Seems like a good time for a socialization post and a bit of oral history. Whatever buffoonery is transpiring in and around the ME has to play out. The last post gave my impression. Anything deeper needs more information. And parsing out “Trump’s” psychotic ravings is an excellent use of time - for someone else. Work on the Ontological Hierarchy book is taking up any spare hours around here.

Sequencing the argument was the sticking point, but that’s a long way from a finished manuscript. I can work steadily on it now, though. And provide regular updates, because there’s regular progress. Second draft is underway. I won’t be posting here quite as often for the next few weeks. When it’s done, a lot of things, including AI thoughts, will open up. So why not something I’ve vaguely wondered about from time to time that came up recently IRL? The strange connection between social outcomes and luck growing up.

In this case, an acquaintance commenting that some people need Sliding Doors more than others. He was referring to pivotal moments in life and do-overs, but that left me thinking more generally. A single event has to be pretty catastrophic to have a lasting impact. Too personalized to generalize into a blog post. But a pattern of humiliating exploding cigars at an inopportune life stage could shift perceptions and opportunity.

Posting on the before times has shaken up stuff I haven’t thought about in decades. Like the tragi-comedy of my self-declared middle school rival. When you look back objectively, adolescence is a bizarre stage in life. The NUC doesn’t change fast, so any time I visit, the flashbacks seem like visions from another life. And middle school is such a weird environment to throw kids into at that stage. Our mix of feral childhood and known perverts was probably healthier than now. There’s a reason the Band has always advocated homeschooling.

Socially, adolescence is when the only potential SSH shake-up happens. Not every high-profile guy in kid world proves equally attractive to girls. And everyone is on slightly different biological clocks. We all knew early and late bloomers. Heightened emotions combined with inexperience and immaturity make everything ridiculously dramatic and vivid. Skipping the zoo is a massive social benefit of homeschooling. Adolescence isn’t less intrinsically awkward - the venue is more humane. Social life success doesn’t flow from junior high. But some important things do.

Julia Whitehead, Connections, 2024, pastel

1. Basic attitude. Patterns form that will last forever or take years to reprogram. Coming from a tiny grade school to a big catchment area school was my first exposure to masses of kids on a daily basis. Summer camps, sports meets, bike rodeos, etc., were special events, not a normal break between periods. And I was far from the fastest kid in the school anymore. I cluelessly ORRed my way through ok, by good fortune, not strategy. No more than [don’t engage in a way that seems like an alien creature]. And otherwise accepting the absurdity as normal.

Walter Dendy Sadler, For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow and So Say All of Us, before 1897, oil on canvas, private collection.

1. Social impression. Most relevant in the NUC, where communities are smallish, and everyone is known. Most people are NPCs, so specifics don’t matter. The only things that are remembered slip into urban legend and can be referenced years later with a phrase. “The brawl at Wendy’s”. But impressions form in the base code. If staying in the area, it’s good not to have “that guy’s a dork” be the reflex reaction. Probably applies if not staying as well.

One advantage of a big school is everyone gets thrown together. We didn’t have city upper and underclass extremes, but most everyone we did have was there. Suburban schools are more homogeneous - no woods or farm kids. And once a town was big enough, private schools were a factor. I’m not arguing for it. Just recognizing petrie dish opportunities for social observation. And how when fate deals a hand, it can be quite cruel in enforcing it. Something to consider when raising children. Lest they turn out like my erstwhile rival.

That’s shaken out of the depths. I knew who he was before middle school, but not personally. Feral childhood in the NUC seemed full of these boy legends who’d get ruthlessly sorted in adolescence. He was a perfect example. The star of his own flyspeck grade school team, which in that context meant “coordinated kid with parents who care who’s willing to just hoist away without conscience”.1 Peaked athletically in grade 5, but was Jordan in his mind.

We were in the same Grade 7 homeroom, and he seemed to see us as JV frenemies. Before the great schism the following year, anyhow. I never took him seriously and found him irritating when I couldn’t avoid him. He was cartoonishly cocky in that early-80s way, and whined about JV being an affront on loop. Not a Gamma. Probably a Delta with Alpha dreams and mounting frustration. He just wasn’t maturing into an athletic young adult. There’s a huge physical difference between 11 and 15.

So how do you avoid being a prototype for what I later named “perception-reality guys”? Guys who max out the gulf between self-perception and actual social impact [translating for younger readers, think of excessive body spray worn unironically as a social marker]. Start with something parents completely control.

Don’t give your kid a stupid name. The Max Power episode of The Simpsons wasn’t totally insane. Having a name that writes its own mockery or provokes involuntary chuckles at roll calls is a social diving weight. I protect the innocent, but my foil’s name was as phonetically ridiculous as “Loots Mooner”.

There’s always some unintentionally comical feature that should be easily corrected, like goofy hair, buck teeth, or an odd trait. What caught the eye with Mooner was gangly height and clown hair that wasn’t sloppy-cool. Not a social deal breaker, but ruled out high social status at a glance. I didn’t know if anyone could have helped Mooner, but no one seemed to be trying.

Alexandre Averine, Collecting Flowers, oil on canvas

This isn’t pedestalizing vanity or recommending pandering to others. It’s a post on social accessibility. Others’ reactions. The best-adjusted kids seemed to fit without much effort. Natural looks and grace are gifts, but basic presentability can be instilled without dependence or crushing individuality. A parent can eliminate stressors before they get relevant. Healthy diet and lifestyle can be habit before kids know what beast crap is. Fix the teeth, spring for the acne medicine, establish an active life, etc.

The base code programming is [take yourself seriously] - if you don’t, how can anyone else be expected to? Not fronting, sending the message you actually want to send. Having your kids’ backs goes a long way. But there’s also real responsibility there. They model behavior not words. You also have to live the standard you’re trying to set. Expecting more than you’re willing to do is easy hypocrisy to see and tune out.

William Frith, Pope Makes Love To Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, 1852, oil on canvas, Auckland Art Gallery.

An unappealing manner to girls becomes a factor during adolescence. There are a lot of ways for this to go. Obsessed with something “lame”, overly boastful, too earnest and talkative at the wrong times, slightly creepy, and so on. A Simpson’s adolescent voice doesn’t help. Not sure what to do about this one. I was unintuitive socially, the new emotions were disorienting, and ORR takes time. Erring on the side of quiet and paying attention was the only option until I was comfortable. Hardly smooth. And no idea what compels oversharing.

A lot of red-flag behavior is avoided just by controlling excitability. For a parent, it seems more a product of positive upbringing than specific lessons. Although it’s hard to say. My family boomers never mentioned intersex relations beyond basic biology. And even there, I was given some curiously straightforward children’s books without any further comment or discussion.

A pre-adolescent outlier appreciated the direct, no-nonsense presentation. Some of the pages still ring in my memory the way parental wisdom might for normal people. But I can’t recall a single chat with mom or dad about what girls are like or how to conduct myself with them. Turned out ORR processes and those books were a lifesaver. Pedowood and NUC bro science weren’t filling the void with wisdom.

Then there’s bad luck. Mooner was sort of ridiculous, but he wasn’t a “loser” by any measure. The self-image gap wasn’t extreme enough to notice - unless events kept putting him in the position where [newly gangling kid with clown hair] becomes a comedic accessory. He wasn’t even an idiot. But if there was a kid who’d split his pants in front of an assembly, or be in the bathroom when the bus leaves, it would be him. But for no apparent reason other than to keep him from rising.

Looks like I’ll have to split this one. Mooner’s apotheosis next time.

Peter Hoffman, Bad luck to the end, 2025, acrylic on paper