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Saturday, December 20, 2014

Favorite Picture


Favorite animal+favorite fruit= favorite picture.

Is this not ridiculously incredible and adorable?!

HT to S

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Random LinkedIn Invitations

Considering today's significance in my own life, it's rather odd that I'd be writing, of all things, about random LinkedIn invitations, but eh, why not. I want to start writing again (on both blogs!) and writing about something random is better than not writing at all.

For the third time in recent weeks, I've gotten an invitation to connect on LinkedIn...by a frum girl that I don't know.

I don't remember if it's been every time, but I believe I've had shared connections with all of them. No one I'm close to mind you, and if they were attempting to set me up with a girl, it definitely wouldn't be going through LinkedIn. In one case, the connections are a shunned cousin and a former employee.

Now, if they were in a similar field to the one I'm in and were looking for a job, I could understand. But no, they aren't. Only of them is in a field that my business would even need. Accounting, in case you were wondering. But if that were the case, then you'd think there be an InMail to go along with the invite. Nope. Just the invite.

I'm at a loss here people. Why are frum girls inviting random frum guys to connect on LinkedIn? Is LinkedIn the new "I'm going to add him on Facebook because I'm interested"? Ya, no. At least, I hope not.

Then there's my response to the invitation. Accept? Ignore? Do I accept and then follow up with an InMail asking what's up with the invite?

Anyone? Any ideas?

Monday, November 10, 2014

Music to my Ears

Oh, Amazon, you are amazing. Not because of Amazon Prime, not because of your incredible customer service, but because of your music.

I called today about two issues that I was having, and I was, naturally, put on hold (in that sense, they are like every other customer service). Instead of playing jarring music, with random interruptions touting their services, they played classical music.

Two weeks ago, ordering contact lenses, i was put on hold and was ready to hang up. The music was painful. My ears were actually hurting.

Calling T-Mobile, the music sucked and they interrupted the music with some annoying dude talking about how awesome T-Mobile is.

I had to call Optimum last week to set up internet for an office I'm opening. Same as T-Mobile. Awful music, annoying dude.

And then I called Amazon. I got nervous about what music and annoying stuff they were going to be talking about when I was told I was being put on hold. You can't imagine how ecstatic I was when classical music started playing! I was in heaven.

Keep up the good work Amazon. A lot of companies could learn from you.

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Harry Potter, Smart A&&

One day, feeling under the weather, I decided to give "fanfiction" a go. I've read my fair share of it, and decided it would be fun to try my hand at it. I've always said that the one form of writing I'm incapable of is a story, plot and all. I figured, if there's to be a place to start, fanfiction, with characters already in place, would be it. It also allows for people to comment and let me know what they think. 

Disclaimer: I own not a whit of the Potter Universe. It's all JK's. I wish I owned some of it, but alas, I don't.

-HPSAHPSAHPSAHPSAHPSA-

"Harry Potter, I bestow upon you the title, The-Boy-Who-Lived."

Giggle.

Albus Dumbledore sighed, "I suppose I shouldn't have expected an elegant acceptance speech from a 15-month old."

"You're an idiot, whoever you are. What kind of a stupid name is 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'? 'Savior of Humanity,' 'Killing Curse Killer,' 'Scarface,' I don't know, but 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'? Honestly? That is bloody lame. You want an elegant acceptance speech, give me a good title."

Albus Dumbledore fainted.

Giggle.

-HPSAHPSAHPSAHPSAHPSA-

"Albus, how do you explain this?"

"I can't Minerva, maybe it has something to do with Harry surviving the killing curse," Dumbledore replied.

"I am right here you know, old man Albus. It's about time I learned your name by the way. And no, what the bloody hell could surviving a killing curse have to do with me being able to speak? What, you think Voldemort left a piece of him inside of me or something and shazam, I can speak?"

"Er, well, you see..." Dumbledore stuttered.

Harry Potter giggled hysterically. "You really thought that?"

"Young man, watch your mouth when speaking to the greatest wizard of our times!" Minerva McGonagall snapped.

"Old man Albus, here? He's the greatest wizard of our time? What about me, the "Killing Curse Conqueror"? C'mon... Please," Harry whined, before breaking out into giggles once more.

"Young man-"

"Minerva, he's only 15 months old," Albus soothed with a placating gesture.

McGonagall huffed, and glared at the precocious young boy.

"Harry, when did you learn to speak?" Albus asked.

"When I was 3 days old. Funny story, that. Padfoot was teasing me about my hair and I had had enough of it. So I levitated him into the bath and turned on the tap."

"Hold on," Minerva interrupted, "You did what?"

"Minerva, keep up, will you? I levitated him into the bath and turned on the tap. Anyway," Harry continued, blissfully unaware of the shock followed by a glare being directed his way, "Padfoot started screaming for help- I stuck him in place under the taps- so I let him know if he stopped making fun of me, I'd stop."

"You stuck him in place too?" This time it was Albus who interjected.

"Slow too, are you old man? Age getting to you? Get your ears checked, they say that's the first thing to go. And rude to boot, the both of ya. You two need to learn some manners."

Again, the adults in the room were too stunned at being put in their place by a 15-month old to come up with a coherent reply.

"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, my parents and Moony had burst into the room just as I finished giving my terms to Padfoot. The four of them up and fainted. It was finally quiet until Mum woke up. That didn't last long though. She looked up at me, went 'eep' and fainted again. That 'eep' was the first noise I had heard in 7 hours. The cycle of them all waking up and fainting went on for 2 days! 2 days! I had to feed myself, bathe myself, put myself to sleep- seriously, what 3-day old puts himself to sleep, I ask you- give them nutrition potions. Let me tell you, it was a traumatizing experience."

Albus put his hand up. "Harry?"

"You're supposed to wait until I call on you, but the hand-raising is a start."

"This story sounds very funny, but can we get back to the matter at hand?"

"Uh, hell no, I'm in middle of a story! Rule number 1: Never interrupt a story. That was Dad's rule. How that came about is also a good one! It all started-"

Seeing Minerva about to interrupt, Harry continued, "Wait, I'm in middle of a different story. That's what you were going to say, right?"

Not seeing the older lady's look of dismay, Harry took up his tale once again. "Where was I? Oh, right, traumatizing experience. Anywho, when they finally stopped their tiresome fainting and 'eeping' I insisted they all shower. Except Moony, that is. He was in his 'other' form, if you know what I mean?"

"OTHER FORM?" Both of them shrieked.

"OW! What the hell was that for? That hurt! Albus, you shriek like a girl. You should work on shouting like a man, not, well, whatever that was."

Minerva fainted.

"Oh no," Harry sighed, "Thank heavens you're still conscious, Albus. I'm tired of taking care of fainting people."

"Enervate," Dumbledore intoned, waving his wand at his colleague.

"Eep," was all Minerva managed before falling unconscious once more.

"That sounded exactly like Mum's!" Harry giggled.

"Enervate," Dumbledore tried again.

"Eep."

"Enervate."

"Eep."

"Enervate."

"Eep."

"Give it up, Albus, I have a story to finish, and besides, it took you a day of me waking you up before you finally stayed that way. I'm impressed she lasted this long." Harry said with a smirk. "That whole 'enervate' and wand-waving thing, totally overrated by the way."

Dumbledore fainted.

"DARN IT! I really wanted to finish my story!"

-HPSAHPSAHPSAHPSAHPSA-



What'd you think? Want more?

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Ethical Question

I recently discovered that I was in possession of forged money.

I tried using a $20 bill at a convenience store and was surprised when my buddy behind the coutner did a double-take when he saw the bill. He suggested that it was a fake, and then used that handy marker thingy to confirm his suspicion.

What.

Sigh.

I'm pretty sure that's a first for me.

I was with a friend at the time who said I "could try passing it off" to someone else.

I called a friend who knows more about these things than I do, and he told me that a bank wouldn't honor it (I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, but for some reason I was...a little bit.)

He then suggested what my friend did: pass it off to some unsuspecting fella and let them deal with it.

So, what would you do?

Option 1: Pass it on.
Reasoning: Who knows how many more hands it would pass through before it finally made its way to a bank. Maybe at that point it would be in poor enough condition that it would make its way through. Or, maybe it'll somehow get destroyed before it'll ever make its way to a bank.

Option 2: Give it to a bank.
Reasoning: Pray that the bank you go to has a policy of "we'll give you the money because we're going to pass it on to the FBI, who will then catch the people involved, who will then give us millions as a cash reward."

Option 3: Destroy it.
Reasoning: It isn't destroying money, because it isn't money. No one else should have to lose $20. I got stuck with it, let that be the end of it.

Option 4: Deliver it to the FBI.
Reasoning. See Option 2. I'LL get the millions cash reward.

Option 5: Cry.
Reasoning. I lost $20!

Option 6: Give it to a younger sibling/relative as a prank.
Reasoning: Do I need a reason?

Pretty sure the options have gotten exponentially worse, so we'll stop there. I do have more, but you'll have to ask for more to get more (what a horrible way to encourage comments!).

What would you do? One of my options or something else?

Let me know, in the comments below (accidental rhyme woohoo!).

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Saved by the Bell

I started writing a blog post about someone. Without getting into it, it wasn't the niiiicesssst of posts. It would have been done in a way that the subject would never have known it was about them. There would have been a disclaimer saying as much for anyone who might have thought it was about them.

Then my Calendar notified me about an event, a special event. An event that I started just that week.

"Don't speak Lashon Hara".

It was one of my sister's who called me with the idea that each member of our family would take on hours in which we would commit not to speak lashon hara, with the goal being that we would managed the entire 24 hours in a day.

The idea, I was told, is that it should be as easy as possible. Hours that you have a chavrusa, davening, sleeping, working, etc. It isn't supposed  to be difficult, it's just supposed to happen.

Except for a brother learning in Israel, we're all in the same time zone, so we couldn't have filled the hours with sleep, but if we could have, I'd imagine, we would have.

Thankfully, being in a largish family, we don't have to take on 6 hours each, so that's definitely a boon to it actually happening.

Anyway, as I was saying, I started writing this post about someone. And then, hashgacha pratis, my phone calendar notified me that I was up to bat for my family. I was on the clock towards completing my part in the 24 hours.

I had written two lines of what was going to be a poem, when I stopped myself.

Not speaking lashon hara is more than just "not speaking lashon hara," it's about watching what we speak!
As people I know love saying, "it's not just about the letter of the law, but the spirit of the law."

Halachically, could I have written the post? According to my limited knowledge of halacha, absolutely. Is it in the spirit of "guarding your mouth"? Eeeeeeehhhhhhhh, not so much.

So, thank you sis, for acting on the idea you heard, including me, and helping our family grow in Torah and Yiras Shamayim. You're an inspiration to me, the family, and undoubtedly others.

Thursday, July 24, 2014

ה' מלך, ה' מלך, ה' ימלך לעולם ועד

Been a while since I've blogged, commented on your blogs, or replied to your comments on mine, but this was too special not to share with you all.

Be inspired.



For the song and full lyrics of the second song, here it is.

\

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Leave a Message after the Beep

There's an art to leaving a voicemail. Depending on who the person is in relation to you, the reason you're calling, how busy they are, when you're going to see them next, when you saw them last, how frequently you see them.... you get the point.

I used to be that guy who would leave the most discombobulated voicemails ever. Worse, I would apologize at the end of the voicemail for how horrendous the message was. It was bad. Some people were amused and thought it was "cute" (not the adjective I'm looking for my voicemails to be described as), others not as amused.

As it turns out, I'm getting better in specific circumstances. My cousin called me and I missed his call. This cousin hasn't called me in probably around 5 years, if not more. He's 6 or 7 years older than me, married with, er, 2 kids (around that anyway), living in a different city, and incredibly busy. It doesn't help that I have 400 cousins (ok, 70-80). It also doesn't help that I'm busy.

So, when he called, I was flattered that he thought to call me, annoyed that I missed him, and traumatized that I couldn't take him up on his incredibly thoughtful offer that was time sensitive.

When I called him back, a few moments ago, it went to voicemail. Shucks. Now what? How do you impart your feelings when there's no response to what you're saying?

Well, I think I acquitted myself quite nicely. Not that I'll know until I speak to him, but I covered all the points I wanted to make and did so in a succinct fashion.

It was a great feeling realizing that something I had been so horrible at in years past, was something that I had managed to work on and improve.

What was even more amazing about the feeling was that I had actively worked on improving my leaving messages skills better and not seen any results until today.

It's always been hard for me to apply the idea that water droplets can wear down a stone as a way to work on middos. Thanks to something as simple as leaving a voicemail, I can see just how applicable it is.

"Sometimes life gives us lessons sent in ridiculous packaging."~ Dar Williams (whoever that is)

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Random Happenings

In the past few weeks, the following has happened:


  • Toiveled kitchen set. 6 months after I bought it.

  • Bought second kitchen set. For $25. (Princess Lea, don't yell at me...too much :-))

  • Toiveled second kitchen set.

  • Random two-day road trip. Went with 10 hours of notice.

  • BBQ in parking lot, presumably, illegally.

  • BBQ not in parking lot, but likely illegal spot.

  • Getting called out on taking advantage of a deal the store offers. What.

  • Ignoring multiple misdemeanors from horrible roommate.

  • People from one place calling ahead to the next about our imminent arrival.


If you want to read more about any of these things, let me know in the comments and I'll write it up for your reading pleasure.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

In a Bind

A host of mine has a daughter who is looking for a job. I have a position open in the company that she fits. I spoke to the host and offered to give her a shot. 

I spoke to her (on her father's phone). She told me that she isn't sure if the particular work I have for her is a strength of hers. Rather than hire her on the spot, we agreed that I'd give her some work to do and we'd take it from there. 

I emailed her the work I needed done. I told her to call me so that we can discuss before she begins. 

Then, nothing.

2 days later I emailed her asking what was going on (nicely).

Nothing. 

The next day she emails me asking for the lowdown. I emailed her back 8 minutes later suggesting she call me to discuss. 

Nothing. She has a smartphone, so it it's not like she needed to be in front of a computer to get the email. 

5 (!!!!!!!!!!!) days later she calls me. I missed the call because I rarely pick up the phone if it's a number I don't recognize. She left a message asking me to call her back and saying she'd call back later. 

She hasn't called back since.

Now, what am I supposed to do? I have a business to (help) run, and hiring someone who takes a week to call (when I told her off the bat we needed to discuss it on the phone), isn't good business sense. On the other hand, her dad is awesome and don't want to burn any bridges by telling his daughter to go fly a kite. 

I've hired people. I've fired people. I've turned down applications. But it's the daughter of a friend, and I don't think that's a tactic I can take here.

I understand now why mixing business and personal matters are not a good idea. I always understood the theory of it, but now I have the issue staring me in the face. And I have no idea what to do. 

What would you do?

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

She can call whenever

One of my Shabbos hosts, a good friend, has 4 delicious children. One of them in particular is ridiculously yummy. She has the most adorable smile, the cheekiest demeanor, is precocious beyond belief and is by far my favorite.

The things she says, the way she says them, is just...yum!

So when I received a phone call from my friend's phone, and it was her on the phone, I swooned. We spent a few minutes talking, or, trying to, anyway.

Did I mention she's two and a half?

My friend told me that she had been playing with the phone when he offered her the chance to call anyone. Who did she choose? Me! Not her aunts, cousins, grandparents, but me!

Best. Phone. Call. Ever.

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Marrying Up

Surprise surprise, I'm not perfect. I have my fair share of flaws, if you ask me, more than my fair share. Unfortunately, and fortunately as well, life isn't fair. God is though, and he decided that my share of flaws is what's perfect for me. Perfect for me, that if I overcome them, I will maximize my potential on this world.

When it comes to finding a wife, there are two trains of thought for what a woman can do for her husband. "Don't marry counting on her changing you" and "Marriage would help you overcome many of the challenges you face."

Well, that makes things nice and clear.

Are these two trains of thoughts meant for two different types of people? 

For myself, I think I know what would be better for me. I thrive under encouragement and support. That's just who I am. My internal motivation waxes and wanes with the frequency of the tides, or the rising and setting of the sun. One day I'm rocking and rolling, the next, to steal a Brooklyn phrase which is too fitting to ignore, "fuggedaboutit."

Yet, while knowing what's best for me, I feel incredibly stupid going into a relationship knowing that I'm counting on her to  help change me.

It gets better, for all of you girls currently shuddering in outrage, I have more. I'm not where I want to be with regards to my level of Judaism. I want to marry up. I want to get married to someone who shares my values, but is closer to the practice of those values than I am.

The colloquial "they" say that all guys marry up, but what's the norm for that "up"? Is there this enormous chasm between the two, with the girl patiently biding her time for her husband to shape up, or are the differences in religious practice minor and quick to change?

I know that I'm not where I want to be. For all of the great things about me, and I can say it, I'm a pretty good guy, there are so many things I see in myself that aren't up to par.

There are days where I'm 100% confident I'm ready to get married, and there are days where I'm wondering what the heck I'm thinking.

It's very disconcerting that, what is to most people, a very simple question, drives me crazy.

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

There's No Place like Home

I don't live with my parents. Haven't for years. Every year, Pesach, Sukkos and sometimes one other time throughout the year, I would end up in my home town. It's a wonderful place, with wonderful people. I like visiting and seeing all of my family and friends, but I'm exceedingly happy that I no longer live there.

As much as I enjoy going home for the Yomim Tovim, I enjoy coming back to my place even more. This year, more so than any other.

My sister was due Erev Pesach. So, my mom made Pesach at home, and then drove it in to the city where my sister resides... Lakewood.

Lakewood is a great place, by many standards. Unfortunately for me, most of those standards are not ones I share. Torah and halacha are of eminent importance, far more important than anything I can think of.

The buck stops there. Beyond the adherence to halacha and the value placed on Torah, me and Lakewood aren't the best of friends. We get along ok, tolerate each other, but I'm happy to leave, and if a city could have opinions on its visitors, Lakewood wouldn't be upset to see me go.

My siblings, bar none, have wondrous relationships with Lakewood. I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if they all ended up there.

Suffice it to say, I was not particularly pleased with the prospect of 1) Not going home and 2) Being in Lakewood for Pesach.

Suck it up, right? I did. I survived. But stepping into my place last night was the most exciting part of my Yom Tov- er, aside from the birth of a new, delicious, healthy nephew and the requisite Bris that followed.

There is no place like home.

Friday, March 21, 2014

It's Alive!

My last proper post was more than a month ago because of work. Specifically, a single project that has taken up my every waking moment. That is, every brain-working waking moment.

It's an enormous project and has taken more than 7 months to get to where we are today....nowhere close to finished. Thankfully, my primary part in it is almost finished.

A few weeks ago, I passed on a small part of the project to my team to take to the next stage.

This week, I had the opportunity to see the beginning of the results of my work.

Being an incredibly critical person, I spotted the flaws immediately. At the time, I wasn't excited, I was just critical.

Last night, at the office of the client, I showed one of the employees the work that had been done. Part of my job, obviously, is talking up what's been done and getting them excited about it. So, I hurried over the flaws and showed him the brilliance of what had been done.

By the time I was done, I was bursting with excitement. I wanted to shriek like a kid who had just received the toy of their dreams. It's amazing! It's beautiful! It works! It... it.... it... aaahhhhh!!!!!!!!!! It's ALIVE! The ideas, the pictures I had in my head, are being actualized.

It's funny, because the amount of work completed is 1/10,000th of the amount of work that still needs to be done.

I don't get excited about the results of my work very often. Don't get me wrong- I'm obsessed with my work. However, being neck deep in mind-twisting, unending solution-searching work, never mind the times where it gets tedious and mind-numbing, is exhausting.

For the first time since I started this project, I'm not only excited beyond imagining, I'm completely refreshed. I don't want to sleep. I don't want to do anything but work and finish this. The faster I finish, the faster I get to see more of the project completed.

Right now, this project is turning into something incredible. I can't even imagine what it will be like when it's finished.

It has taken hundreds upon hundreds of hours of work until this point, and will take many hours more, but the way I'm feeling now, I can't wait to do it.

I didn't think of this until just now, but the title is only partially correct. Not only is it, the project, coming alive, it's taking me along with it. That, I suspect, is what truly loving a job is all about.

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

I need a Movie Partner

I need a movie partner for tomorrow, er, today.

There's a movie, Particle Fever that's coming out today. It's a documentary about the Large Hadron Collider.

As far as I can tell, it's showing in only one theater in NYC. I'm desperate to go, but want to go with someone. If you're interested, email me please! learningtosaynothing@gmail.com

Here's the trailer:

Monday, February 24, 2014

I'm Hiring

I was talking with a friend the other day about how desperate I was to hire additional people to work for me and he came up with a really good idea: post it on my blog.

"After all, they're most likely web savvy and they obviously know how to write English really well."

Those are pretty much the only two major requirements for the job. Aside from the obvious honest, hard-working, etc. etc. etc.

The job can be whatever you want it to be. Part-time, full-time temporary, full-time with opportunity for growth. You make your own fortune. We're, BH, a growing company looking to expand. We're limited in taking on new clients only because we don't have enough people to handle all the work.

The work can theoretically be done from anywhere, but if they're living in NY, that would be best.

We have multiple openings.

If you're interested, or you know someone who is, please have them email me at learningtosaynothing@gmail.com

Thursday, February 13, 2014

The Power of Friends

It's 12:41 AM at the time I'm writing this.

I had an absolutely horrible day. It ranks among the worst that I can recall.

I got it over the head from several people.

I took it hard. Really hard.

I used to be a really sensitive guy and took everything that was told me to heart. Once people discovered that I didn't have skin never mind thick skin, well, the party lasted 17 years. It was tough and left me with several skeletons in my head. Over the years, I've gained a skin and learned that not everything is my fault, I'm not a worthless piece of garbage, etc.

I felt normal. I succeeded and I failed like every other human on the planet. When I failed, it didn't mean that I was worthless. When I succeeded, I didn't feel like I was the most important person in the world.

I was a person. A valuable person who could contribute to the world in some way. Far be it from me to know what that final contribution will be, but I knew it would be something, and something positive.

Today, I fell to pieces. Completely. "I'm worthless." "Nothing I have ever done has any value." I can't do anything and never will do anything." "I'll never get married and should not get married." These thoughts and myriads of others pounded my head endlessly, all day.

A few hours ago, I recognized the complete mess I was in. I also realized that nothing I was doing was working to get me out of the funk. I wracked my brain to think of a person I wanted to talk to who could help (who wasn't incredibly busy with school or work).

One person came to mind. I texted him at 9 PM and asked if he was free. He called me back at 12.

He then proceeded to give it to me over the head, joining the others in the theme of the day.

He picked me up. Put me back on my feet. Cleared my head. Brought me back to Earth. Reminded me that I'm not the first person to make a mistake. Reminded me of my strengths. Reminded me of the person he is proud to call a friend.

There's a famous vort that is said about the story of Iyov. Why is it that the Satan, who was given carte blanch, to do what he wanted with Iyov, didn't take away his friends? His wife, his money, his health and everything else he had the Satan took away, but throughout the story, his friends remain with him, conversing.

The answer given is because friends are the one thing that people can't do without. Pain, poverty, sickness are all things that can be overcome, but without friends, it isn't possible.

I understood in an intellectual sense what that vort meant until tonight. Now I get it wholly and completely.

I would have been lost without my friend tonight. I would not have been able to pick myself up. I had tried and tried, but couldn't do it.

When I couldn't do it, my friend did it for me. The Power of Friends.

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Chemistry is Real

You may have read the title and rolled your eyes.

"Uh, duh, of course chemistry is real. What does that even mean?"

Let me explain. A few months ago, after a fourth date that I thought went really well, I got a call from the "shadchan" telling me that the girl said no. I insisted on going out again (I would normally  never dare, but I felt there was something there) so the girl called me herself to explain why she was saying no...and say no again :-( :-P

"I didn't feel like sharing anything about myself with you."

Ouch.

I had no idea what that meant. I mean, it was a fourth date! Who would be able to pour out their life story to a date, with all of their troubles and skeletons after going out 4 times?

Jump to last night.

I got it.

While it was a fun date, there was, on a scale from 1-10, a 0.7 on the chemistry spectrum. It wasn't that I don't think she's a wonderful girl, because she really is. I just had absolutely no pull to tell her anything about myself. I felt, er, unexcited about calling her or spending time with her.

Until last night, when I heard the stories of dates saying "I didn't feel any chemistry" I would cynically say that he/she was using that as the generic excuse to not have to say something potentially offend the receiving party (which, in my humble opinion, is fine. I'd prefer a girl to not believe the "chemistry" reason than tell her I found her extraordinarily unattractive.)

Sometimes the reason of "I didn't feel any chemistry" is just that: the reason.

Oh, and hi y'all. I'm back :-)

Thursday, January 9, 2014

Letting Go

I have high expectations of myself. I cried the night I got a 98 on a final exam. I had a half hour meeting with a professor and a 45-minute meeting with a department head because I got an A instead of an A+ on a class (which makes no difference on my GPA). I couldn't sleep the night before an exam because I wasn't convinced I had studied enough for a final (I had :-)). I took more time to revise a 10-page paper than it took me to write it.

You get the point. I'm insane. Not only about school, but in pretty much every facet of my life (and a miserable failure, but hey, I try).

It used to be OCD. (I self-diagnosed myself on that, but... Well, I'm not going to give details for fear of sounding more insane so you'll just have to trust me on that.) I got over it after years of hard work.

Until this week, it was perfectionism to an extreme in everything I did. If I was going to do something, then Heaven help me, I was going to do it right.

Meh. Not anymore. This week, I woke up and realized, nope, it just doesn't matter. I just don't care anymore. I refuse to not sleep, lose weight (which I don't have much of to begin with), lose my appetite, live on coffee, be in a perpetual state of stress and stop dating (!!!!!!!!) because of classes I am taking voluntarily. Pure. Insanity.

That's that. Papers will get written, exams will be taken, projects will be completed, but nope, I don't care what my post-bac GPA looks like; my GPA has been beautiful until now, and if it suffers from a less-than-stellar semester where I was working more than full time, so be it.

Dang, what a relief.

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Google It!

I'm the go-to guy in my entire extended family when it comes to computer questions. Somehow that happened. I'm not really sure how.

I'm very happy to help anyone who asks for anything if I can. I've spent many hours on the phone with relatives and friends helping them.

When I get calls from some of them, I already know that after the formalities are dealt with, a computer question is coming.

Recently, a friend sent me the below picture. It's too perfect not to share.

I don't have a lot of time at the moment being that it's the end of the semester and I'm going out of town next week, but I have a few minutes now because I'm in a boring meeting :-)


Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Not Just Me

The other day, I asked a client (on a Google document) a question with one of two possible answers. He replied, "good question!" I, being unable to answer the question for him, wrote back, "Let me know what you want."

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

"Is that a command??" came his fast comment.

Oh boy... I had been specifically brought into this project to fix our relationship with this client after a coworker had made a complete and utter mess of things. And what's the first thing I do? Make a mess of things.

I wrote a lengthy comment on the document apologizing and followed that up with an email reiterating how badly I felt about it and all but swore it would never happen again.

His email reply: What nerve! Who do you think you are to apologize to me?!?

Around then is when I had a full-blown panic attack. Heart palpitations? Check. Feeling weak? Check. Breathing difficulties? Check. Feeling a loss of control? Check. Sense of terror? Check with an exclamation mark.

This was definitely not what my boss had in mind when he brought me on to the project.

I sat in my chair, Freaking. Out. I couldn't believe it. It made no sense. I knew this client was far from ecstatic with the mistakes of my predecessor, but an explosion of such epic proportions over a poorly phrased request? Oh. My. Goodness.

After sitting there numbly for a few minutes, I decided to backtrack to where it had all started: my poorly phrased request. There, sitting prettily next to my apology, "C'mon, loosen up!"

Ever felt incredibly relieved and ready to kill someone at the same time? I can cross that off the "I'd rather pass" bucket list. I wanted to fly to his country of residence and... Well, I needn't write it.

What a stupid, idiotic, dastardly thing to do!!! The agmas nefesh I was forced to go through because he was in a "playful" mood! Aaaaghhhhhh!!

What is wrong with people??

It's nice to know I'm not the only one struggling with Learning to say Nothing. Thankfully, I've already learned how not to play cruel jokes, unlike some other people I have the misfortune of having in my life.