.” -Partner, after I brought her delicious fried chicken (delicious fried chicken in Harlem? What a surprise!)

Me: “When is the delivery driver expected to arrive?” 

Delivery company dispatcher: “He’s on Broadway.” 

Me: “Broadway is a reasonably large street. Do you have a cross street?” 

(This is an instance of “Tell me you don’t live in New York without telling me you don’t live in New York.”) 

Firing the wrong person

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Someone conscripted me for a project. 

I wasn’t super interested. 

I didn’t know the team, didn’t care about the topic, and the scope was out-of-wheelhouse. 

Still, they wanted to take on the topic, and the money was fine. 

The structure: a two-week work trial. We produce one article, after which the company may extend our contract. 

Someone & I worked on it for a week. Someone put in ~80% of the hours; I structured the content. We sent The Boss an outline. 

The Boss was livid. “Unacceptable”, he said, along with other epithets. He didn’t like the appearance, completely ignoring key traits and lacking in curiosity. I said to Someone, “If he replies like this, the price of the actual work just went up.” 

We hopped on a call. I spoke most on my team’s behalf: Someone prefers I do the talking because Someone wants me to own the relationship going forward. 

Afterwards, The Boss called Someone for a one-on-one. The Boss wants to drop me from the team. The irony? It wasn’t my work! I was just the point of contact! 

Someone told him they don’t have bandwidth to shoulder this whole load themselves. I’ll still send him a finished draft, because that’s what we agreed. Then maybe he’ll seek to only hire Someone for the bigger project, despite a misread of the situation. 

There’s irony for ya. 

If I cared, I’d care. But I don’t; I just find it funny. 

In the “Do good work, turn it in on time, and have people like you” world of freelancing, with this particular gig, I’ve nailed the first two. The third one? Fortunately, it’s a “choose any two”. 

Games Played

“I was going to ask you what the Jewish creation myth is. I then laughed at myself when I thought of the question.” — Partner, who was raised catholic.

Adverse selection and dental decay

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Adverse selection means the lower-hanging fruit is likely to be worse. If it’s more accessible and others have elected against it, there is usually some reason. Since most people desire similar qualities in their fruit, the remaining low-hanging fruit is likely to be worse. Thus, adverse selection. (It’s also why that shockingly-available parking space is more likely to be a red zone than an actual parking space, and why stock traders accepting deals without knowing why they exist are more likely to lose than win.) 

Today I went to the City College in Brooklyn for a free teeth cleaning. I scheduled the appointment with Daynef yesterday. She told me there’s a $20 facilities fee, but she’s happy to pay that for me. 

Today, after three hours, my teeth are no cleaner than they started. 

At 5:58pm, I arrived to City College. At 6:03pm, Daynef ushered me upstairs. At 6:10pm, I began filling out paperwork. From 6:17pm to ~6:40pm, we waited for a supervisor to review my paperwork. At ~7:17pm, Daynef began examining my face. At ~7:45pm, she began examining the inside of my mouth. At ~8:16pm, Daynef began measuring my periodontal depths. At 8:56pm, Daynef discharged me with a referral. She told me that, if I come back, they can do the actual cleaning and the xrays. 

I will not come back. 

If this were actually what was promised (a free cleaning, the only cost being that it takes 3hrs of my time instead of 1hr), I would be very happy. I downloaded a new audiobook today and haven’t yet established care with a new dentist (I recently moved, and my insurance is likely to change soon). But three hours for no cleaning is an abject failure. 

Yet again, Brooklyn disappoints. 

I enjoy enjoying paying

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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

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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.) 

The Bounty Hunter

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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. 

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

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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. 

Too much insufficient conflict 

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I realized today that the amount of conflict in a relationship does not necessarily align with the quality of the relationship. 

One of my game-playing buddies is a high-conflict person. The two of us have a high-conflict relationship. (I bet he has a high-conflict relationship with everyone.) 

Another is a low-conflict person. I have never seen him in conflict with someone else. 

I enjoy playing games with each of them. 

Some family dinnertables are full of raised voices and spirited debate. 

Others are calm and gentle. 

Today I played a single game with both of those people: one on my left, the other on my right. Low-conflict on my left, High-conflict on my right. 

Mid-sentence, I caught myself code-switching. High-conflict person will make some super aggressive claim. I’ll tell him, “That’s insane. You should have done it this way instead.” Then I turn to low-conflict and ask calmly – like a kindergarten teacher: “What would you do differently?” 

High-conflict can get to truth faster, in an engineering sort of way. Low-conflict is more rejuvenating. High-conflict is the storm; low-conflict is the calm after. 

My main dissatisfaction with relationships stems from wanting high-conflict when it’s low-conflict, or vice-versa. And a specific relationship is not always best in a single state. Sometimes I’ll get annoyed at Partner for nitpicking something I say (implying she’s higher conflict than I desire at that moment). At other times, I’ll say to her, “I”m feeling spicy. Let’s fight about something” (I want more conflict than the moment is giving). Monty Python even has a line pertinent to the topic: a man enters an argument clinic to purchase an argument. In the middle of the argument, he says, “I don’t want to argue about that.” (at 3:22 in this sketch)

Most of my social dissatisfaction stems from wanting more conflict (feeling bored) or less conflict (feeling drained). 

As the Buddha would say, one must accept the conflict. Even the conflict containing insufficient conflict containing too much conflict, containing…? 

Yes, even the self-possessing recursion, spiraling ever downward. 

Funcle 2: the Re-Funcling

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When my sister birthed her first child, the world stopped. Oma and Opa booked a dozen cancellable flights in case of varying timings, then flew into town a week early. Partner & I waited around, there simply to be there in case we might maybe be needed. 

Today, my sister birthed her second child. This one was less of an event. Neither was particularly event-ful, but this one simply less. No one is staying up late to see the baby. Partner is on the other coast, returning here in a week. I’m sure I’ll swing by at some point tomorrow to see my new nibling, but nothing is planned and it’s all very chill. 

I wonder if primogeniture comes from that new-ness. From the fact that, for a first child, there is no competition. If grandparents were to be temporally equal, for instance, they should give the second child more attention than the first kid. The first kid had a few years of only-ness. A parent may love all their children equally for their whole lives. The first kid still got more love. 

It may equally come from implementation ease. Youngest kid is less predictable and less stable. It creates even more resource competition between siblings, and kids have enough of that as is. 

I’m excited to love my newborn nibling. Now that I know how to love a nibling, I’ll be more skilled in some ways (my nephew taught me). But I’ll also probably be a bit calcified to him (my nephew taught me how to be a funcle for him). Habits don’t die; they simply go underground. 

My job is to treat this kid as its own person. To show up and hold them and learn who they are. To learn who I am in their presence. To build our own relationship. 

I’m delighted to meet them. I’m excited to be their friend. 

Welcome to New York

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A buddy had a Medical Issue. He hadn’t spent a night away from home for the last 6 months. I told him he should visit. I asked what he needs. He described to me a Minor Medical Necessity that he needs every day – something akin to using a needle to draw blood. He’s squeamish around blood, so a family member helps him. We hopped on video while his family member performed the task. 

I’m not super squeamish, so I gave the thumbs-up. Less than 24 hours later, he arrived to my guest room. 

Today at 1pm, we went to a play. At 4:10pm, we left the play. At 4:30pm, we arrived at a friend’s birthday party. At 8pm, I left the party. My friend stayed behind. The time is now 11pm. I assume he’s still there. He hasn’t socialized outside of his family in a long time. He’s a severe night owl. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s out until 2 or 3am. 

His family member texted me, asking how the Minor Medical Necessity went. We haven’t done it yet. I didn’t expect him to stay out so late. Perhaps we’ll perform it when he returns at 3am. Or perhaps this “every day” will be a 36-hour stretch between two performings. It’s an odd situation where I’m responsible for doing it, but I don’t feel responsible for making it happen. (I’ve shared this perspective with him. He must habeas the corpus. If he’s out til 9am, I’m not going to see him til the morning.) 

I made for this guy a nice evening. I had a nice time at the birthday party. My friend enjoyed it even more than me. 

He just called me. He’s not coming back for a while. He’s befriended a few people. He wants to have them over for board games. I asked about the Minor Medical Necessity. He says it’s fine: we can do it in the morning. 

I’m not a doctor, and this wasn’t laughter, but I think ‘tis a helpful dose of medicine. 

The next morning I awoke to this message: 

Games Played: 

  • After listening to yesterdays npr story, one reader sent in the town of Show Low, AZ.