Fore!
From the New York Times
In observing people’s need for accomplishment, Dr. Seligman says, he’s reminded of his early experiments that famously identified the concept of “learned helplessness.” He found that when animals or people were given a series of arbitrary punishments or rewards, they stopped trying to do anything constructive."We found that even when good things occurred that weren’t earned, like nickels coming out of slot machines, it did not increase people’s well-being,” he said. “It produced helplessness. People gave up and became passive.”
So, you have to participate in order to be happy. So go make yourself happy
If I was a poet I would write about seeing my reflection on the platform. My 16 years ago self, pushing a stroller full of a little boy and with her (my) watchful eye on the chatterbox big boy, leaning over to spy the oncoming train.
She might have pulled her babies closer when she saw me studying her (my) family. But she didn't. I was going to tell her that she was me, before. Instead I sat across them and eavesdropped on a conversation I had had, before.
Then I saw the back of my father a few seats up. His bright white hair held down by the strap of his baseball cap, and wearing the gray jacket that is much too light for a cold winter's morning. Why won't he wear a warm coat?
And, maybe it was the moon that filled my eyes with loss and love.
Merry Christmas.
While I am loathe to admit it, I danced on a lighted dance floor. I did The Hustle. I was quite underage to be going to clubs, but that's what we did. Those were the times I grew up in.
And I was saved.
Saved by The Clash, like Train In Vain.
Saved by Bob Marley, like One Love.
Saved by Parliment, including Atomic Dog.
Saved by Prince, like Controversy.
Saved by the Talking Heads and the other Elvis, what's so funny?
Saved by Grandmaster Flash The Message.
Saved by a great musical base formed by listening to the radio, growing up in Motown.
Got me on a path through the worst of 80s music to the nirvana of the next decade.
Sitting down at fabulous POV Rooftop Lounge at the W Hotel we were well prepared for the reputed poor service and mediocre fare. We knew that's the price you pay for one of the best views in Washington, D.C.
Looking over the lame, pedestrian beer list, I spied the shining star--Dogfish Head 60 Minute IPA. It's a really well-balanced, hoppy hoppy beer. That's what I wanted.
But it was not to be. And do you know WHY? Because they ran out during the snowstorm and haven't gotten any in.
I'm like, "Hunh? The storm was almost three months ago. You all need to get a more up-to-date excuse than that."
The server looked confused.
I mean. Really? The snow was in early February. It's end of April now. Really? That's the best you got?
We skipped the 6th hole because of a ridiculous water hazard. It was hungry for golf balls. And I would have beat Johnny if it wasn't for the abysmal first two holes. Just sayin'.
This is just some scraps from my world. Nothing earth shattering. Nothing that overlaps with my professional persona. Just me. And some scraps.
