Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 126

Don’t roll your eyes at me. For your own sake.

It’s 6:30 AM on a Thursday. I’ve just requesting cash from an ATM inside my local grocery store.

It might be the first time I’ve used an ATM in years. Probably since the pandemic first landed on our shores. Venmo has all but eliminated the need for cash in my life, and I have a friend who often pays me in cash, serving as my own personal ATM. But on this day, I need cash to pay a vendor who only accepts cash or check, so I decided to grab cash while I was shopping.

As I grab the cash from the slot, the ATM flashes the message, “Your transaction is complete.”

I said, aloud, “Hell yeah my transaction is complete.” I say it with genuine enthusiasm. Happiness over a task complete. Positive self talk. It’s a practice I use constantly, both because it makes me feel great and is supported by science.

I explain all of this in my upcoming book, Someday Is Today.” Preorder now from wherever you get books.

When you’ve finished preordering my book, you, too, can say, “Hell yeah my transaction is complete.”

Try it. It feels good.

When I say it to the ATM in response to its message, a woman standing about ten feet away looks over and rolls her eyes at me.

Maybe she rolls her eyes because I’m talking to a machine. Maybe she rolls her eyes because it’s 6:30 AM on a Thursday. Maybe she rolls her eyes because she’s spotted a spider weaving a web in her eyebrows.

But I suspect that she rolls her eyes because she’s unhappy and can’t stand watching someone be happy, particularly at this hour, on this day, for this seemingly trite reason.

A month ago, I watched a man and a woman high-five each other after finding an outstanding parking spot outside of a bookstore on Crosby Street in Manhattan. They climbed out of the car, paused on the sidewalk to admire the admire the spot, then congratulated each other for their luck.

Oddly, there were many available parking spots up and down Crosby Street at that time, and since it was after 6:00, parking was free for all of them, but still, these two people were thrilled with their success and not afraid to express their emotions publicly.

I didn’t roll my eyes. I smiled. I’ve been thinking about those two people ever since.

I loved those people.

Had that man and woman heard my tiny celebration at the ATM on Thursday morning, I think they would’ve loved me, too.

And I think all three of us are probably happier than the eye roller, not for any external reason, but because we understand how to acknowledge and celebrate our achievements, even when those achievements are tiny and simple and seemingly mundane.

Our brains are listening to us at all times for clues about how we feel and will respond in concert with the words it hears us say. That sounds a little crazy, but it’s true.

It’s why just saying that you’re happy will make you happier. Saying that you’re tired will make you more tired. Saying that you’re hungry will make you hungrier We can change our mood simply by the words we choose to say aloud.

It’s true. Read my new book – since you’ve already preordered – to learn more.

So we can either offer our brains reasons to help us be happy, or we can roll our eyes and inform our brains that we are soulless, downtrodden, uninspired, beleaguered sad sacks.

One will cause our brain to release chemicals that will improve our mood. Boost our energy level. Positively alter our disposition

The other will release chemicals that will make us feel even worse.

The eye roller probably thought that I was crazy, but I think she’s crazy if she’s moving through the world, rolling her eyes at people expressing joy, regardless of the time, place, or reason, when she could be doing the same and probably feel better about her life, too.

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Best rugby player ever

In case you haven’t seen this 42 second video yet, this is the parental dream.

An uncommonly brilliant child would be great.

A tenacious, relentless, persistent child would be fantastic.

A child who takes great pleasure in folding laundry and sweeping the kitchen floor would be appreciated beyond measure.

A child who pays for their own college tuition through an unexpectedly successful lemonade stand would be unbelievable.

But I would take this over all of that every time:

Storytelling is for everyone

I often say that everyone should learn to tell a better story, for lots and lots of reasons.

My TEDx Talk from last summer offers five of those reasons.

My recent TEDx Talk – released later this summer – offers several more.

My next book on storytelling – whatever it may be – will offer many, many more.

Storytelling can enrich the lives of everyone, regardless of who you are and what you do.

This week someone challenged this assertion, arguing that because I’m so invested in the art and craft of storytelling, both on the page and on the stage, I see it as more relevant and important than it really is. So I made a list of the clients who I worked with just during the month of April.

That list includes:

A wildlife photographerAn app developerTwo YouTube personalitiesA therapistA podcasterAmazonSomeone preparing for a wedding toastAn attorneyA fellow competitor in a Moth GrandSLAM competition in BostonSeveral marketing, communications, and product executives in a large technology companyJohn Hopkins UniversityThe Oregon bar associationThe CEO of a manufacturing companyA ministerA high school student preparing to  apply for collegeA college professorThe owner of a retreat center

These are all people or organizations who recognize that storytelling can help them achieve their goals, improve profits, and make stronger and more meaningful connections with the world around them.

Don’t see yourself represented in this list?

That’s just one month of consulting.

In 2022, I’ve already added several first-time professions to my list of clients, including rapper, Olympic athlete, toy designer, hair stylist, physical therapist, and interior designer.

There are probably others that I’ve already forgotten.

Whoever you are, no matter what you do, telling better stories can help you find greater happiness and success in your life. It can make you better known to yourself and others.

Tell stories.

Stupid food names taste terrible in our mouth

On Saturday, we joined the in-laws for dinner at Wood-n-Tap, a lovely restaurant along the Farmington River.

When it came time for Clara to order, she stumbled over the words while speaking to the server, practically spitting them out of her mouth.

“You want a quesadilla,” I asked. “Right?”

“Yes,” she said. “Bleh. I hated how that felt in my mouth.”

“What?” I asked.

“The name,” she said. “The stupid name.”

I looked at the menu. The quesadilla on the children’s menu is called a Kids-a-dilla.

I don’t blame her. What a stupid name for an entrée. Just call it a quesadilla.

I had a similar problem this week. A friend was buying me lunch at a place called Doro and asked for my order.

“The grilled cheese,” I replied. “They call it something stupid. I can’t remember the name. But it’s a grilled cheese.”

The name on the menu?

Melt My Cheese Please.

Like Clara, I’d feel stupid saying, “Could I have a Melt My Cheese Please, please?”

I don’t mind a clever name (though puns are the worst). But when it comes to food, call it like it is. No need to enhance the name of your offerings with meaningless cuteness. Cook good food and serve it well. Don’t try to impress us with the name of that food.

Clara wanted a quesadilla. I wanted a grilled cheese.

It doesn’t need to be any more complicated than that.

Clara in the front seat!

Clara had a tough day at school. She learned that one of her friends was moving away at the end of the year.

I understand this pain well. Many of my friends have moved away over the years, and it’s awful. People placing their own lifestyle and career choices over their ability to spend time with me is inexplicable and foolish, but thus far, I haven’t been able to stop any of them from leaving.

Understanding her pain, I agreed to take her to Panera for dinner.

The kids love Panera, but Elysha and I try to avoid it whenever possible simply because we end up paying $413 for a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of macaroni and cheese that would’ve cost us less than a dollar to make at home.

But money be damned. My daughter was sad so Panera it is!

As we left the restaurant an hour later and were crossing the parking lot, Clara said, “Hey Dad, can I sit in the front seat?”

“No,” I said. “You know you need sit in the back.”

“Actually, Mom looked it up,” she said, “I’m old enough and tall enough and weigh enough to sit in the front seat now. ”

“Really,” I asked.

“Yup.”

“Okay,” I said, but in my mind, I was thinking, “We’re really doing this? This is the moment you move from the backseat to the front seat? Am I really ready for this?”

I was thrilled when we could finally turn Clara’s infant car seat around so that she was facing forward. I was overjoyed when Clara migrated from the car seat that required me to strap her in like a NASA astronaut to something she could do herself. These were all positive steps forward.

But from the back to the front?

I felt like this was a momentous occasion. A rite of passage. No one had prepared me for it. No one had warned me that today was the day when my little girl and I would be driving side by side. I wondered if we should wait until Elysha was present to experience the moment, too. Would she be angry about missing this first ride in the front seat?

Ultimately, I agreed. Clara climbed into the passenger seat, buckled up, and smiled. I took a photo of her, hoping this would be enough for Elysha, and we were off.

Halfway home, I asked her how it felt to be sitting up front. She told me that she was a little nervous but feeling good.

I wasn’t so sure how I was feeling about this development.

A few days later, I’m honestly still not sure.

Golf = Memories

One of the beauties of golf is the memories that it creates.

I’ve played a great deal of basketball in my time, for example, but singular games of basketball rarely etch themselves in my mind. There are a few, of course.

Last second victories and defeats.

Games in which I went to war with an opponent under the basket.

The time my best friend ran me into a wall – head first – during a game played as a part of my bachelor party.

The game that ended in a fist fight between me and Paul Theroux at Roosevelt Park. The other game that ended in a fist fight between me and Pail Theroux at Roosevelt Park. The game that ended in a fist fight between me and Paul Theroux at Tupperware Park.

I could list a dozen more. Still others involving fist fights.

But golf has a singularity to it. Every shot has the potential to create a memorable moment. Every conversation has the possibility of becoming unforgettable. You see and hear things on a golf course that remain with you forever.

My friend, Dan, began playing golf with me and my friends a few years ago. In the midst of that first season, he noted that we seemed to have a story associated with every inch of our favorite golf courses. No matter what tree we stood beneath, what pond stood beside, or what green we stood upon, we had a story.

It’s true. Golfing makes memories.

On Sunday, for instance, I played golf with my friend, Jeff. As we walked the course, we talked about a number of important and trivial things. Many will ultimately be forgotten, but at least two will be remembered by me for sure. Moments of conversation that were meaningful enough to last a lifetime.

We watched an older man proceed – once again – to cut ahead of every golfer on the course (including us), playing through every group like he owned the place.

Fodder for another fist fight story, perhaps, if he wasn’t so old and I was a little stupider.

On the 14th hole, we halted our tee shots to allow a coyote to sprint across the fairway. A couple minutes later, the coyote returned, sprinting in the opposite direction.

“Probably went to the store for milk,” Jeff said.

I watched in disbelief as Jeff put five balls into a pond on the 16th hole, including three from the drop zone. This is something I am perfectly capable of doing myself on any given day. In fact, another friend later reminded me that I put 6 consecutive balls into a condo complex well off the fairway and out of bounds while playing in Bermuda last February because I got stubborn and refused to alter my swing or take a drop.

But Jeff?

This never happens to Jeff. He rarely puts a single ball in the water. I’ll never forget it. The resulting 13 on the par 3 gave me an unprecedented lead in the match with just two holes to go.

I then lost that lead and ultimately the match when Jeff sank a long par putt on 17 and I did not, bogeying the hole. Then on 18 I botched my chip onto the green by overthinking things, then I two-putted for a double bogie.

Jeff parred again.

I lost by one stroke, even though Jeff was 10-over-par on a single hole.

Another memorable moment that he will never allow me to forget, even if I tried.

There are many reasons why I love golf, but one of them is the possibility that every every swing and every step might yield a moment with a friend that will last a lifetime.

Elysha refused to answer the crazy man’s question

Elysha and I attended a social event recently. We found ourselves at a table with four other couples, who all knew – via our conversation – that Elysha and I are teachers. Some of them had even had children and grandchildren pass through our schools.

At one point, a man on the opposite side of the table complained that teachers no longer focus on reading, writing, and math, but instead have diverted their attention to other unnecessary subjects.

I smiled and nodded. In many circumstances, I would’ve said something in response, but this was not the kind of social event where a debate on educational policy would’ve been appropriate. Rather than disrupting a lovely evening, I decided to ignore his statement and move on.

Also, it was clear that the man was at least a little tipsy.

A couple minutes later, the same man began insulting a person who I consider a good friend. An educational leader who I respect immensely. It was interesting to watch someone insult a person, not knowing that his target’s friend was sitting directly across from him.

Again, I smiled and ignored the man. My friend would’ve recommended that I do the same, I think. It was not the time nor place for debate.

Then the man began talking about transgender issues, arguing that schools have no right to encourage small children to transition from one gender to another, and speaking about transgender people in less than kind ways.

“Oh,”I thought. “You watch Tucker Carlson and all those other know-nothing fools. You’re the victim of fear mongering. Also, you’re probably an uninformed bigot.”

Still, I remained silent. This was no place to make a scene. Besides, this intoxicated moron wasn’t going to be convinced that schools are not actively encouraging students to consider gender transitions based upon my retort.

He was, at least on this particular evening, a hopeless cause.

Then the man complained that teachers don’t work hard anymore. Instead, we only teach to the test in order in order to garner tax dollars from beleaguered taxpayers for our schools.

This was the final straw.

Not for me, oddly enough, but for Elysha.

“Teachers are working really hard,” she said in a gentle but firm tone. “I think if you visit a school, you’ll see that.”

This simple statement of fact was enough to set the man off. Perhaps it was the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream, or maybe he was itching for a fight, but I suspect that it had something to do with Elysha being a woman. Regardless of his reasoning, the man raised his voice and ire and said, “My granddaughter is coming to your school in two years. If she decides that she wants to be a boy, what are you going to call her?”

Elysha, in a calm but firm voice, said, “I’m not going to answer that question, Maybe we should change the subject.”

“No,” he shot back. “If my granddaughter wants to be a boy, what are you going to call her?”

“I’m not going to answer that question,” Elysha repeated. “We should talk about something else.”

“No,” he said again, angrier and louder. “Answer the question. What would you call her?”

Again, Elysha declined to answer.

At this point, I wanted to say something. In fact, I wanted to say many, many things, and I was already formulating possible responses.

My favorite was this:

“People who repeat stuff they hear on TV are boring and useless. You’re boring and useless. Not offensive or even stupid. Just boring and useless.”

I was also calculating what I might do if he attempted to assault me after I said something, which was very unlikely, I know, but I am in a constant state of preparation at all times.

Post traumatic stress disorder will do that to you.

“I”ll let him hit me twice before I kill him,” I decided. “Make sure everyone sees him hit me, too. Then I’ll hit him so hard that he’ll think he was hit by a truck.”

But I didn’t say or do any of this. I avoided jumping into the fray entirely because I Elysha was doing a great job, and I didn’t want to step in like some kind of savior. My wife is a badass queen who can handle idiots and bullies like this quite well. She certainly didn’t need me to intervene.

But then the man asked the question a fourth time, pointing his finger at her and raising his voice even more.

This time it was my last straw.

“My wife didn’t come here to be interrogated by you,” I said. “She’s not going to answer your question.”

At that very moment, three waiters arrived, dropping food in front of us and immediately diffusing the situation with their sudden appearance. Still, the tension at the table was high as the last plates of food were placed in front of us. In an attempt to diffuse the situation even more, one of the women at the table said, “Oh, look. We all ordered the steak.”

“Actually, I ordered the eggplant,” Elysha said.

“Figures,” said the man, thus conforming his infantile stupidity. Then he turned to the couple sitting beside him and said, “You agree with me, right? You think the President is a senile idiot. You think he’s ruining our country. Right?”

The couple nodded noncommittally.

“See,” he said. “I like theses two.”

Elysha turned and began speaking to the couple to her left. I turned to the man to the right and said, “So, how are you doing?”

“Better now,” he said.

At one point during dinner, the man’s wife leaned toward Elysha and apologized for her husband, “He gets passionate about things,” she said. “And he’s had a drink too many.”

For the record, being passionate about your bigotry doesn’t make you any less of a bigot.

To Elysha’s ever-loving credit, she actually said goodbye to the man at the end of the night, wishing him a good evening with perfect politeness.

I couldn’t do it. I spent the rest of the night with my hands above the table, bunched in fists, knowing that doing so sends subliminal messages to your opponent that you’re dangerous and ready to fight.

There’s actually science behind this.

I did nothing overt, of course Just leaned my chin on my clenched fist. Held my knife in a fist. Folded my hands above the table by placing my right fist in the palm of my left hand.

It’s not much, but I believe in utilizing every advantage that I can get.

In my upcoming book, Someday Is Today: 22 Simple, Actionable Ways to Propel Your Creative Life, I suggest that the best response to a negative person is almost always no response.

It’ll make your aggressors crazy.

Some angry fool sends you a caustic email, a biting tweet, an aggravated response to your Facebook posts, and sometimes, as was the case on this particular night, fires off a relentless verbal assault. Instead of responding, say nothing. As much as you might want to say something, say nothing. Your non-response will be an echoing, endless silence for the person attacking you. Your refusal to engage will never end in their mind. For the rest of their lives, their well-crafted vitriol will be ignored. Rendered useless.

It’s dismissive, demeaning, and insulting. Best of all, it requires no effort on your part. You get to live your life and keep making your dreams come true while your aggressor stews in a broth of anger and outrage.

It’s exactly what Elysha did that night by refusing to answer the man’s question, and the effects were immediate. The man became so belligerent and aggressive that the entire table instantly turned against him, and for the rest of the night, he pouted like an angry, little boy.

Perhaps he even felt stupid the next morning after he’d sobered up, though that is probably wishful thinking.

Elysha refused to answer the man’s stupid question, and it enraged him. Make him look like a stupid bully. Painted him as a small minded, repetitive fool.

All while refusing to engage.

Well played, badass queen.

Resolution update: April 2022

Every month I report the progress of my yearly goals in order to monitor progress (or the lack thereof) and hold myself accountable.  The following are the result from April 2022.PERSONAL FITNESS

1. Don’t die.

Alive! Not even a near-death incident in April, which is saying something for me.

Actually, a student threw open a classroom door and hit me in the head so hard I wasn’t sure what had happened, so that wasn’t great. But not exactly life threatening.

2. Lose 20 pounds.

I lost one pound in April. I’ve lost a whopping two pounds in 2022.

3. Do at least 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, and 3 one-minute planks for five days a week.

I resumed sit-ups, push-ups, and planks in March. After a nearly five month hiatus, it wasn’t easy.

It still isn’t.

4. Cycle for at least 5 days every week. 

I rode the bike for at least 5 days per week in April, including two rides on the actual bike.

5. Establish my golfing handicap, then lower that handicap by at least 2. 

Handicap established. After playing 81 holes of golf in Bermuda, my handicap is a whopping 35.4.

I played two rounds of golf in April, but one was with Charlie. Given that we play a short course from the red tees, I don’t count those scores (though he tied me on two holes for the first time ever).

WRITING CAREER

6. Complete my seventh novel.

“Someday is Today” is complete. It hits bookstores on June 7. You should preorder immediately and make me happy.

I’ve submitted my golf memoir to my agent for consideration.

I’ve begun the process of getting my first middle grade novel into shape for publication while tinkering with my next adult novel.

Between the middle grade novel and the new adult novel, one should be completed by the end of the year, I hope.

7. Prepare “Storyworthy 2” or update “Storyworthy” or both for potential sale. 

Done! And great news! “Storyworthy 2,” now entitled “You Are Storyworthy” is a go. My editor and agent will hammer out the details, but my editor loves the idea and has agreed to publish.

We’ll also do a re-release of “Storyworthy” with lots of new content in 2023 or 2024 depending on publishing schedules.

8. Write/complete at least three new picture books, including one with a female, non-white protagonist, and one protagonist who is not neurotypical.

I continue work on a new picture book entitled “Hug a Fish.” I’m creating the actual book alongside my students, who are also creating their own. It features a female, non-white protagonist.

I’m also working on a partially written manuscript from 2021 entitled “Who Put the Baby in a Tree?”

9. Complete a memoir.

I have two memoirs in progress:

One about the two year period when I was arrested, jailed, and tried for a crime I did not commit, which also led to homelessness then a pantry off a kitchen that I shared with a goat. I was also the victim of a horrific robbery at that time that left me with a lifetime of PTSD amongst other awfulness.

Also participation in an underground arm wrestling and gambling ring.

The second is about the two year period in which a lowly band of anonymous cowards attempted to destroy my teaching career.

I think I’ve decided to focus on this one. Writing it will also help inform the musical that my writing partner and I are working on, though I am still occasionally tinkering with the other, too.

Not a great formula.

I wrote about 10,000 words between the two in April.

10. Write a new screenplay.

I spoke to my writing partner, who has been derailed from our project by several projects. We hope to resume writing soon.

11. Write a solo show.

No progress.

12. Write a musical.

Outline (written on the way home from a Moth StorySLAM) received from my writing partner, Kaia. We plan to work on the project this summer, using the memoir pages to inform the work.

13. Submit at least five Op-Ed pieces to The New York Times for consideration.

One essay submitted and rejected in April.

Three essays submitted so far in 2022.

14. Write at least four letters to my father.

No progress.

15. Write 100 letters in 2022.

A total of 29 letters written in April, including letters to a local restaurant that served us an outstanding Sunday brunch, a member of Congress who said a very stupid thing, letters of condolence, a letter to a friend, letters to authors, and a letter to Elysha.

A total of 49 letters written in 2022 so far.

16. Convert 365 Days of Elysha into a book.

I’ve passed this project onto my production manager, but she’s busy with other things at the moment.

17. Read at least 12 books. 

I read Corey Feldman’s memoir “Coreyography” in April. This brings my total number of books read to 7.

I’m currently reading three books:

“Telephone” by Percival Everett
“Think Like a Monk” by Jay Shetty
“Index: A History Of The” by Dennis Duncan

My list of completed books now includes:

“The Passion Economy”
“Empire of Pain”
“The Anthropocene Reviewed”
“Liar’s Poker”
“Matrix”
“Coreyography”

18. Write to at least six authors about a book that I especially like. 

Letters written to Stephen King and Michael Lewis in April.

Two letters so far.

STORYTELLING/SPEAKING CAREER

19. Complete the recordings for my new business for at least two target consumers. 

Recording for the first set of target consumers (corporate folk) is nearly done. I need to re-record a couple modules and fill in some gaps, but the work is on the precipice of completion.

Once we launch, I will begin recording videos for our next target customer.

I’m also purchasing a whisper room, which is a pre-fab recording studio for the basement. This will eliminate my struggles with the noise and interruptions of children, the wind, the neighbor’s dog, our cats, and doorbells.

20. Engage with LinkedIn at least once per week.

Success, though still fairly easy. I received more than a dozen direct messages in April and responded to each of them.

I also updated my LinkedIn profile and even posted twice on the platform.

21. Produce a total of 6 Speak Up storytelling events.

We produced a virtual show in March in collaboration with my school on March 19. This was our first of the year.

My book launch event – featuring lots of storytelling – will take place on June 17.

We have a live, outdoor show scheduled on July 13 in partnership with the Hill-stead Museum.

I’ll be producing a show in conjunction with a storytelling weekend workshop at The Mount on July 15-17.

I may be producing a show in conjunction with a storytelling weekend workshop at Copper Beech Institute on October 28-30.

Our annual Voices of Hope show is scheduled for November 6.

We’ll be scheduling additional shows soon. Venues are ready, willing, and anxious for us to return.

22. Pitch myself to at least 3 upcoming TEDx events with the hopes of being accepted by one.

I pitched to a total of five TEDx conferences in April.

I also spoke at TEDxCornell in April. Video will be available in a couple months.

23. Attend at least 6 Moth events with the intention of telling a story.

I attended two Moth StorySLAMs (NYC and Boston) and one Moth GrandSLAM in April.

Five Moth events so far in 2022.

24. Win at least one Moth StorySLAM.

DONE! I won the February StorySLAM in New York.

25. Win a Moth GrandSLAM.

Done! I won Boston’s Moth GrandSLAM at The Wilbur on April 26. It was my eighth GrandSLAM championship.

I’ll be competing in New York City’s Moth GrandSLAM in May.

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26. Produce at least 12 episodes of our podcast Speak Up Storytelling.

Recording was going to commence in February and March. The recording of the audiobook of “Someday Is Today” instead replaced our podcasting time for a while.

Recording was going to commence in April, but recording for other things filled that time.

May! We’ll record in May! I hope.

27. Convert my YouTube channel into an actual channel. 

Progress! My production manager has begun to structure and re-design the channel, and I’ve been accumulating content for release. I’m also been curating the content, removing material that is no longer relevant.

Almost ready to declare this goal complete.

28. Perform stand-up at least 3 times in 2022.

I have a list of open mics that are currently running in Connecticut. More than enough to resume. This will likely be a summer goal.

29. Pitch a story to This American Life.

Done! I pitched one story to This American Life in April.

30. Pitch myself to Marc Maron’s WTF podcast at least three times.

One pitch made in April. The first in 2022.

No response.

31. Send a newsletter to readers at least 25 times (every other week). 

Three newsletters sent in April. A total of 10 sent so far in 2022. Ahead of schedule.

HOME

32. Clear the basement.

The job is about 80% complete. Huge progress. The basement is officially organized. I need to eliminate many, many things from the basement now, which may require a dumpster. Or perhaps simply placing them on the front yard and waiting for folks to take them.

Summertime chore.

33. Organize the children’s books.

Books have been removed from the kids’ bedrooms and remain divided into three bins:

Keep in rotation for kids/studentsStore for future grandchildrenGive away to those in need

I’ve been slowly emptying the giveaway bin. Progress is solid.

FAMILY/FRIENDS

34. Text or call brother or sister once per month. 

Done.

35. Take at least one photo of my children every day.

Done.

36. Take at least one photo with Elysha and myself each week.

No photos taken of just Elysha and me in January, February, March, or April.

I’m still a giant failure, particularly given that Elysha is so damn pretty.

A friend gave me a solution to this problem which is excellent. I have yet to actually do it.

37. Plan a reunion of the Heavy Metal Playhouse.

No progress.

38. I will not comment, positively or negatively, about physical appearance of any person save my wife and children, in 2022 in an effort to reduce the focus on physical appearance in our culture overall.

Done. I learned that two of my students have now adopted this policy.

39. Compliment one person every day on a topic unrelated to physical appearance. 

This turns out to be easier than I thought, at least as long as I’m teaching. I constantly give my students positive feedback, and I compliment my own children and Elysha quite a bit.

In addition to these compliments, I also complimented a friend, several colleagues, a server, a restaurant owner, a client, and many storytellers at Moth StorySLAMs and the GrandSLAM.

40. Surprise Elysha at least six times in 2022.

Done!

Four surprises in April.

I left a card on her dashboard following a less than ideal April vacation.I made a surprise visit to her classroom on an especially challenging day to bring her a cupcake.I mailed a card to her school with thoughts of encouragement and love, written by “The Universe.”I planned a weekend getaway (later this summer) for her and a friend to Water’s Edge, a resort and spa on the coast of Connecticut.

Surprises in 2022 also include:

A well timed Starbucks caramel macchiatoThe latest Pusheen Club box, filled with an assortment of movie-themed Pusheen gifts.A complete set of Smith College china

That’s seven surprises so far in 2022.

41. Play poker at least six times in 2022.

Two games in total in 2022. I was invited to a game in Boston but could not make it.

42. Spend at least six days with my best friend of more than 30 years.

No progress. We planned to get together yesterday but life conspired against us.

NEW PROJECTS

43. Create an emergency preparedness kit for each car.

No progress.

44. Memorize the lyrics to at least 5 favorite songs. 

I’m still working on “Come on Eileen” by Dexy’s Midnight Runners and Queen’s “Fat Bottomed Girls.” Ridiculous, I know.

45. Learn to play the piano by practicing at least three times a week. 

Done.

46. Convert our wedding video to a transferable format.

Another task passed off to my production manager, who has been working on it.

47. Memorize 5 new poems.

I considered memorizing “Casey at the Bat” or “The Charge of the Light Brigade,” and I may still try one or both, but they are long, and I wanted one a little shorter to start, so I’m still working on “I’m Nobody! Who Are You?” by Emily Dickinson.

I also made a list of poems that I’ve committed to memory, to ensure they remain committed to memory through occasional practice.

48. Write to at least 3 colleges about why they should hire me.

No progress.

49. Understand Instagram better.

Progress! My intern and I has a conversation, where she taught me about Instagram Stories and Reels. Huzzah!

I suspect that there is more to know, but who better to teach me than a high school senior?

50. Complete my Eagle Scout project.

I started plotting the completion of this task in February. I’m considering moving the project from Blackstone, MA to something more local, but I’m still working on it.

51. Post my progress in terms of these resolutions on this blog and social media on the first day of every month.

Done.

Pretending to not be dead

Author Sallie Tisdale argues that we get ready to die by first admitting that “we are all future corpses pretending we don’t know.”

I’m not sure that I agree.

I am both:

The least prepared to die of anyone I know.More persistently, relentlessly aware of my mortality than anyone I know.

Two near-death experiences (requiring CPR to restore my life) and a gun to the head (trigger pulled) will do that to you. While a great many people may be future corpses pretending to not know, I am decidedly not.

In fact, when the pandemic first landed on our shores back in early 2020, my therapist commented that I was uniquely prepared for the moment.

To paraphrase:

You’ve been waiting for unseen forces to return and try to kill you again for more than two decades. You’ve spent most of your life in a constant state of elevated vigilance, simultaneously working to keep yourself safe and alive while also ensuring that you don’t suffer any regret when and if you die. The pandemic has caused everyone to finally catch up to you. We all feel like you’ve always felt.

I couldn’t have said it better myself. Suddenly everyone in the world was as afraid as I am every day.

I experienced similar feelings in the months following 9/11. People began talking about how fragile life is and how important it is to make every day count. At the time, my thought was, “I’ve been trying to tell you this for years!”

You may be a future corpse pretending otherwise, but I’m not pretending one bit. I am keenly aware of how we all live on the knife’s edge.

And unlike what Sallie Tisdale says, it hasn’t helped me one bit.

But if Tisdale’s idea helps you, you’re welcome.

Zig when others zag

I spend so much of my time with clients arguing in favor of zigging when others are zagging.

Do the thing that others are afraid to do.

Tell stories. Be personal. Be funny. Be vulnerable.

Take that mind-numbingly bland marketing deck or standard sales pitch or benign keynote and do something that no one has ever seen before.

Dare to be different. Dare to be yourself. Dare to be memorable. Tell an authentic, vulnerable story.

It’s a hard, frustrating, oftentimes fruitless endeavor. It’s far too easy for people – particular those in corporate America – to stay in their lane, do what everyone else is doing, and work like hell to be utterly, completely, inexplicably forgettable.

Corporate America is like water running down a mountainside:

They are always looking for the path of least resistance.

This is a mistake. Zig when others are zagging, I say. Be the one person who stands out and does something different. Be brave, damn it. Be courageous enough to stand out from the rest.

This is almost always the right course of action.

This video, one could argue, might be the exception to my rule. Then again, you must admit that it’s memorable, different, and certainly sparked joy in your day, so maybe it proves my point.

Even in this case, zigging while others are zagging might have been the best course of action, even if the boy’s mother seems to disagree.