When I started this page way back when the word “blog” made the arrogant journalism purist in me throw up in my mouth a lil’ bit, the goal was purely selfish: I just wanted a space where I could write whatever I damn-well pleased, unencumbered by the craft’s traditional shackles. You know, pesky stuff like editors and rules against working blue.
I’d like to think I’ve done some growing up in the many years since some generous-of-spirit internet auteurs assisted in Unchained’s unveiling, and as such the goal has changed. I still love me some strategically planted F-bombs among the flowers , but now there’s a touch of altruism to the updates.
in short (says the often insanely long writer you’re about to experience), I’d like to effectively articulate some interesting things I’ve been blessed to experience in an effort to entertain, and to pass along some life lessons I’ve been blessed to learn in the hopes that they impact some people in a real, lasting and positive way.
I led with said statement of mission today in response to the recent reminder, courtesy a new and potentially special friend, that none of us has any idea how or when — zero control whatsoever — we’re going to meet someone who’ll have a real, lasting and positive impact on us.
Someone who actually changes something within us, for THE good and FOR good.
If you’re lucky, you’ll meet a bunch of these people. But if you don’t meet a bunch of ‘em, it certainly doesn’t mean you’re not lucky.
Even if you only meet one, and that’d be extreme because almost everybody’s blessed with at least a handful of these Impact People, you absolutely are lucky.
Remember, we’re talking about someone whose mark upon you left an impression that’s — all together now — real, lasting and positive.
That’s potent, powerful stuff.
Thus, there’s a good chance you’ll know that this person is special the moment you meet. You might not know right then exactly what this person will come to mean, but the feeling that something’s up is right there.
It’s sudden-onset, and it can range in intensity from “Hmm…” on the low end of the register, to “Whoa” in the middle, all the way up to “Holy Shit!” at its apex.
I experienced my first “Hmm …” — a subtle sense of just knowing — with Mr. Keller, the Woodside High English teacher who sat me down and told me I was a writer WAY before I ever knew I was or wanted to be.
Knowing I was still delusional, convinced that my fairly near future was that of a professional athlete, he simply suggested I keep the writing arrow in my quiver as a Plan C.
How delusional? Plan A was the NBA, despite a borderline laughable vertical leap and even less-impressive handle. Think Harrelson or Harlow in “White Men Can’t Jump” meets Brad Lohaus or Lance Stephenson in heavy mid-court traffic.
Plan B was MLB ace, despite having command that called to mind red-tipped white canes and “breaking balls” that openly mocked me as they barely even humpbacked before bouncing a good six inches in front of home plate.
I peaked in both sports at the collegiate level, so Mr. Keller was clearly onto something that ultimately had a massive impact on my life. But the moment I met him lasted all of five seconds, tops, and while I did suspect that this gentle, warm cat with the Cool Uncle vibe was going to be good for me, it was a very vague vibe, a decidedly low-frequency feeling.
At the high end of the scale, “Holy Shit!” Is essentially an industrial-strength blender of feelings set on “Obliterate.” A blissfully painless jackhammer to the dome that’ll metaphorically drop you even before the moment you physically meet this particularly intoxicating iteration of an Impact Person.
Think dating-app profile on the strongest steroids science has to offer. Literally at first glance of a photograph, the instant you become consciously aware of being in Holy Shitville, this person’s presence leaves you a little loopy, and as the stunning surface beauty’s layers peel back with each exchange of messages to revealed a soul every bit as attractive, the senses are pummeled with rat-a-tat-tat that starts with nothing short of awe and ends with an exhausted exhilaration, full-stop.
Like, “Ummm. Yeah. This ain’t normal. But it’s really fucking cool.” That kind of awe.
You try to snap out of it, knowing any projection of obvious awe can’t be the greatest look to rock when you’re talking to ANYONE for the first time. But the best you can do is make your peace with a slightly less-obvious dreamlike state — wonder? — in which you’re definitely still trippin’ and not really processing much, but at least you can reasonably function in the presence of this insanely magnetic stranger kinda freaking you out and effortlessly stirring some seriously rare — the rarest, really — but not-unhealthy emotions.
And thankfully, before long this rarest of Impact Person will have graciously made you completely comfortable, somehow settling you into a much-needed and appreciated sense of hyperserenity, entirely content, just happily marveling that you’re actually a welcome and equal part of what’s happening.
And you know (okay, perhaps “hope” is more applicable) that it’s massive RIGHT NOW. “Figure out the why later,” you tell yourself. “Go! Go! Go!” Almost impossible to NOT charge that shit.
But at this end, with those incredible highs, there is risk. And a vulnerability inherent in any interpersonal interaction on the internet. It can be a wicked web, indeed.
Like I said, it can leave you loopy for a whiiiiiiiiile. And loopy can be really fun. In fact, I think it’s absolutely necessary. But it’s not a good way to be for any protracted amount of time, particularly when that time is so incredibly important for you to handle your new Star with the patience and respect they deserve while protecting yourself against a potentially devastating disappointment.
Like if out of nowhere comes an expert opinion on Crypto, or a promise of undying devotion in exchange for $200, or — no bullshit; this actually happens out there — a request to be sent A FREAKING XBOX!
A s is the case with virtually all intoxicants, you can lose yourself real quick-like when you start chasing them and caring about little else. You start doing dumb, way-out-of-character shit, desperate for the next fix, the next hit of your utter fascination.
And that’s the ultimate risk, because if this new friend proves legit you can absolutely lose yourself, inadvertently pushing this person away and in turn losing this incredible gift that you just KNOW is a gift directly to you, and you KNOW in someway you’ll be an Impact Person for them. But it’s like you can’t stop yourself.
I mean, rare and special people are still people. They tire. They get weirded out if some stranger seems a tad too sprung too soon. And they read people really well, really quickly.
And here’s real: Rare And Special usually has options.
So you gotta be crazy careful in a way you’ve never been or had to be. Pace is important. You can’t force what could have a “lasting” impact with one all-in week of gotta-stay-in-the-game gonzo. Try to do that and it won’t last a month. Maybe not even two weeks. Hell, you might never even get to actually SPEAK to Rare And Special if you spazz on ‘em.
So breathe. Silence is not your enemy. Nor is restraint. Too much of your voice is, though.
So don’t get so blinded by Rare And Special’s irresistible alien glow that you can’t see yourself personally dimming the glow by trying to monopolize it, or be demanding of it with you’re own immaturity and entitlement.
(If it feels like I’m talking to … I don’t know … MYSELF? Mind your own damn business, lol. I’m workin’ here!)
Clichés and tropes exist for a reason: They’re rooted in universal truths. So here: “Let the game come to you.” Everything’s gonna be good — as long as you don’t wig out and fuck it all up. You’re welcome.
That’s been my experience, anyway. I have been blessed by more than a handful of such amazing people, just showing up and sliding into my soul. And I’ve had a visceral reaction of some sort to every single one. I can remember every first moment and first feeling like it was yesterday.
And just as I eventually recognized the aforementioned range to the intensity levels and struggled to modulate my various feelings, I’ve found that my Impact People fall into one of three categories. None more or less important than the others.
There’s group of them who’ve impacted me in a very specific, singular way. Not quite a hit-and-run thing. More of an in-and-out, my-work-here-is-done thing.
My first journalism professor, a gruff, loud, colorful, brilliant firecracker of a man named Robert Glessing, is a perfect example. He suggested I change the “i” in my first name to a “y” — he said Michael is a boring and common name, but he ALWAYS noticed when it was spelled with a Y — and pretty much bounced. And he was right.
There’s a group that sticks around a little longer. In my case it’s included a couple bosses; one who saw my potential as a very young professional and gave me the room to screw the pooch on occasion while I worked out how to maximize it, and another who didn’t just know how to maximize it but insisted I expand on it considerably.
Couple coaches, too, and teammates from all walks of life. Each willing and able to teach through outreach.
And the third group is comprised of straight-up Lifers who stick so securely to the deepest recesses of your soul that you feel them forever. Or hope to. My aforementioned new friend, I suspect, might prove worthy of entry to that exclusive and inspiring club.
So yeah, I’ve been very blessed. Very lucky.
But there’s no question that as I’ve grown older, more experienced, and more understanding of who I am and where I fit best in the world, I’m not meeting these Impact People nearly as often.
It slowed to a trickle, really, and after years without, I’d fairly recently figured I’d hit the lifetime limit. And I was good with that.
And the truth, the awesome truth, is that the impact that ALL of these Rare And Special people have on you is probably going to shape-shift over time, if not grow tentacles with multiple different types of impact.
That’s the jackpot. Get one of those types in your orbit and you’re good in a lot of different ways.
I was wrong about reaching my quota. This recent development proved it, and it feels important to share. To offer hope by way of this reminder that you might be mere moments away from getting hit by more Impact People.
Pretty cool notion, right?
“Holy Shit!” indeed.
—Mychael (with a Y)
