Day 2707: Good job!

In my good job as a psychotherapist, I sometimes ask new people how they feel about compliments (including encouraging words like “Good job!”).    They often do a good job honestly answering that they have trouble with compliments. I hope I do a good job explaining that

• they are not alone in struggling to believe and accept compliments,
• I like to give compliments, and
• all my compliments are authentic.

When I was doing my good job in person at my office, I would point out the good clock there with the inscription “Show up.  Be Gentle.  Tell the Truth.”  I think that does a good job explaining the process of therapy for both the patient and the provider.

People are dong a good job accepting authentic compliments when they take them in without internal or external protest and simply say, “Thank you.”

I hope I did a good job yesterday capturing these images around me.

.

 

Michael did an incredibly good job creating Shepherd’s Pie from on-hand good ingredients like potatoes, cheese, mushrooms, carrots, corn, and ground turkey.

I have a good many jobs to complete this weekend for my good professional group therapy organization, Northeastern Society for Group Psychotherapy.  I will try to follow my good advice to somebody else about doing a good job for the organization: “Have fun with it!”  I hope I did a good job conveying that a good job does not have to be a perfect job.

That reminds me of a good saying I heard on the job:  “Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good.”  Your Secret Mental Weapon  (found here) does a good job describing how that modern saying derives from these good quotes:

Voltaire: “The best is the enemy of the good.”
Confucius: “Better a diamond with a flaw than a pebble without.”
Shakespeare: “Striving to better, oft we mar what’s well.”

Striving to better this post, I hope I do a good job finding a good enough video.

Here‘s Alicia Keys with her great new song, “Good Job.”

I haven’t done a good job here if I don’t convince you to watch that video of many good workers doing a good job during the coronavirus pandemic.

Good job getting to the end of this post and thanks for reading!

 

 

 

Day 2096: What’s the title of today’s post?

Today’s post could have been titled

Day 2096: Welcome y’all, come on in and stay awhile,

Day 2096: News & Blog,

Day 2096: Essential Knowledge,

Day 2096: Goodbye Summer, Hello Autumn,

Day 2096: Dude!  September isn’t even over,

Day 2096: So Far So Good,

 

Day 2096: That’s What She Said,

Day 2096: Creating a Buzz,

Day 2096: Whatever you are, be a good one,

Day 2096: What Do YOU Care What Other People Think?,

Day 2096: Outliers/Being Mortal,

Day 2096: Self-care for the real world,

or Day 2096: There’s beauty in simplicity, BUT I prefer the title

Day 2096: Bloom where you are planted.

Do you like that title or do you prefer another?

 

Since I bloom where I am planted, I bought something at the Brookline Booksmith yesterday. Any guesses?

Today’s post also could have been titled

Day 2096: JAZPNO or Day 2096: Jazz Piano, because this comes up on YouTube when I search for “Jazz piano bloom where you are planted.”

 

Today’s post could also have been titled Day 2096: Thanks to everybody who helped me create this post and — of course! — YOU.

 

Day 2075: Et tu, Brute?

“Et tu, Brute?” is a famous Shakespearean quote in Latin (from Julius Caesar).  Et tu, do you know what that quote means?

Et tu, Wikipedia! What do you say about “Et tu, Brute?”

Et tu, Brute? (pronounced [ɛt ˈtuː ˈbruːtɛ]) is a Latin phrase meaning “even you, Brutus?” It is notable for its occurrence in William Shakespeare’s play Julius Caesar, where it is spoken by the Roman dictator Julius Caesar to his friend Marcus Junius Brutus at the moment of Caesar’s assassination….The phrase is often used apart from the plays to signify an unexpected betrayal by a friend.

Et me, I’m going to point out that the literal translation of “Et tu, Brute?” is “And you, Brutus?”   “Et” means “and” and “tu” means “you.”

Et tu, readers! Do you wonder why I’m explaining et ‘splaining about “Et tu, Brute?” today? Two reasons:

1. President Trump seems to be saying a variant of that quote to the anonymous author of a damning insider editorial recently published in the “failing New York Times.”
2. I noticed this yesterday:

Et tu — if you’ve been a faithful et incredibly attentive reader of this blog — might remember that the first encounter with me et my boyfriend Michael (eight years ago in September) involved beets (described here ).

Et me, do I have any other photos to share with tu, here et now?

Et tu, do you notice that Michael et I always vote  et that Michael never cooks with beets?

Et tu, YouTube: What do you have about “Et tu, Brute?”

This …

et this …

et this …

et this …

et this …

et this …

et this ...

et this.

 

Et tu!  Are you going to comment on this post, below?

Thanks to Shakespeare et Michael et Julius Caesar et AGNI et the genie from Aladdin et Assassin’s Creed et Community et Community Theater et Irondale Center et Archer et beets et everyone et everything else that helped me write today’s post et — of course! — TU!

Day 1702: Inevitable quiet

On the last day of the 70th annual Edinburgh Festival Fringe, as things were quieting down, I noticed the words “Inevitable Quiet” on a poster.

I suppose it’s inevitable that I would point out the very unusual heart on that poster.

I took that photo quietly last night as workers ripped down weeks and weeks of thousands of posters quietly and noisily. Some used chain saws and other unquiet tools to remove the evidence of the month-long festival.  Soon after we witnessed the beginning of that inevitable process,  my son Aaron and I saw and heard noisy events like fireworks over Edinburgh Castle and a talented Shakespearean troupe performing an unquiet version of Romeo and Juliet in which Juliet was sh*t-faced.

Do you  see inevitable quiet in my other photos from yesterday?

As Shakespeare wrote at the inevitable quiet of another play’s ending,  “The rest is silence …..”

…. except for the inevitable noise of today’s YouTube video:

 

I don’t know if this was inevitable for the entire run of Sh*t-Faced Romeo and Juliet at the Edinburgh Fringe, but on the last night both Romeo and Juliet also lived, to my quiet satisfaction. Those two young deaths are inevitably depressing.

I hope there’s not too much inevitable quiet in the comments section for this post. That would also be depressing.

Inevitable thanks to all who helped me create today’s quiet and unquiet post and — OF COURSE! — to you, for visiting.   Make some noise, people!

 

 

Day 1691: Matters of life and death

Yesterday, people in my therapy groups talked about life and death matters, because that mattered to them.  They asked each other life-and-death questions, including the following:

If you were immortal, how would that change how you live your life?

If you had control over how you would die, what would you choose?

They found those life-and-death questions — and questions  about other matters (like the sources of fear) —  in the book “If … Questions for the Soul.”

When I answered the second question in last night’s therapy group, I referenced a memorable scene from the TV show St. Elsewhere, where an old man, dying alone in the hospital, asks to be held by an orderly in the middle of the night.  When the orderly lifted the man off the bed and held him in his arms as he passed, that mattered so much to me.

How might you answer those life-and-death questions? I hope you know your answers matter.

I wonder if there are any life-and-death matters in my photos from yesterday. Let’s see ….

 

Was losing and finding my wallet this week a matter of life and death?  My next step is quoting Shakespeare:

He who steals my purse steals trash. ‘Tis something, nothing: ‘Twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands. A good reputation is the most valuable thing we have—men and women alike.

I took one other photo yesterday.

Is being calmer a matter of life and death?

Does this YouTube video about a St. Elsewhere cast reunion include matters of life and death?

I have some important matters to deal with today, including getting an INR blood test before I leave for Scotland tomorrow. But what matters most to me, here and now, is thanking all those who helped me create today’s post and — of course! — YOU.

 

Day 1177: What if the concept of failure did not exist?

What if the concept of failure did not exist?

… is a question I’ve asked people who describe themselves as failures.

What if the concept of failure did not exist?

…. is the title of the shortest blog post I’ve ever written.

What if the concept of failure did not exist?

… was the first sentence I thought of when I woke up this morning.

Now I’ll ask you. What if the concept of failure did not exist?  How would life be different?

No worries about how you answer that, if the concept of failure does not exist.

What if the concept of failure did not exist for each of these photos?

Speaking of concepts, here’s a clip from Robin Williams’s first album, “Reality: What a Concept!”

I’m including that performance titled “Shakespeare” for many reasons, including this: My son is trying out for a part in a play by Shakespeare — Henry IV, Part 1 — tonight.

What if the concept of failure did not exist about trying something new?

Conceptual thanks to all those who helped me create today’s post and to you — of course! — for successfully visiting here, today.