Third Palate/Pallet/Palette Test Page
Second Palate/Pallet/Palette Test Page
Palate/Pallet/Palette Test Page
The Awake Inning
I decide to sleep in this location. It is a covered place and I am confident I can secure my person and my belongings from prying eyes and the covetous fingers who would take the few possessions I prefer to carry with me when I move because they are required and useful. I try to sleep. Maybe I slept.
When I get up I move thru the place with my inventory eyes, checking that
everything that I left is still in the place that I left it. The items
that I require to perform morning rituals, although I do not have a firm
memory of placing them where they are found, are gathered and used for their
intended purposes. I should have returned them to a central, collection
point. Maybe a small kit or carrying case. That is a good
idea. Today I will try to keep my observant eye out for one of
those. Maybe I won't forget.
Add to reminders. Today is the day to pack-up all the items because this
temporary place will be (must be) vacated by check-out. If check-out
arrives and I have not yet packed, I will again be item-less. But first
my bladder. I leave to locate a urinal or at least a secluded place
where prying eyes and voices will permit me to release last nights wastewater
without any repercussions. I try to blend in with those with obvious
destinations. Maybe I have to set my face like they do.
There are landmarks which are not completely unfamiliar. This collection
of structures, this sidewalk, this railing, none of these people, but that
doorway is the correct direction; I pause. Wait a second. Where am
I headed? Is that man looking at me with concern and discontent in the
way he squints and purses his cheeks? Obviously this is not the right
way for a toilet. I turn and retrace my steps. Maybe I came this
way and it only looks odd because I was walking the opposite direction.
Am I lost? I'm not lost. I try to not be lost. Maybe I
am.
The flow of the crowd seems to indicate they know this gangway leads somewhere
they want to go, which means it is not a dead-end. I should keep a
lookout for a sign for a toilet. This causeway must have been obscured
when I was walking past here a few minutes ago. What was I supposed
to?..oh right...a backpack to put-in my face-wash and nose spray and vitamin
bottles and such. I need to get back before check-out. And I need
to leave enough time to pack up before. No rush. But stick to the
reminders: piss and get back to pack. I try to prioritize.
Maybe it's less important than I think it is.
This antique store sounds empty of employees and customers. Hello?
My muffled voice is a hollow echo-less thing of the past. Squeezing past
nothing I want and nobody to sell it to me, I see a sign for a bathroom.
This tiny cramped hallway is jammed with an overstock of junk that Nana and
Papa probably left on the curb when they bought one that worked better, or
forgot in their attic when they moved to a better house. Either way,
could this crooked door in a damaged door-frame be the door to the
restroom? I try to open the door quietly. Maybe that was
unnecessary.
Pulling hard to un-stick the door jamb from the... Hello-sorry! (There are three women sitting almost on top of each other in this closet.) I stammer that thought this was the restroom and offer my apologies. Can you tell me where the restroom is? (The tallest one stands and I get a quick flash of thigh, leg, and wind of passing scent which draws me along in her wake.) There is a washroom down and back there. I'll show you how to get there. I try to not stare at her back side. Maybe she didn't mind.
The corridor gives way to a walkway, which becomes a pedestrian shopping area. We discuss comfortable words and move in-sync. Her face seems always to be content with her hair either mussed by the wind or covering her freshly washed face. I try not to want to kiss her. Maybe she was trying to not want to kiss me.
She says we need to use this elevator-type of thing. The bank of massive
doors are closed but the smallest one on the end is just closing and I see a
tiny key on a minuscule key-fob above the door frame. I take it out of
the little key-hole and show it to her. She relays that the larger doors
are always crammed to overflowing with hordes of people and that we should
take the small one when it returns. I try to listen to her wonderful
voice. Maybe she is not bothered by mine.
I drop the key and it lands on the pitted concrete floor near her hand. (We are sitting on the floor waiting on this strange elevator which could lead to different floor, a gas chamber, or a quick crush.) I touch her hand with my searching-for-the-key fingers. I try not to jerk my hand away from hers. Maybe that stare thru her unkempt bangs is as welcoming as it feels.
This is us. We compliment each other's failures. Our flaws are incredibly huge to the collective strange faces whom we pass on the way to our daily rituals. A year ago, at an uncomfortable ritual we forced ourselves to attend for no clear rational reason, another couple asked the simplest describe-how-we-met question. I try to formulate an accurate reply. Maybe she struggles too.
From both of our perspectives, her (cramped in a vintage store closet with women she had imprinted on for no obvious or apparent reason) and me (following her faulty decision-making process because mine had been broken and I had no idea) we find it difficult to explain in sentences that make sense to common partygoers. I try not to understand the futility of wanting to not be mentally disordered. Maybe we are doing fine.
I try memory recall-to-future forecast, but still end up with frostbitten feet from when I was trying to become an eagle. Maybe she is as superior as I am inferior, and vice versa in all the yin-yang ways imaginable.
Angry Amazon Tale (but it works great)
For those who enjoy Amazon Tales, this episode is an unusual. One year ago, I purchased a cheap space heater and gave it this two-star review:
Impossible to assemble (but works great)
Reviewed in the United States πΊπΈ on January 26, 2022Verified PurchaseImpossible to attach screw-in plastic legs because the guide-pins and hook-slots absolutely can not line-up with the metal housing (and removing the guide-pins causes the brittle plastic to shatter). The plastic handle, which requires complete disassembly of the metal housing to attach, is either designed to rattle and not fit tightly on purpose - or - these issues are systemic throughout the heater and it will soon stop working. Please note: This space heater works wonderfully without legs and without a handle (as long as you always place it on a surface that will not catch on fire because the reason for the legs is to help keep the heat from melting your carpet and don't pick it up until it has had ample time to cool down because the reason for the plastic handle is to prevent you from burning yourself).
The order and review are accurate, albeit I did not follow the link because maybe this was a new way to spread a virus.
Ringmaster-in-training (Before the Circus)
When the ringmaster began to teach itself to learn to pay attention it was too small to move very far or at all. And never quickly. At that time, the ringmaster witnessed sounds of happy cheerfulness, calm relaxation, and a variation of positive tones or even some irritating wavelength vibrations. It witnessed a range of focused, kind, expressions. Smiles big and small; soft touches; a range of environmental and garment changes, which were sweaty or shivery; and the ringmaster heard too many to remember unknowable noises. Once in a while, it heard a shockingly loud sound which would cause it to wake up.
The ringmaster soon realized, all of these sounds, touches, tastes, and sights were caused by the big people. Some sounds happened because the big people had to make that noise in order to help the ringmaster move, eat, clean, and not be sweaty or shivery. It decided that it liked many of the sounds and smells and tastes provided by big people. It felt especially content, at times, when a big person not-only erased
some discomfort but provided an unexpected feeling of pleasure.
However, some of the big people's sounds or smells or temperatures were exceedingly uncomfortable and the ringmaster realized it needed to some-how inform the big people they were not doing their job correctly.
Consequently, the ringmaster taught itself to make a sound of its own. When a discomfort did not go away (or actually got worse and increased) the ringmaster could contort the muscles surrounding its feeding orifice and force its breathing mechanism to create a unique notification noise.
While practicing their notification noise, the ringmaster discovered it was possible to muffle or not hear the loudness of the noise they were making, at least not at its full volume, if they fully stretched open their feeding orifice. Wide.
Their notification noise had successfully resulted in big people reducing their discomforts for as long as the ringmaster could
recall. And. Over
time. The ringmaster came to identify a small number of big people were better at increasing their
comfort-pleasure and reducing their discomfort-pain than others. It differentiated the big people mostly by their smells and sounds.
That changed in the recent last before. When it was easy to see because the space was blurry-bright. That was when the ringleader recognized an odd disconnect. A few of the big
people, who had previously been better at their job than others, seemed—for no
discernible reason—to choose not to reduce discomfort when it notified them with the notification noise. Instead, one of the big people arrived and intentionally increased its discomfort-pain. The ringleader did not understand. This lack of understanding was new. Uncomfortably new.
Now-now it was difficult to see because the space was dimly lit. The ringmaster considered maybe it had previously done something out of sequence. I am a captive who can not move on my own and when I am uncomfortable I use the notification noise. Like this (and the ringmaster forced its breathing mechanism to expel its breath as its eating orifice opened to squeeze down on its hearing mechanisms). And, now, big people should arrive and make me comfortable. Not this time. Again, I'll do it again. Still nothing. I can normally hear the big person make its arrival noises. I hear no arrival noises. This is illogical.
The illogical happened with more and more regularity. Some dimly lit times and brightly lit times would be back to normal. Other times it would be illogical. They could no longer expect the big person's arrival was a guarantee that "things were going to soon get better." Instead, the ringleader was put in a position to feel a constant level of uncertain about the arrival of the big person. This uncertainty carried with it a constant awareness which became a vague disconcerted feeling in the background of the ringleader's awareness.
Should I do something to not encourage the big person to arrive? I will test that theory. If I do not make the notification noise, even if I am very uncomfortable (and I am uncomfortable right now) maybe they will arrive and it will be normal. No matter how uncomfortable I currently feel, is it possible that I could be making "things be worse" when I use my notification noise?
Accordingly, the ringmaster began to pay close attention to any detail which might help it to pre-identify what every big person intended before they arrived in the place where the ringleader was imprisoned. Was there a different sound, smell, or subtle sequence of visual images which accompanied or preceded the big person's arrival? Something which might indicate if their arrival was going to reduce discomfort or increase discomfort?
Becoming hyper-alert for the possible increase in discomfort-pain, resulted in the blooming of fear to begin to exist and never leave. Never leave ever again. Normal times were never again. Forgotten. The illogical times were now happening too often to not expect them to be expected as the new constant. Use or not use of the notification noise was not connected to receiving pleasure or receiving pain. Nonetheless, the ringmaster decided to no longer use the notification noise except in an absolute pain emergency of the ultimate measure.
One of the times it considered an emergency was when it continued to
over force and extra-exert its breathing mechanism so that its sensory organs could eventually become more
and more fuzzy and many of its discomforts could drift away and become a
distantly-diminished forgotten thing and it could cause itself to go to
sleep, even if it had been fully rested.
Now, it would only exert its breathing mechanism to that extent when it was already lying down. Because it had one-previous-time been fully issuing its notification noise while standing holding the bars and, after it got fuzzy, the ringmaster fell and banged painfully-hard against the edge of the cage.
When
any big person actually arrived and provided comfort-pleasure, now a fantastic feeling of relief rushed in to wash away the ever-present discomfort as well as the accompanying fear (that the discomfort was never going to go away ever again). That fear never actually disappeared, however. Even when the pleasure was sublime. "The pleasure is always only temporary." (Was what the ringmaster understood the fear communicated as it waited patiently for the pleasure to be replaced with discomfort).
Because of that fear, the ringleader was now always cautious when their hypocrite of a warden arrived. No longer did the ringleader express any eagerness or any pleased demeanor when the warden came to their cage. This confused the warden.
The warden thought the ringleader was defective. The warden took it to a health official.
"...cries day and night...always fussy...don't know what could be wrong..."
"...significantly underweight for twelve months...what are you feeding?..."
"...bottle of formula...three times a day...breakfast, lunch, dinner...why?.."
"...just hungry...should've fed cereal at 2 months...and any food by now..."
My Self began to be aware it was (uncomfortably) forming when I was constantly hungry, shitting only liquid, growing a world-record diaper rash (inflamed by cotton diapers trapped under rubber pants) and left, untouched, in a cold, drafty, attic crib (in Maine) between my second month and twelve-months of age. Thanks to a doctor's office scheduling my "annual checkup" this torture only lasted for about 300 days.
Class Discussion—Related to Lecture #1
Sir? S-Sir? I'm c-confused by this gra-grading system . . . I-I've never exp erienced re-real-time class-ss-room p-par ticipation scoring . . . W-why a r range of . . .a . . . ff . . . s-something like . . . thir thirty levels?
Anyone wish to answer Susan or Sue's question? . . . Someone besides the four online auditors who have been permanently blocked. Five, ahh, six are now blocked. I thank Susan or Sue for asking. Some auditors are trolls who eventually identify themselves. It was bound to happen . . .
A-anh ohh?!
The Three Monks
Three monks walking a path.
The first is overly cognizant of their every action. They attempt to never crush or injure any tiny animal or insect underfoot. Their path commonly pauses and weaves as they place each foot into any available space between caterpillars.
The last also hesitates, hops, and lands. Their attempt, however, is to aim every one of their steps so as to kill as many caterpillars as circumstance might place upon their path.
The middle rarely looks down. They walk as straight a path as efficiently practical, only altering stride to avoid mud puddles or navigate obstacles.
This middle monk realizes, at times, that cleaning caterpillar guts from between their toes could be avoided if they were more like the first monk. But they only choose to do so when there are almost none visible. When caterpillars crowd the path, the middle monk re-prioritizes efficiency and rationalizes their actions—as they return their gaze to the horizon—that the few squished by happenstance are outnumbered by the mass who survive to become butterflies.Waldo's Possess Empatheticonscientiousness (Go On Lecture #2)
●scient● In the body of a word, scient is defined as: "knowing, or having awareness of, being morally knowledgeable—or practicing—such, with care and diligence".
Con● The prefix con indicates the word's definition includes: "together or with".●ious The first-suffix ious indicates an adjectival-form and adds: "possessing or full-of" to the word's definition.
●ness The second-suffix ness alters the adjective into an abstract noun while adding: "exemplifying a quality or state" to it's definition.
A close-acquaintance—who my wife and I shared casual conversations with for over a dozen years—joined us on our destination vacation. After we spent a good day-and-a-half catching up and sight-seeing together, we all went to sleep much later than expected on our second night.
Three Hours Lay-ter: Our close-acquaintance's phone emitted a 'text incoming tone' causing my wife and I to wake up. After the tone happened again (and again) I called-out to our close-acquaintance to wake up. They did not. I elevated my voice. They still didn't. I went into the next room, shook them awake, informed them that their phone kept waking us up, and asked them to quiet it. They did not.Realizing that I was now 'awake-awake' I got a book and a place where my light wouldn't disturb the others.Four More Hours Lay-ter: Our close-acquaintance says 'good-morning' and I inform them that I had been awake for the last four hours. They asked, 'why'? This was a strong indicator that they forgot to bring their Where's Waldo costume (which was something I pretended not to notice when they "forgot their wallet" the previous day). Hoping their next answer was a baffled 'no', I asked if they recalled that I woke them at 0430 because of their phone. 'Yes' was their reply.My acquaintance then attempted to justify their decision to not quiet their phone, with a variety of excuses. They opened with the 'blame gambit' (classic gaslighting): "But, you started to hand me the phone but, instead, set it down on the table!" One of their next moves proved their unflagging-lack of conscientiousness: "If you were someone who owned a smart phone, you wouldn't've been bothered by notification-bubble sounds! (This clumsy shame-blaming attempt, caused me to smirk in the same manner they were smirking.)Metaphorically requesting they put on a red-and-white striped hat, I politely-but-sternly said, "Now isn't the time for excuses or for blaming light-sleepers. Now is the time for apologies. Your phone woke us up. I brought it to your attention. You chose NOT to quiet it."Fumbling with the Waldo-hat, they stammer-replied, "I'm apologizing. This is me apologizing. Right now." All of their body-language—smirk in mouth's corners; anger in brow-scowl; impatient swing of arms, pointing finger, and pacing gait—combined with their obvious avoidance of sorry, brought into a spotlight: I'd (yet again) been duped by someone with no empathy and without a conscience. So, I responded with, "You need to tell your face!"Staring down at me, book still in my lap, frustration coalesced into stern decisiveness on my acquaintance's face. (Apparently, so unfamiliar with the traits instilled by a conscience, they couldn't fake it.) They then asked, in a very officious tone-of-voice, if I would allow them to deliver closing-arguments without interruption. I sternly replied, (in my decades-long-unused interrogator addressing a suspect tone-of-voice) "Be careful what words you choose to say next."After listening to a dry summation of previously-stated excuses, I told the person I was once acquainted with that they needed to leave. They then—and only then—allowed a brief-slip in their decisive-mask to expose their confused inner-workings; they muttered, "n'...wai-wha?...at's not...", which I put-down with one of my rare stares(³).
Em●path●etic
●path● In the body of a word, path is defined as: "suffering from an ailment of—or practicing—such a treatment".Em● A common variation of the prefix en, the prefix em indicates a definition includes: "to cause someone to be within a state of...".●etic The suffix etic indicates the adjectival-form adds: "pertaining to..." to the definition.
"They pathetically rolled on the ground, screamed until out of breath, and beat at the earth"—needs more words to completely understand.Add, "because they refused to take a nap."—and pathetically now has enough context to be interpreted with some accuracy. Most readers choose to interpret this description as that of a ham-handed performance by someone (usually a child) attempting to elicit pity from an audience.
However, if nap-refusal is replaced with: "after being informed that their entire family had just been murdered."—and, in this context, pathetically is interpreted very differently. Most readers choose to interpret this description as that of legitimate mental-suffering by someone (usually an adult) unexpectedly caught in uncontrollable "throes of agony."While both child and adult are behaving in a pathetic manner, the over-actor shamefully begs for sympathy or empathy and the sole-survivor is rudderlessly inundated in an emotional tsunami they were never prepared for. You—the audience—must pick who you will console. One? Both? Neither? [Do it now.]
An overt decision is required when most people decide to express empathy. While almost anyone's attention can be snagged by the specific tone and pitch of a scream, mature-savvy adults interpret (within seconds or even microseconds) the source/scene/context and decide to either "switch-empathy-off" or "switch-empathy-on".
Sociopaths—scorn everyone who outwardly expresses any empathy—consider any
mature-savvy adult who acts empathetic to be "gullible fools." Conditioned
to never differentiate between reluctant-nappers and sole-survivors,
sociopaths believe all outward displays of emotion (which includes
their own) are "fake antics of con-artists and crisis-actors." {And the award
for best Alex Jones Info Wars tirade goes to...}
{Insert a touching-yet-informative story about Yetta B. Savvy who only adopts senior and terminally-ill rescue-animals because Yetta feels an incessant urge, which is best described as a "need-to-be-needed". When Yetta doesn't have a constant, daily, target-source on which to focus their empathy, they feel constant anxiety, discomfort, insomnia, and depression.}