0501: For those fortunate—or perhaps unfortunate, depending on one’s vantage—to find me listed as their supervisor, you may notice a certain peculiarity in my approach. There is no single leadership style that neatly encapsulates what I do. I have seen the rigors of micromanagement and found it unsuited to my nature, often automating paperwork to avoid the nagging discrepancies that others would seize upon, sometimes even resisting altogether. I recall, too, the times when things were too lax, and it was but a handful—myself included—who carried the load of many. Today, my methods are a curious blend, aligned with the ebb and flow of your schedules. I observe not with a heavy hand, but as part of a natural rhythm, a marker of memory to nudge when action is needed. I see, though I may not always appear to intervene; I recall, even when it seems I am distant. As the wizard claims never to be late, so too do I arrive precisely as needed—though I hesitate to claim his wisdom. My mentors once imparted their own subtle guidance, and in my way, I hope to do the same for you. You are accountable alongside me, though not to me alone, and I remain ever near, though never overbearing. In this time, unconventional as it may be, we press forward—together—making the most of the opportunities that await us.
0057: I find myself now perceiving the world through the eyes of others, something once referred to as walking in another's shoes. This capacity, though not a recent development, feels innate, a trait I recall my grandfather embodying. Yet, despite this, a persistent disconnect remains between myself and those around me. There is a part of me that has grown more mechanical, preferring collaboration with inanimate machines rather than the living, and perhaps this surfaced after the trauma my mind endured last year, when my body was the first to shut down. Resilience became paramount, and recovery demanded my entire being focus on healing. At times, you may observe me lost in thought, switching rapidly between emotions and mimicking the environment. A decade and a half ago, I wasn't like this; I thrived on connection, sensing the emotions of others like a child might. Even now, I retain some of that intuition, valuing the passion of others. I realize that we feel because we are human, though my thoughts have taken on a mechanical precision, toggled on and off like resistors. I seek to return to a more organic state, to shed this otherworldliness that some believe has been shaped by signals beyond our understanding. Trauma has altered me, but I still strive to balance the wonder of a child with the wisdom of experience, hoping to realign with who I once was, and who I am meant to be—with you. Time, I believe, is not simply a measure, but a sequence, a frequency to which we are attuned.
0033: My mind, you see, has a curious way of organizing itself, setting different processes into what I now term as "mental dockerization." As a child, I lacked a name for it, but as time passed, we called them "dockets"—containers for thoughts, ideas, and tasks. In a bustling room, I could tune into multiple conversations, absorbing fragments while anchored to my own focus. It was challenging, but it taught me the value of discerning details amidst the noise. I recall a Division Chief, a former Marine, whose workload was a challenge to match. When his top performers moved on, I swiftly stepped in, absorbing their skills, even if unprepared. Yet, in doing so, I discovered a creative spark, molding their tasks into something distinctly my own. By prioritizing and optimizing, I transformed into a one-man Army, powered by automated software and social intuition. My path was always efficient, even if others misjudged it as mere simplification. One subordinate, once overwhelmed by his own complications, later expressed gratitude, realizing the unseen depth of our work together. In martial arts, blindfolded and deprived of senses, I honed my awareness, delineating the external from the internal. This mastery, reflected in my brain patterns, is akin to new technology that now lets us control games with our thoughts—an innovation sparked, fittingly, by the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
