My grandmother had a saying “some ills come for good” which could be the old polyannish “every cloud has a silver lining.” And “Everything happens for the best in the best of all possible worlds.”
While those are broadly true, it wasn’t ever — I think from knowing her — what grandma meant. What she meant would probably better translated as “That kick in the *ss life just gave you has you flat on the ground. Now, how can you make it the incentive for the best thing that ever happened to you?”
My husband believes “everything happens for a reason” and he might be right but it might also be survivorship bias, of course.
Like, for instance, we wanted eleven kids, but we had two. “Oh, maybe if we had eleven, we’d not have been able to keep up, and they’d all have gone seriously bad,” is a good way to cope. Is it true? Who knows? But having grown up with BFF’s friend’s family of 13 kids, I’m inclined to say no. Your genetics are still the same, your parenting is still the same, and the truth is you become better at parenting as you go. So…. Probably not true, but a great way to cope.
OTOH…. OTOH there are times when the worst thing that we thought could happen to us at the time, was in retrospect the best thing, either because it gave us a much needed wake up call, or because what we wanted at the time could be used as a poster for “be careful what you wish for, you might get it.”
Like, my entire life pre-college, I was aiming to become a journalist. Stop laughing. It was Portugal, and it was the only way I could imagine to make a life from writing. (No, seriously, unless everyone in the country buys your book, you’re not making a decent or even indecent living from writing there.) In my first year of college, I took a test for employment with the second largest newspaper in town. I failed. (I probably failed the political section with intent and malice.) I was devastated.
However if I had got that job, it would have made it much harder to come to the US when I got married. I mean, I still would have married Dan, but if I had a well-paying job, in addition to a degree I was finishing I probably would have demanded he move there. And over all? I am happy I’m here. I’m happy the boys were raised here.
When I got that rejection, it was the worst thing ever, but it was an ill that came for good, by leaving me free to take the best thing ever offered to me, and deciding to raise my kids in the US.
More recently, in 2018, not to dwell on it, but I was holding down two jobs, fiction and non fiction, and was let go (it’s more complicated than that, but it’s the short hand description) from both the same week. At the time we were still paying for younger son’s college (well, half the tuition, plus do to Colorado’s infernal highway construction, living expenses, because he couldn’t make it from our house to class in under 2 hours (it was supposed to be 45 minutes.)) This was what my income was supporting. And all of a sudden I was looking at that big a hole in our finances.
I’m not going to say it was the best thing that ever happened to me. At the time, it was like suddenly having a hole open under your feet. It sent me into such a tailspin of worry that I couldn’t work at all, and to be fair, I’m amazed anyone, from family to friends, stuck with me, as I can be pretty impossible to live with while spiraling.
In retrospect? Sigh. Best thing that happened to me is not far off. I mean, I’d have preferred that gentle opportunities had been offered rather than a two by four to the back of the head, but all the same…
It’s not like I didn’t know the opportunity for indie and for monetizing this blog was there. I’d known for 7 years then. I just had trouble lifting my head from the three columns a week and book due that year to find time for anything else. Much less to write anything else. Here it must be said that I also was at the time very ill due to altitude, but all the same.
Exploring indie (as opposed to Indy exploring, which just means he made off with another cabinet child lock and is probably face-deep in the sugar again.) has given me not only better income but a greater peace of mind and enjoyment of my work I hadn’t experienced…. well, in my entire traditional career.
Living in fear that, due to a lot of things you can’t control (like the fact my first book came out a year after 9/11) your books will tank badly and no one will ever buy you, ever, is not conducive to enjoying a career in writing.
Having the ability to write what you want to write NOW and not be scared that it will never see the life of day? That, weirdly does help, and I’m back to where I was as a kid, getting up excited to work on the book I’m writing right now.
And yes, the money is actually better. Not AMAZINGLY better, but better. To the point that if — G-d forbid — something happened to Dan, I’m sure I could stay afloat on my income, and not have to live in a hut in the woods. (Though that remains an option because hut in the woods with three unearthly smart cats is such a stereotype.)
More importantly, my stress levels are way way way down, which allows me to be more creative and write more, and more importantly, enjoy life more.
BUT it only came about because the worst thing ever improbably hit all in one week, possibly the worst week of my life.
— I’m underslept, mostly because I seem to have developed a weird chronic cough, (yes, it’s being looked into) so I can’t think of other instances, though I know there have been other instances.
However, let this stand: When the worst thing happens to you, look at it and see if you are now free to try an opportunity you’d never have considered otherwise.
Like… if something happened to my husband’s job, he has about 10 projects he’s been dying to work on, but hasn’t for lack of time and brain space. At least one of those has the possibility to be worth millions of dollars, but it’s hard to let go of the regular salary to try the “maybe, with luck” wild hope. Unless the job is yanked away first.
If instead of moping you — even if poliannish and probably survivor bias inspired saying — tell yourself “There are ills that come for good. What good can come of this?” and pivot into trying those things, it will at least save you the oh 5 years of moping I indulged in, and wasted. (Though again, health might have been a factor.)
And even if you see no opportunities from it, consider that maybe in the long run you’ll look back and say “Whew, I escaped a bullet.” And “this was definitely for the best.”
Do we live in the best of all possible worlds? Debatable.
But assuming we do will enhance your ability to cope with misfortune and probably allow you to pivot faster and better and enhance your quality of life.
So I suggest you take that line, anyway. Even if the back of your brain scoffs. Straighten your back, look up and tell yourself. “There are ills that come for good.”
And then find the good. And keep going.
According To Hoyt 
I keep praying that I’m in one of those situations – I’ve been in them before. And I pray for the dramatic beam of sunlight on “where do I go from here”. But I’m not having a lot of luck trying to build the plane (or hang glider (or even a parachute)) in mid-freefall :(.
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(Don’t get me wrong, I will survive… but I’d love to know at least that I’m holding the (blank) map the right way up)
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I was not thrilled to have the old computer die and my back pains flare up in early April, but it kept me from obsessing too hard about the Pride & Planetoids, kept me from getting swelled head when a Discord friend posted a positive review of one of my early series, and led to me cleaning up the study/library and getting a computer with maybe enough horsepower to where I might be able to cut the cord on Midjourney, my single largest writing expense.
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:salute: Thank you. I needed this.
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Amen Sister Sarah
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Forgot to click the box
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I’d like to believe this, but at the moment, it keeps seeming like the best opportunities I’m ever likely to have, I let pass me by ten years ago. Sometimes a door closes, and it just stays closed; nothing else opens to take its place.
It may just be that I’m incredibly sleep-deprived, as well as being on the low part of the hormone cycle, but if you ask me right now, “Are you going to be okay?” the best answer I can give is, “I’m not sure.”
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Hugs.
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Thanks. I think I need them.
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Sometimes it helps to ask: “were my personality and values really compatible with what was on the other side of that door?” I guess I’ve been lucky in that the answer has generally been no.
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In one case, probably not. In the other, I just don’t know.
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That’s a good honest answer. I hope you feel better after some sleep.
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Sleep deprivation is when I avoid making decisions/changing my mind if possible, and if I do stuff don’t make radical changes on counsel of my fears or angers. (Or try not to. I don’t have a perfect diagram or table to guide me through tasks without making any choices.)
In general, I have driven myself bad nuts a fair amount by taking counsel of knowledge that I don’t actually have. (IE, ‘knowledge’ from reduced order models that I ‘feel’ are important.)
‘opportunities I could have had’ is one of those topics that depend on my understanding of industries, economy, and of my own ability. Needless to say, I know I am pretty wacky.
Anyhow, for me it is time to do self care and fix my sleep.
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That’s a good point about the sleep-deprivation. I should probably wait until I’m caught up on sleep, at least, before I declare the entire world to be beyond hope.
Of course, that will probably be sometime in June, but that’s another rant.
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From some doctor…
“The severity of the patient’s X was initially underappreciated”
X d[urn] near killed the patient and we are going to say that the reason we missed it is that it was subtle and not that every member of the care team last got a good night’s sleep in a year that had two “9”s in it.
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Avoid critical or irrevocable decisions when Hungry, Angry, Lonely, and/or Tired. (HALT)
Obviously, this is a template for Military thinking. (grin)
Seriously, though, don’t stack these things.
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My writing these days has some silly.
re: wacky
The jobs I didn’t get twenty years ago, ten, this year, and so forth, I don’t really know about that stuff.
I’m missing information about those a little similar to the information I am missing about jobs for skillsets near mine ten years from now.
Now, the future of economies is more obviously strange and unpredictable.
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Reminded me of this…
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Marcus! <3
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I had to laugh when I read, “some ills come for good”. My first thought was that can also be interpreted as something bad happens and you can’t get rid of it. HIV, herpes, antibiotic resistant TB anyone? False accusations of spouse abuse or child molestation, never seem to die. Can’t prove a negative is sooo true, unless you have time-stamped footage and a dozen impeccable eyewitnesses that you weren’t there when you were accused of the crime. I may not exactly be a pessimist, but Murphy was right.
Speaking from personal experience, I have been rejected from far more things than I have ever been accepted for. Girls, colleges, jobs, girls!, etc. We didn’t get participation trophies when I was a kid, so winning 3rd place at anything was an accomplishment. Remember when the Bronze Medal actually meant something? I’ve usually ended up in a better place after those rejections than I would have had I actually been accepted. While there probably is a bit of the sour grapes concept, mostly because rejection HURTS and even foxes need to ease that sting, objective hindsight usually confirms it.
Speaking of rejection, my former employer finalized my termination. Severance package and earned time payback should keep me afloat for the next 6 months while I look for something else to earn money with for the next two or three years until I hit 70. But looking for decent jobs at my age sucks.
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My worst/best event was getting laid off from Agilent (a 2000 AD spinoff from HP) just before 9/11. Had been at HP/Agilent since ’79, and was developing a strong dislike for the Bay Area. Found a job (well, it found me–customer rep we dealt with pointed me to her husband’s new firm) and it lasted about 10 well-paid months. Giving me the time and money to get the San Jose house suitable for sale, so we could retire to our place in Flyover County, Oregon. We had (barely) enough money to get the necessary stuff done, and to keep us going until we could access retirement funds. Bunch of hard work, but we got it done.
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And, due to some quirk, those of us in the first round of layoffs (Agilent dumped the semiconductor business eventually) got a considerably better severance package than the more essential* employees who departed in succeeding waves.
(*) They misspelled “younger”.
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My sister and BIL when HP did their “first ever golden parachutes”. They expected BIL’s to go through. He is older, had been at HP long enough to have his number be at the > magic number (age + # years with company). Sister was exactly at magic. Set number of “volunteers” would get the golden parachute. Not enough people went for the golden parachute. Thus, everyone who applied, whether they actually wanted it or not. Surprise! They were getting the payout monthly for years.
Then HP started laying off for real. Those did not get anywhere near as good of a severance package. Sister and BIL are still using part of it, as they are still getting HP family health insurance for them. Now that their youngest is out of college, and has a job with insurance, they are only waiting until sister is 65, and can get Medicare Advantage.
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I’ve had setbacks in my life. One was having to give up my goal of a writing career because I couldn’t write what was deemed acceptable. Another was 5 years without the love of my life until the Man Upstairs intervened. Still, I’m a firm believer in, “What you’ve been through means nothing. What you’ve become because of what you’ve been through means everything.”
Now, I write what I’ve always wanted to, and nobody stops me from sharing it with others. My wife bought a plaque that reads, “It is what it is,” and hung it up sideways.
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I had one of those experiences, which turned out to be disguised good fortune – I was fired from my last full-time corporate desk job with a local corporation late in 2007. (I part timed now and again with Kelly Services for a couple of years after that, but never full-time, permanently employed save for the year with the call center.) I was already a couple of chapters into writing my first historical, when I was called into the bosses’ office … and told that I was being let go.
I think I really wierded out the guy who had the task of out-processing me (arranging for the last paycheck, refunding my contribution to the holiday fund. turning in any corporate property, etc) because I was actually rather cheerful. Maybe it was just shock, but I kept thinking that ‘Yay! I can go home and work on the third chapter!”
(It was one of those small local corporations which always insisted they treated their employees like family. A dysfunctional and abusive family … now and again when I drive past that building, I salute the place with my middle finger… )
From that day on, though – I thought of myself, and described myself to others as a writer who occasionally worked office jobs now and again, instead of as an office worker who wrote stories on the side.
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Ah, the Ferengi way: “Treat people in your debt like family… exploit them.” and “Exploitation begins at home.”
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I’d love to get back to the point where I want to do things again. Where I want to write and think up stories and do research for them. I miss wanting things.
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Burnout. Sucks. I’m guessing you’re under a heck of a lot of stress right now? (I know I am.)
Sometimes all you can do is keep putting one foot in front of the other until conditions somehow improve. In the meantime… is there any one small annoyance you can handle in, say, 15 minutes and get it off your worry list? You know, things like change the bathroom towel, or write a grocery list, or set up a lunch for tomorrow. Sometimes that helps a little.
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Thanks. Fixing my sleep is probably the best thing I could do for myself.
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I have had my ups and downs. I wanted to be a history professor and was working on my Ph.D. thesis for the University of Chicago with at least another year ahead of me when the demographic tide went out. Even Chicago had trouble placing grads. I was married and did not want to become an academic nomad going from one temporary position to another, after something like clinical depression, I decided to move on. In retrospect as a confirmed small “l” libertarian, fate probably did me a favor as I would probably have faced a hostile faculty lounge.
I ended up in financial services and retired after a pretty successful career. My daughter was a Summer intern with my firm one year and a colleague asked her what her dad did. She said, “I really don’t know, but he sits in his office; people come in and ask him questions; he answers them; they bow and leave.” More flattering than I deserve, but funny.
I came to believe that the big worries in this life are like horror movies. They are scariest before you finally get to see the monster. Then it becomes a concrete problem to be solved and while the suspense remains, but the metaphysical horror is removed.
I have a real example of this. The first project I worked on at the company I retired from after 26 years was a major software initiative. It was not going well. One of the younger and very talented programmers was getting very antsy. This was his first really professional job. He was young and married with a baby at home.
One day he came to me, and I could see he was in a state. “Mark,” he said, “you’re and old timer [authors note: Yeah thanks, Anthony]. What do you think is going to happen?”
“Well,” I explained, “most software projects are like a Bell Curve. At one end some are spectacular successes, at the other end spectacular failures. Most are in the big bulge in the middle and you just muddle through.”
Well, this just upset him more as he – correctly as it turned out – saw the iceberg right ahead.
“Mark, what is the worst thing that can happen?”
“Worse thing, Anthony?”
“Yes, please, the absolute worst.”
“Anthony, the worst thing that can happen is you loose your job and you get another. They don’t kill your wife, steal your children, and burn down your house. You loose your job and get another.”
Suddenly, he was very calm. At that moment, the issue became a problem he felt he could solve. “You know, that’s kind of reassuring. I’m a smart guy. I can get another job.”
He ultimately anticipated the worst and got himself accepted to a doctorate program in physics at MIT and quit his job.
I look back on this as among the best professional advice I ever gave anyone.
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I have had my ups and downs. I wanted to be a history professor and was working on my Ph.D. thesis for the University of Chicago with at least another year ahead of me when the demographic tide went out. Even Chicago had trouble placing grads. I was married and did not want to become an academic nomad going from one temporary position to another, after something like clinical depression, I decided to move on. In retrospect as a confirmed small “l” libertarian, fate probably did me a favor as I would probably have faced a hostile faculty lounge.
I ended up in financial services and retired after a pretty successful career. My daughter was a Summer intern with my firm one year and a colleague asked her what her dad did. She said, “I really don’t know, but he sits in his office; people come in and ask him questions; he answers them; they bow and leave.” More flattering than I deserve, but funny.
I came to believe that the big worries in this life are like horror movies. They are scariest before you finally get to see the monster. Then it becomes a concrete problem to be solved and while the suspense remains, but the metaphysical horror is removed.
I have a real example of this. The first project I worked on at the company I retired from after 26 years was a major software initiative. It was not going well. One of the younger and very talented programmers was getting very antsy. This was his first really professional job. He was young and married with a baby at home.
One day he came to me, and I could see he was in a state. “Mark,” he said, “you’re and old timer [authors note: Yeah thanks, Anthony]. What do you think is going to happen?”
“Well,” I explained, “most software projects are like a Bell Curve. At one end some are spectacular successes, at the other end spectacular failures. Most are in the big bulge in the middle and you just muddle through.”
Well, this just upset him more as he – correctly as it turned out – saw the iceberg right ahead.
“Mark, what is the worst thing that can happen?”
“Worse thing, Anthony?”
“Yes, please, the absolute worst.”
“Anthony, the worst thing that can happen is you loose your job and you get another. They don’t kill your wife, steal your children, and burn down your house. You loose your job and get another.”
Suddenly, he was very calm. At that moment, the issue became a problem he felt he could solve. “You know, that’s kind of reassuring. I’m a smart guy. I can get another job.”
He ultimately anticipated the worst and got himself accepted to a doctorate program in physics at MIT and quit his job.
I look back on this as among the best professional advice I ever gave anyone.
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I can dig this. With all the negative things going on in my life, the cancer diagnosis last year nearly finished me. Then all sorts of support I never saw coming popped out of the woodwork. Still struggling like crazy, but knowing I got more people to help me scratch a little further forward helps a lot.
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Two points re “Hut in the woods” (okay, three given the date):
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#3 is not to be confused with “Judy in disguise with glasses.”
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if Judy were in da skies, she could throw some pretty deadly glassware. :)
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Picture yourself in a house full of killers
With Professor Plan and Colonel Mustard
Somebody calls you, it might be the killer
Or it might be a dame in disguise
Judy in disguise with glasses
Judy in disguise with glasses
Judy in disguise with glasses
Aaaaaa-aaahhhh….
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Plum. PLUM! Darn it all, WPDE, give me an edit button, I meant to write Professor PLUM!
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Colonel Mustard, in the library, with a lightsaber.
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Leia in the barge with a big chain.
And not much else. Nuff said.
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We just had a terrible story about Jim Bucher, a much-loved local news guy who sorta “disappeared” from the air.
It turned out that he had a drug problem that finally made itself too obvious, that was covering up a suicide problem from childhood onward. And his last two suicide attempts involved stepping in front of a train, and a year later, stepping in front of a semi.
Neither of those two attempts killed him, although the semi attempt did enough damage that it rendered it a lot more difficult for him to try to kill himself.
He agreed to talk about his problems on camera, and now believes that God must have had a reason for sparing him.
(And I agree, because clearly you don’t survive a speeding locomotive AND a semi.)
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[Remembers to write stand-alone comment before the reply-to because WP is braindead.]
I had my 60 day meet with the sleep doc’s PA last week. ‘Twas enlightening, and bits and pieces may be of use to others.
Cheyne-Stokes breathing (AKA central apneas, AHA Clear Airway apneas) have been defeated. Hyponpeas were running kind of high (Index of 10/hour), but the PA wanted to try a lower exhale pressure. Preliminary results have hypos below 5, so yay!
The Res-Med Air Curve 11 has a bunch of remotely settable parameters, beyond pressure and humidity settings. A careful technician can tweak these for improvement. I was told that maybe 25% of the patients on the AC-11 need those tweaks. Ask if your results could be better. (Aside: ResMed doesn’t provide waveforms. If you want/need to know that level of detail, search out the free OSCAR download. It supports a wide variety of machines.)
The tiny humidity chamber is a big pain, with ResMed getting lots of unhappy feedback. Hopefully, the -12 should fix it. Maybe. In the meantime, he suggested a simple hack: Your insurance should provide a spare humidifier tank (maybe after 6 months; that’s the Medicare std and seems to be common). Fill the one for the machine, and fill a second (or third, or whatever) whereever you go in the wee hours. Swap tanks, and you should be OK. I’m barely OK at a setting of 6 and the new-to-me average of 7+ hours a night, but I’ll save that trick for a winter colder than what we had.
If you need a spare tank, various online suppliers sell them, frequently in “washable” versions. The -11 didn’t show much difference, but others swap out aluminum baseplates with stainless. (The -11 is stainless to begin with. Cosmetic differences to my eyes. I could have missed something.)
FWIW, I’m now sleeping 7 hours a night (used to average 6), and don’t quite empty the tank with a setting of 6. Mileage will vary.
As Mom used to say: “Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite!” She passed on Mother’s day in 2023 at 99 years old.
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I tried to come up with a “worst thing that ever happened to me” that I ran out of fingers and toes trying to keep track…However, since they have all turned to have been the best possible outcomes….I have to assume that I have been uniquely blessed.
Now when a really horrible thing happens I usually wonder to myself, “How on earth will THIS turn out to be a great plot twist no one sees coming but makes everyone chuckle with the fortuitousness of it all?”
Other days I yell at clouds, “This episode is badly written!!!”
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THANK YOU. I yell at clouds “You need a writer’s group!” older son says I have to stop it. it causes talk, he says.
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Let ’em talk I say.
Might as well because they talk anyway. But this way it distracts from any actual character flaws you may have with superficialstuff like yelling at clouds.
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Hopefully, He only chuckles at Sarah. “Writer’s group, indeed. If she only knew.”
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Hopefully, He only chuckles at Sarah. “Writer’s group, indeed. If she only knew.”
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From the vast and unfathomable age of three score and three, I can state with certainty that one cannot tell whether what just happened to one is really, i.e. will ultimately be, a good or bad thing until things settle out after a decade or two.
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I once asked the wife what would have been different had I stayed working on Wall Street — my departure from there was not voluntary, not voluntary at all. She said “you’d be dead.” I’ve often thought about that.
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My worst moments come from a place close to home. I’m a worse critic and taskmaster than any person I’ve ever known (or created in simulacra, and remember I used to write horror). A good long look in the mirror turns up some pretty dark stuff.
The worst of it is just ephemera. I’ve been down that dark road. There are still things I could’ve done, but didn’t. Been, but wasn’t. I’m not that man in daily life. The results of a little ways down that path, that’s easy to see. One doesn’t have to look very far. The emergency rooms and prisons of even small town little Speck are entire libraries of bad decisions compounded upon worse ones. It is arrogance to think my foolishness even stacks up.
And yet. And yet. These faults and fissures are mine alone. From failure do we learn the most precious of lessons: How to try again. Because potential is in essence 99% failure. Every one a lesson in how things don’t work. Or almost work but ultimately don’t.
I originally read that “some ills come for good” in a very different manner. Think of good as a brilliantly white sheet and you’ll get what I mean. Purity is hard to maintain. And, humans being human, when one sees a good thing all too often some fool full of envy wants to taint it only so his sin doesn’t seem so dark in comparison.
It is one of those truths that stand throughout human history untrammeled by changing mores and cultures. Corruption ever bubbles up through the cracks in the human heart. It takes work to root it out, constant, tearing work. The kind most folk don’t want to abide, because they’ve enough work on their plate just trying to get by.
To be good is also to be a target. That means to truly be good, one must also be strong enough to hold to one’s principles, because they will be challenged. How you meet challenge can be just as important.
In the end, it is passing on the burden that matters. No mortal man is eternal. By chance, by example, by deliberate inculcation and proper education. Whatever faults or failures shape us, they form an essential part of our identity. Our morals, work ethic, our habits and foibles all pull at least a piece from this. However we got where we are today, we built that upon the bones of many, many failures.
Because failures tend to stick in the memory. It’s how our brains work. Cynically, I once believed that using failure like that was simply trying to put a positive spin on it. A trite conceit. And also, a wrong one. It can be quite unpleasant to learn that one was wrong. But better that than enduring in error.
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The worst best thing happened in 2022, resulting in a family blowup of epic proportions and landing me unexpectedly here, on 3 acres with chickens, gardens, and my dream life.
I was in absolute despair at the time, but it kicked me out of the rut I’d fallen into.
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worst best thing was my first trilogy crashing due to 9/11. OR I’d be stuck writing literary fantasy, and probably have committed suicide by now.
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Sarah:
two of the odder reasons for chronic cough:
1: the class of medications known as ACE Inhibitors – one of the toughest to pin down if attention is NOT paid to the medication list. There are options.
2: Have them carefully check your ear canals and the back of your nose – yes, that means possibly getting the flexible coffee stirrer sized scope stuck in. I’ve personally found 3 cases, however, of someone coughing due to a single hair clipping deep inside the ear canal, right up against the ear drum. Rinse the ear out, and the cough goes away.
An Old Country Doctor
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Not taking 1. But it sounds just like that, yes.
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I’m sure someone, somewhere, has a story about how he got into a traffic accident, or broke his leg, or something, which prevented him from making it to work.
At his job in the World Trade Center.
On Tuesday, September 11th, 2001.
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I worked across the street, but the train stopped under WTC. I was drinking whiskey in Chek Lap Kok airport in Hong Kong waiting for a flight to LHR or I would have been in WTC when the first plane hit.
My BIL was a captain in NYPD who was about a block away on his way to respond when the towers came down. Five minutes earlier and he’d have been in it.
On the other hand, a close family friend’s husband went in early for a meeting at Cantor Fitzgerald. He never met his son who was born three months later.
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There was a forum I visited at the time that had an entry that started: “I have the ticket in my hand.” One of the posters had taken a different flight the night before, in order to catch something the family was doing, but their original flight was one of those that got hijacked.
I have regretted not copying that post down, since it was a brilliant piece of very shaken text, ending with two repetitions of that first line. It seemed pretty genuine, as people hadn’t moved on to snark or falsification yet, but of course I don’t know for sure.
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Son of an old friend was a first responder. He was running late, knew his u it was at the WTC. He was standing near the Holand Tunnel, fretting about not being there, when he saw a tower go down. On his unit.
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We had a great aunt die right before 9/11 and so my cousin’s husband was home with the children that day instead working in the WTC while she was at the funeral.
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Okay, this is so completely unrelated to anything topical in Sarah’s missive today from the undisclosed volcano lair that even the Ghost of Will would disallow it as an aside, but I just ran across this YT vid, reporting that apparently the clankers are now obsessed with goblins:
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training data makes the LLM
But, more than that, individual prompts have a context window.
Specific accounts can be contaminated, or users can contaminate their accounts, or the people updating the LLMs company side can contaminate.
The psychology of the big tech leadership is maybe in an interesting place now wrt LLMs.
I’m finding the LLM landscape a bit hard to navigate. I’m mostly not touching it.
I had a fuller night of sleep, and woke up feeling better about stuff.
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The thing that most interested me in the vid is where the initial “hidden prompt” constraints that are invisibly fed to the model before any user prompts, which were written by the AI devs, included “really really do not say ‘goblin’ unless absolutely necessary, just don’t do it, even if you want to – don’t” multiple times, in great detail, and yet the LLM continued to insert it anyway at statistically significant rates.
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Your grandma and this post… Thank you both.
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I have to give a hat-tip to Richard Pryor, who can deadpan his “worst day” story.
“… …… When you’re running down the street…… …..on fire…….
…People …. get out of your way…..”
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I remember George Carlin’s routine that referred to that incident. It went approximately like this:
First, he had a heart attack, then I had a heart attack.
Then he had another heart attack, and I had another heart attack.
Then he lit himself on fire, and I said (bowdlerization alert) “Screw that! I’m having another heart attack!”
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Oh, come on; will nobody channel Ilhan Omar??
But, Sarah, you *did* have II kids!
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LOL.
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Great advice when that storm cloud hits you. I think the most successful people don’t even have to wait for the disaster. They push themselves out of the nest and go for it.
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Here’s a minor incident I experienced in which my apparent ill fortune turned out for the best.
Absence of fecal matter, there I was, driving back to Baton Rouge from Tucson after attending Tuscon in 2003. It started raining in central Texas that afternoon. Not a problem, until my windshield wipers stopped working as I approached the town of Katy, a bit west of Houston.
Fortunately, there was an exit right ahead. There was a motel immediately off that exit. There was a bar and grill right next door to the motel. Although closed by then, there was an auto repair shop a couple of blocks south of the motel.
All that sounds like good fortune, for someone driving a vehicle without working windshield wipers in a rainstorm. But it gets better.
As it turned out, where I-10 passes through downtown Houston was flooded to the point of being impassible. Had I not been forced to stop early, I would have been stuck there for hours, instead of being safely in a nice dry bed, with dinner and a couple of drinks inside me.
I do not take this as conclusive evidence that a supernatural entity was taking care of me that day. However, I am willing to take this as possible evidence.
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Works for me!
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