Author: Force

  • Final Stages

    Today, during my lunch break, I called Robin. I’m not entirely sure if it’s spelled “Robin” or “Robyn,” but she’s mom’s hospice case nurse.

    Yesterday as I was flying back to Florida from Southern New Mexico, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we might be missing something. “Maybe there’s some treatment we haven’t explored yet, or perhaps there’s a reasonable explanation for this whole situation that I just haven’t grasped.” I thought.

    I didn’t arrange for hospice care—my brother did that when he was still speaking to us. But after the transition, he stopped communicating with either me or my father. I don’t even know how it went from a memory care facility to hospice care. I always thought hospice was just for the very end, but I’ve since learned it’s about making someone with a terminal illness as comfortable as possible and can go on for over a year.

    Over the weekend, while I was caring for mom and giving dad a break, it felt like we were just giving up. It didn’t seem like we were doing anything to help her—it was just about managing pain and trying to calm her agitation.

    Today, during my lunch break, I called Robyn. I needed to hear directly from someone who could give me a clear answer. I asked her, “Is there no hope? Can we not try anything else?”

    She was kind but firm. “Your mom is in the final stages of dementia.” She read through a list of evaluation metrics that would classify her under the hospice treatment. Can she do this..…… Can she do that……… Does she know……… all answers were “No.”

    “I know it’s hard.” Robin said. 

    As I reflect this certainly progressed quickly—what was Stage 3 is now Stage 6, all in less than a year. “We’re doing everything we can to keep her comfortable.” Robyn said.

    I sat with that for a moment. “Ok” I told her. “Thank you.” I think I just needed to hear it out loud from a reliable source.

    As I sit here reflecting, a part of me—the part that’s always been relentless or perhaps just stubborn—refuses to believe this is the end. Maybe I’m in denial, and I just don’t want to accept it.

    This weekend, while sitting next to mom in a rare moment of stillness, she turned to me and asked, “You’re not scared of anything, are you?”

    I replied, “No, mom. I’m not. Are you?”

    She paused and simply said, “No.”

  • 42

    Today, I’ve reached 42. I’m filled with gratitude, as not everyone is fortunate enough to make it this far, and in decent health too. This year has been a tough one, watching both myself and those around me age. As time passes, I find myself longing for youthfulness, vitality, and longevity. If there’s one thing I truly struggle with, it’s the process of aging.

    While my cognitive abilities remain sharp, family members have become forgetful of things—like my birthday. I’ve also started spotting some white hairs on my scalp, thankfully there is an easy solution for that as I’ll continue to mask them with dye as long as I can. Thankfully there are not many wrinkles yet, and I’ll work to stave those off with whatever measures possible.

    Some health metrics are beginning to show signs of decline, as expected, but I remain committed to attempting to eat well and staying active. I’m especially thankful that I can still run—it’s my stress reliever and my key to staying vibrant for years to come.

    Here’s to another year, filled with hope and the potential for more life ahead.

  • Conquering Heights: Facing My Fear at 257 Feet

    Today at work, I needed to rely on my teammate to be my guide as I scaled up to 257 feet of the tower. The change came gradually, but I now experience a sense of vertigo whenever I climb an open grid metal stairwell where I can see hundreds of feet beneath me.

     At times the fear creeps in as I tilt my head down, and I worry that I might black out from the sensation. It was my turn to scale up for safety checks, but there I stood, questioning what had shifted within me as I faced this fear.

    Looking down from 257 feet in an industrial setting, I peered through the platform levels, my gaze passing over scaffolding, air cannons, and machinery. Despite the surroundings, the beauty of the sunset overhead was undeniable.

    There were three stages of observation, and although I had the confidence to face them, I felt the familiar wariness creeping in as I made my way up the tower.

    “Be strong,” I reminded myself as I climbed up an 8 ft. ladder toward the second observation point, between two levels, at 200 feet above the ground. From this height, everything at ground level appeared minuscule—yet, the vast view of Florida’s trees and a pristine blue lake to the west, untouched by the industrial environment, felt strangely calming.

    When I finished the tasks and descended, I left work feeling a sense of accomplishment, having conquered one of my biggest fears of the day. What made it even easier to face was knowing I had a reliable teammate by my side, ready to act in case anything went wrong.

  • Finding Meaning Through Random Encounters

    “Excuse me, what book is that?” A man pointed at the paperback tucked under my arm as I sipped my hot grande caramel macchiato and browsed through Moleskine journals.

    “Oh, it’s Infinite Possibilities,” I replied.

    “May I take a look?” he asked.

    “Certainly.” I said, handing it over.

    As he flipped through the pages, I couldn’t help but wonder about his intentions. I’m a regular at Barnes & Noble, but no one had ever approached me for a conversation before. Could this be one of those movie moments where a guy strikes up a chat, hoping to get a girl’s number? I doubted it—He must notice that I’m much older than he is, and I certainly wasn’t dressed to impress. Still, the thought lingered.

    It was just past 5:45 p.m., nearing the 6 pm closing time on New Year’s Eve.

    “Mike Dooley, I’ve never heard of him,” he said.

    “I think he was on Mel Robbins’ latest podcast,” I responded.

    I later realized I was wrong—it was a neuroscientist with the last name of Dotty, not Dooley, who had been on the episode.

    The young man, casually dressed in a blue sweater, button-down shirt, and slacks, seemed to know about Mel Robbins. He mentioned reading about her 5 Second Rule, and we quickly found common ground, exchanging titles of self-help books which lead to discussing our professions.

    At this point, I still wasn’t sure what his intentions were, but the conversation was pleasant and easy. He talked about building wealth with his wife, and they now had intentions to focus on giving back to others.

    “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “after you’ve amassed riches and achieved your desires, it’s all about giving back.”

    Interesting, I thought. Was this some sign, divine intervention? Could this be the serendipitous answer I’d been seeking? Maybe this was the direction I needed for 2025.

    “Contributions,” I said, feeling a spark of realization.

    “Exactly!” he replied.

    We ended our conversation with a warm exchange of “Happy New Year” and “Take care.” I returned to browsing the journals, still reflecting on the strange nature of our encounter. These unexpected moments often seem to appear when I’m actively seeking spiritual guidance

    As I waited in line at the register, I watched the man walk out the front entrance, empty-handed.

  • Embracing Solitude During My Commute

    I’ve been making the two-hour commute this month and have found that I enjoy the solitude in the morning, speeding past semi-trailers and staying in the fast lane. I know when right-lane traffic will transition to the center lane at each merging freeway entrance. I listen to podcasts and catch up on lectures, taking full advantage of the solitude. By the end of the week, I feel tired, but it’s a good tired.

    As January approaches, I’m excited about the possibilities…. Should I find another apartment, purchase a home, continue the two-hour commute, or explore new opportunities? I’m not sure yet, but I look forward to seeing what the future holds…… We shall see!

  • Unknown

    It was spring 2003, and I was enrolled in English Composition II when my professor walked in with a portable CD player. He had a unique way of blending music into his lectures, using it to reinforce the themes of the texts we studied. It was an effective method that made the material stick. On this day, we were reading an excerpt from a piece written during the height of the Cold War. As the lecture began, the first notes of Bob Dylan’s Masters of War filled the room. That moment was a revelation—my ears had never truly listened to Dylan’s lyrics before, and suddenly, I was captivated.

    Curious to learn more, I started diving deeper into his music, spending hours after classes listening to his albums, many of which I found at the local library. I purchased the Columbia Bootleg Series 2-CD set from his legendary 1966 tour; this was his famous performance at the Royal Albert Hall.  What started as a casual interest soon morphed into a mild obsession with his music, but what fascinated me most was his undeniable impact, charisma, and effortless coolness.

    Recently, I heard that a film about Dylan’s transition from folk to electric at the Newport Folk Festival was set to be released on Christmas Day. Even better, Timothy Chalamet would be portraying him. I knew exactly what I’d be doing this Christmas.

    I arrived at the theater at 5:25 p.m. for the evening showing, eager to see the film. The film delved into Dylan’s early years, exploring his encounters with Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger, his introduction to Columbia Records, his connection with Joan Baez, and his rise to stardom, his connection to Johnny Cash, and his memorable performance at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival. The film was made for Dylan fans, featuring subtle nods to iconic album covers like The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan and Highway 61 Revisited. Chalamet did an excellent job portraying Dylan’s cool, composed essence, capturing the musician’s unique persona.

    As I watched the film and listened to the songs playing on screen, I was instantly transported back to 2003, when I had just moved to Albuquerque, NM, far from everything familiar. Dylan’s music became the soundtrack of that chapter in my life-an era of self-discovery, growth, and uncertainty about the future.

  • Paradise

    Last evening in paradise, I sit on my hotel balcony overlooking Waikiki Beach, typing this reflection. The Monday night is alive with activity: the sounds of the hotel pool splashing below, the clinking of silverware from diners at the Tiki Grill, and the strumming of a street performer’s guitar. The chatter of pedestrians and conversations from adjacent balconies blend into a harmonious background. A cool breeze brushes my face as I watch the ocean waves gently roll onto the shore, their rhythmic motion soothing. The building lights illuminate the clear night sky, creating a sparkling cityscape. Palm trees line the streets, guiding the flow of traffic below.

  • Travel Day Breakdown: My Journey Begins at 3:30 AM

    I’m excited for tomorrow’s adventure-packed day of travel! Here’s the plan: a bright and early 3:30am wake-up, followed by a 4am exit to kick off an unforgettable journey. With a scenic 2-hour drive south, I’ll board a plane for a 6-hour flight, then switch planes for another exciting 6-hour journey. Finally, I’ll arrive at my destination, ready for new experiences!

  • Innovation Engineering

    I was asked to write about what I learned during my Innovation Engineering Training

    What did I learn?

    I learned that innovation is not just a trait but a skill that can be developed through specific tools and techniques. I discovered that innovative solutions often arise from diverse thinking approaches, followed by idea generation that sparks creative energy.

    Yet, innovation doesn’t guarantee adoption by customers or immunity from criticism. An idea must be carefully analyzed, measured, and assigned a value to assess if it’s worth pursuing in the long term.

    Innovation engineering seems intuitive, but it’s not the approach most people naturally take. Often, the systems are broken, yet we continue using them simply because they’ve been in place for so long. We feel that, as part of the framework, we can’t make a difference, or that change is impossible because it’s always been done that way.

    Innovation is the key to meaningful change. It’s a skill that can help organizations and life in general.

    To truly make an impact, we must become disruptors —individuals who think differently, challenge the status quo, and constantly seek improvement.

  • California Dreamin’

    “California Dreamin’,” the iconic song by The Mamas and The Papas, was released in 1965 and captures the deep yearning to be in California. The band’s lyrics paint a vivid picture of the bleak winter night in New York City, with its gray skies and brown leaves, contrasting sharply with the warmth and allure of California.

    At the time, California was viewed as a coveted place to live, particularly Laurel Canyon, a thriving hub for musicians. The Mamas and The Papas, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, The Byrds, Joni Mitchell all made their homes there, helping to define the creative spirit of the era.

    Fast forward to 2024, and California’s appeal persists, though in a different form. While many are leaving the state, there is a notable influx of Chinese investors purchasing mansions and high-end real estate in areas like the Hollywood Hills.

    This shift raises a question: what was it like to live in California during the time when the Beatniks and hippies flocked to the state in search of freedom, authenticity, and a sense of community? It was a place that embodied the ideals of artistic expression and unbounded possibility, drawing people from all walks of life to its shores.

    The California dream, it seems, continues to evolve, but its original spirit of freedom and creativity remains a powerful force.