Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts

Third Palate/Pallet/Palette Test Page


     🠜 Previous page
       
        Cannabinoids, commonly referred to as CBD (preceded by a C inside triangle symbol)—which you thought was vaguely similar to a copyright circle-c mark but different—was followed by a lengthy quantity of dense information.  You considered that it came-off-as an, 'Everything You Wanted To Know About Hemp But Were Afraid To Ask' research-paper, teaching the reader how to efficiently determine their POE (personal optimal efficacy).
 
        First-up, you scanned a chart.  It reflected 'elapsed time' on the x-axis, and 'milligram dose' on the y-axis:  The lowest dose was annotated: "under this level of bio-availability, desired effects are inconsequential" and, adjacent to the highest: "desired effects become rapidly rendered un-witness-able due to functional-memory loss."  The sentence, "any DBM (dose beyond maximum) increases sleep's on-set, depth, and length" stuck with you; as did the phrase, "reduces the optimal desired-effect window".
 
        The description caused you to imagine a map depicting the path of the moon's shadow during a total solar eclipse and your mind wandered [I was intrigued so didn't interrupt you] . . . looking up from the shadow's center-line allowed witnessing (for the longest time possible) the sky turning instantly blue-to-black, all the night's stars, and the stark-white corona around Sol . . . any distance from center-line decreased witness-time . . . even slightly outside the edge of the moon's umbra and the dimming sun of a partial eclipse was no-different than a cloudy day . . . go too-far and there would be nothing to witness . . . nothing to interrupt your routine.
 
        The card provided more details; more than you required.  The words "active meditation" were too-frequent, you thought.  So, you skimmed-over reasons why edible cannabinoids from hemp provided a 'Goldilocks Effect' (and not its "party-sister" plant); how liver metabolism allowed "stacking" and an "entourage effect"; as well as the various active meditation failures, when CBD derivatives were inhaled and absorbed into the bloodstream through the lungs.  You stopped skimming on the results of other hallucinogenics, which were considered to be, "contra-indicated for achieving the desired-level of (again! you scowled inwardly) active meditation".

        You re-focused on the descriptions of "Delta" (which you learned was marketing-speak for 'man-made derivative compound').  After reading, you understood how specific molecules were distilled from the oil extracted from hemp, and why D8, D9, D10, and THC0 (et cetera) were legal and internet-available.  

        Further, you learned the difference between 'cbd isolates' and 'full' or 'broad' spectrum's [I saved that one in long-term:  Full provided the most noticeable entourage effects, Broad was 'middle of the road', and isolates were isolated alone, without entourage.]
 
        Small-print (which was not actually small) described why it "should be considered mandatory" to abstain at least 48-hours prior from drug use (prescribed or recreational, including but-not-limited-to: tobacco, alcohol, mood stabilizers, and micro-dosing).  Since you'd already been warned of this—and could easily comply—this didn't cause you to pause.
 
        Then the paper-card described the capsules in the next four depressions:
 
                Manufacturer's serving-size: two capsules; Go On Artwork dose: one capsule
                of the cbdMD-brandFocus which contains:
 
                    Broad-spectum CBD-----------------< 35mg (33.8mg exactly)
                    Vitamin B12---------------------------120mcg (or 0.000120mg)
                    Magnesium L-Threonate--------------900mg
                    Alphina Root extract------------------300mg
                    Bacopa Herb extract-------------------75mg
                    Toothed Clubmoss herb extract-------20mg                                                           
 
 
                Manufacturer's serving-size: one capsule; Moderate Experimenter's (ME): one capsule;
                Intoxicant Novice's (IN): skip this capsule; Risk Taker's (RT): two capsules
                of the cbdMD-brand:  Curcumin CBD oil which contains:
 
                    Broad-spectrum CBD----------------------< 28mg (27.5mg exactly)
                    Turmeric Root extract-----------------------200mg
                    Piperine (extracted from black pepper)----15mg                                                                  
 
                Recommended dose for IN's and ME's:  30mg;
                Recommended dose for RT's:  60mg;

                    Flavored gelatin containing:  Full-spectrum D-8 hemp extract:
                        Green 15mg / Yellow 30mg / Orange 45mg / Purple: 60mg
 
        The small-print (which was actually a smaller font) explained that a double-dose made the plateau longer, a slightly more intense experience-at-peak, and only begins to dissipate after 6 hrs, instead of the 'normal' 4 hrs.  Usual side-effects (dry-mouth, lethargy, imagination-boost) were magnified and full-recovery could last 12+ hours instead of the 'normal' 8 hours.
 
        You glanced at the depression containing colored gelatin's in front of you.  [Even though you strongly suspected that this was a test-point, I still tamped-down your temptation to take more than the novice's yellow by reflecting on the image of the administrator politely asking you to leave as they stood and escorted you from their house.]  You continued to read to the bottom of the page.
 
                Recommended dose for IN's:     None;  
                Recommended dose for ME's:  < 10mg (8.5mg exactly) taken in two hours
                Recommended dose for RT's:   < 20mg (17mg exactly)  taken in four hours
 
                    Flavored gelatin containing:  Full-spectrum D-9 hemp extract:
                        Red 5mg / Blue 10mg 
 
        The last words on the front of the paper read, "take only what applies from the four depressions as described above."  Pocket-sized containers for the D9 are available from the administrator.
 
        You took only what was expected.  
 
        You flipped the paper over as the administrator re-filled your tea and slid another packet of yellow sweetener towards the edge of your cup with a nod-smile.      
 

 Go On:

 

          

Second Palate/Pallet/Palette Test Page

        
        A smooth-oval symbol, with tiny divots top & bottom, preceded the acronym: MCT.  The dosage was written as: one gram (1000mg).
 
        Even though you have "heard-of" medium chain triglycerides, you always choose-to not weight the chemical's difficult-to-spell-and-remember name with a "save-for..." marker, or, to tag it with an "interested/learn more" association.  Consequently, you are almost-certain it is not an acronym for Mashed CoconuT.
 
        You hesitated reading for a fraction of, a fraction of, a second to wonder if this was the first time you had seen gram/milligram written in this manner, and the pause gave your brain a chance to identify if this was, maybe, First Awareness in action?
 
        It is always comforting for you, when emotionally-significant This is a first! recognition occurs as-it-is-happening.  You especially enjoy savoring the feeling you think-of as 'that newness-thing settling in' when a anchor neuron is being created.  As it sends out *new connections available here* signals, the trillions upon trillions of already existing transmission-cell connections recognize the new node, and those information pathways "ripple" and cause the brain-equivalent of "muscle-growth itch".  
 
       As you ran your eyes over the paragraph's information, you allowed some of the words to register long enough to receive "save-for...today" markers, like: "less than ten calories" and "trick the liver".  You gleaned enough to understand that these fats are too short for the gauge on the fuel-tank reserved for long-chain fats (which are either burned or stored for later) and too long for the filter that allows only short-chain fats to pass-thru (which ferment and feed gut bacteria).  Consequently, MCTs are able to sneak to the front of the line (where they immediately become high-octane fuel before everything else) and then are express-tubed directly liver to brain, where they are available to provide excess-power to any cell that wants it.  
         
        And, to wink at any others who also successfully tricked their way around security, like the Magnesium Threonate you just swallowed.  You mentioned to yourself as you began to 'sense a theme' and smiled slightly, both inward and outwardly.

        A symbol of an upward-pointing triangle containing three dots preceded the word: Psyllium, which was, again, followed by the dosage: one gram (1000mg).

        The capsules of psyllium powder were a soluble-in-water fiber, intended to counteract possible symptoms of indigestion which, "may be caused by consuming a larger than normal quantity of unfamiliar-to-you supplements."  Also, according to the paper-card, this fiber would provide "some aid" in diarrhea, constipation, or both.  And that, "a significant number of participants will experience the combination of caffeine and MCT as a laxative.  Accordingly, the administrator will direct you to an adjacent water closet."  
 
        You contemplated the term 'water closet' as an internationally-understood label and wondered if the United States would ever abandon their 'public restroom' and 'private bathroom' labels.  This association-linked to the US's disdain for the metric system and then the US's abhorrence of ... so ... I nudged you back from your contemplation spiral.  [You *thought to yourself* 'stop dwelling on the country's failures'!  Keep reading!]
 
        The symbol for salt was an hourglass shape and it's dosage was also: one gram (1000mg).  The tone of this paragraph was similar to the previous one for vitamin D.  "Essential electrolyte" and "heart-rhythm" stuck in your short-term memory.  As well as the oddly worded phrase, "...completely contrary to what has been universally-taught to-and-by modern [italics theirs; sarcasm?] general medical practitioners worldwide, for almost a century".  Basically, the card said:  low-salt diets resulted in dangerously-low electrical impulses between cells (which were the cause of heart arrhythmia, muscle cramps, brain fog, eye-lid twitches, and the list went on).
 
        It then advised gauging your own "routine salt intake" against the "impending, probable increase in your adrenaline/epinephrine and serotonin outputs, which will increase heart and breathing rates" and that you should either take the next three supplements, now, or explain why not.
 
        You reached forward, took all the one-gram capsules and gel-caps from the next three depressions and, as you washed them down with a swallow of tea...
 
        The administrator said with a gesture, "The door at the end is a bedroom with attached en-suite.  Please think of it as yours, for-use as-you-wish, while you're here.  I should mention that there's a litter box next to the shower; but—if you hear a cat asking to come in—please disregard.  They have other options when a door is closed."
 
        You looked at the closed door at the end of a short hallway, thanked them, smiled, and continued reading. 

Palate/Pallet/Palette Test Page

 
        The administrator met you at the door, directed you to seat yourself in the over-stuffed chair in front of the coffee table, and excused themselves with the declaration, "My kitchen has requested a few more minutes of my attention before we begin . . . Oh . . . If you find a cat in your seat, that's good luck for both of you! . . to discover if you can share."
 
        There was just enough time for you to be impressed by the shaded but warmly adorned sun-porch and the bird-sounds coming thru screened windows (unfortunately, no cat) before you noticed the coffee table contained a small number of rectangular porcelain plates—which you thought you recognized from restaurants who needed their strong sauces and spices kept-apart.  Each shallow-depression contained:  a capsule, a couple of colorful pills, or a different-colored slice of gelatin; also, each of the depression's were labelled with a tiny symbol in the porcelain.  As you bent forward in your chair, to see if you could identify any of the markings, you realized the administrator was returning and then-recognized that you already forgot their name.
 
        "Welcome to your first Go On experience."  The administrator breezed in with comfortable smiles and full hands.  "I am here to administer the artwork for you.  Names are an unimportant formality and I prefer not to use titles, as well.  Either?
 
        "Nonetheless, I'll guide you.  We should exchange as much information as is required by either of us, in as succinct a manner as possible."  As the administrator said this, they added two more plates to the coffee table, rearranged them all (focusing on the order of the plate's contents) and raised-up the table in an springy-accordion-manner.
 
        Now positioned in front of you like a dining table, you realized the plates were easily within reach.  "Thank you."  You paused, catching yourself (*inward smile*) before you mumbled or stammered-out a 'sir' or 'administrator'.

        "This page of paper contains the list of supplements in front of you."  The administrator rose slightly from their seat beside the table, slid a piece of paper within reach, and resumed the instructions.  "The order they are listed, is the order they are displayed; from your left to your right.  You should take as much time as you need to read this entire sheet, both front and back."
 
        You began to read.  The first symbol reminded you of a slightly-slanted party hat with geometric lines and dots underneath; you assumed it was either Chinese or Japanese.  You glanced at the first symbol on the plate on your far left (to match the symbols) ... and the administrator resumed talking.

        "I'll pour us some tea.  And.  As any question arises in your reading-mind, I request you ask it.  Please do not save your questions for the end.  This is not, at-all, conducive to that.  The experience will begin after our tea is done—that's usually, for everyone including myself—about twenty minutes.  The tea's caffeine and terpenes will take that long to begin to take effect; so if you finish reading after a few minutes and have no questions, we will sit and watch birds and squirrels until 21 minutes have passed."

        You nodded, smiled, and returned your eyes to the paragraph beginning with the party-hat symbol:
 
        Potassium.  Milligrams vary by body-mass/weight; rate of metabolism/resting heart rate; fat reserves (brown-fat versus yellow-fat); and other immediately available minerals and vitamins which act as "boosters" or provide "entourage effects".  The next line was blank.  The line after that only contained:  127mg.
 
        Your mind looked back at the plate.  At the one pill in the party-hat location.  Not two mass-produced 65mg pills.  This was supposed to be one 127mg pill?  Made specifically for, whomever?  With no pre-prepared questionnaire, this must be an intentional conundrum, you thought.  "I have a question."  You said.
 
        "Please, just ask.  No need to request permission or announce questions."  As they added more cream to their own tea and raised the pitcher slightly to your head-shake.

        "All these measurements to identify dosage . . . followed by a very specific—127mg, on the page.  Either this is an oxymoronic-dichotomy of sorts, intended to confuse, or to entertain, . . . or to . . . see if I'm able to ask questions?  To, express my confusion?"

        "Yes."  The administrator replied with a straight face, "One of those."  Then they indicated toward the little dish of sweeteners.
 
        You took a yellow package of something and asked, "If I had taken my 90mg this morning, would the card say:  37mg?"

        "No." They replied as they emptied the creamer into their tea.

        You smiled, sipped, and continued reading:

        Magnesium L-Threonate (preceded by a curly-looping symbol) and followed by:  360mg.  The next line explained that this variation of the essential mineral magnesium was a sulfate (or 'salt') and was one of the rare magnesium molecules capable of crossing the osmotic-type of "barrier" surrounding the brain.  It further noted that there were, currently, no recommendations (or prevention-cautions) or significant research, regarding this form of brain-accessable-magnesium. 

        Vitamin D (preceded by a square-D symbol):  1250mg.  The next line reflected that less milligrams would be required if, "yesterday's sun exposure was optimal or more-than-average".  Then it read, exactly as-follows:  If you need to know why you need a vitamin D supplement—ask the administrator.  If you already know why, you may take these first three supplements.
 
        By taking the first three supplements, you are stating/acknowledging that you possess full-awareness of your own health conditions/evaluation, and any risks you entertain by taking minerals, supplements, nootropics, or other substances provided by the administrator are completely your decision. You are volunteering to participate.
 
        While you are currently (and always?) evaluating/testing the capabilities of your individual self and mind, you are hereby reminded:  You are always able to end this specific experience at any time (and receive a full refund).
 
        It is only asked that you begin to learn to trust the advice of the administrator of the Go On artwork (who, also, may terminate the experience at any time, at their own discretion, and would-then provide a full-refund to you).
 
         KmagD is the first-foundational entourage.  KmagD is a daily/bi-daily recommendation, but every human participating in the artwork-experience should consider it a requirement.  If you already took KmagD today (or some portion thereof) please inform the administrator at this time.  Otherwise, take the three KmagD.
 
        You reached forward, took the capsules and pills from the first three depressions, washed them down with a swallow of tea, and continued reading:
 

The Awake Inning

shards of ice butterfly reflection poem

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 πŸ‡ΊπŸ‡Έ on January 26, 2022 
Verified Purchase 

Impossible 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).
 
          I assumed they sent me legs/handle from a different model; and decided not to go thru the hassle of returning when this $25 heater worked fine propped on a metal cookie tin.  I received the following message today:
 

           The order and review are accurate, albeit I did not follow the link because maybe this was a new way to spread a virus.
 
          Is this the absolute best way to drive an Amazon competitor out of business?  Or, maybe, this was written by a disgruntled ex-employee?  The actual company would never (or would they).

more Amazon Tales:

 
 

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. 


 want some more torture based on real events?:
 
 

Class Discussion—Related to Lecture #1

          I want to express my welcome, to all students physically present, as well as those currently online and able to interact with the class on this rainy Vermont day, and to those auditing the class in my future, slash their present, who're unable to interact with the group.  I thank you for your attention.
 
          For this discussion, I'll be acting in a "master-of-ceremonies" role.  My name is spelled: Veach Glines.  For those of you unable to see the board, my name is spelled Vee as-in Victor; EACH as in beach (spelled like the ocean-shore not the beech tree); Gee as-in Golf, followed by LINES, like the phrase: 'I prefer coloring outside the lines'.

{intermittent squeak of dry erase marker}
 
          When speaking about myself in third-person—something I find jarring to experience, so I rarely do it unless trying for cringe—I prefer he/him.  I'm comfortable with the honorific, professor, albeit un-capitalized.  Because capitalization is lost when speaking, please feel free to use any word you're comfortable with:  sir, ma'am, asshat . . .

 {audible chuckles}
 
          Let's begin!  For those present or logged-in:  if you communicate via text, your preferred name will automatically appear before your typed-words.  Languages other than English are translated by the AI and appear in English adjacent the <translated> notation.  Communicating by voice is sourced as affiliated with your preferred name and also translated automatically by AI.  If you're auditing and want to talk or text, please pre-identify with an acceptable gnome-de-plume (and, yes, I pronounced it Gnome—reasons may be explained later).
 
          The topic for today's discussion was the title of my first lectureArtists Are Terribly People.  Anyone like to start us out?
 {sound of collective shuffle-rustling}

          Please, go ahead; in the wonderfully colorful sweater . . .
 
          Hi, hello.  I believe, little-p-professor, that this order, of these four words is the only order they could be placed, if the desired outcome was to encourage the most confusion.
 
          I think that all possible placement-locations of the adverb Terribly, within the three-word sentence "Artists Are People," causes readers to ponder the use of that adverb.  However, in this placement: Artists Are Terribly People, readers are faced with the additional consideration of wondering if the t-shirt designer accidentally printed the letter Y instead of the letter E.  The word Terrible is an adjective.  And adjective-immediately-before-a-noun is grammatically correct.
 
{as the relatively youthful, slight Midwestern-nasal, flat-but-charming voice expounded,
their words became visible on the text-screen
| Name: "Dre" |
| Preferences: they/them/student |
  below a multicolored maple leaf with a plum-purple background
above a canary-yellow, capital letter, C}
 
          Well, Dre.  Thank you for this well-thought-out and concise interpretation.  I see you've indicated 'student' as preferred honorific.  Are you willing to explain?  I try to ask pertinent questions as they arise. 
 
          Umm, well, I, um, thought about what title a gender-less person.  Not gender-neutral.  Who's only been a student for . . . for their-whole-life, might . . . consider . . . complimentary.  To be . . . damn.  Sorry.  I should have thought about it more.  
 
          Dre, I'm not trying to embarrass or make light of a very-real conundrum.  It's just a coincidence that you were "first at bat" and, accordingly, first to admit an unability to address the honorific-issue.  I normally mention this during the introduction, but I forgot, so here goes!
 
          Any instructor striving for objectivity—who takes the job of teaching seriously—should not need to explain the self-imposed requirement to treat every person with equal respect, and especially each of their students.  I see from some of your faces that a detailed explanation may be helpful.
 
          While referring to everyone by their preferred name may be simple, now that technology automatically puts it in our direct line-of-sight, the consequence of live-grading makes encouraging and discouraging students, without my words affecting their grade, very challenging.
 
          The AI allows the optional use—and, more importantly, the non-use—of honorifics without allocating grade-weight.  When I call someone by their preferred honorific, while I am saying, "keep up the good work," I'm also setting the stage for when I do not use some future person's honorific.  Because when I avoid using a preferred honorific, that is how I informally suggest disapproval without the AI interpreting my bio-metrics and changing their grade.   
 
        Please consider my need to have a desired honorific for everyone as something as important or valuable to me, as hearing others use your preferred gender-less pronouns are to you.  Until then, I would like your permission, Dre, to utilize the non-word 'eglaf ' as an honorific?  Only after you update your profile, though, so we don't confuse the AI.
 
        Thank you, Dre, you've excelled.  
 
{the canary-yellow C became a florescent-green A 
whispers rose and faded}
 
         Ahh . . . I've received a text from someone who is auditing.  Please bear with while I read; because obviously auto-posting to class screens from unregistered auditors would be an ill advised practice.
 
{slight-whispers}

          I will read it, in a rather abridged form because of online-speak and slang.  It is from an anonymous source.
 
          It says, "The equivalent of a military rank or title of honor should suffice.  The term crew-chief is a position of specific authority which delega . . . (think they meant 'designates') a position respected by all of the crew members as well as every senior officer who heavily relies on the person with that title. They are normally only called by the single honorific:  Chief."

{murmurs and rustling}

          I appreciate the auditor's suggestion, however, if Dre had written 'chief' as their preferred honorific, we'd be exactly where we are.  I will decline to use certain words perceived as a legitimate title of honor by someone but possibly disparaging to another.  And, chief is one such word.  Similarly, I would only call someone Doctor if they were a PhD or MD.

          Moving on.  Dre's observation that Artist's Are Terribly People causes a mental hick-up with Artist's Are Terrible People.  They also pointed out that the three other placements of the adverb may not provide sufficient context to completely understand those sentences, but also that those sentences would not be cause for too much more mental deliberation. 

          Someone else?  Ah, OK.  The person standing . . .
 
          The concreteness of the words printed on the front of a shirt is not unimportant.  If it were overheard or read in a text-conversation it would be less open for evaluation or consideration.  Statements proclaimed on shirts are intended to be received like a brand by an audience.  Maybe funny.  Or ironic.  An aphorism.  Sometimes proclaimed in protest.  But always intentionally crafted.  Always created.  Just like artwork is created.  Artists Are Terribly People emblazoned on a shirt?  That's a statement made by an artist!  Begging to be evaluated.

{as the raspy voice shot-out its clipped sentences
their words became visible on the text-screen
| Name: "E F NoΓ«l" |
| Preferences: they/them/newt |
  below an image of a orange salamander on a rock
above a canary-yellow, capital letter, C which transformed into an 2+}

          Ahh.  Very good.   I wondered why you stood instead of raising your hand like the others.  Clearly, Nude, you've already read the manual.  I have nothing to add except an explanation about the grading system.  Everyone begins at the median.  Maximum is 9+.  Minimum is 9-.  Participation results in change.

          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?

{as the speaker navigated sentences like a old truck
veering around potholes (and hitting some),
their words became visible on the text-screen
| Name: "Susan or Sue" |
| Preferences: she/her/blank |
  below an image of the speaker in cap and gown
above a canary-yellow, capital letter, C}

         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 . . .

{adjacent Susan or Sue's thumbnail image,
 the canary-yellow, capital letter, C}
became a  C+}

          A-anh ohh?!

{as her sighs and non-verbal utterances of disapproval continued 
 the canary-yellow, capital letter, C returned}
 
          Wh-wh-aA Da fff . . .
 
{the canary-yellow, capital letter, C became a hard-orange D}
 
          Someone should answer her question, if for no other reason than to save her . . . from herself.
 
          The!  Grading system is fake!  Or . . . maybe, fabricated is better.  Maybe crafted by little-p-professor, so that our attention is entertained.  Hard to look away from a train-wreck . . . and,
 
{as the roller-coaster lower-register voice almost sang-out
with a noticeable degree of over-acting emphasis
their words became visible on the text-screen
| Name: "Randelf" |
| Preferences: she/her/nude |
  below an image of a very recognizable rainbow
above a canary-yellow, capital letter, C as it snapped into a
very warning-orange D}
 
          and . . . it definitely encourages participation!  Little-p-professor said he was performing the role of master-of-ceremonies, didn't he?  Well.  Look at your emotions.  Right now!  Are you hoping I drop to an F?  Schadenfreude much?
 
 {the very warning-orange D gradually switched to bold electric B}
 
          Are you to shallow to care?  Who's able to realize that they are . . . WE are . . . All circus performers and while we desire to become so aware of our Self that we can . . . do Both things at once . . . Sit in the audience . . . and . . . watch . . . our own performance!  Simultaneously?  Well that's what I'm here for, anyway!  
 
{which became a  C+}
 
          Nude!  Well said.  If only you answered Susan or Sue's question, though.  She is confused about the "so many levels"?  Oh, and Randelf?  Keep reading.  More reading less grandstanding.   
 
          Yes, please.  With your hand up over there.
 
          Professor little-p.  The most logical reason for thirty-one grade levels is because the computer program probably allows only two digits.  Rooting the median in the center of the five-letter ABCDF normative system, allows for the addition of eight plus's and eight minus's.

{as the median-monotone voice marched
solemnly along without exertion 
their words became visible on the text-screen
| Name: "Francis 'Freak' Storm" |
| Preferences: zhe/hzr/zero |
 appended-to a white-on-black slashed-numeral zero image 
above a canary-yellow, capital letter, C changed into a
cool-electric B+}
 
          This level of deep-dive into my writings, Freak, while personally appreciated, is not specifically related to the class.  However, I applaud your use of the term 'normative system', your logic, as well as your accuracy.

          We have our first AI confusion of the day, nice!   An unregistered auditor posed a statement, which was translated by the AI, but either they are present in the room or they have the same identifying profile as someone in the room.  We'll see if the AI blinks itself.  Until then, I'll read it.
 
          <translate> Being a terrible person is drastically different than being terrible at person-ing (which is what the shirt seems to convey).   Being socially clumsy, possessing less-than-optimal charisma, as well as other traits commonly believed to be possessed by those who self-identify as introverted, are the characteristics of so many people who are creative that they are stereotypical-to-the-point-of-cliche.  This shirt draws attention to those stereotypes.
 
          I see it's still working on its hick-up, so, would any of y . . .

{as the professor's words
dwindled away, the text-screen changed
| Name: "Ted" |
| Preferences: he/him/sir |
 appended-to an image of a cowboy on a horse 
above a canary-yellow, capital letter, C as it changed
into florescent-green A}
 
          Um.  Well!  It is possible . . .  Is it possible, Ted, that you are in this room, or can hear me?
 
          <translate> Yes.  I am the person in the wheelchair at the back.  My voice program is similar to others with muscular dystrophy, only my French-English translator is old of date.  And, I did not want to shout to call attention.   So I logged in as a auditor even though I am registered.  Apologies.

          Ted, your interpretation is as correct as it's possible to be.  That said, I (and the AI) would like to discover a way to recognize the equivalent of your hand being raised.  I can not see you from down here.  Does your chair have a light?

{In the top back of the room a spotlight lit the back of the wall,
rustle of clothing, whispers, creaking chairs}

          Excellent.  I will now be able to call on you, sir.  Thank you.
 

{a dozen more people contributed to the class discussion,
which touched on some of the elements from
the first lecture (thoughts, memories, beliefs, et cetera)
however nothing further was said by any of the study group:
            

go on, keep it up:


 

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.
 
        Contemplate this allegory.
 
        If the actual practice of a contemplation exercise is something unfamiliar, follow these steps:
 
        In a place without distractions, close your eyes and imagine the events depicted.
 
        As you picture each monk, consider what might be their motivations if you interpreted the story in a way that was as close-to-literal as imaginable (and the three were actual Jainists).
 
        Decide which monk you most identify with and why you are less comfortable with pretending to be inside the head of the other two.  
 
        Now consider what abstract concept the story might be encouraging you to understand.  Consider other parables containing three characters (Three Blind Mice; The Three Little Pigs; The Three Bears; The Three Billy Goats Gruff; et cetera).  

        Once the above steps are complete, stop contemplating and read the Three Monks Addendum which provides an answer to the fourth step.
 
        Resume contemplating with the first task in mind to re-evaluate step three.   Allow your mind to wander.  Allow your concentration to play.

        If your mind reminds you of urges your body would like to be satisfied (future self thoughts) return your contemplation to the monk you least identify with and consider their opinion of the monk you might aspire to become in a perfect world. 
 
        If your mind recollects memories your body once experienced (past self thoughts) switch your contemplation to the event outside your ears between each heartbeat.  
 
 
more:
 
 
 

Waldo's Possess Empatheticonscientiousness (Go On Lecture #2)

 

     Em●path●etic␣Con●sci●ent●ious●ness — pronounced:  emPA-thet-tic-Kon-SHE-en-Shhuss-nis
 
 Con●sci●ent●ious●ness
●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.
Conscientiousness—similar to the word conscience—is defined:  one who diligently possesses a knowledgeable state of moral awareness (possesses a conscience).
 
          Tautologically (in it's logic form) it is assumed or "taken as a given" that every human is:  Conscious of their own conscientious behaviors and realize the lack-thereof in other humans by simply using self-comparison.  This pre-assumes (not to be confused with presumes) everyone is already conscious of their own general, standard-operating-procedure, thought processes, and have not left the machine operating as it was programmed during its gestation period, with its decision-making-autopilot stuck in the 'On' position.

          Additionally, it is assumed (by many-millions of people smarter than I am) that almost all living organisms have no biological need, nor ability, to grow a conscience because they further assume humans are the only conscious organisms to have ever existed.   As a consequence of these collective widespread assumptions, scientists and philosophers alike, do not expect (nor look for) conscientious behaviors, nor empathetic emotions, in non-human organisms(¹).
 
           I have experienced a life-long struggle with the Where's-Waldo-esque challenge of finding people who actually possess a fully-functioning conscience, and who aren't just pretending when the cameras are rolling.  Equally important, in my Waldo-challenge, is determining who is ready, willing, and able to empathize if-and-when an occasion arises to utilize that emotional behavior.  From my vantage point, the majority of modern-humans prefer to (reluctant-hurriedly) put on a red-and-white striped hat only when-and-if they think pretending to appear to possess empatheticonscientiousness might "smooth out" some unexpected confrontation (which they've stumbled across on their overly crowded, self-obsessed, path between birth and death).
 
          I've spent almost five decades surgically removing, ex-communicating, ghosting, divorcing, and breaking-up-with people who possessed various-levels of expertise in how to wear a Where's Waldo costume, and almost an equal number of decades failing-at (while occasionally succeeding-in) cultivating strong trust-worthy friendships, with a few who have real empatheticonscientious(²).

My latest Where's Waldo Costume "reveal":
          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).

This Chart's Explanation Will Definitely Go On The Quiz:
 
          For the benefit of providing the most-complete instruction to listeners/readers of all ages, who are time-travelling forward—one-day-into-their-future, every 24-hours—somewhere between their own birth πŸ‘Ά and their own death πŸ’€; who currently-realize their current-day's mental capacity can be gauged to exist somewhere along the - Infantile - Juvenile - Callow - Mature - Wise - range of mental abilities; who also should be able to estimate their current emotional capacity somewhere on the - NaΓ―ve - Irrational - Obtuse - Savvy - Waldo - emotional spectrum . . . accordingly . . . this is how I think someone with empathy and a conscience would have behaved in the above scenario:
 
          "Fuck Man!  I remember that you woke me, but I must've fallen right back to sleep!  I am sooo sorry I forgot to shut my goddamned phone completely off!  Even on fucking vacation, I can't go to sleep without my dopamine-drip notification tone.  Completely my bad!  What can I do to make up for my mistake?  Why don't I take us all out for breakfast and then you can come back and nap while I and my phone go-off-quietly somewhere out of earshot?"
 
          For mentally-emotionally impaired readers/listeners, who might be trying to learn how to wear a Where's-Waldo costume (so they might become better at pretending to have empathy/a conscience) this is how someone who wished to appear to possess empathetic traits or pretend to have a conscience might have behaved:
 
          Afternoon-text to my wife's smart phone:  | checked into local motel | apology lobster? | my treat | Lobster Pound | 7pm tonight | still friends? |
 
Of Course, The Term Empatheticonscientiousness is a human-construct:
 
          "Human construct" is a term used (more often, in a derisively pedantic-tone-of-voice) when discussing/explaining human reproductive organs ("born with"); growth-and-reproductive hormones ("matured into"); and our various different/differing sexual desires—to others, as well as ourselves ("environmentally-conditioned and/or self-programmed").   Consequently, the phrase gender is a human construct is as over-used as it is under-understood (I twisted this paragraph like a pretzel so I could use that last hyphenated word and I feel so proud of myself, that I've taken this parenthetical sentence to pat myself on the back *pat-pat*.)
 
          For as long as they have considered themselves civilized (the most constructed term of all), humans have encouraged others to become "more civilized" in their deceptive world of barbarians, charlatans, con-artists, and marketing specialists.  To that end, of course, the humans who refer to themselves as "the most civilized" are those who behave in the most polite manner to those-others who alter their behavior to "become more civilized".   Explained in another way:  Members of a civilized society behave in as conscientious a manner as possible, as well as employ empathetic behavior, if-and-whenever it's called-for, because treating others as they desire to be treated is the golden-rule-ultimate-proof bedrock of polite-civilization!  True empathy and actual conscientiousness are possessed by only the most-polite, most-civilized, most-highly evolved organisms.  And those labels could have their own equivalent-labels for behaviors in every animal who ever existed.
 
          Also, of course, these terms are just human-constructed labels for specific brain/body chemicals which cause us to either feel certain emotion-on-demand "feelings" - or - they are labels for behaviors we learned to emulate or learned to not emulate (avoid), so as to not become demoted from 'close-friend' to 'former-acquaintance'.

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.

Empathetic—empathic, empathize, empathizing, empath—all bear similar definitions:   Causing oneself to practice suffering.
 
          I chose to use the older variant: Empathetic (rather than the more-modern Empathic) because the 'et' permits the core-word pathetic to be realized.  In English, referring to someone as "behaving pathetically" can be, and usually is, derisive.  However, pathetic is a "loaded word" which requires context to fully interpret. 
 "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".
Exceptions:
 
                    Psychopaths—born emotionally-lacking the ability to empathize—don't consider their absence of empathy a lacking but, instead, a special skill or a superpower.  Incapable of being emotionally savvy, intelligent psychopaths become adept mimics.  In an attempt to blend-in with mature-savvy adults, psychopaths may pretend to switch-empathy-on.  {And the Golden Globe goes to...}

                     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...}

                     Narcissists—self-programmed (and raised) to fear any appearance of weakness—begin, in childhood, with simple displays of false-bravado.  Eventually deceptive attention-seeking becomes bald-faced lies becomes pathological manipulations, which can cause harm to anyone within a narcissist's sphere of influence.  By denying and concealing all of their own hypocritical behaviors from themselves, even the most intelligent narcissist's self-deluded fantasies solidify into unconscionably callous behaviors.  {And the trophy for the most 45th presidential behavior goes to...}(⁴).

                     Empaths—self-programmed to fear any appearance of callousness (the opposite of appearing weak)—begin, in childhood, with simple displays of earnest selflessness and animal/pet husbandry.  When empath's confuse their desire to never appear unkind with the impulse to act more benevolently, the result can be an overload of behaviorally-driven emotions (repressed as well as expressed).(⁵)

                     {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.}

Differences between Sympathy and Empathy:
 
          Empathetic is derived from the English word Empathy, in the same manner as Sympathetic is derived from the word Sympathy.
 
          Sympathy indicates "compassionate words expressing an understood emotional state."  When one behaves sympathetically towards another, they (the person expressing the words) have previous experience with the causes of those emotions and wish the person they are communicating with, did not have to also-feel those emotions.  See also: commiserating; shared-feelings; "Sorry for your loss" or "I'm sorry you're feeling this way".
 
                    People express words of sympathy because they previously learned how to be conscientious (from watching others, or, from exchanging words-of-sorrow) and, then, came-to-realize they also felt better afterwardsAppreciation is a mutual-purpose.  It "works both ways" in that when one feels appreciated they "instinctively" thank the person showing them appreciation
 
          Empathy involves "simultaneously experiencing the emotions of another."  When someone imagines themselves in the situation of another, and then subconsciously or intentionally alters their body language, posture, tone of voice, hand gestures, and breathing patterns, they (the person who is placing themselves in a receptive mental state) is attempting to "intuitively feel" the emotions of another.  Whether accomplished reflexively, or attempted by choice, this is behaving empathetically.  See also: shared tears-of-joy (weddings); shared tears-of-sorrow (funerals); parasympathetic emulation; mirroring; and reflexive Vagus nerve spasms (while watching horror films or seeing accidental injuries).
 
                    Empathetic emotions are expressed in the presence of someone currently in-need of consoling.  Sympathetic words are communicated to someone who either:  was never in need of consoling, is no longer in need of consoling, or is not present (and is being communicated using the written word).  
 
                    The common aphorism 'Misery Loves Company' may sound trite, but that simple sentence has survived because it's fundamentally true when it comes to empathy.  When experiencing agonizing physical pain, people are rarely capable of self-healing.  If that pain is excruciating mental anguish, people are less able to self-realize their depressed-beyond-helplessly-lost state.  One person with empathy can ameliorate another's suffering by just being present.
 
     Bringing this lecture to its most-must-needed-conclusion, I want to re-emphasize (to those in the lecture hall who need to hear something more than twice before devoting their full-attention) that emotional and mental strengths are absolutely not caused by the amount of time spent alive, they are also not strengthened by the same exercises.  While reading books may result in an increase of one's vocabulary, emotional growth and mental maturity is gained or strengthened by intentional contemplation, and re-enforced by communication with oneself (keeping a journal) or communicating with others (writing letters, articles, or essays).  So . . . the topic of your first essay should be derived from this lecture.  I will grade them as they arrive in my inbox.  
 
 
          (¹)  This is current scientific theory as it relates to biology.  It is also a snapshot of every branch of philosophy, which always attempts to address consciousness with the same bizarre starting point:  Humans are more evolved than all other animals.  Not to be outdone, this is a tenet of more than a few religions that proclaim:  Humans were created to have dominion over the lesser animals.
                All of these highly-over-educated and stupendously-under-educated people are guessing when they claim humans are the only biological entities capable of being conscious of their own consciousness.  Every person claiming to possess knowledge about consciousness is guilty of basing their spurious assumptions on one comically-inexcusable foundation:  Hubris.
                Using whatever logical-reasoning you have available, ask yourself:  What is more probable?  That we—H. Sapiens Sapiens—are the only species which evolved to possess consciousness, or that every living organism is conscious of their own consciousness?  Now erase the word living, because it's equally probable that:  Every building-block-of-energy, comprising all matter, are part of the same one consciousness.
                We—the most-advanced tool builders on this planet—could be the most stunted animal on earth (when measuring interpersonal-behaviors, driven by mental maturity), we could also be the most blithely unaware animal on earth (when measuring conscious-abilities, driven by emotional acuity).
               
          (²)  During brief casual conversations, I'm as blind to "character flaws" as anyone.  However, give me a few lengthy, deep, conversations (or a decade of casual conversations) and I can usually suss-out the scarred red flags of mental and emotional damage.   This is something I encourage myself to do, because I'm an over-sharer (Asperger's trait).  If I trust you, I blather-on too much.  Saying that I "tend to over-explain" is giving myself waaay too much credit.  I catch myself mid-tirade (less often than I would prefer) not knowing it has been shut-the-fuck-up-time for more than a minute! (this much-too-long lecture—in need of an elbow on my delete key—is a perfect example). 
               As a consequence of my lack of filter and broken emergency-shut-off button, I discovered—in my failures of youth—that it was crucially important to confide my rants only to those few people who I was confident I could trust.  Trial-and-error taught me how to identify empathy and conscientiousness, which (when both happen to be possessed by one person) signifies that I can completely open myself up and bare my deepest-darkest without fearing recrimination.  
 
         (³)  Intentional lack of eye contact, as previously explained, is my most-obvious Asperger's trait (from an outside-looking-in vantage point).  It's how I "turn-down the volume" of people's facial-body language which is always shouting for my attention, and interrupting my focus.  Also—because of a sensitivity to strong light (a trait people with Asperger's share with many who aren't autistic)—I'm a serious squinter.  Most people become so accustomed to my constant looking-away and squinting behaviors, they form the mental impression that I possess a shy, nonthreatening, demeanor.
               They aren't wrong.  But, ask yourself:  Have I chosen to adopt this demeanor?  Is it more likely that direct sunlight forces me to squint to reduce eye-pain?  Is it more-probable that I've evaluated the impulses, which drive my behaviors, and came to the realization that I need to "turn the volume down on other people's facial-body language" in order to not lose my train-of-thought?  Or, that I'm outright lying right-here-right-now?  [Which would make all of this what? . . . some elaborate ruse to justify my lack of eye-contact to myself and at-the-same-time the infinitesimally small number of readers who've made it to these jewel-encrusted depths (in both my reasoning-flex and this navel-gazing documentation of said reasoning-flex)?]   
                Rare Stare:  Not until my middle-age-years did I, accidentally, discover my rare-stare.  Although I've always reflexively stared at neutral surfaces—when in need of a visually-uninterrupted focus to formulate my important next thought—if I know I'm done talking (and, consequently, no longer need to think about what comes next) the urge to look at a neutral surface just disappears.  Consequently, I can directly experience the entire gestalt, face, eyes, and irises of whomever I'm facing at full-volume.  Because of this unforeseeable, outside-of-my-control, rarity, my relaxed but focused, pale, ice-grey gaze has a surprising intensity of intent.  I've been told, "it comes as a bit of a shock".  Decades ago, that trait was an advantage I may have used, to its desired effect, during interrogations. 
 
        (⁴)  Codified during a subjectively crucial time in every budding narcissist's emotionally stunted-development, between the infant's "everyone is my servant" phase and the "I'm me as you're he as you are me and we are all together" mature-savvy state (which narcissists never reach).
              The more a narcissist reinforces their fear of looking weak, the stronger and more-frequent their callous traits become.  These traits (both overtly-visible and covertly-camouflaged) directly correlate with the quantity of objectively visible 'affects,' interpreted by mature-savvy audiences as infantile behaviors.  Accordingly, the more-narcissistic one is, the less-often one chooses to "switch on" empathy (juveniles grow into empathy-hormones; infants have no empathy).
           
          (⁵)  Instilled during a subjectively crucial time in every budding empath's emotionally warped-development, long after the toddler's "all my servants are bad" phase; between the adolescent's "my jailer's no longer pretend to be servants" phase and the "I'll never become a bad servant" mature-but-not-yet-savvy steady-state (which empathic altruist's rarely grow out of).
               The more an empath has reinforced this fear in themselves the stronger their traits-of-empathy, which directly correlate with the amount of objectively visible 'affects' interpreted by mature-savvy audiences as doting-grandmother behaviors.  Accordingly, the more-empathic one is, the less-often one chooses to "switch off" empathy. 
 
if this was not enough reading: