danny dileo – Page 7

The Graduate

Well, today Lindsey is officially a College graduate! Remembering when I first met her, she told me of her attending the University of Georgia for 3 years and majoring in pharmacy. That alone showed drive and big brains. Over the years, one of the many things I’ve learned from Lindsey is drive is much more important than intelligence. She has plenty of both. But drive is what propelled her to today.

We married and she moved to CT. Anyone could tell though, within a few months she was pondering school again. How could she not? She spent so much time and energy doing it and then all of a sudden, it was gone. She is a finisher, so naturally the current state of her schooling was unsettling. She mentioned many times of not wanting to waste her parents money and following through on what she started. Great qualities and admirable traits for anyone to strive for.

I still remember the night Lindsey told me she was seriously looking into returning and finishing her degree. I set out to be as supportive as possible and I can recollect being excited for her but honestly, I had no idea how she was going to pull this off. She was a full-time caretaker for our two year old who was growing in energy by the second. And I worked insane amount of hours. She knew better than anyone this was going to be extremely difficult. But that didn’t stop her.

She dug her heels in and did the work. When she was tired, she did it. When she had to pull all nighters with a baby, she did it. Lindsey wanted the degree so bad, nothing got in the way. She showed an amazing amount of loyalty and resilience to the cause. Characteristics of a hero in an epic film. Sure, there were times where she doubted and times that were tough. But anything worth doing is never easy.

Personally, I couldn’t be more proud of her. She is an amazing “graduate” and even better mom and wife.

Here’s to Lindsey, someone who persevered through the exhausting times, mentally and physically. The times when online teachers were difficult to read. The times when your project partners took advantage of you and you were left with all the work. The times of configuring Microsoft Word at 2am just to enable a stupid feature your project needed.

Congratulations Linds,it was all worth it and no one can take away what your hard work and resiliency has brought you.

Love you

Family, Life

Transparency

“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.”
― Oscar Wilde

When I was young and people used the word “strong” I would always think of armor, or something that had a lot of strength. Something that was solid, tough or even powerful, maybe. But as time has passed and experiences have taught me, that thought has actually proven to be false. Now, when I think of the word “strong” I picture a human who’s open and vulnerable, completely transparent and unapologetically honest. It’s odd how life and experiences change us. If we’re not open and true to ourselves we will inevitably chase our own tail in the dark with a forever dizziness. I headache that I can assure you is not pleasant.

I have long thought about the subject of the “real you.” Personally, I was confronted with the notion of not being true and honest with myself (and others) a couple years ago. I only got to that place because I knew I was horribly wrong in something I was doing. It’s a personal issue and I’m not quite ready to talk about that publicly yet. But I am most certainly ready to talk about what I learned/learning from it.

First and foremost, how does one know or come to the realization that you’re living a life of inauthenticity and what does that even mean? Well, honestly I can only speak for myself and my experiences. Looking back, the process started really slow. Actually in my case I wasn’t aware the process even began. I slowly morphed into someone i’m not. It’s frightening to think we could become something so distant from who we are without acknowledging its in progress.

I always wanted to please people and for the most part still do. But, when I was younger I would go unto great, great lengths to do this. I would stretch myself thin, I would go way above and beyond for anyone. To a stranger or someone judging from the outside, I assume that sounds fine. I’m sure it sounds like I was a nice person. But just like any other internal issue, when you just let something go and go, it spirals and spirals to the point of beyond recognition. That’s what I was turning into: beyond recognition.

Another element working against me was my parents were divorced. And by any means, if you are reading this and have divorced parents, in no way is that a death sentence, quite the opposite actually. But for me, it was not trivial. I learned to play the system. To play both sides. To again, agree with everyone. I learned to deceive, plot and scheme. But all of this was happening under the surface, you see. I didn’t have a daily planner of deception. But by the end of a period of time, I made a collection of bad habits.

The last thing that I think really hurt myself was making good amounts of money from age 16 – 22. It was legal. Most people by any accounts would say I was very successful and had a bright future (financially). Money is an interesting thing. Being young with so much of it made me turn my head to things. It made me not come face to face with bigger personal issues that were pending. I had the luxurious option to just throw money at issues to make them “go away.” And if I didn’t do that, I would just self define myself as someone better than others because of my financial status, furthering my deception of the real me. I’m not saying money is bad, but letting it define you certainly is unhealthy. I was burying myself with a shovel full of lies, images and things.

Nearly all of the resulting products of living a false life is lying. Or at least in my case it was. Wanting to please people really weighed much on my mind. A really easy way to do this was just lie. Tell people what they wanted to hear. It was simple, it didn’t hurt me (seemingly) and all was happy.

The problem that I started to encounter was not only was that turning me into a different person of no defined values, more importantly it made me think I wasn’t good enough. If I always needed to just say what people wanted to hear, subconsciously I was thinking, the truth wasn’t good enough and likewise, I wasn’t good enough.

Thinking you are not good enough is a really dangerous feeling if harbored uncontrollably and in my case, unknowingly. I promise, you will one day wake up in a world of fake that you created, maybe not on purpose and it will most certainly reach not only to you, but unfortunately to your loved ones as well.

It effects you:
How can it not effect you? You’re publishing a magazine that is supposed to be you but has an unknown, unaware writer, but you still want everyone to think its you. All of your wants and desires, your image you want to be perceived as; all lies. That’s an awful feeling. Trust me. I know from experience. And the deeper you go into the whirlwind of anonymity, the harder it is to claw your back.

It effects them:
In the beginning of our marriage, my wife often spoke of the 2 me’s. She mentioned how sometimes I’m here, and sometimes I’m not. All of course being physically present. She talks about when we first got married and all I did was “fit” her in my life. I made no sacrifices, no changes and expected her to do much of the heavy lifting. All of this while I was “perceiving everything was great.” You see, my lying and self deception even reached to my most loved people without me even knowing. That alone, was paramount enough for me to face this head on.

Why?
OK, so why the idea to write this. Im happy to report I am slowly on my way out of this but continue to grow and learn. I am nowhere near “fixed” but I’m present for the daily fight and that alone is a huge step for me. But talking to someone very close to my life recently made me realize that others suffer from the same condition as I was prisoner to. So, somewhere in my head I felt if I read something like this along the way, maybe that would have helped? I’m not sure? But this blog was established to be self therapeutic, so if nobody receives an inch of help from this, thats fine also. Because telling the truth never became easier for me, but the freedom the truth gives is an unwavering, liberating emotion that I continue to strive for.

How it gets better:
What I learned and am learning everyday is being honest starts with yourself. It’s OK to not be perfect. Looks or actions. Perfection is boring. Expectations (yours or others) are damaging, false pretenses that cause good, genuine people serious hurt and anxiety. Come to terms with whatever you are. That’s OK. However you look, be content. Your flaws don’t define you. Be accepting of them and know it’s OK.

Personally, I think Wreck it Ralph has the right idea:

http:/https://youtu.be/QlNHcP2g8Zs?t=18s

From what I’ve experienced, there is little to be gained in living a life of inauthenticity. Not only is it unfair to those around us, it is also unfair to you. Those who live honestly, recognizing and admitting their weaknesses and faults inspire others to do the same. And in the end, all that is gained is true and honest and strangely, surprisingly satisfying.

If you consider yourself molded by your surroundings, or a feel a huge weight of anxiety to “fit in.” Please take a step back and breathe. I’ve been there and sometimes, I’m still there. But you can do this, just like I can do this. Because being honest with yourself and others is being who God created you as, and it took a very long time for me realize that’s OK. Actually its better than OK, it’s perfectly fine.

Life, Technology

Apple Watch & Beyond

This started out being a movie review. And it’s not. Odd, I know. I recently went to see Ex Machina, which is undoubtedly one of the best films in long time. The movie deals with A.I. and the future of technology in a great, thought provoking way. I started really thinking about what does technology really mean? And what really could be the future. I appreciate films like Ex Machina because they usher in thoughts that I would usually never be intelligent enough to carve up in my head. And by the way, for my review on the film, 1 word: Yes.

A side note: If Apple would just send me my watch already, I probably wouldn’t be stammering out 1,000 word thought pieces like a lunatic, but I digress. Here we go:

“The Watch is here” touts Apple’s slogan for its wearable computer, implying that the one and only time-piece that really matters has arrived. So much for the Rolex Cosmograph and Seiko Astron when you can buy a stylish digital Apple Watch Sport, or even a booshy Apple Watch Edition crafted with 18-karat gold.

Of its many features and functions, the Apple Watch is a music player, fitness tracker, communications device, payment token and digital key. And it also tells the time. We were surprised that no one claimed that it will also help look after our kids. But not for long. There’s an app for that. So is there anything this device cannot do?

Who would have thought that the power of an internet-enabled laptop computer, mobile phone, iPod, fitness tracker, bank card and set of keys could be neatly packaged and strapped around your wrist?

And unlike other futuristic visions of hand-held communicators, the Apple Watch won’t leave you stranded in perilous situations because it’s dropped, stolen or falls out of range because it’s literally always connected to you.

Invisible ubiquity

This raises a key question: how will we change our behavior based on the fact that we are walking around with a fully-fledged computer – one that sits in contact with our bodies and communicates wirelessly with machines around us without us being explicitly aware of it?

According to the marketing spiel, we’ll have a lot more convenience at our fingertips. But, in actuality, we may find ourselves reaching for the mute button, longing to be disconnected, and fed up with all the notifications interrupting us. That’s when the novelty effect wears off.

We have probably witnessed people who cannot resist the urge of pulling out their mobile phone to interact with it at the most inopportune times or who pass their idle time simply looking down at a screen.

Most do not realize they are even interacting with their personal computer devices for hours each day. The repetitive behavior has almost become a type of tic disorder which is neurobehavioural.

We get a message, it makes us feel important. We reply and get a buzz the very next time it happens again. It’s kind of like digital ping pong. And the game can get tangible fast. The main reason this repetitive behavior remains hidden is that the majority of smartphone users suffer from this, so it looks normal.

You can see people in public spaces immersed in virtual places. These Wi-Fi-enabled mobile contraptions can also trigger a host of internet-related addictions, whether used for gaming, answering mail, web surfing, online transactions, social media, we-chatting, or taking a tonne of photographs.

According to experts, internet addiction disorder (IAD) can ruin lives by causing neurological complications, psychological disturbances and social problems. This is not to mention the potential for accidents when people are not looking where they are going or not paying attention to what they should be doing. In short, our need to be always online and connected has become a kind of cybernarcotic drug.

Little device, big data

Very few of us are immune to this yearning for “feedback loops”, so telecommunications operators and service providers pounce on this response. Information is money. And while we are busy interacting with our device, the companies are busy pocketing big money using our big data.

We are fast becoming a piece of digital information ourselves, sold to the highest bidder. And while we are busy rating ourselves and one another, the technology companies are not only using our ratings to learn more about our preferences and sentiments, but rating us as humans. In sociological terms it’s called social sorting, and in policing terms it’s called proactive profiling.

In days gone by, mobile communications could tell data collectors about our identity, location, even our condition. This is not new. But the real-time access and precision of this level of granularity of data gathered is something we should be all aware of as potentially impinging on our fundamental human rights.

Because they interface directly with the human body, watches have the capacity to tell a third party much more about you than just where you’ve been and where you are likely to be going. They can:

Detect physiological characteristics like your pulse rate, heart rate, temperature which can say a lot about your home/work/life habits
Determine time, distance, speed and altitude information derived from onboard sensors
Identify which apps you are using and how and why you are using them, minute by minute
Oversee the kinds of questions you are asking via search engines and text-based messages you are sending via social media.

Apple watcher

These watches will become integral to the fulfillment of the Internet of Things phenomenon: the ability to be connected to everyone and everything.

All in all, private corporations can glean what you are thinking, the problems you are facing, and they know your personal context. What is disturbing is that they can divulge some of your innermost personal thoughts, intentions and actions, and have evidence for the reasons we do things.

Many people immersed in the virtual world are too busy to be thinking about the very act of inputting information onto the internet. People value a life of convenience over privacy too much to be genuinely concerned what information is being logged by a company and shared with hundreds of other potential partners and affiliates.

And consumers are often oblivious to the fact that, even if they are doing nothing at all, the smart device they are carrying or wearing is creating a type of digital DNA about their uniqueness.

Today, we are asking to be monitored and are partying in the prison. We have fallen in love with the idea of being told about ourselves and don’t discern that we have become like prison inmates who are being tracked with electronic bracelets.

By the time we wake up to this technological trajectory, it may be all too late. Our health insurance provider might be Samsung, our telecoms provider may be Google, and our unique lifetime identifier could come from Apple. At present, these are the archetypal tech providers. But tomorrow, who knows?

There is no shortage of wearable devices these days that can track and log vast amounts of data about your activities.

And by that time, we will likely be heralding in the age of discontentment where we posit that cellphones and wristwatches are not enough, that the human-computer interface should go deeper, penetrating the skin and into the body.

The new slogan might read “The Mark is Here”, herald the iPlant, that which gives birth to life, the one and only passport to access your forever services.

“You can’t live without it”, may soon no longer be just figurative, but a reality. If you believe the bible, you’ve already known this.

Deep Thoughts, Memories of Nonni

A Walk in the Park

My early teen years were very difficult for me. My parents divorced and many things were changing. I don’t take well to alterations in my life for some reason and back then all I knew was constant change. I was consistently was on edge. I wanted to tell this story first and foremost because it paints a very clear picture of my Nonni and her kindness. Secondly and less important, someone once told me the way to really find out who you are is to be open and transparent and above all honest in aspects of life you are not proud of. The moment these acts played out, they were meant to be told, I just haven’t told anyone until now.

High School is a tough time for anyone I think. Maybe not by Junior/Senior year, but Freshman year for certain . I was going into high school with a large focus on sports. I didn’t know many people going to my school but I knew some members of my future basketball team because we were already practicing the summer prior to freshman year.

This story begins on one of the first Fridays of the school year. Everyone I knew at that point in school were talking about meeting up with girls and hanging out at an undisclosed location. I remember feeling uncomfortable and pressured so when it came time to say if I was in, I nervously backed out. It wasn’t that I didn’t like girls, but my self confidence level at this point in my life wasn’t very high. The last thing I wanted was to be put in a situation that people could make fun of me. I played it safe and backed out.

As I look back at that point in my life, I let a lot of people use me as a punching bag. They knew I wouldn’t hurt anyone, so they always took jabs at me, verbal jabs that is. I let it pass, quite honestly because I thought it made people feel good. And coming from a broken house, I would do just about anything to make someone feel good, unfortunately even at my own expense.

I wouldn’t be going to the “gathering.” Instead a perfectly good night was going to be spent working on a short film and re-watching Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo. I remember being in a Vertigo funk. I had a theory that James Stewert’s character actually died in the first sequence and I needed to do some re-watching to fill some holes in that theory. Sounds riveting, doesn’t it? But that was me in early high school days, a film nerd who could tell you unhealthy amounts of film facts from decades before my birth. It wasn’t that I was unsociable, I just had my own little world that I felt comfortable in and when that space became hindered I always fell apart.

When I got home from school that Friday, my mom informed me that I wouldn’t be staying home that night. She told me my Nonni needed help moving some big furniture and asked if I could aid. As much as I loved and would do anything for my Nonni, I didn’t want my night of movie watching to be disturbed. It was one of those “I know this is wrong to not help and I just don’t care” moments. But my mom didn’t care and off I went being driven to Nonni’s house on a Friday night.

When I arrived Nonni always greeted me with a smile. To my shame this particular time, I didn’t give one back. Nonni didn’t care. Little stuff like that didn’t faze her in the least. She was just happy I was there.

I helped her move the furniture which was a small end table . I still remember thinking that she could have done all this on her own. I was upset because I felt like my time there wasn’t really needed and all the while I could have been home working on my short film and ultimately smoothing out some bumps from my Vertigo theory. I was selfish.

After the furniture got moved Nonni asked me if I wanted to go to the park for fresh air. A routine we did consistently since I was young. Reluctantly, I went. In an even worse mood that I had when I arrived.

She never took the direct route to the park. She was big on talking so Nonni didn’t mind taking a longer way to the park. When I was younger I really enjoyed this. But at this time it just added to my frustration.

The sun was just setting and the weather was exceptionally good for a walk. Nonni had a habit of picking up a flower and touching it during our walks. She did this while talking almost professionally. I couldn’t tell you what we talked about and I don’t remember much but unfortunately what came next is one of the more stark memories I can recall.

We were walking back to her car. The night was finally over. All I had to do was wait for my mom to pick me up at Nonni’s house. As we were about half way to her car a bunch of loud Honda civics and racing type cars pulled up to the park parking lot. I looked and sure enough these cars looked familiar. They were people from my High School. In some weird coincidence they picked the exact park to have make out sessions in that my Nonni and I were walking at.

It didn’t take long. They recognized me instantly and began belittling me. Making fun of the fact I was walking with my Nonni at sunset in a park. One of my most treasured memories as a kid was now being ripped apart by my new day to day life of school. I began getting nervous and anxious. The insults kept coming in and I just dropped my head and closed my eyes. It felt like I was being hunted and had a gun pointed at me. I was helpless and frozen.

Nonni sensed all this and she softly held my hand to try and comfort me. Almost immediately the laughter and insults grew. I quickly snatched my hand from her, angrily.

I don’t exactly remember how it all finished but, we ended up in her car. It was quiet and I was a combination of humiliated and ashamed. Nonni gathered and very gently asked:

“Whats wrong Danny? Are you ok?” And I said “No, I’m not ok!” almost shouting. And she’s like “whats wrong?” And I said “Don’t you understand Nonni? Im not who you think I am.” And Nonni innocently says “Well, what do you mean Danny?” I say “Nonni I’m a loser.” She says ” oh no your not, why do you think that?” I snap. And I say “I’m here with you on a Friday night, look at me, I’m a loser.” She just stared at me with a confusing look on her face.

We drive away in silence, I had never rose my voice before to anyone in my lifetime and that moment sort of cemented I would try my best to never again. Honestly speaking, I learned I’m the type of person who gets hurt more than the receiving end of me yelling at someone. This situation was all different for me and I remember crystal clear shaking as we drove home in silence.

We get back to her house and she quietly puts sauce on the stove and slowly but surely I start to smell it. Im just sitting there watching her do this. She’s not saying anything to me and this thick blanket of shame pours over me because I feel immensely bad for lashing out at her. I remember feeling I disappointed her. More devastating, I remember the familiar feeling of doing something to someone you love who didn’t deserve it. It hearkened to my parents divorce days, and this time I was the one on the ugly end.

A little time passes and things are still very silent. By the time the pasta has finished and Nonni makes me my bowl and places it in front of me. Her usual ritual would be to sit across and make small talk while she watched her “shows” out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t do that though. She just stayed behind me, standing. It seems odd and all I remembered thinking about at that point was she was going to yell at me at any second. The silence was so much. I had to break it. So I broke the air with “the pasta really is good, Nonni.” Nonni nodded her head and gently puts her hand through my hair and she says effortlessly “you got such a nice haircut, you look so handsome.” She paused and said: “I hope you know your the best boy Danny, I hope you know.”

The next Monday at school was bad to say the least. I heard it from everyone, asking if I was taking Nonni to the prom or if she was picking me up to walk home and hold hands. All stuff I expected I guess. But I was surprised it didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. I just let it go. It went away after a while and basketball season started. And in an odd turn of events, I became uncomfortably popular throughout my High School career.

Nonni has been gone for years now and when I used to live in Connecticut I would make it a habit to revisit that route. I would drive to Nonni’s, wait there a bit. Then take her specialized directions to the park and walk around for a while in the same way we did. Drive back to her house and just sit in the parking lot and think of her. Think of how calm she handled that situation. A shameful young boy as insecure as the anyone who lashed out at a person who loved him with all her heart, yet she was loving. It was still important for her to make me feel good. To be supportive. She had an unwavering positive image of me that I don’t quite understand or know how to place.

In the time that Nonni has passed, I try to do everything I can to be the person Nonni saw me as. The truth is i’m not that person. I’m mostly selfish and always considering myself before others. I don’t have an inch of Nonni’s genuineness in me. I may try and trick myself from time to time, but its fails compared to Nonni’s meekness. She has set the bar so high for me that sometimes I stand amazed by her and she provides a good reminder for myself to always try and improve, if not for me, for others around me.

If she were here today I would do anything to take her to that park for a walk on a Friday evening. I wouldn’t care who saw me. Because she didn’t. All she cared about was being there with me. As look back, I wish I could have said the same.