#gratitudeNow: I'm on top of being overwhelmed

So there’s a feature in WeMinder called the Mood Thermometer. It’s a way for the two partners in the chart to convey to one another how they feel, and to know that the other person is aware of it.

I’m getting very, very close to being done with, and releasing the app. In one of my more recent updates I added A TON of new moods and icons to the software.

(The one for curious is so ridiculously adorable, it fills me with joy.)

Anyhow, the technique I use to get custom icons in, I have mastered it.

I was showing Missy the update a few days ago (because much like that bald guy with the hair club for men, I’m not just the developer of WeMinder, I’m one of its users) and she commented that there was one mood still missing, “overwhelmed.”

We picked an icon from the icon provider I use, and this morning, in about 10 minutes, I had transformed it from a pile of path objects and gibberish, into the lovely icon you see before you.

I have high hopes for WeMinder. I think people are going to really get a lot out of it, and that it’s going to be a hit. But even if it doesn’t, I’ve already experienced one of the key benefits of the whole endeavor. When I started, I wanted to get better at being a developer, to teach myself a bunch of things which would come in handy in my career.

And I have absolutely done that, and done it well.

#gratitudeNow: A Little Linguistic Power

So recently as I’ve been studying Esperanto, I’ve stumbled across something really cool, and a little… weird.

In Esperanto you can modify an adjective to use it like a verb. It’s somewhat akin to the English concept of the gerund, using a verb as a noun, like “swimming.” But while that feels natural to me, this other thing feels distinctly odd.

I’m happy to give you an example. You could say, “I’m happy” as…

Mi estas feliĉa.

But you can also write it as….

Mi feliĉas.

Which is sort of.. “I’m happy-ing.” Semantically they mean exactly the same thing. But stylistically, that second one is sort of oddball. It’s like speaking with a weird accent, maybe. I did a little digging, even found a note on the Esperanto stack overflow about it. (And who the heck would have guessed there even was an Esperanto stack overflow, am I right?)

Okay, so why do I care about this, and why should you? What’s the granda afero, the big deal here?

A few things.

First, using that odd style makes your Esperanto a bit less English-like, and more compact. So if you’re going for speaking discretely in public, making it harder for casual listeners to suss out what you’re saying, this helps with that.

If you’re a big, telling their little that their naughty behavior makes you unhappy,

Via fia konduto malŝatas min.

is a bit harder to discern for nosy vanillas than

Mi malŝatas vian malbonan konduton.

Second, that adjective-as-verb business is kind of a language hack for expressing certain ideas in consensual power exchange and ageplay relationships. Take the concept of feeling, getting, or being made to feel “little.” It’s super awkward in English to say that someone “littles” you. They make-you-feel little, or make-you-become little. Snuggling your favorite teddy bear might do that, for example. But there’s not a good, compact way to express the idea in English.

But not so in Esperanto. Take this sentence for example.

Panjo, ŝi malgrandigas min enmetante min en vindotukon.

That is, “Mommy, she makes me feel little by putting me in a diaper.”" Literally, “Mommy, she littles me, by putting me in a diaper.”

I think that is cool as hell.

#Important: Hi, Fidelity

So I have a daily practice of meditation and contemplation. I thought I might share with you my contemplation for today. It’s about fidelity.

Let’s start with a definition and how I interpret it.

Fidelity: noun

1. strict observance of promises, duties, etc.: a servant's fidelity.

2. loyalty: fidelity to one's country.

3. conjugal faithfulness.

4. adherence to fact or detail.

5. accuracy; exactness: The speech was transcribed with great fidelity.

6. Audio, Video.the degree of accuracy with which sound or images are recorded or reproduced.

In my head I sort of munge together all six of these definitions .

To me, fidelity requires me to understand my own values, my own moral and ethical requirements in order to keep to them with conviction.

And that’s kind of a big deal.

Lately with Donald Trump in the White House, with the pandemic raging out-of-control, with institutionalized and systemic racism more virulent than ever, with police brutality running largely unchecked, fidelity is crucial.

As anyone who knows me well will tell you, I’m kind of a pain in the ass.

I constantly question everything. I’m not a fan of the status quo. I don’t do things because anybody else does them.

So I have this strongly held belief in non-duality. I believe that every living thing is part of the same thing. Harm done to you, is harm done to me as well. Harm done by me, same deal. I am the universe expressing itself in this place in this time in this body. So is everyone else.

That puts me squarely in the place of trying to reduce harm. I can’t eliminate it. That’s just not possible. But I can do my best to reduce my “harm footprint“ as much as I can.

How that manifests itself has to do with my own fidelity to those values. I tend to be kind and compassionate as a default. I favor inclusion over exclusion. I am 100% willing to be called on my own shit. I always recognize there’s room for improvement.

I’m not perfect. I also sadly embrace the truth that there isn’t any such thing as perfect in the human condition.

I can be lazy, self-centered, sometimes thoughtless. It’s okay though. Part of my mindful practice, part of that discipline is recognizing I’m going to fall down and that it’s up to me to pick myself back up again .

Part of my contemplation about fidelity has to do with that part of the definition about clarity and detail. It takes time, effort, and energy for me to understand my own values. It also takes time, effort and energy to absorb those of other people around me.

And let me be clear about what I mean by that.

I mean that I need exposure to a person, to what they say and do to get a sense of who they are and what their values are. I also mean that when someone demonstrates a quality that is in line with my values or which I admire I tend to move toward them and try to emulate them.

But there’s another definition too. I also mean that I need time to figure out when there is a disconnect between myself and that person. That last part it’s often really hard for me. I have abandonment issues and I don’t like goodbyes. As I have gotten older I am learning that goodbyes are OK, often necessary.

Which brings me back to the whole fidelity thing, and to the current state of affairs in our nation. I don’t wish ill upon anybody. I’m generally not an “us and them” type.

I remember when Osama bin Laden was killed and people were parading in the streets celebrating. I didn’t celebrate. He was an inhuman monster, and should have rotted in a jail cell for the rest of his life.

I don’t believe in the death penalty for anybody.

I recognize that this makes me quite separate from most people, and an oddball. There are circles in which it would make me a pariah.

I still stick to it though because of fidelity to my values.

Here’s the deal: there are people who are pro-Trump for all sorts of different reasons. I don’t care what any of those reasons are.

Well that’s inaccurate . I care greatly. I figure the people who support him are either ill-informed, fearful, biased, selfish, or have been duped. I have this shortlist of people who I keep in my life who are pro Trump. They’re on the list because they have great meaning to me as people and the pain of losing them in my life outweighs my discomfort at their choice.

It’s a very small number.

Generally, when someone identifies themselves to me as pro Trump, or their actions reveal that this is so, or they even give Trump supporters a pass saying that it’s just politics I turn away from them. I don’t wish them harm, I just remove them from my life.

Because that choice to enable the great harm that that man and those who support him do is contrary to my fidelity. It’s not that I’m a Democrat and I want my side to win. I don’t have a side. There are no sides, to me. Sides are for contests and sporting events.

In my opinion people often treat politics like some sort of intellectual exercise. I’m known to have a fondness for food metaphors. People often treat politics like picking a restaurant. Do you want sushi or to go out for steak?

And sometimes politics are like that. What should we spend the county budget on?

But certainly not this time and certainly not in this place. This is more like asking does everyone deserve to eat? Or who gets food and who dies?

Let me be as clear as I can here too.

This is my contemplation that I am sharing with you. I’m not trying to convince you of anything, not trying to persuade you, not threatening you with the consequence of being booted out of my life. I’m taking a process I do daily and sharing it where you can see it. That’s all.

Over the past almost 4 years I have slowly but surely turned away from many people. I’ve also taken the time, focus, energy, and even money I would have spent on those people and put them towards other things, other efforts, and other people whose values share fidelity with my own.

#gratitudeNow: I'm not everybody's cup of tea

Or mug of coffee or whatever.

Actually, this particular blog post isn’t even about me, per se, but a dear friend.

Several months ago, this friend approached me about a problem. They were finally feeling their best self, living their authentic life. They felt in touch with their kinks, were getting social in the best ways, and feeling great about it.

And then, some “well-meaning” person broadsided them. In the interests of anonymity, I’m not going to reveal anything about either party, even gender. So let’s call my friend Oolong, and the well-meaning person Pekoe.

Pekoe said something to Oolong to the effect of, “you’re being super creepy and objectifying people, and everyone thinks so but won’t tell you.”

This devastated my friend Oolong. Who is sex-positive, feminist, compassionate, and kind.

It was also, as it turns out, completely untrue. Pekoe was having some sort of moment. They had come completely unhinged, and proceeded to make a whole lot of accusations about a whole lot of people, all in one go.

Okay, so why am I writing about this then?

Well, Oolong and I sat down for a virtual cuppa this morning (because Covid) and they revealed this truth to me.

“Ever been relieved and angry at the same time? That was me last night and still a little this morning.”

So we sat down and we talked it out.

And here’s what I said to them about it.

“First, and most importantly I’m relieved, sorrowful, and angry right along with you.
Second, this just doubles down my position on kindness and compassion as my default.
Third, this thing cements what I have been saying for a long time, about not chasing people. Looking for vetting, benediction, validation, or blessing from another human being is a brittle strategy.

Because people are fucking broken And in their dysfunction often do some pretty grievous shit to one another So a huge problem with chasing is that you’re reaching out for something you need from a source that may not have it Because people are messy bags of slop.

Some days I am in the zone, and got it going on. Other days I’m a damn mess So getting hard and fast guidelines from another bag of slop, to help me be less of a bag of slop... Probably not my best choice

So… I’m not saying to not seek out validation from others. Just to be selective and judicious about it. It’s what Brené Brown says.  Being vulnerable to somebody else, that’s an earned thing. People have to show their worth to me to be worth wanting to be vulnerable to them.”

The whole exchange left me feeling good about helping my friend, and just more resolute about my positions on things.

Yes, it’s nice to be liked. But I don’t require it. I’m not for everyone.

That’s a comfort.

#gratitudeNow: The Top Bag... for my friend Manuel

“You come home from a relaxing vacation and realize you have the wrong suitcase.”

So this morning, my friend Manuel messaged me, something he often does. Today it was with a writing challenge.

Well, this was just what I was looking for.

I’m deep, deep into working on my behavior app, WeMinder, and getting to a really tough part.

So I could use a small distraction. I’ve had sudden fiction (short-short stories, 500 words maximum) on my mind lately.

So when he messaged me about this prompt, asking for a word count, I suggested 500 and I was all-in.

Here’s what I came up with:

---

The Top Bag

— by Mako Allen

The mistake had started with that last strawberry daiquiri.  The ship was forty-five minutes out of port, his bag was packed, and despite it being the last morning, the bartender manned his usual post near the breakfast buffet.

“What the hell,” he’d thought.  Then had not one, but two for breakfast.  His shoulders were a little crisp with sunburn.  As the cool drinks ran down his throat, that sharp ache receded into a dull murmur.

He’d lumbered off the ship, pulling his black, cloth, wheeled suitcase behind him.  After a short cab ride, and an uneventful flight, he’d arrived in DC, and waited blearily by the carousel along with everyone else on the flight from Miami.

Maybe it was the dehydration, the sunburn, or the nap on the plane, but Leo was definitely feeling the beginnings of a hangover.

He grimaced as a loud klaxon sounded, and a whole flood of bags tumbled onto the carousel.  Including two cases which were nearly identical, stacked one atop the other.  Of course, he thought, that pattern of scuff marks made it clear which bag was his.  So he took the top bag.

It was only after a $47 Uber ride, only after he had carefully unbuttoned and peeled off his Hawaiian shirt, that he realized he had made a mistake.

There was no luggage tag.  And the bag was locked, with a combination lock.

Well, shit.

He called the airline, after fishing in his pockets for his bag check receipt, and spoke to someone in lost-luggage.  They assured him they’d track down the case, and get back to him.

Leo sat on the bed, idly fumbling with the lock.  On a whim, he tried a few combinations.

0-0-0-0 was a bust, as was 1-2-3-4.

He snorted immaturely, and tried 0-0-6-9.  The lock popped open with an audible “click!”

Knowing he was only compounding his mistake, he unzipped the bag, and looked inside.

And gasped.

If this had been his bag, the top part would have contained his dirty t-shirts, nestled around a bottle of coconut rum.  But in this bag it held… whips.  Well, some were whips.  They had long stringy tails, and thick braided handles.  There were also paddles, and some sort of split thing that looked like a tongue.

The bottom of the case held very shiny black clothes, a corset, fishnet stockings, and impossibly long high heeled leather boots.

Deep inside one boot was tucked a pair of clearly-not-clean panties.  Leo held them to his face, sniffing in deeply, and felt himself grow painfully erect.

He fished around inside the other boot, and came up with a business card.

“Mistress Jacqueline” it said, listing a Virginia phone number.

He grabbed his cellphone.

After one ring, a woman answered.  “Hello?”

“M.. Jacqueline?” he asked.  “I think I got your bag by mistake.”

“How did you get this number?” she asked.

Oh, fuck.