Tuesday 6/25/24
Don't be up to no good and you're less likely to get hurt.
On the weekend, the Bunker Hill Monument is full of out-of-shape adults yelling at their better-conditioned children to slow down between gasps of breath.
A very simple analogy: If I present the above statement as if I'm one of those adults, or someone thinks I am, then others are more likely to "like" me and to like that statement.
If someone thinks I'm a well-conditioned person who does not struggle as they would struggle, they will not like me and will take offense at the statement. I'm not saying this is greatness. But I did say we're doing an analogy.
This is how everything works now. It is the key to how people have their success. "I am a slug like you are in whatever way we're talking here. You could be me, I could be you, there's nothing about me or what I can do that is better than you or anything you can do."
Sucking is the key, greatness is the biggest impediment.
The internet and AI claw at you, trying to tear away your human mind. If I write something on here about a film or a book, or I watch something online, then the next time I am on Google there are suggested articles to me--all of which are poorly written, as if by an app, which speaks to how much everyone sucks at writing now--on those subjects. The machines do not want humans to think for themselves. They want to do the "thinking" as such, and take over.
The Panthers won their Cup and I guess that's how I would have wanted things to go--for the Oilers to come all the way back and lose. Not that I have anything against them. I prefer a series to go seven games and this one did so in a really interesting way. I think Connor McDavid--who did win the Conn Smythe--will be back, so he can spare the loss. He'll have other shots at winning the championship. This Panthers team likely will not. That's just the nature of the game, of rosters, and your window of opportunity.
The Panthers had a multi-year push with an arc. They had the best record in the league and were dispatched in the first round. Big disappointment. The next year they knocked off the team with the most wins in history--big disappointment for that team, my Bruins. They lost in the Finals that second year, came back this season with even greater resolve, and got it done. I find Paul Maurice to be smug and not as smart as he thinks he is, but that's a resilient team. They found a way by the thinnest of margins. I also don't mind that there's one less thing to compare the Red Sox' 2004 ALCS comeback to. And you had a close Game 7. Pretty compelling series.
If asked who I respected, my first answer would be service dogs.
Finished watching Oppenheimer. It's both too surface-y and too diffuse. A much more interesting story to tell in my view would have been from the life of someone at Los Alamos during their time there. Like a kid going to school or a spouse. That environment. With the backdrop. Things happening offstage. The hyped bomb test sequence? Flat. Big ball of fire special effects. Okay. Can really screw that up, though, can you, or do too much with it. It's like, okay, there are some token fire ball images. I got no sense of scope, either. Or scale.
Saturday I walked five miles, ran seventy-five circuits of stairs at the Connecticut gate, and did 100 push-ups. Another 100 push-ups Sunday, walked six miles, and did three circuits inside of the Monument. It was very humid and sticky. Not much yesterday--100 push-ups and ran a quick 1000 stairs. Sunday marked 2905 days, or 415 weeks, without a drink. (A note: I am fairly certain that it was in May of 2016 that I stopped drinking, but somewhere along the way, I made some mistakes in my book keeping, which I try to be on the ball about here. If I make it through to this Sunday--I never assume--that will be eight years, though in actuality I'm already past that. I pay for my errors.)
On Saturday when I was FaceTiming with Amelia she was eating one of those ice cream Drumsticks, which is like the size of half her head. She went about this methodically and finally I said, "Are you trying to have the ice cream go up your nose?" She just smiled, reached down for a paper towel, wiped it away, kept eating. I asked her if she knew who Cookie Monster was. Big smile. "I know Cookie Monster." "Well," I said, "you're like the Ice Cream Monster." She liked that.
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