The Hidden Hero

And the Winner Is...

2010-11-03T12:13:00.000-04:00

For the first time, I’d like to publicly present the award for:

“Favorite Song of the Now”

The recipient of this award must be a musical arrangement with an ability to “get stuck in one’s head”, but at the same time, also be of a high enough quality that one does not get sick of said song. It must instill the desire for repeat listening, even immediately after a previous listening occasion.

The craft and structure of the song should demonstrate some form of thought and intelligence on the part of the songwriter. The composition should show originality and innovation. Generic dance beats need not apply.

The specific content of the song should never be spoon-fed to its audience. It needs to be open enough to interpretation that listeners may emotionally identify with it on their own terms, and also never having one’s own theories of “what it’s about” be contradicted. And in such a case where the listener is unable to decide the meaning of the song, it should still be enjoyable for them to experience on an instinctual level.

While a good song stands upon its own, regardless of the performer, the recipient of this award demonstrates a symbiotic harmony with its performance and performing artist. While skill is a factor, it is overshadowed by sincerity and conviction on the part of the musician(s) involved. They must demonstrate an honest connection with the material, whether it be an original song, or a “cover”, as well as be able to convey that connection to the listening audience.

Former winners of this award include:

“I’m Not Over” by Carolina Liar (previous winner)
“Human” by The Killers
“My Delirium” by Ladyhawke
“Pretend We’re Dead” by L7
“Angel’s Wings” by Social Distortion
“Dream On” by Aerosmith (repeat winner)
“I Wish I Was a Nerd” by the Attery Squash
“Mad World” performed by Gary Jules
“Good Girls Go To Heaven (Bad Girls Go Everywhere)” by Pandora’s Box
“Ice Cream” by Sarah McLaughlin
“Who Will Take Your Dreams Away?” by Marianne Faithful & Angelo Badalamenti

Joining this esteemed company, I present the newest, and current winner:

“Little Lion Man”
By
Mumford & Sons

Released in 2009, this song is finally starting to receive its due airplay on radio stations around the country. The selection committee discovered this song through KROQ out of Los Angeles (via Internet Radio), and was immediately taken aback by this folk quartet out of London, England. At first, it appears so out of place amidst the stations usual genre selection of modern and hard rock, but quickly solidified its rightful position alongside.

With its 2 main verses offering a very personal story, it smoothly and gently builds to a heartstring-pulling crescendo emphasized by its simple, yet emotionally-charged chorus that makes one feel they’ve been punched in the chest, yet at its conclusion, inspires the words, “Thank you, Sir. May I have another?”

Even its central and unavoidable placement of the granddaddy of all curses, the famed “F-Bomb”, it is neither gratuitous nor unnecessary. In a rare feat, it is truly the best word for that moment.

Mumford & Sons have achieved in one acoustic song, more energy, power and emotion then most any other modern artist armed with the loudest amplifiers known to man.

Thank you gentlemen, for demonstrating you don’t need an electric dial to “turn it up to 11”.

I present to you all… my favorite song of right now. (I just hope the embed works)

Mumford & Sons // Little Lion Man by Stayloose

The Great Property Purge of 2010

2010-09-28T13:52:00.004-04:00

I’ve got a little personal project going at the moment. I’m trying to get rid of my crap.

This is different then the normal “Spring Cleanings” I try to do every now and then (even when its not Spring), where I just merely re-organize some things, then maybe donate a few shirts, a really old jacket, a few VHS tapes and 2 books. (Yes, I still have some VHS tapes. No VCR though… but some tapes.) No, I’ve come to the point of stepping out of Denial River and realizing that ain’t cutting it no more. Because, frankly… I’ve got a lot of stuff.

Now, I’m not a “Hoarder” (like the ones on that depressing and disgusting TV show. I’ve never watched the show, only the promos, and I know that’s what it would stir up in me. No thanks.)… Nowhere NEAR that bad. That is a huge extreme, that I have to believe is still leagues away from me. I mean, someone who’s a bona-fide “Hoarder” saves freaking newspapers with the full intention of reading them *someday*. Come on, it takes 3 minutes to read the funny pages, and that was when some of them were still worth reading. (I stick to online comics now, anyway.) Who cares about the other crap, especially when it’s outdated? No, that extreme is one I can’t understand.

I will concede… that I’m a bit of a “Pack-Rat”. I can throw stuff out… I just tend to be pretty selective of it. I do like to keep things that have a small emotional or nostalgic value. Neat little knick-knacks that I acquire from cool little stores or as little gifts from friends. And books! Oy vey, I love books. The smell of them, the act of turning the pages, the idea of being absorbed in another world. Especially if they’re old, and hardbound… and the age is showing on the yellow hue of the pages. It’s a romantic notion to me, and I love them. Bookstores are a weakness for me, and I get sucked into them often for browsing… where I’ll at least be leaving with something from the bargain bin. The large majority of these books I’ve collected over the years… are still waiting to be read.

Board games… I’ve mentioned in the past, that I sort of collect them. Many of them I haven’t played… but all of them I’ve wanted to, and had the utmost intentions of doing so. It’s just that… Life gets in the way.

I do confess I tend to keep magazines around longer then I probably should. I had a collection of Maxim magazines going for a few years… and this started in 1998 (the issue with Alyssa Milano on the cover, I saw it in a large poster ad in New York… and the horn-dog side of me said, “Must… have….” It must have been the subliminal-mind-ray-advertising… Or her boobs. One of those.) But after a 3-4 year stack of issues started getting more and more annoying to move, I started ripping out the “articles” I liked and throwing away the rest, in an effort to reduce the stack. It worked… for awhile. But before you start thinking, “Pshaw… just another perverted male doing anything for lame bikini photos”… keep in mind that, although you’d be completely right with that statement, I had a much bigger collection of Men’s Health magazines. Those issues really did have good, useful articles… as compared to “articles”, if you catch my meaning. Even today, I still read Men’s Health, and only read the cover of Maxim as I’m walking past it in the bookstore. (Unless it has Jennifer Love Hewitt on the cover… then yes, I’ll buy it. I may have a decent amount of willpower, but not THAT much.) But after a certain point… I started ripping out the useful stuff in the Men’s Health issues to try and reduce the stack. I’d even divide them into big yellow envelopes for ease of use later. Recipes in one, fashion and grooming in another, health and fitness in another, etc. Eventually, those too have gotten to be a little too full.

And as someone who loves movies… of course I have a hefty collection. Been collecting DVDs for 10 years now, and my tried-and-true technique of waiting for movies to drop down to the bargain bin has given me a lucrative collection to be reckoned with. And even though we all marveled at how “thin” the cases are (especially compared to VHS tapes, and they are)… they still add up. I have always had a problem when it came to storing my movies and shows. (And you’d probably be surprised with how many of them I haven’t sat down and watched yet.)

The same went for my CDs and music. In fact, this was the first thing I started “condensing” back in the late 90s. I was getting ready to move to California, and knew I’d be carting as much as I could in my little SAAB and driving 3,600 miles away. As I was also determined to spend the large majority of my time working on Grad School stuff, the idea of “minimalism” was starting to be very appealing to me. I wasn’t even planning to bring my collection of VHS tapes (this was just before DVD came out) or a TV. I was serious about not wanting to even have the time or opportunity to get sucked in to a show. (Though, as an apartment-warming gift, my dad bought me a TV anyway. Figures.) But I couldn’t leave my tunes behind… that’s my SOUL, dammit! But I sure didn’t want to cart all those discs. So… I acquired 2 of those large disc-folders, the ones that held about 100 CDs at a time, and filled them up, and put the empty plastic cases in storage, along with everything else I didn’t want to take to California. I even condensed several discs (ones that only had 1 or 2 songs on them that I liked) into mix CDs to save more slots. I even had plenty of room left over in them for when I would acquire new music as well. I still have and use those folders for all music CDs. I even eventually tossed out the empty plastic cases (but kept the inserts and booklets), as I’ve found the folder method too convenient.

I even keep some old shirts and clothes, fully aware that I’ll never wear (or even WANT to wear) again. Such as:

-My old Cub Scout uniform from when I was 10. I made it to Webelos rank, and got the little sleeve pin-tassel-things that you use to pin the merit badges/pins onto… but my family moved before I ever got to earn any, so it’s bare to this day. (Something tells me this won’t fit me, but I haven’t tried, so I can’t say for sure.)

-The black long-sleeved shirt from Senior Year in high school… with the large numbers “93” on the back and the names of every member of the graduating class inscribed therein. I freaking HATED high school, have managed to successfully block out many of the memories… but I’ve kept that shirt. I don’t know why… and I only wore it twice, if that. (You can’t really wear that around in college or beyond without looking like a total toolbox. “Dude, you’re not in High School anymore… move on.”)

-The blue vest I was given when I worked at Wal-Mart for a summer (and never gave back). I don’t think they even wear that style anymore, so I couldn’t even infiltrate them anymore. (Well, maybe… I should look into that…)

-An apron, and embroidered polo shirt from the first restaurant I worked at. I haven’t been there in 16 years. That place doesn't even EXIST anymore.

-The paint-splattered shirt from when I did that weird-ass Tennessee Williams play. I was bummed when I didn’t fit into it anymore (or rather, when it ceased to flatter my figure), because I liked wearing that around. Gave me a stylish, “artsy” look. I’m pretty sure the t-shirt itself was from the 70s, but the paint splattering was original, courtesy of the costume department, who were happy to give it to me after the show.

-My loincloth and vest-jacket from when I performed in an 8-man version of Midsummer Night’s Dream (same costume department, same elation to get rid of a costume piece that wouldn’t be used again)

-A jean jacket with “Hard-Rock Café – Save the Earth” embroidered on the back. (Christmas gift from 1993… all the kids in the clan got one, and I’ve still got the group photo to prove it.)

Hell, somewhere is even my graduation robes from High School, College, AND Grad School. Why why oh WHY??

I’ve always liked the idea of going minimalist… and everything being neat and clean, and easily staying that way. I’m just total crap at actually pulling that off. By contrast, I never liked the idea of “When I was no longer a child, I put away childish things”… screw that. I like my childish things. They’re fun, and make me smile. I don’t want to get rid of something *just* because it was made for an age demographic I’m no longer technically a part of. Nor will I pretend something’s not fun. That… I’m pretty good at.

But the stuff that sits in the garage, or in the back of my closet… isn’t giving me any enjoyment by being static. And I have such a small living space, I just don’t have the room. So, I’ve been inspired lately to give it a more earnest try. The actual catalyst was a short article I read over on the website TheFrisky.com, from a few weeks ago entitled “I Got Rid of 90 Percent of My Stuff, And I Feel Fine”. While there are several other things from the past year or so that made the idea of having less stuff very appealing… this was the first thing that just flat out threw it into words, directly. (Sometimes, we need that.)

Now, I don’t know if I could eliminate 90% of my stuff… but I have a modest goal of getting rid of at least 40%. And while I’ve been plugging away at it… I’m thinking I could do even more then that.

First place to start… books. I have a series of shelves in my bedroom tucked in the corner of the room, behind the door. It’s definitely the most cluttered part of that room. So, I started pulling out books that I know I’ll never read, and stacking them. I also pulled out a bunch of old role-playing games, mostly stuff from college. So, I put those in another stack. The normal books will be donated… the RPGs, I’m going to try Ebay. (While I’ve bought plenty of stuff off Ebay, I’ve never sold anything… so I don’t even know how to set that up. Guess I’ll learn.). If I can’t get anything for them after a few weeks, I’ll donate those as well.

Then… some board games. Wasn’t looking forward to it, because I like my board games. But when I look at them, and know full well that when “Board Game Night” does come around, my friends and I usually pick something else… so that starts its own pile. My rule on the board games were… “I’m keeping my CLUEs, that’s non-negotiable.” Because I love the game CLUE, it’s my favorite. And I’ve got several spin-offs and variations. (I’m a sucker for mysteries.) So I went through the others and managed to clear out about 10 of them so far… a good chunk now sitting at Goodwill waiting for new owners. But you know… I’m starting to look at some of those CLUE games… and starting to wonder if I could get rid of those too. Because the variations aren’t like the original game… they just have the CLUE name and “expand the story” with their own game. A bit unnecessary, but they’re neat. I’d have to keep at least 3… the standard version, my Haunted Mansion version I got from DisneyLand, and Clue Master Detective (a version from the late 80s with more rooms, suspects and weapons, but plays the exact same). But the others… just might be going. Including the newest version with the “revamped and updated” rules… which aren’t that great, and I suspect Parker Brothers will eventually get rid of anyway in future incarnations of the game. But maybe my non-negotiable rule is going to be more flexible then I originally declared it was going to be. We’ll see.

Then, the DVDs. A while back, I started doing with my movies what I did with my CDs… putting them in those big folders that holds 100 at a time. I picked up several of them, and divided them up by genre. Sci-Fi in one, Asian Entertainment in another, Horror in one (actually that’s 2 folders filled up now), Musicals and Plays in yet another, Comedies, Adventures, Drama, Cooking Shows, etc, etc. I also grabbed larger ones for my TV-on-DVD shows… also divided up into genres. I even painted on the front of each one for ease of identification. Sure, having numerous folders is a bit bulky, but still leagues better then keeping all those discs in their cases. I was holding onto some of the plastic cases… thinking *maybe* I’ll put them back into them someday, for display purposes… but let’s face it; why would I want to? So, they have to go… especially since “some” become “a lot more then some”. All those… sat in the garage… waiting… and occupying space.

The showdown is inevitable.

So I’ve started in on that stuff in storage. I’ve pulled down about 7 large plastic bins so far, and have condensed them into 2. 5 large bins worth of stuff… gone. This is where I’ve found all those old clothes, all the spare DVD cases, stuffed animals acquired over the years (which, being up in the dusty garage all this time, are probably so spore-filled as to be downright unhealthy. So, I may even have to get rid of my little Muppet dolls I collected from Disney. Not a fun prospect to a major Muppet fan like myself), even more books (oh so many books) and so much else.

I even found my 4-year collection of Boy’s Life magazines from the mid-80s (more relics from my scouting days). I was planning to get some nice plastic bags for them, slide them into a nice storage box from the Comic Store, and keep them. My brother happened to see them and asked, “Why have you kept old scouting magazines from 25 years ago?” Well, it was for nostalgia, yes. Plus, I think they’re collector’s items. My first issue was the premiere of a few features for that magazine that they’re still doing today. I got a lot of enjoyment out of them, and I don’t think it’s all that bad to keep them around in an out-of-the way manner. But… yeah, then I got to thinking. “Damn… maybe I *should* stop holding onto them. Well, maybe I can get something for them on Ebay or something… surely they ARE collector’s items?” So, I looked online. You know what I found? Every single issue of Boy’s Life magazine, from the 1930s to the present, online, complete and for free on Google Books. F-ing A!!! Now I have no excuse to not recycle them. So… into the recycling they went, and then told my brother I hated him. But at least I’ll have more room by my boxes of comic books---

God Dammit! NOW I’m going to be going through my comics and see which of THOSE I can get rid of!!! Arrrgghhh!

In a way, it’s almost getting too easy, the more I do this. I’m currently convinced this is only 85% a good thing. (But only because I want to be stubborn in some regard)

Basically, I’m just putting everything into 2 categories: “Getting Rid of”… and “Not Sure Yet.” Once I’m done, I’ll go through the “Not Sure Yet” group and divide them again into the 2 categories. And then go through them yet again… and then once more, this time creating a “Keep” pile.

I am allowing myself a few nostalgic keepsakes… my Muppet Magazines for one. (Do you have any idea how rare they are? Seriously. I’ve got 9 of them.) And I still have all my old Theatre books, because it was, and I still consider it to be, a big part of my life and who I am… and with my pursuit back into teaching, will hopefully be a larger part in the future. (Yet, I’m starting to wonder… is there anything in that bin that won’t be that useful to me right now?)

But I think I might be close to… if not at the 40% mark already. I’ve donated about 150 books, trashed 3 bins worth of plastic, and a slew of knick-knacks ready for the trash heap. (I found my old key-chain collection from 20 years ago… I didn’t even like the hobby that much, and haven’t added to it in almost that time.) I’m finally eliminating the last of those VHS tapes that just haven’t gone away yet… all those old scout shirts, work uniforms, etc… so much stuff I’ve been holding onto, and I no longer know why.

And I know, that at some point… I’m going to come across a little green box that I have completely taped up. That I haven’t opened in quite a few years. It’s somewhere in the back of my closet (I think), and it contains things I haven’t WANTED to look at in all that time. And I’m not sure what I’ll do. I probably should have thrown it out long ago… most probably would have in a fit of anger. But I was thinking, it was a part of my life, and I may now want nothing to do with it… but I can’t deny it ever happened. I thought it was a “mature” way to treat it… maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. But I held onto it, physically. (I definitely held onto it emotionally, much longer then I should have.)

I think, if I threw it all away then… it would have been out of anger. Now, if I throw it away… it’s because it doesn’t mean anything. Which just might be the best reason for it to go.

Unleashing the Id

2010-08-17T15:39:00.003-04:00

Love is a word that is constantly heard
Hate is a word that is not
Love, I am told is more precious than gold
Love, I have heard is hot
But hate is the verb that to me is superb
And love, just a drug on the mart
For any kiddie from school can love like a fool
But hating, my boy is an art
-Ogden Nash

I don’t generally consider myself a “hateful” guy… I may be a bit cynical, sure. Are there issues I’m passionately opposed to due to ethical and intellectual grounds? Sure. Are there people in my life that I prefer to avoid and vent about? Absolutely. Are there individuals that have “crossed the line” with me, thereby giving me no moral qualms about taking my frustrations out on them with a rusty crowbar followed by a lemon-juice hose-down and a salt-blast chaser? Who doesn’t?

But I’m not talking about the so-called “Legitimate Hates”… the understandable ones. If you’re related to a close-minded racist whose hobby is insulting you and killing every small animal you try to adopt… it’s perfectly alright to hate them. That is completely justified. Are there people actively infringing the civil rights of the people you love? Guess what? You can hate them. (Side note: Prop 8 Overturned! Suck it, you Bible-thumping “Family Value” Pricks!)

In fact, I find it hard to believe there are people who “don’t hate anyone or anything”. Well… then frankly, you don’t exist. Yes, I’m actively denying the fact that you were ever conceived and resided within this dimensional plane. To your face. If you say there is truly nothing to raise your ire; a) I call “BS”… and b) I’m looking forward to the challenge.

But again, I’m not a hateful person… I do believe that love is stronger then hate… that positive outweighs the negative. I believe that humanity, on the whole… can be good. That’s the way I’m wired. Yet, I do think that hate can actually bring about some good things in this world. One of the biggest reasons the U.S.A. even came into being was because our founding fathers hated King George III. (Take a look at the Declaration of Independence… most of the reasons listed all start with “He”… “He has refused… “, “He has forbidden…”, “He has obstructed…”) Nothing against the British citizens… nothing against the country… they hated HIM. Heck, sometimes just the act of loving something necessitates that you have to hate the thing that opposes it. (To again cite Prop 8; I love my Gay Friends, so for even that alone, I hate anyone that wants to take away their right to love.) Without a certain amount of hate for the big things… nothing would ever get done.

Except I’m not talking about the big stuff. No, I’m going for the relatively petty stuff. The crap that might be expressed in a stand-up comedy routine. The stuff that you don’t bother to address because of the Social Filter we’ve developed over our lives. The really annoying, blood-boiling pet peeves that you don’t act on, but which keep pushing you to the point of wanting to scream… but you don’t, because someone would probably put you in a padded room (even if they feel the same way).

For this blog… we remove the Social Filter.

Maybe you’ll get insulted. Maybe you’d be a wishful victim of my wishful wrath. Maybe, if you met me walking down the street, you’d look at the ground while giving me a wide berth, hoping I don’t snap on you… or you’d stop me and scream and lecture me for being hateful. (Go ahead, I’d love the irony of that.) But I’m really just joining a bit of a trend here… there’s apparently a lot of home-web videos of young people just rattling off about stuff they supposedly hate. Usually they amount to just hating “school” or “stupid boys” or “dumb girls” or “parents”… but I’m not in the age demographic to mention those things (except maybe the dumb girls… some things *are* universal, after all.) No… as you may know, I tend to get a bit more specific:

Assholes that linger for 20 minutes BUCK NAKED in the gym locker room. Yes, that’s what the locker room is for: changing. But not to this extreme. These guys scamper quickly into the locker room (rarely watching where they’re going), and whip off all their street clothes as fast as humanly possible, getting to “jaybird” status in record time. And then… they…. sloooooooow…. dooooooowwwwwwwnnnnn. And don’t even consider putting on the workout clothes yet… because you know, the mood isn’t right. So they stretch. They groom. They stroll around. They stop and watch the TV on the wall. They see someone they know, and walk on up to talk to them, raising their leg onto a bench so they can lean their elbow on their knee. And after they’ve given their political or social dissertation for that hour, they casually walk back to their locker to MAYBE get ready to actually do some exercise. And when they’re done with said workout… the same process happens again. Even adding in a long, slow walk to the showers, with a towel slung *over the shoulder* instead of around the waist, and then standing at a sink, shaving or brushing their teeth… naked. And when they finally DO get dressed, these men pick the very sensible first item that should be put onto their fully nude-with-an-obvious-reason-to-come-to-the-gym-in-the-first-place bodies… that, very obviously being, their shirt. (Underwear? Why would THAT go first?) Then they button up their shirt. Then they put on… their socks. Then they adjust the socks, because you never can pull them up right on the first try. Then they put on their tie. Then they tie the tie. Then they undo the tie and re-do it, and adjust it. After then combing their hair, applying cologne, and then getting involved in another water-cooler debate with a fellow bottom-half-naked locker-room dweller… on goes the tighty-whiteys. Then point-3 seconds later, the pants and shoes are on, and they shoot out the door. What. The. Fuck. There’s a nice line that separates “comfortable in your skin” with “decorum”. That’s great you’re not ashamed of your own body… but you don’t need to flaunt useless cock even when being “around the guys”. I hope Rush Limbaugh mistakes you for a Coney Island Corn Dog.
People who say, “I’m sorry you feel that way.” Oh, so you’re not actually apologizing for fucking me over, you’re apologizing because *I’m upset* at you for fucking me over? So, since you’re actually shifting the blame to me… that makes your apology absolutely useless, which doesn’t actually make it an apology. Wow, that’s just as bad as saying “I’m sorry” in a pissed-off “on-the-offensive” tone of voice. You might as well be saying, “I’m not actually sorry, but I’ll say the phonetic words because you stupidly think I should, just to shut you up.” Good work, you’ve managed to make the “apology” sound more insulting then the original insult/infraction. I hope you get the first-ever case of Herpes Simplex Type 5.
Unnecessary Rap. Sometimes, I’d be inclined to say that “all Rap is unnecessary”… but that would be wrong. While the genre is not my favorite, there are rap songs I like to listen to, and it is absolutely a viable genre and art form… on its own. What I really find annoying is when in the middle of a Non-Rap song… some moron starts breaking out his “rhymes”. The example that comes to my mind is the song “Scream” by Chris Cornell. It’s a slow rock song, that is put to a techno-drum-machine-beat. Now, I’ve heard him do an acoustic version that sounds great… I also like the techno background version. It’s different, but I think it works decently for the song. But suddenly… in between the first and second verses, comes the producer “Timbaland” (which is a freaking retarded “artistic” name, BTW. It’d be like calling yourself “El El Beeen”, “Uh-merican Eegel”, “Wall’em Art” or anything else coming close to copyright infringement on a brand name. Where are the lawyers when you need them?). Here, this moron does a little spoken interlude, which only just repeats some of the lyrics… and I guess it can’t even be official “Rap”, because its not even to a beat, nor does it rhyme… just him “contributing his flavor” to a song that DOESN’T NEED HIM. You are no better then the annoying “hype man”, which is a whole other realm of uselessness in the musical industry. (If you’re going to perform for a crowd, and need someone else to “get people excited”… well, how come they’re not excited enough at the anticipation of seeing you? Sounds like you’re not very good, and that you even seem to know it, hence hiring him in the first place.)

Now I’m all for musical artists collaborating with each other, but don’t pull this crap of coming onto their album and working on ONE song, by inserting some of the aforementioned uselessness and snagging a “featuring” credit. It’s THEIR album, let them play THEIR music. You want to show your “flavor”? Then make your own damn album, and spout it all you want, so I can have the option of not buying it, so I don’t have to listen to it. But if you REALLY want to collaborate? Then do it… on a full 12-song album, and do an actual duet with them on each and every song, and you both get equal billing. If you want to collaborate and “explore” with this other artist… don’t stop after you metaphorically “drive to the corner store”. Freaking go for it and truly see where you can go with it when you combine your efforts. (Robert Plant and Allison Krauss had it right… a whole album of collaboration. One a soft bluegrass singer… and the other from Led-Fucking-Zeppelin) Not this half-ass-flavor-shit. I hope your beloved over-priced Cristal booze gives you cold sores on your eyes.
People who speak with extremely thick accents on singular words of foreign origin… when the rest of their speech is in perfect white-bread English. I don’t think there’s anything that screams “Douchebag” to me faster then this. Just talking along, everything is clear and articulate… and suddenly revert to the fakest-sounding Italian/Spanish/French/Etc accent that’s ever been conceived for that Italian/Spanish/French/Etc word. It actually sounds like they’re trying to make fun of that language with this over-parodying voice… only they’re actually being serious and are claiming, “that’s the *correct* way to pronounce it”, smiling smugly all the while. Guess what? There’s a big difference between Pronunciation and Accent. They are not the same thing. Never have been, never will be. Consider that the rest of the world considers the way Americans talk as “the American Accent”. So, how many people do you know, that only speak American English… that pronounce American English words incorrectly? You may know 1, you may know 40, but you *will* know a number to say. Just because they speak in an American Accent, doesn’t mean the pronunciation is correct. I’ve known Italians from Italy that speak great English, pronouncing everything right… and saying it with their Italian accent.

And sweet Jeebus help you if I happen to say a foreign word, and you try to “correct” me with that fake accent. Pray a tire iron isn’t nearby. I hope the next time you’re at the Doctor’s office, you hear the words, “Uh oh…”
People in handicap scooters… whose ONLY handicap is that they are extremely, gravity-victoriously, fat. If you’re in one from extreme age, no problem. Veteran with a leg blown off, victim of a horrible accident or debilitating disease? I’ll salute you as you cruise by, give you any help you need and all that. But having an extra whole pie for dessert isn’t a tragedy, it’s a very bad personal decision. But if what’s done is done, fine… but you don’t get special treatment. You don’t get to have a handicap plate or sign for your car. You can’t get a free pass to the front of a ride at Disneyland. You don’t get to claim “disability”, and you don’t get the right to complain about how difficult life is. How can it be so hard? You have a freaking scooter to cart you around! Sounds pretty easy to me! I hope that your home is infested by rats with a craving for cholesterol.
This one is targeted to one gender: Men. Yes, my fellow males, pay attention: Those of you that go onto Facebook, Myspace, or anything else remotely like it… find the profile of a young lady, and start writing the most moronic “pick-up” shit on their walls and comments sections, like: “Damn U fine!”, “I’d love 2 tap that! Hit me up sumtime!”, “Ur so Hott!”… and I’m not even talking about the horrible grammar. Do you honestly think that’s going to make them rip off their clothes and come running after you? Do you, in all seriousness, believe that’s going to help get you laid? I already know that when you’re directly asked, you’ll talk about “respecting a lady” and how you “don’t treat women like objects, of course not!” Which is made into Bullshit by the very fact that you don’t walk the walk. I don’t give a crap if the gal is posting a 90%-naked picture of herself in the mirror to feel sexy and good about herself. It is no time to lose all sense of decorum and respect. In fact, it’s the ideal time to SHOW it. Admire, Appreciate, then Masturbate if you must… and if you absolutely HAVE to leave a comment, it *is* possible to say something that doesn’t sound like what a lame Rapper with too much money and a skewed-world-view would say. If you have any doubt? Then don’t say anything, because when you start typing without abandon, you give the female gender more proof to their claims of “Men are stupid.” Thanks to you, they’re right.

Same goes for you, you “Deep” ass-holes… I haven’t forgotten you.

I hope all of you Mother-F-ers can’t ever close your eyes without instantly dreaming of Prison… where you have to pick up the soap.

Okay, so maybe I have a few “Rage Issues”… there may be a few more pet peeves that really get me… but this is looking long enough for now.

So maybe you laughed, maybe you were horrified, maybe you just plain agree. But what I want to know is:

What pisses YOU off?

Metrosexual Tendencies: The W.C. Suite

2010-07-08T16:02:00.004-04:00

I was just wondering what the most inane topic I could write about…

I’m an Old-Fashioned shaver.

Okay, maybe not “Old-Fashioned”. I think that actually involves lying back in a barber’s chair and letting some other guy do the work for 25¢, hoping to Jeebus that he doesn’t go all Sweeney Todd on you with a straight edge blade.

Or it means scraping my face with a jagged rock by a river… guess it depends how far back “Old-Fashioned” means…

So, maybe I’m a Neo-Classical Shaver… or something. I don’t know… I was looking for a good opening-line.

But I do it the non-electric way, I can say that much for certain. This is yet another way I differ from the other men in my immediate family: My dad and two older brothers. Not 100% sure about my oldest brother, but I think I recall him using an electric razor years ago. My other brother, the middle one… always uses electric. Don’t recall him ever using anything else. Even today, half the time he’ll walk out of the bathroom with the familiar “buzzzzzzzzzzzz” humming along while he multi-tasks his morning, scraping away the little bit of fuzz that accumulated overnight. My dad… I’m pretty sure he’s strictly electric now… but he used to have the “safety razors”, that he obviously must have used at some point. They were the cheapest little plastic things that could be found… 50 of them for about 2 dollars (today’s prices), with one dull blade on each one. With the lone period of time that I tried to use those, they tore my face up pretty bad… so I’m not sure how “safe” they really were.

But they’re all electric guys. Probably for the convenience sake. After a few weeks when your skin gets used to it, you can buzz your face every day, and you’ll always have that “clean” look forever after. Plus, the one-time cost of it is probably more economical in comparison. I even got an electric razor for the holidays one year… I think I used it for about 2 months before I stopped. For one… it was a pretty cheap model, and wasn’t going to last much longer anyway. But also… as close a shave as it did, it wasn’t as close as the non-electric way was. I’d feel my face after the electric, and it’d feel pretty smooth. But after the non-electric way? It would feel SUPER smooth! Yes, I could tell the difference. I liked that better. Plus, due to the lotions and balms and everything… the non-electric way was more refreshing, soothing. The electric way? Just kind of… Vibrate-y.

The first time I shaved was getting ready for my Junior Prom when I was in High School. I was given a “sample kit” from the place I rented my Tux from, and thought, “Cool… I’m old enough to shave now!” Sure, all I really had was a little peach fuzz… but it felt symbolic to be doing it that night. That night was also my first actual date… ever. (It didn’t go like, end like, or lead to anything as most “real dates” do… or even like other “Prom Dates” stereotypically do…but that’s another story.) So, symbolism abounded for me that night, and I wanted to do it right. (And I only cut myself twice!)

Thereafter, I didn’t shave that often (again, I had nothing but peach-fuzz really), but I’d do it once every week, week and a half. I had heard that “once you start shaving, you have to do it regularly because the hair will start growing faster!” Well, apparently my actual facial hair didn’t get that memo, because the “needing a shave-look” wasn’t much different from the “freshly shaved-look”. At the time, shaving was more of a formality… a zen-like practice that served no practical purpose; but I felt good doing it, and I also felt less like an overly-awkward teen. (I still was… I just didn’t feel like one.)

The first time I actually realized that I honest-to-goodness NEEDED to shave… was when I was in college. The director of a show I was in had asked all the men in the show to “Not Shave”. It was a period piece, set in Russia, so we were all supposed to have facial hair. (I also got to wear a wig and a padded belly for that show.) So, I stopped shaving… and thinking, “I’ve never actually grown anything but peach fuzz… will I even be able to?” But taking those few extra weeks and not shaving… I did start to get some real, rough stubble, and then became a beard. The design team then designated mine to be a “Van Dyke”, so I could shave the neck and sides. (Good, cause it was itching like hell!) I even kind of liked it… so much I kept it for awhile after that show. It was different for me… together with my glasses, it even made me feel a little more intellectual and “collegiate”.

The beard came and went a few times over the next few years. Sometimes growing it for a show, other times shaving it for a show. I’ve done quite a few things for shows, actually. The most extreme was not only shaving my face… but my arms, legs, chest, and head. The play I was doing it for was a very odd Tennessee Williams play called In the Bar of a Tokyo Hotel, and at one point, I strip down to this Japanese Shinto-Diaper-Thingy. And every bit of skin that was exposed was shaved. The only part that wasn’t was my eyebrows… that would have looked too weird, we agreed. The character was this weird, intense, crazy artist, who we figured would want to do a ritualistic head-shaving (like a monk)… only he’d take it to the absolute extreme, and shave everything. So we went with it. I ended up looking like some intense, homicidal, overgrown baby… which was interesting on its own, for sure. (Add to that me smearing latex interior housepaint over me… like I said, it was an odd show.) Several times I would talk to people about this and mention how I had to “shave everything”.

They’d look at me with a raised eyebrow and say, “EVERY-thing?” Clearly implying about parts under the Shinto Diaper that weren’t being seen.

“No, I did not shave my crotch for the show.”

They’d seem almost relieved and say “Okay” at that. There *are* limits to Method Acting, thank you. I most certainly did not shave my private parts for that show.

The fact that I shaved those parts ANYWAY, I didn’t mention. So yes, I was completely bare during the show. But I didn’t shave the bathing suit area *purposefully* for that show, so I wasn’t lying… it was simply a personal preference. (You think shaving feels nice on the face? Just imagine that sensation down there… very soothing in the summer, let me tell you.)

Okay, I’m sure that’s way into the realm of TMI (Too Much Information)… Oh well, cope.

I’ve always considered shaving to be one of those “manly man” things to do. I’ve seen it on lists of “sexiest things a woman can see a man do” (supposedly written by a woman, or taken from a survey of women), alongside “tying a tie”, “interacting with a child”, “cooking”, “juggling”, and “zombie-defense-preparation”. (Okay, maybe those last two are from *my* list of what should be sexy) If that’s true… then I’m one hell of a Sexy Manly-Man. Well, unless your list consists of MORE then those… then I only have these points down.

I love the smoothness of the end result… the crisp, clean feeling. It’s awesome, it really is. My face feels refreshed, rejuvenated… and helps me to feel damn Sex-ay. (And I’m sure adult women can think of other, practical advantages for a man having a smooth face. No, I’m not “going there”… because You just did.) I don’t know what it is about the existence of certain body hair that makes me feel not-as-sexy… but the fact it is probably explains why I have no problem getting rid of it.

On rare occasion, I’ll shave my legs. Usually just in the summer, solely for the comfort factor. My chest… sometimes I’ll shave for the summer comfort, but I don’t mind a little hair on that part. But I do try to keep it trimmed…. I don’t like it getting long, twisty and out of control. Keeping it to the level of “pleasant fuzz” is my preference.

Armpits… I shave regularly. Using the Norelco Body Trimmer helps with this. Hey, I don’t think you noticed, but armpits stink. You know why? The sweat is trapped in the hair and it ferments. I may not sweat any less, but my pits are a LOT less stinky, thank you.

And thanks to my genetics… I’m cursed with a hairy back. Not the kind of hairy where the Gay Community would put me in the “Bear” category, but enough that it itches and makes the heat less tolerable. I’ve tried to shave it… but I have to bend my arms in very unnatural ways to do so, and that hurts. I tried using the “Nair” and removal creams, which works decently for a few weeks at a time, but application is difficult. I did get help on a few occasions… one really good friend slathered it on me, and another time, a girlfriend did it. While she said she didn’t mind, when I look back on it, I can’t help but think, “That was unfair to ask her to do that for me.” Why? Well, it may not be horror-movie disgusting… but still an unappealing task. So, come the future, I shall not ask of that in a relationship again. Nope… so, now, and for the past few years… I’ve been getting waxed.

Figured if I’m going to enlist help, it should be a professional, and one who gets duly compensated for it. Plus, the waxing has the benefit of lasting longer then the creams.

On the downside, it hurts like a Motherfucking-Hurt-Machine. (But I am a sensitive lad, dontchaknow?) Granted, after doing it almost 10 times by now… it hurts less then it did at first, but I still don’t look forward to it.

Now, I can get a good 8 weeks of pure hairlessness, and then another month or so as it grows back, and there’s no chance of missing spots. They’re pretty thorough. They get a good way up my neck, the tops of my shoulders and all the way down the back. When I’m asked, “How far down do you want me to go?” (No, I don’t make an innuendo. They have hot wax and are already causing me pain, do you honestly think I want MORE of it?) I say, “If you see crack, you’ve gone too far.”

Now, I may not have female companionship to take advantage of the super-smoothness, or recognize the pain I’ve experienced and wish to “make it up to me”… but I do it anyway. If I relied on sexual rewards as my reasons for shaving and hair removal, I’d look like Grizzly Adams by now.

Nope, shaving is for me. It’s my Zen thing, thank you.

Over the years… I have refined my technique since my first facial shave. It really is more then Lather, Scrape, Rinse. There’s an order. There’s a procedure.

I like procedures.

First… hardware selection. I’m currently using the Gillette Mach 3 Turbo. I don’t know exactly why they call it “Turbo”, but it does work a tad better then the regular Mach 3, I know that much. I just buy the refills in bulk from Costco so I’m not paying as much as from the normal store. As the whole shaving thing can get expensive if you’re not careful… I therefore try to be careful. (The “Fusion” razor is really nice too, and even gives a better shave, but its still way more price-wise.)

Then, you need the heat. Steam heat, to be precise. I used to just splash a bunch of warm-to-hot water on my face for a few minutes, but I prefer to simply shave in the shower. I helps to open up the pores.

Next… shaving cream? NO! Now’s the facial scrub. I use an exfoliating facial cleanser. I really like the one from Nivea.

Now, the shaving cream, right? WRONG! Now is the pre-shave oil. Yes, it’s called a pre-shave oil. It’s a tiny little bottle, and you only use a few drops at a time, like 5-6… about the size of half a penny. (A little goes a long way) It’s got a bit of the menthol-thing going on, which sometimes feels counterproductive to the steam heat… but it works really well. Helps the hairs to stand up a bit. According to the bottle, you could actually shave using JUST this oil if you had to, but I never have. The kind I use… (and the only kind I can find, though it works so well, I don’t care) is from King of Shaves.*

*if the company is named King of Shaves, you can assume they know something about it.

Okay, now has to be the shaving cream, huh? NEVER!! I use a shaving “gel”. The old shaving cream/foam…besides smelling funny, it also makes it hard to actually see the hair you’re shaving off. It’s not that fun to go completely blind when having a sharp object near your face. Just sayin… No, shaving technology has made some leaps and bounds. The gel type of shaving lube is pretty clear, and makes it a lot easier to do things like keep the sideburns even, or even care for that goatee you’re trying for. Plus, it really does work a lot better. I’ll occasionally try different brands, but I do keep coming back to the King of Shaves brand again… the Sensitive Skin formula. (I *do* have sensitive skin, dontchaknow?)

Then… the actual removal. I’ve always read you’re only supposed to scrape “with the grain”... but when I do that, I always feel stubble left behind. So I always go back up the other way, “against the grain” as well, and that removes it all. And I’ve never had a problem with in-grown facial hairs or gashing my face open or whatnot as a result. I just go easy, methodical… and get that super-smoothness I love so much.

But it’s not over! After the scraping, I’ll obviously rinse off thoroughly (easy enough as I’m already in the shower), finish up all the other shower-business, and out. Then I pat dry my face… and then break out the… anyone? Anyone?

After-shave lotion? What am I, a masochist? (Don’t answer that.) Alcohol on microscopic wounds? Hell, no. Nope, I go with the “post-shave balm”. It’s a thicker kind of goop, that’s non-alcoholic, non-painful… and gives that nice bit of smooth polish to the face, with an extra moisturizing kick. Again, a little goes a long way. I don’t stray from the Nivea brand on this one.

And that’s my shave. I do this every 4 days or so. I can get away doing it after 3 days, but any less then that, and my face gets torn up a bit. No, with my face, the blade needs a decent bit of stubble to get a grip on to. In fact, the longer I go without, the easier it is to shave it, oddly. Unless it’s more then 6 days (meaning I have no dates or social plans)… in which case, it’s too long. So I’ll take my regular old-clippers and trim down the face to a shaveable length.

It works for me. Maybe it is a “manly-man” thing to do… I just do it because it makes me feel “good”.

So… nyah.

Techno-Love (but only as a friend)

2010-04-27T15:54:00.001-04:00

I don’t know if this is a male stereotype or not… but I do love my Tech. Maybe not to the extent that some guys, or even some women… but in my very own way, I do.

I’ve never really had a problem figuring out computers and technology. I tend to figure out the basics pretty fast, really just by playing around. (Manual? Who needs a manual?) But I also have never really gone out of my way to acquire it quickly, so I can always be on the “cutting edge”. Usually, I’m at the tail end of the parade.

For me, when I make a decision about acquiring new Tech (or really any decision in life, come to think of it), I mull it over and think for a long time, and then when I finally make a decision, I stick with it.

The first computer I ever bought was a Commodore 64, and even then it was not that long before they stopped making them, and long after its heyday of popularity. I even knew that at the time, and my reasoning was, “well, if it’s not that popular anymore, all these hundreds of games will probably come down in price.” It was good logic, actually… our house was well-stocked with a large variety of games. The first of which is still one of my favorites: Maniac Mansion. (LucasArts made some great games back then) That computer got the holy hell beaten out of it over the years… with the floppy disk drive (with an actual FLOPPY disk) and when computer monitors were heavier then me. You could easily see how it was a definite upgrade from the Pong and Atari systems the family had… but maybe not so much compared to the original NES my brother had. But I liked it… and when it came to the end of its useful life, I eventually resurrected it… and gutted it to make a sci-fi looking prop for a show.

The next… was a word processor. Yes, an actual word processor. A weird missing link between typewriter and computer. It had a disc drive, and a small internal memory and programming, that wasn’t compatible with anything else in existence… but it wasn’t a computer in the normal sense. It was basically a printer with a small keyboard tacked on. It was a gift from my parents as I headed into college, for the purpose of writing papers. And since it was the ONLY thing it could ever do, it did it pretty well. It got me through the 4 years pretty well. When most everyone else was going to the computer labs, I could do it in the comfort of my dorm room. (and I had to… because as mentioned, the discs couldn’t be used anywhere else. It was not only technological freedom, but prison as well.)

I started Grad School with a hand-me-down desktop computer from my Uncle, which did me pretty well. When I had the chance to upgrade to a decent laptop a few months in, I did so… after careful consideration, that is. (Its compact nature was appealing to a guy in a small apartment) And I then kept that computer for the next 8 years… long after its expected life-span. (That thing died and was resurrected via miracle on a couple of occasions.)

But after Grad School… the next bit of Tech I got was probably long overdue; I finally got a cell phone. This was in 2002, and most other people had gotten cell phones already, and now… EVERYONE has them. Even high school kids, and younger! That kinda blows my mind… yet, it also blows my mind when I realize that I can’t conceive of NOT having my cell phone with me. If I leave the house and realize later that I forgot to grab it… I’m hitting myself and saying, “Oh crap!” Now, I don’t get phone calls that often, (I’m not even that good on the phone!) and I do get a half-decent amount of text messages… but after going 27 years without a constant direct-communication-line to the world, (and surviving, by the looks of it) why did I now HAVE to have it near me every second? It’s sitting 10 inches to my right at this moment while I’m typing!

When I was seeing my first therapist, I remember mentioning one session how I kind of missed going around WITHOUT a cell phone, and sometimes, if you think about it too hard, you can feel kind of trapped by it. (Sometimes, you don’t WANT to be found so easily) She responded with, “Well, you don’t have to have it.” “Listen, lady… don’t go using that new-fangled voodoo brain logic with me!” Okay, I didn’t say that last part, but as much sense as it makes, and how true it is… I still keep my cell phone fairly close by.

And I’m on my third cell phone right now. As the contract is ending soon, I might look into getting another upgrade… or at least a comparable replacement, because I can’t think of what I would get that’s better then this one. It’s got a 2 Megapixel camera, plays music, has an audio recorder, has a calendar, I can check e-mail, has some games, not to mention… now get this: It actually makes *and takes* phone calls. (You knew that gag was coming, admit it.)

I was considering of getting an iPhone, or one of the comparable Android phones… but you know, to make those worth it, you need to buy a data plan for the phone, which would end up tacking on another $2000 or so by the time the contract is up. No thanks… I don’t have that much disposable income.

But as sort of a “compromise”… I did get an iPod Touch instead. It can hold ALL my music, shows video (so I can share neat things I find with friends), has some pretty cool “Apps” (some of which are actually useful), has Wi-Fi connection for places that offer it free. Really, the only things it can’t do is: be a phone, or take pictures on it. That’s okay, my regular phone does that. And I can live without the cellular Internet. So, after a few weeks of considering, I treated myself, and have been pretty happy with it.

One thing I don’t like doing with my gadgets is trying to “one-up” or use it as part of a Penis-Size Competition. You know what I mean, too. If you get/do something, someone has to point out that THEY got/did something cooler, shinier and more impressive. (My oldest brother has been known to do this) Personally, I figure, “I need mine to do A, B, and C. Can it do those? Yes? Great, now I don’t give a crap that yours can do D, E, F or G. No, no… I get it. F and G are *really* peachy keen. I still don’t care.” Penis-Size Competitions: No actual phallus needed.

I was looking into getting an E-Reader, like the Kindle or Barnes and Noble Nook. I especially thought the Nook was the neatest between the two… but when I went into a store to play around with one (prior to ordering), I wasn’t able to see how a .pdf looks on it, plus the touch screen was a little slow to respond, and a few other concerns. But between those two, it still looked to be the better product. But then that Apple iPad was announced.

Now, I didn’t start drooling over the iPad like a lot of people did. I did find it humorous though, that within minutes after its announcement, all the males on Twitter were excited for it… and all the females were making Maxi-pad jokes about it. Personally, I didn’t see the big deal. Now, yes, I’ve been wanting an E-Reader, but I liked the size of the Kindle and the Nook. The iPad… way too big for my liking. That’s not exactly “portable” to me. (Portable to me means, it can fit somewhere on my person, out of the way, and I get to have both hands free. The smaller the satchel, bag, backpack it can fit in, the better.) But the iPad is in color, with better touch response, its faster, etc. Frankly, it’s an oversized iPod Touch. (Which was another point that leaned me towards getting that) If they had the exact same thing… only the size of the Kindle/Nook… I’d probably have gotten that. I’d even wait for the 3G version. The only thing that the iPad has done, is convince me to keep waiting, because now none of it looks that appealing to me. (Also, it’s surprisingly easy to read on the iPod Touch… or iPad Nano, I guess.)

Not all technology these days is interesting to me.

I’ve yet to get completely excited by Blu-Ray, or Hi-Def. Personally, I don’t mind that theatrical movies are at 24 frames per second. Yes, it’s ironic that the higher quality resolution and framerates look cheesy and fake to us (The webcomic XKCD just did a bit about this the other day.), but I still like the gritty, muted look to a lot of movies. Call it nostalgia, but I find it easier to get lost in a story when I’m not being distracted by the detail on every blade of grass or hair on someone’s head. And it’s only going to be seen on movies made in the last 5 years, maybe. Everything before that? They weren’t intended to be seen at that resolution. So… it just seems pointless.

The latest gadget I bought, is going a bit old-school. Actually a lot old-school. It’s a camera. Not a digital camera… and actual film-load 35mm camera. I was hanging out with a friend of mine in Boston and saw this assortment of “unique” cameras. All film-ones, construction was plastic and a bit cheap… one model was strictly a “fish-eye”, it distorts all the pictures like you’re looking through a peep-hole on a door. Another looked like a 1920s box camera… and the one that interested me, had 4 lenses on it. It takes 4 mini sequential pictures on one frame of film. Each photo is divided into quarters, and you see 1 full second of an event, broken into four frames. They call it the “Actionsampler”. Now, sure, I could probably take one of my digital cameras, put it on “sequence burst” so it takes 3 or so pictures one after another, and then photoshop them together… but somehow the nostalgia of doing it the old-fashioned way is a bit on the romantic side for me. Yeah, I never had much luck with actual film cameras in the past, but I do know a little bit more, (at least where NOT to take pictures) so hopefully some of these can turn out a little better.

Hey, it was cheap, novel… and interesting to me. And I’m not dating anyone, so why not treat myself? It’s a better reason then some people have when getting new toys.

What are some gadgets YOU love or hate?

The Cut of My Jib

2010-04-01T22:31:00.001-04:00

During my unintentional sabbatical… I ended up hitting the gym… a lot. I really just needed to get out of the house, because staring at my computer screen just wasn’t working for me. (and by “not working” I mean, “driving me crazy”) Before, I always went to the gym on my way home from work… because it was on the way, and extremely convenient. Now, of course, it had to be a special trip. So let’s see: Special trip… or sit in the house and be depressed, lazy and crazy. I’ll take “Special Trip”, please. I needed something, anything, to do… and going to the gym seemed like a nice, healthy option. Hey, I was paying for it anyway… might as well get my money’s worth out of it.

So I went every day, Monday through Friday, and took weekends off to recuperate. Mondays and Thursdays was arms and upper body, Tuesday and Fridays lower body and abs, and Wednesday was nothing but Cardio. I was silently proud to be sticking to my make-over plans, and occasionally getting nice compliments from friends. But due to my own critical view of my self, and judging by the horrible dating luck I was having, I always saw/see the flaws and knew/know I still had/have a long way to go.

Then, when I gotten into August of that year, the Temp agency I was going through gave me the distinct impression that “things were picking up” and I would be having some impending interviews approaching. So I pulled out my suit… the one I’ve previously mentioned as “my first suit”. Now, I bought this during another bought of unemployment, again for the purposes of interviews (and also since I had nothing nice to wear should the occasion arise). When I did that, I had been in a period of “letting myself go” a little too much. This was after my old medical problems, in which my weight fluctuated wildly from too low to too high, and then settled on “too high”. So when I was being fitted for this suit… I was given the “Executive Cut”.

I understood from the get-go that “Executive Cut” was just a friendly euphemism. It meant I was tubby. Any guy that takes offense to that, saying, “Hey… I’M wearing an Executive Cut suit!” Guess what? Nothing wrong with it. It just is what it is. You’re no less a quality person… now shut up and accept it. All that matters is that you have a suit that looks good on you, so chill.

Well, now my suit *didn’t* look as good on me. I know I had lost a little bit from my waist, and the suit (and sportcoat) were a little big on me. So, I had to go on a little errand… one that I was actually looking forward to doing.

I brought the suit and the sportcoat back into Men’s Wearhouse (the one with the tailoring department), went up to the counter and said, “It gives me great pleasure to finally be able to say this: I need to have my suit taken in.”

Yeah, it did feel good to say it… to know that I’ve made enough progress with exercising, and that it was noticeable enough to affect my clothing (in a good way). It was a nice positive reinforcement, and I was smiling. The tailor said, “That’s great. If you would please go put it on, we’ll take the measurements and then take it in.” So, I went into the little dressing room, put on my Executive Cut suit, and stepped back out onto the sales floor, waiting for the tailor.

He came over, started measuring, and soon said, “Well, this isn’t going to work.”

Me: “What do you mean?”

“This was YOUR suit?”

“Yeah, I even bought it from here, it’s on your records.”

Then he excused himself for a second, and brought over a saleswoman, and they both started tugging and pulling on the suit, folding it up against me, etc… basically using me as a mannequin… and both seemed…. Amazed.

I’m just standing there, not sure what the problem is… I just need the suit taken in a little bit, right?

Wrong.

The pants of the suit I had brought in (which were tailored for me when I got it) had a 40-inch waist.

I now needed a 34-inch waist.

Keep in mind that on a suit, the waist isn’t just above the hips where we normally wear our pants, but rather higher up, just under the belly button. So I lost 6 inches around my belly… a hell of a lot more then I thought I lost.

So the pants now look like they were another hand-me-down, and the suitcoat and blazer are similarly swimming on me now. They asked me, “How much weight did you lose?” “Well… according to the scale, only about 5 lbs.” (I guess this is proof I’ve been replacing it with muscle, huh?) They looked at each other and back at me, amazed and smiling… all the while looking over the racks of clothing.

Uh… are they trying to find one that’s my new size to use as a template for cutting these down? I wondered hopefully… and futilely, it would turn out. No, they were looking for a new suit for me.

I asked them, “Can’t you just take this one in?”

The tailor then proceeded to explain how they “could”… but he would have to take so much material out that the suit wouldn’t look right. He couldn’t guarantee that it would look good. To put it bluntly… it would look like a Picasso. (His Cubist period, for you Art-History Majors. Never say I don’t show you any love.)

The old suit, with the Executive Cut, was created with a belly in mind… every cut and stitch of it is molded around that idea. A belly of which I apparently didn’t have anymore (even if I do still see it when I look in the mirror… man, am I self-critical or what?).

If they can’t take it in… and I obviously can’t wear it to interviews without looking like an 8-year-old playing in Dad’s wardrobe… It looks like I don’t really have much of a choice.

Thinking of the personal accomplishment, I cheerfully thought, “I need a new suit!”

Then the logistical aspect came to mind, and I thought, “Oh… I… need a new suit?”

Then the dawning of financial horror… “Holy crap… I need a new suit…”

I’ve always tried to not be “cheap”, but as someone who’s never HAD a lot of money, shelling out a few hundred on the spur of the moment isn’t exactly something I’m used to. Anything that costs over $50, I feel hesitant, and over $100, I feel I have to “think about it” because it feels like an “investment”. (Which, yes, this is an investment.) And being unemployed at the time sure didn’t help, to put it mildly. I felt my heart beat faster, and thought I was starting to panic. It was something I *had* to spend right there. (You probably don’t want to hear my inner monologue when I need to have expensive car repairs done… I want to curl into a fetal position and shut out the world.) And I never got to wear the old suit that often… so that was feeling like I had to throw away $500 worth of clothes I didn’t get to enjoy.

But the tailor and the saleswoman started looking through the racks, and found a nice suit for about $300. That’s a good price for a suit… but still… $300. I did refuse when they asked about replacing the sport-coat… I figured that wouldn’t be a good idea at that time. They were able to do the few needed alterations right there, and I could leave in an hour with it.

So, while I was waiting for that to be done… I had to just walk around the mall and kill some time. And what else am I going to think about other then, “Oh God… I just spent a crapload of money on something that *feels* frivolous (after all, a suit isn’t necessary for actual caveman-like day-to-day survival), and I don’t really have money coming in.” Sure, I had to collect unemployment, but I feel guilty using that for anything that isn’t vital to caveman-like survival. (I hate feeling like a leech on the system, and I was hesitant to even apply in the first place)

Yes, I know normal people don’t think like this, and wouldn’t have a problem with it, or even for the reasons that I do. Whatever made you think I was normal?

But all these things… these possibly unfounded neuroses running through my head… and then I go and end up making the biggest mistake I could at the time.

You see, I was feeling vulnerable. I was feeling stressed, and a more then a bit worried. I needed encouragement. I needed to hear, “Its okay. Needing and getting this suit is a VERY good thing. You’ve made a great accomplishment, losing those inches. You deserve this, it’ll look great. Keep your chin up, it’s gonna work out wonderfully.” I needed some kind words… I needed assurance.

I needed to call and talk to my Emotional Support System.

Instead, I called my parents.

Apparently, I had a lapse of memory, and thought they were in that category. Sure, that sounds cruel and unfair. But my parents are “every silver lining has a dark cloud” kind of people… and as thankful as I am to them for bringing me into this world and doing what they can for me over the years; emotionally speaking… they are NOT the people I can talk to for that kind of support. I think the fact that I tried in this instance may say that I wish they WERE, but every instance of trying to tell them anything, good or bad, has pretty much blown up in my face.

My mom answers, and I tell her what’s going on. Instead of what I wanted and needed to hear, she said, “Well, can they just take the other suit in a *little* in case you gain some weight back?”

“… I’m sorry, what?”

Is it just me, or did that sound… how shall I say it? A bit “un-encouraging”? Is that essentially a vote of no-confidence in my efforts at the gym and eating better? Because it sure as hell sounded like it.

I tried to explain exactly how much I’d lost, and how taking the old suit in “a little” wasn’t exactly an option. When my father got in on the conversation later on, he remarked how if I keep going to the gym, I’m “just going to need ANOTHER suit.” Now, that one may be more of a “delivery” kind of thing… because where he was putting the emphasis did not sound like it was celebrating the accomplishment of slimming down, but of the annoyance of having to do this errand again. (Even though it was for me, and nothing to do with him)

Now, if I lost *another* 6 inches from where I am now… I wouldn’t be worried about a suit that fits… I’d be worried about a hospital gown that fits, because that’s where I’d be treated for malnutrition. No, I wouldn’t be crossing another tailoring-threshold, and any adjustments to a smaller size would be minor ones, fixed with a simple “taking in”. It wouldn’t be changing the “cut” of the suit. His reply echoed my Mom’s initial statement; “Well, you better keep the old suit for when you gain the weight back.” (Notice his has a bit more certainty in it then my Mother’s.)

Wow. Just… wow. I have to wonder if my family ever actually *listens* to themselves.

So, back to when I was waiting at the mall for the suit to be finished… and NOT feeling as good as I had hoped at this point… I went to look outside my immediate family. (I definitely wasn’t going to try my brothers… at best I’d get an “Okay, so?”) I texted a friend of mine, summarizing the situation… and thankfully, she told me what I needed to hear. This *was* a good thing… it’s a great thing! Sure, I didn’t get much use out of the old suit, but why should care about a suit that looks crappy on me? I worked hard, and I deserve this… I deserve to look good, dammit. This was definitely the right thing.

When I picked up my suit… I did, in fact, feel a hell of a lot better. If anyone ever wonders why I’m so fiercely loyal to my friends… it’s for things like this.

And I would come to realize later… the financial hit wasn’t as bad as I thought. My months of being frugal hadn’t sapped my savings like I was afraid it was, and monetarily, my situation was a-okay. I *probably* could have afforded a sport coat as well… but I still figured it wiser to wait on that.

But eventually, when I did start working again… I went and bought myself a SECOND suit. So I could have some variety. And then this winter, I even bought two sport-coats. In both instances, I had considered and decided ahead of time, so the buying was actually a pleasurable experience rather than a spur-of-the-moment-stress event. (And in neither case did I bother to tell the ‘rents.)

Now I’m looking for more opportunities to wear them.

Romance vs. Intimacy: The Eternal Battle

2010-03-22T01:53:00.003-04:00

I’m *not* a Romantic.

That’s actually a conclusion I’ve been somewhat hesitant to come to, because… I’d *like* to be. I have tried… and I’ve failed, miserably. That’s okay, I now come to terms with it. I am horrible at Romance.

What I am good at… is Intimacy. (and I’m not talking about the Sexual context… get out of the gutter. Or at least get out of my spot!)

Okay, maybe that’d be up for debate when you start getting the opinions and feedback of my Exes… but at the very least I’m *better* at Intimacy then Romance.

Some might be looking at me oddly (actually, that’s not any different from what I’m used to…) and wondering “What is the difference?” Normally, I would have figured them the same, or pretty damn near the same thing. But no more shall I do this… I shall now get nitpicky.

As per what I usually do when I start to differentiate between specific words… I look them up in the “pocket dictionary” I’ve had since Grad School. (Yet, I’ve never had pockets that big in my life.) Sure, maybe it’s a bit cliché, but why the hell not? So, I looked up “Intimacy” and found this definition:

1. To make timid; fill with fear. 2. To coerce, inhibit, or discourage by or as if by threats.

Is it fairly telling, the fact that I said, “You know, that makes sense…” and THEN realized I was looking at the definition of “INTIMIDATE” instead? (Sure, it says the two words have different roots, but I think they just don’t want to admit it.) Hey, I say it’s an honest mistake. Anyhoo…

in∙ti∙mate adj. 1. Marked by close acquaintance, association, or familiarity. 2. Essential; innermost. 3. Comfortably private…

As for the other…

ro∙mance n 1.a. A love affair. b. Romantic involvement (thanks, redundancy really helps… he sarcastically says in a sarcastic manner); love. 2. A mysterious fascinating quality or appeal, as of something adventurous…

Ah ha! That’s it! I *knew* there was a difference! It’s #2… that’s what I believe people are really talking about when they say they want “romance”. That’s what I’m horrible at.

I don’t know if I can say I wear my heart on my sleeve, but I can say I’m pretty damn honest, even from meeting me right away. I’m not cultivating any kind of “mystique of a secret past” or brooding and looking all deep like some kind of pathetic and sparkly-stalking-vampire (modern teen ideas of Romance are majorly Fucked up, BTW). I’m the kind of person who, if you want to know about me, I’ll tell you. Ask any question, and I’ll answer it. No problemo. (I don’t have a lot of pride in that area, and very little embarrasses me.) While I love reading mysteries and watching them on TV and movies… I myself am no mystery. Hell, if you’ve read even a few of the posts on this blog, you know a pretty good amount about me. Sure, you may not know my actual identity… the whole pen-name thing… but you’ll know me. The name is really just a minor detail. Even then, you send me a private message on here or Twitter… Hell, I’ll probably send you my Facebook page, if you’re really curious. Has pictures and everything.

Yeah, I’m a sap like that. But I like people knowing about me… just as much as I like knowing about other people. I like the familiarity, I like knowing the real person… I like them knowing the real me. I like… the Intimacy. Hell… I love it!

That leads to the big kicker… and what seems to make the two terms (dare-I-say) polar opposites, rather the similar kind that was assumed before:

The more you get to know someone, the less Romance you have with them. But it’s not a bad thing… because the trade-off is… you gain real Intimacy. (Personally, I think that’s better.)

Alright, I’m sure I just opened myself up to some comments saying, “No, I can have both! I want it!” Sure, because everybody wants everything.

Intimacy is a long-term satisfaction… and it takes work to get there. It takes time. You get to know the real person… and hopefully you actually *like* that real person. If you don’t? Well, you should know not to waste anymore time, right?

Granted, in some ways Intimacy might be a bit of an unseen trap. About 7 or 8 years ago, I knew this gal (of whom I had a slight interest in at the time I admit) who was chatting about her Ex and how she “loved him, but wasn’t *in* love with him”, and trying to explain that paradox. She’s more then willing to go out and date other people, but when she hits a personal crisis, or something really bothered and upset her… she went running to him to talk and get comfort. Her reasoning was, “we just know each other so well anyway that it’s just easier to go to him because he would understand without me saying that much.” Sure, that’s sound logic… but at the same time, I wanted to tell her that she should just pack it in and marry the guy. Because she didn’t seem open to the idea of getting to that level of intimacy with anyone else… because the Ex was easier. She was looking for romance elsewhere… but the real intimacy was always with the Ex. I couldn’t see her finding a new relationship that would be okay with that… which is why I allowed my own interest to fade. If you know the real person, and really know that person isn’t for you? Recognize that you need to look elsewhere. (Just don’t say “I do” until you figure that part out.)

This might also help explain why I’m in contact with so few of my Exes… I don’t like the reminder of NOT having that particular Intimacy anymore.

In some ways, I think Romance is a bit about the short-term satisfaction. The quick, immediate excitement. Sure there’s also the parts of candle-lit dinners, thoughtfulness of birthdays, declarations of love that people call “romantic”… but I think those are things more tilted into the Intimacy category, then true Romance. Romance is… exciting. It’s the unknown. Sorry to repeat myself… but it’s Mystery.

Like I said at the beginning… *I* like Romance. Excitement can be fun. Surprises are peachy-keen. I think everybody likes stuff that is new and exciting… maybe even feeling a bit dangerous. It’s a neat thrill.

And maybe I just uncovered an element that might give an insight as to why some people choose to cheat in their relationships. They’re looking for the Romance. Unfortunately, they’re doing so at the complete expense of the Intimacy they had in that relationship. Being an admitted Non-Romantic… I cannot condone that. I might be able to “understand” it… but only as far as to know to recognize it and not submit to it.

(Meanwhile: In the Gutter: The one thing I can NOT understand at all is why certain celebrities would cheat on their spouses… when the spouses are Hotter and more Beautiful then any of the mistresses. That just seems pointless. Don’t you at least want a visual upgrade? If you’re in that powerful a position in life, you should be able to find a mistress that would make your emotionally-suffering-wife say, “This is a horrible ordeal for me and the children… but to be fair, that other gal is *waaaay* Hot. If I was a lesbian… I’m just saying…” And the kids saying, “Dad, how could you do this? By the way, high-five!”)

I’ve never been one to take Intimacy for granted. I’ve been broken up with far more then I’ve been the one doing the breaking up, and the few times I did, it was because I was starting to see the real person, and knowing it wasn’t a good situation for me to be in. (One instance looked downright unhealthy… but that’s another story.) Plus, spending more time in my dating life single rather than in a relationship (healthy or unhealthy), personally I put more importance on the Intimacy then Romance. I can’t do the short-term satisfaction… I’m a long-term kinda guy.

Unfortunately, it appears that I’m also NOT the kind of guy that single women want to actually date.

In High School and in my 20s… being the patient sort of chap that I am, I theorized that all the women at my age were still wanting their kicks with the “Bad Boys” and Deep A-holes, that when I got into my 30s… I was going to have the greatest dating life in history. Because by then, women would know they don’t want the Bad Boys, and being in their sexual peak during the early to mid-30s… I was optimistic the best years were ahead of me.

This was even encouraged by friends of mine who would even tell me, “Dude, trust me… women are going to *want* a guy like you when they’re older.” You know… if I had a time-machine, I wouldn’t go kill Hitler or witness the great historical events of the world. I’d go back to those instances of encouragement… and I’d kick those people in the face. (Come to think of it… some did show up later those days with mysterious injuries. One had a footprint on him with the treads that looked remarkably similar to a pair of shoes I just got…. Hmmm, I wonder….)

It has NOT been the prime years for dating, no-sir-ee. It’s a subject I’ve gone over a few times before… but the last time? The whole eHarmony fiasco? Yep, it is officially a complete dud. I ended off that post with an air of hopefulness, as I was in contact with one gal… and we had gotten to a 3rd date. The only one from online that I had gotten to that point with. We even got to a fourth date. We even made plans for a fifth date. Now #5 was 2 weeks from #4… I didn’t mind waiting. I’m sure you, dear reader, know that I go slower then a snail through a tar pit. My reputation may not precede me… but moves alongside me.

4 dates… no kissing, no hand-holding… not even any hugging. Hell, we barely touched. Now, I didn’t see any opportunities to take such movements… but hopeful they would come in the future. I was enjoying my time with her regardless, and figuring she was either respecting my slow-ass-pace… or went at that pace herself.

Well, the day before the scheduled date #5 (this past Friday), she calls me. I’m happy to hear from her, figuring we would solidify our specific plans for the next day… and then she tells me that she “didn’t see a future for us.”

…Ow. I felt like I just got kicked in the gut (and not by my future self).

She said she really enjoyed spending time with me, and always had a really good time… but didn’t feel anything “Romantic” with me and… (here it comes) only thought of me as a friend.

You have no idea how loud I wanted to scream, “Go Fuck Yourself!” to her… and I think I actually came close to doing so. But I didn’t. I do think it was apparent I was audibly upset… and when she said she thought of me only as a friend, I replied:

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

She giggled at that… and I know it was an uncomfortable thing for her to do, and it was probably more of an awkward-trying-to-relieve-tension-giggle… but still; I wasn’t joking. Honestly, if she hadn’t said that… maybe I wouldn’t be so upset here.

I have seriously heard that same speech far too many times in my life, and I am sick to death of hearing it. Where are all these women that are supposed to want a guy like me? They all want the Romance. And I offer Intimacy.

She said she had given it time, but didn’t feel Romantic feelings with me. I can only think that if she wanted Romance, why didn’t she try walking a little closer to me when we strolled, to give me a chance to take her hand? Why, at the end of our brief dates, did she quickly get into her car or house door, saying “goodbye/good night” over her shoulder, and not stop, face me and look at me for 2 seconds, to give me a chance to try for a kiss? Why not even try for a date longer then a mere 2 hours at a time? Why not give me a chance to provide that Romance?

No, I don’t think she gave it enough time. Especially not with me. For other guys maybe it’s enough time. But not me.

But here she was, giving me the age-old rejection speech. Additionally frustrating in the fact that it wasn’t even original. So, the fifth date did NOT happen. In fact, it ruined not only the rest of my night, but the whole weekend, as I’ve been pretty much stewing in it since.

Sure, I’ve been going through the thoughts of joining a monastery… but I don’t think I could do all the praying and chanting. I *have* come to the conclusion that the Internet dating doesn’t work for me… not one bit. So that’s one more road that is closed off. In fact, it really just seems that I really don’t belong in the world of Dating. I know that’s an extreme, because you can’t get to a relationship without the Dating… but when everyone seems to want the one thing I’m not good at giving, how can I get to giving what I *am* good at? (Or at least better at) Sadly, it’s the one thing that the evidence seems to point to, from this view.

I don’t know if I’ll feel better or different in a few days… hopefully I will. But this conclusion is feeling more definitive then ever before.

Just don’t say, “Wait until your forties! THEN they’ll be breaking down your door!” Because you’ll get boot to the head *right now*.

And the next single woman that says she only thinks of me as a friend WILL get the very loud volume-turned-to-11-FUCK YOU!!!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to the gutter for awhile. At least it’s more entertaining there.

Funemployment

2010-03-06T11:31:00.001-05:00

(Hey, look… my first sequel post. Here’s the first part.)

So, I was forced back out into the cold, cold world of job-searching. Confused, shocked, depressed, filled with dread… and I was still in the parking lot of my now ex-place-of-employment.

After a few deep breaths, I said, “Well, no use sitting on my ass.” (Yes, I said this to an otherwise-empty car.)

I started to drive back home… stopping off at the Temp Agency that got me placed at that company in the first place. I went right in, told them what just happened, and asked to re-open my file, which they did. I was now back in the Temp Loop… which is better then being in no loop, for sure.

Now, they told me how jobs were slim, but it would *hopefully* pick up fairly soon. It certainly wasn’t going to be the only method I used, but it was a start, at least.

Over the coming days, I would start to reflect on the reasons I was laid off. And I know it wasn’t “anything personal” (to the company, although definitely personal to me) or any performance-based reason why I was laid off (that I was told of). I did my job, and I think I did it well.

No, this was an accounting issue (for lack of a better term… I don’t mean it was the Accountant’s fault). So, in that context… I still tried to find some reasonable explanation. And since I have a tendency to over-think things… and think in odd ways… the standard answers don’t seem to work for me.

The first standard answer is “profits are down”. What exactly does that mean? Does that mean they are LOSING money? Meaning… no profit at all. The operating costs exceed the income. Then yeah… I can understand that. Or does it mean what it actually is saying… “profits are down”… they’re just not making AS MUCH a profit as they’d like to? They’re still making a profit… just not as big as they want. (Aw, poor baby) So, after all operating costs, and subtract that from the income you make, you still have money left over.

This is actually the situation that I think most companies are in. Profits are simply a little less. So… why the need to fire people? If you expect your employees to be loyal, and they continue to bring in a positive profit in an ailing economy, why do the same rules not apply to the company? In my fantasy world, if I own a company and I can afford to pay everyone, including myself, pay for everything I need, and at the end of the year, NOT owe money to anyone… then it’s a good year. If after that, the profit is only 1 dollar… its still a profit. Sure, you won’t be able to give any raises, or be able to “expand” like you wanted… but that’s the fault of the ailing economy! Sure, we got this ailing economy because of some greedy Mother-F-ers grabbing for every penny… but doing the same thing isn’t going to get us OUT of it. If you stay even, and weather out the storm, and you’re not *losing* money… when it does turn around, you’ll be in a better position to cash in. Not to mention what it does for the esteem and loyalty of your employees… you’ll actually be Walking what other companies are Talking with that subject. You’ll really have your “(Insert company name) Family”.

“Oh, but the Shareholders are demanding large profits.”

Shareholders, huh? Granted, I oversimplify a lot of things. Business acumen is not my forte. But it appears to me that things like “dividends” and whatnot, in regards to Stocks don’t mean a whole lot, monetarily. No, the primary flow of cash comes from the buying and selling of said stocks.

So you have someone that buys a large number of shares… partially owning the company… wants heavy profits so the stock value goes up… so he can sell off his shares, and NOT be an owner of the company?

Why should the rest of the company be so concerned with someone who really wants nothing to do with it?

I admit, I don’t normally meet owners of companies that honestly have no long-term interest in how their company does. Nor do I meet ones that are willing to do NOTHING to help it thrive. But that’s what shareholders do… they become part owners, then sit back and do nothing waiting for the value to go up.

If you honestly have a vested interest… and want the company to, oh I don’t know, get more clients… get off your ass and help find more clients for YOUR company. That’s not how being a shareholder works? That’s fine… but you shouldn’t have the right to complain, then. Stocks are like gambling… you can gain money, and you can lose money. But you can’t go to the dealer and say, “Hey, I put down a large bet, so give me a straight flush. I demand it.” You take your cards and you live with them.

And realize that after you buy a stock… you don’t actually gain or lose money until you SELL it. So what if it drops to less then you paid for it? Don’t sell! Give it time, and it will go the other way, and you’ll make a profit. Oh, you want money *now*? Well, McDonalds is hiring. Yes, there’s a chance the company could tank and fold… you were gambling in the first place. See last sentence of previous paragraph.

Alright, anyone that has a personal knowledge of stocks and business is probably thinking I’m a huge idiot right now, and that’s fine. This is just one layman’s take on it. And I’m not talking bad about capitalism… that’s our system, no problem. I get that, and am fine with it. But it does breed some greedy mother-f-ers, and you may think it does nothing BUT breed greedy mother-f-ers. I don’t think so. I think there is room for compassion and loyalty in the system… but it does seem to be hard to find. Hence why I became one of many “victims of the economy”.

Regardless… I had to re-start the job search. Updated the resume, got about 6 weeks of coaching from that career-transition service that talked to me mere seconds after receiving my pink slip (which wasn’t actually pink, by the way… nor was it a slip)… and was on my computer for 6+ hours each day looking for work and leads. I wasn’t having luck. (Also part of why I wasn’t finding time to blog… I was tired of looking at my computer!)

I even tried a few job fairs… the first one even made it on the news, because it was so insane. They expected 40,000 people… and about 200,000 showed up. Including me. I showed up at 9:00am in the parking lot, and the show was to start at 9:30. I didn’t even make it onto the shuttle bus until after noon. (I felt like I was back in a cattle call audition in L.A… on one hand it was a good thing, because I was used to it) Then, when I got to the site, I had to wait *another* hour in *another* line to get into the building where the fair was. Ugh... just thinking about it makes me shake my head. I had a list of about 30 companies I had planned to talk to, and the longer I waited in line, the more names I had to cross off… distilling it down to my absolute essentials, figuring that’s all I’d have time for (figuring about 8 minutes of waiting at each one, and a few more minutes of talking to the representatives, etc). Turns out I got to talk to *every* company… because each one took about 13 seconds. “Oh yeah, you apply online. All that info is online. All the descriptions are online. You can give your resume online.” I wanted to grab each person I saw and just scream, “Then… WHY ARE YOU BOTHERING TO BE HERE???” It was so pointless and frustrating… and only served to show that actual “job fairs” are pointless and outdated. I was making more progress futilely job-searching in my pajama pants.

And boy, does it seem futile. Frustration just seems to pile up more and more every day. It racks its toll on your psyche, your esteem… pretty much any angle you think of it, it impacts it negatively.

(Not to mention it made the whole dating thing (even more) awkward for me… sure everyone seemed so understanding because of the economy, but I can’t imagine it’s a big plus to hear that your dating prospect is “between jobs”. Usually that’s a euphemism for “Deadbeat Loser”.)

I will say, one good thing that came out of being laid-off… it got me to think. I’ve always been able to exist in an office environment, and even make a positive impact. But it’s not *me*. That’s not what I love doing. Hell, I have 2 degrees in Theatre! Though, knowing that industry is suffering just as much, if not more then before… I sat down and started to think about “what would make me happy?” Because I’d rather not go into another job that I only tolerate… I want something I can look forward to, and actually enjoy the work I do. So what “realistic” job would fit that description?

And then I remembered… I enjoyed teaching.

Back when I taught Theatre at a small college just outside of Los Angeles, I really liked it. Sure, the bureaucracy was frustrating… and it wasn’t perfect. But being there in class, teaching 40+ students… was fun.

Looking back, I got out of it for pretty silly reasons, and I shouldn’t have. But the individual I was dating at the time (who would soon be NOT the person I was dating), mentioned how I hadn’t been making as much progress on getting to be a professional actor/writer as she thought I should, and I had been thinking she was right… the teaching took up quite a bit of time, and I was thinking it was getting in the way. (Yes, I was actually thinking that it interfered too much with my “Starving Artist” lifestyle) Considering how the next year went (after I stopped teaching)… I would definitely have done it differently.

But now I’m thinking I’d like to get back into it. It’s a subject I’m passionate and enthusiastic about… I have fun with it. I enjoyed passing it on to willing ears. And dare I say, I even found it a bit fulfilling. So, I’ve decided to make that my new goal: To get back into it.

Thus far, the progress I’ve made in the past year… I’ve been approved to teach online classes through a local university. I’ve gone through the training… (an online class to learn how to teach online classes… appropriate or redundant?) Now I’m just waiting for word of when the class starts. I’m listed as faculty on their website, so it looks like *eventually* something will come along… I just hope it’s somewhat soon. If for nothing else, I’d like to get back into practice. I’m approved to teach “Intro to Drama” and “Shakespeare”… things I’ve taught before, thankfully. But for now… I wait.

Was the lay-off a blessing in disguise? Eh… hard to say. I’m doing my best to treat it as such. But it still feels like hassles and hard times that were just thrust upon me without good enough logic.

But… I am now currently employed. The temp service found me another company that liked me. I’m back doing Administrative Assistant-work. I’m still there as a “Temp”, which means that it could technically end at any moment… but my boss has stated her intent to hire me on permanent. (Which is a plus) No, it’s not teaching… it’s back to corporate America… but as a day job, it’s a good one. And it will do for now.

And it’s something I can do in conjunction with the online teaching (whenever it starts)… hopefully it will give me back some of that security I lost last year… as well as some of the personal fulfillment I’m searching for. And hopefully, the sooner it starts, the sooner I’d be able to parlay it into a regular face-to-face teaching job somewhere. Maybe something will happen, maybe it won’t… but it is my goal.

And it is nice to have something to shoot for again.

Not what I meant by “Getting Laid”

2010-03-05T09:03:00.001-05:00

Exactly one year ago today… I got laid off from my job.

I had just passed my one-year anniversary with the place, too (about 2 weeks earlier). I had started there as a temp replacement Admin Assistant because the regular one was going on vacation for a month. I was just tooling along for a few weeks, when I was approached by the head of the “Export Compliance” department. (Though, it would also be accurate to say I was approached by the ENTIRETY of the Export Compliance department… as it was just him.) He said he had heard that I was a pretty detail-oriented and focused guy, and he had just been approved to hire an assistant… so he wondered if I would maybe be interested.

Now, I didn’t know what was entailed in “Export Compliance”… but it turns out, it’s really just making sure the company is following all of the gazillion laws that the U.S. Government has, when shipping things outside of the country. Ever since 9/11, it’s been a growing necessity for companies, frankly. They’d give me the training and all… which wasn’t that difficult, I thought. Mostly just repetitive paperwork and “busy-work”, frankly. But it would free up him to work on the bigger, more specialized tasks for important account, while I took care of the day-to-day stuff.

It would be a permanent position, with a bit of a pay raise, benefits (medical AND dental… and it’d been a very long time since I had insurance for those!) and apparent employment security. But admittedly… none of it was the biggest reason for accepting the job. But, rather:

I would be able to tell people I work in “Exports”.

And saying that you work in “Exports”… I think we all know what that is really a euphemism for, right?

That’s right. Secret Agent.

What, you don’t see the connection? Hey, James Bond’s standard cover story was that he worked for “Universal Exports”. This is pop culture people! It’s ingrained in our psyche!

Sure, in this case, it *wasn’t* a euphemism, but I could FEEL cool, dammit!

But yeah… that was seriously the biggest attraction to take the job. That probably says a lot about me.

Still… I actually liked the work. At times, it even felt more like “Secret Agent” then I thought it would… especially the time I was subtly threatened from a man in Iran because I was “asking too many questions”. I even got to go on my first honest-to-goodness business trip (a cute little story on its own). The people were nice, and just the act of keeping mentally busy actually charged me creatively in quite a few ways. (The blogging regularity heyday of 2008 occurred during this timeframe.) I was saving money, feeling pretty good, and even having occasional random fun.

What random fun, you say? Well, I had fun planting some of the Victor Riley business cards around. I didn’t put out that many… but I figured I should stop when I saw a company-wide memo from the President that solely addressed this; saying, “for those that don’t know, it’s an anonymous way to congratulate someone on a job well-done. While such reinforcement is positive, we ask that this stop, as we have our own company methods for such rewards…” Yeah, I found it a bit confusing myself… and it appears to have been grossly misinterpreted (especially since I was actually trying to subtly and innocently flirt with the Beautiful Romanian gal from Archives), but nonetheless, I figured it may be wise to stop.

One day, another company-wide memo came out… basically saying that due to the troubling economy, the parent corporation that owned our company, was going to be cutting 15% of the workforce. I admit I didn’t get involved in any water-cooler talks with people about this, so I never heard fellow concerns or anything. I also admit… I thought I was safe. The entirety of the “Export Compliance” department was my boss and I. That was it. The two of us were doing everything, and we had more then enough work to occupy ourselves. So I didn’t get into any water-cooler talk, not because I didn’t care… I was busy getting work done. I logically figured that since that’s the situation for us… that I wasn’t going anywhere.

How wrong I was. A few weeks went by, and then came March 5th.

Earlier that week, my boss had been out of town on a multi-day business meeting… so I was covering his daily tasks as well. This was his first day back. I went in that Thursday morning like I had for the previous year, and noticed nothing different. After about an hour, I saw my boss. I gave him a quick update on the status of things, handed him a few folders that he’d need… and then he asked if I’d come over to his office for a minute. (All things we’ve done a dozen times before) I first started to raise an eyebrow when I walked in, and he closed the door. “Okay, something’s wrong here… did I mess up something big? What’s going on here?”

That’s when he brought up the memo about the 15% cuts… and that I’ve been “affected”.

To say that I was “shocked”… probably doesn’t begin to cover it. Within seconds of this news, I was given a packet of information, with forms in it that I was to sign (but didn’t have to do so right there), and 2 checks… one for the previous pay period, and the period we were in, which actually paid me for the next day, *and the next week*, too. (We were in the middle of a pay period) And another check that included 2-weeks severance, and pay for the 2 weeks of vacation I had accrued (but hadn’t taken).

Sure on the plus side, I now had a couple thousand bucks in my hand… but the security, the certainty, the hoped-for plans I had for that year (like getting an apartment), were out the window. (Not to mention, this wasn’t that long after the “2nd-date Denial”… so I *really* wasn’t having a good couple of weeks.)

One thing I think I’m pretty good at… is staying calm when I have every reason to NOT. Yes, I was sad and even hurt to be tossed out like this by the company (I could tell that my boss did NOT want to be doing this, and I even had that confirmed later. I had made his life and job a lot easier, and was the reason he could take Fridays off. He just walked in that morning and was told by the higher-ups that he had to let me go… right then)… But I do have my pride. Even if I don’t like the work I do… I like to do my best at it, anyway. So, I asked if I would be allowed to finish out the day. My reasoning: I will never have it be said that I left people in a lurch. Even when having no reason to do a good job… I do it anyway. I like to think I’ve got some integrity, and I prefer to live up to that. (Even though I can hear my dad’s voice saying, “To hell with them” if he were in that situation… just one more way we differ.)

My boss actually said that… no, I wasn’t allowed to. In fact, my computer was going to be locked out by 11:00am. He said not to worry about any of the work on my desk…In fact, I could even leave now, if I wanted, and not wait until then. All I had to do, was just gather up my stuff when I got back to my desk.

This wasn’t right away… because my now ex-boss directed me to the conference room across the hall… where another gentleman was waiting, one I’d never seen before. He was an outside guy… a “career transition” counselor that the company hired that basically helps prepare us for the new job search. (Keep in mind, this is all MINUTES after getting the can in the first place) He gave me more packets of information, and how he’d be working with me in the coming weeks to help in this time, etc… Everything seemed to move so fast… because it was. This was the highest level of efficiency I’d seen in a long time… and thinking back on how that all tooled along, and how I wasn’t allowed to finish the day, and whatnot… everything was absolutely set-up with the expectation that I was going to take an absolute nutty. Sure, maybe *some* people might (I wasn’t the only one getting cut that day… I even found out later, to my surprise, the hot Romanian gal got cut too!), but knowing how *I* am, and how I’d rather stoically bear it, Clint-Eastwood style… it did feel a bit extra degrading, being “processed” so quickly.

Still… to my ideals, I don’t want to leave people in a lurch. So, yes, my boss said to not worry about the unfinished work… but I did finish up a few in-progress things on my desk. I separated into two piles… the finished and the unfinished (even put sticky notes listing them as such), I clearly laid out the folder I made called, “How To Do My Job”, with all the procedural things that I had detailed out (in the case that someone would one day have to cover for me, and not know exactly what to do), and then gathered up my belongings.

I had to be gone by 11am… but I had everything gathered up by a little after 10. I wasn’t going to be allowed multiple trips… only one. My security pass was taken, so one time was going to be it. Now, I don’t know what would have happened at 11am, had I stuck around… if I was going to be actually escorted off the premises or not. But as I was finishing, I looked up and saw the other people in my section going into the Marketing VPs office, quietly and quickly. I had a few duties that I did for that department, and as such, was considered a part of Marketing. So, I could guess what that impromptu meeting was about. As I had no more reason to stick around… stuff gathered up, everything I needed off my computer is off… I wasn’t going to get to say a polite goodbye. (Like I said, it was set-up like I was going to take a nutty.) Even my boss’s office was closed, so I wouldn’t even get one final handshake.

Then… came the most stereotypical, clichéd situation I can recall being part of, in about 10 years. That being, the “long walk”… we’ve all seen it in movies and shows… all the cubicle-possessions, calendars, desk-food stash, stress relievers, small decorations, etc, gathered up in one medium-sized box, carried with both hands, and walking it all out to the car for the just-revealed final time.

I honestly felt like I was in the beginning of a bad comedy film.

The sun was bright and high in the sky… not normally a time of day in which I experienced that parking lot… as that was usually the growing light of the morning or the fading light of the evening. The concrete was dry, and large piles of snow still scattered around the outlying areas of grass.

I got into my car, and before I turned the key to start up the engine and drive off this lot for the last time… something went through my mind. And I said to myself something that I think a lot of people feel when having major news thrust upon them in such short burst of time. When events unfold through no workings of your own and a rapid confusion seems like the only reaction you’re capable of…

“What the Fuck just happened?”

Co-inky-dink... I swear.

2010-02-22T14:59:00.005-05:00

Okay, I’ve recently discovered the webcomic Questionable Content, and have really been enjoying it. (I found it through XKCD, another one I read often)

As it’s a very character-driven comic, I’ve gone back to the beginning to catch up (as it’s now up to about 1600+ strips… it’s taken awhile)… and when I came across #600… well, give a read for yourself.

For those that have read my older posts, you might notice the last panel sounds remarkably similar to the beginning of an old post of mine from 2008, the internet classic (or not) Bedroom Communism.

Well… *I* was sure surprised.

I’d like to say that “Great minds think alike” (or “Feeble minds seldom differ”), and the author, J. Jacques, and I are just both ahead of our time… except that I wrote mine in 2008, and he wrote that strip in 2006. So even if we are, I’m still 2 years behind him.

Damn it!

I got the same feeling when I found out there is an NFL player named Victor Riley, who played for the Kansas City Chiefs and the New Orleans Saints. Of course, that became a very different feeling when I discovered that he was charged with felony assault by ramming his SUV into his wife’s car. With her and their kid in it.

With this “nom de plume” holding a long-standing meaning for me of heroism… that just makes me feel icky. But… I’ve been using this since 1994… and he got drafted in 1998. So *nyah*! I’m going to keep using it… and even despite all the other real-life people that are legitimately named that.

If you do a Google search for “Victor Riley”… you’ll get the NFL guy and several of the real people… but if you search for “Victor Riley HERO”… you get this blog. Hells yeah. Sure, maybe not a lot of people are doing that… but the potential is there.

So anyway… a shout to Questionable Content: Sorry for the unintentional similarity. It’s a great strip! (And I’d like to see Hanners find some happiness/love… even if only temporary. Just sayin’)

Back to your irregularly scheduled Blog.

I'm a Twit...

2010-02-17T14:32:00.003-05:00

You may have noticed that since I’ve started to get back to my bloggin’ ways… that there is a new addition to the page. The not-so-latest in a long line of 21st century trends that I’m finally giving a try to:

The Twitter Feed.

Have I given in? Succumbed to the brain-washing of “the Man”? Have I sold out?

Well, seeing as how Twitter is free… not to mention they don’t hire people to write those “tweets”… technically, no. I haven’t sold out.

When it first came out… it didn’t really interest me, to tell the truth. Having a social network where all you do is answer, “What are you doing right now?”, is kind of pointless. At least MySpace and Facebook had other things going on. Thankfully… I think the majority of people thought that it too… was pointless. Not that it would dissuade them from using it… just not in such an inane manner. No, they started using it for other things.

Even though they say the “concept” of Twitter is still: What are you doing?... it’s more like “Texting to the World”. You can have conversations with specific people, by “tagging” them with @username… but they’re just conversations that you allow everyone to see. In essence… how different is it from having a blog? Only with a Twitter… you have to do it in 140 characters or less.

Structure-wise… it makes an interesting challenge.

I was asked to research Twitter for my job by my boss… to see if using it could benefit the company. But I figured the best way to do that was to actually set-up an account for myself and play with it. So I did… went poking around. To be honest… it’s not very complicated. The whole thing is pretty straightforward… and I think that simplicity is a big factor to its popularity.

And for me… there’s an intriguing element to it. When you pull up your twitter homepage, where it shows all the latest posts from the people you’re following, in chronological order (newest shown first). This includes not only your friends… but the celebrities, too. And it’s all in real-time. As soon as they type it and hit “Enter”… it’s on the web. So when you see one of your favorite celebrities… posting something at the exact same time as a friend, or even yourself… that’s kind of cool. It’s one of those elements of Globalization that actually makes you smile… instead of freaking out in a “Big Brother is coming to get me” kind of way.

One of the things that actually got me a tad intrigued… was a bit from an article in Wired magazine, from about a year ago. It was a feature on promoting yourself as an internet celebrity. One of the pieces of advice it gave said:

"Every single Twitter post you write should be something that could get you laid, ruin a marriage, or bring a tear to a fat little kid's eye." — Joshua Allen

Well, I don’t know who Josh Allen is, but I don’t think I agree with C… and doing B would make me feel too guilty… but A sounds like a good guideline to follow. I mean, if you’re going to do something that’s pretty pointless in the first place… at least try to make it interesting. Then it won’t *seem* so pointless, you know?

So, that’s what I’m trying to go by… using it as a supplement to the regular blog, really. Any short epiphanies, observations or witty quips that come across my brain… I’ll throw them up there. I’m not accepting any pressure to do it all the time… but when I think of it, I’ll do it.

I tend not to do the “retweets”, which is just re-posting something that someone else posted themselves. There were a few times I did a “reply”… which really just tagging them with the “@username” I mentioned above… but I don’t really keep them there. I’ll let them sit for an hour or two, and if the person its referencing sees it in that time, cool. I try not to expect another reply from them (looking to expect things like that from regular people or celebrities, major or pseudo-, tends to lead to disappointment) and just continue on with my day. If they haven’t seen them after 2 hours… chances are there’s already 200 other tweets in their “most-recent” queue, and they won’t see it. So, I’ll delete it to keep my page fairly clean-looking and accessible.

I’m going for “Quality” over “Quantity”.

The same thing goes for those Twitterers (okay, that’s too many syllables… and sadly, “Twits” feels *too* accurate). I’m being picky who I follow.

I’m currently (as of this writing) following 18 people. Among them are:

The cast of Dr. Horrible’s Sing-A-Long Blog (Neil Patrick Harris, Nathan Fillion, and Felicia Day)
Postsecret… one of my favorite blogs, of which I’ve professed my love of before. Twice.
Violet Blue… I’ve mentioned her website tinynibbles.com before also.
Penn Jillette… of Penn & Teller fame. If you don’t know of them… your life is incomplete.
Weird Al Yankovic… and why not?
Simon Pegg… one of my favorite British comedic actors.
Will Wheaton… more famous due to the Inter-Web then any Star Trek appearance.
And my personal favorite Twittererererer…
Valancy Jane… she’s a real-life friend of mine, and she’s also over on the blogroll on the side of this page. She’s the epitome of quality over quantity, and she’s also the *only* person who’s updates are sent directly to my phone. She’s awesome. Love her, for you must.

As for those following ME… I have but 6 at the moment. But hey, those are 6 *really* cool people. I do have one other person that “listed” me… but I don’t really know how different that is from following. Maybe it’s like “following without actually being a follower”… I think I feel used. Should I demand a commitment? Or would that just make me look like a Twit?

Then again, I think I already am… in more ways than one.

But we already knew that, right?

Putting the Harm in eHarmony...

2010-02-16T00:29:00.006-05:00

A few days after I flew back from the funeral, I signed up on eHarmony.

Yes, there’s a connection.

And yes, I know… I had sworn off the internet dating due to such lovely examples of here and here, not to mention other lovely experiences that I hope never to repeat, both in experience or verbally. What made me fold?

Well, whenever I’ve experienced a time in my life where I lost someone I cared about… I get a bit of a glimpse of my own mortality. I get the urge to pull other people that I feel close to…even closer, so that I don’t feel like I’m taking them for granted, and really hold onto them and not want to let go. In missing the one I’ve lost, I become more protective of the others. Personally, I think it’s actually a normal (or at least normal-sounding) reaction.

Thing is… whenever that’s happened in my life… it’s never been at a point where I’m in a relationship at the time. (It just worked out that way) And loneliness kicks in a little harder then usual… because I don’t have anyone that I can literally pull closer and hold on to.

As an individual that tends to have a hard time meeting people, and for whom the bar-scene and normal people-meeting methods don’t work… I tend to feel like my options are limited. (Oftentimes, into the low single-digits.) So, I had a moment of weakness… and I signed up on eHarmony.

I picked that particular site, because it seemed to be a little more serious-minded then the other dating sites I’ve tried. As you have to answer about 900 screening questions and give up a good few hours of your life just to get it set-up… not to mention its one of the more expensive dating sites out there… it seemed logical that the only people that would actually go through all that crap… would be ones that are actually serious about finding a healthy relationship.

Well, it *sounded* like a good theory.

I purchased a full 1-year subscription, in advance. It was the most economical (you essentially pay for 3 months, get 9 free)… and I also wanted to give myself plenty of time to get to know someone, and not rush into anything. (Even amidst my insane dry spell, I have no desire to jump into anything… be it relationship, bed, pile of mud, or otherwise) Since it was mid-November when I signed up, and knowing the upcoming holiday craziness would be… well, crazy... I made a personal resolution not to physically meet anyone until after the New Year. I made it fairly clear on my profile and in the e-mails of those I was matched up with, and they seemed totally cool with it. They said they liked the idea of getting to know me first, without any pressure… and taking our time. Great! Maybe this whole “matching” thing they had going on… actually had something to it.

Now, in terms of matches… while I was given a hefty list, I didn’t go trying to write to all of them (even though the site actually suggests you do). For one, there’s no way I’d be able to keep track of everyone and the different conversations. That’s too much like being a “playa” in the real-world, at least to me. No, I tried to keep the numbers small. While I prefer to focus solely on one person at a time… I knew that probably wouldn’t be smart here, and I should at least try to chat up more then one at a time. Face it, chances are any particular one person isn’t going to work out, but a small percentage would be worth pursuing… so the odds would increase with at least trying to talk to a few more. (Yes, I was starting to “play the numbers”. Hey, I was trying something different… Go me!)

One gal I was chatting with apparently lived in Los Angeles for a few years… during the same time *I* was out there. And then she moved back to New England, like me. That coincidence was a bit weird… but also cool. Because we had dual-coast-knowledge in common. We had nice talks on the phone… but then the calls and e-mails got further and further apart, and then stopped… having never met in person. It started to sound like she was getting too busy in life and work… and then disappeared.

One of first ones I *did* meet in person, however… I really liked. Our phone conversations were really nice, and we soon made plans to meet face-to-face. When I did… I actually thought she looked *much* better than her picture (and her picture was really attractive). She also had a bit of fire in her… during a conversation about skee-ball, a carnie game I at one time had near-mastered, she seemed to have no problem saying how she would “kick my butt” at it. I loved the fact that she openly challenged me to it… and I was definitely up to taking her on. We ended our first date… with the promise of a second. No kiss, no moves… just a smile and a promise.

Now, I tend to gauge the success of dates on one thing: If I call her afterwards and hear back from her… it was good. And I actually did heard back from her. That would make this the first “good date” I’ve had in a LONG time… and since she actually made good on the promise of a second date… which was not only the first 2nd date from an online connection I’ve ever had, but the flat-out first 2nd date I’ve had in a long time… She seemed like she was genuinely interested in me. I was definitely interested in her.

Our second date, we got dinner and a movie. The conversation during dinner was once again really nice… lots of smiling, lots of eye contact, laughing, etc. I really didn’t feel like I was “trying”… it was feeling right.

We went and saw the movie Taken (it was in the theatre at the time). Sure, maybe people would think an action-movie isn’t the best date-movie… but they weren’t on this date. And none of the other movies seemed to appeal to either of us. We both enjoyed the movie, and walked out of the theater… into a surprise snow-storm. Everything was completely coated with snow (and we had no idea that it was even supposed to). She had driven us over to the movie theater, so we had to go back to the restaurant where my car was.

I would not have thought that any part of this date was going badly. There were no really awkward moments… no clashes. Just smiles, laughs and the good kind of eye-contact (as opposed to the psycho-stalker-kind of eye contact). The end of the second date… had the promise of a third.

I started to get out of the car… and you know what? Looking at her… it felt right. I then leaned back in… going for our first kiss.

Then she turned her head.

It wasn’t an accident, it wasn’t like she didn’t see me coming towards her… she very consciously turned away.

I had COMPLETELY mis-read that situation. In the span of a half-second, I then felt like the biggest idiot I’ve ever known. (You’d think I be used to it)

I just said, “…okay, then.” And backed out, closing the door. She was still smiling, waved good-bye, and drove off. I cleaned the snow off my car, started it up, and started to head home… mentally (and occasionally physically) kicking myself all the while. I could not believe that happened… the first real time I put myself out there since *COUGH COUGH*, and I was 100% sure that the moment was right. And it wasn’t.

I am absolutely atrocious at reading body language. If I had any doubts on that statement prior, it was confirmed then and there.

And I had nice long time to think about it… because my car broke down on the way home. In the snowstorm. (Was I Hitler in a previous life or something? Seriously! WTF???) I got to sit there in the cold… and stew in my thoughts of my own stupidity, for an hour and a half, while waiting for AAA to get there.

And you know… I did call her. I told her I would (before the ill-fated attempt), and hoped that the third-date interest was still there like she said (again, before the ill-fated attempt). I make good on my promises.

I didn’t hear back from her.

The few friends I talked to about it… some of them said, “Well, maybe it was too soon for her”, while the majority of others said, “No kiss? On the SECOND date???” Looks like the minority was right on that one. While just about everyone thought it a bit odd that if the other 99% of the date was great… why she still just disappeared. But that’s neither here nor there. It was over and done with.

I licked my Pride-Wounds for about 2 weeks, then got back into eHarmony. (Who knew I even had Pride to get wounded?)

That was probably the start of everything going downhill. Because over the next several months… I had a lot more first dates. But no second-dates. Not for about another 8 months.

I had a lot of lovely times… met some really nice women. Just about all of them were ones that I *wanted* to see again. But no matter how good of a time they seemed to have, no matter how much laughing, good-eye-contact, blah blah blah there was… I never got my calls returned afterwards. It was going directly back to the old pattern it seems I’ve always known: Have a great time; I say I’d like to see them; They say “Yes”; I call; Nothing.

And before you suggest it… I was always trying different things. Trying different approaches, different jokes, different methods, asking different kinds of questions of them, sometimes a more tame conversational approach, and sometimes with just a touch of flirtation. I’d make resolutions of “Okay, I’m not going to tell THAT particular story on the first date, because even though they all want to know it, and love the telling… it never gets anywhere.” I was ALWAYS trying to vary it up. And all these women that eHarmony was telling me were “good matches for my personality”… all disappear after 1 date. 95% do so without any explanation… they just disappear. (Even the ones that had said, “That’s so rude of those other girls!”… they went ahead and did it, too. Seriously… it’s been incredibly frustrating.)

I don’t know why, but why do the majority of women I seem to meet… quit so soon? I can NOT come to a full conclusion about someone after a brief 1-2 hour first date. (You’d think I’d have an advantage from all the e-mails and phone calls prior to meeting…) I need time to suss someone out. Too much “guarding” on a first date when meeting someone completely new. Hell, I do it! And it’s because I’m so guarded, that I don’t want to give everything about me on a first meeting. I doubt anyone does.

It seems like that if they don’t get “Romantic-Movie-Style-Attraction-Sparks/Chemistry” with someone from the instant get-go… then they might as well cut it off now and continue on. Because isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?

Life doesn’t have a screenwriter. Sorry if this is a surprise to anyone.

I’ve read several articles that claim that Romantic Comedies and movies of the ilk do more to hurt real relationships then help them… and I’m inclined to agree with them these days. (Must we once again go over the concepts of Fantasy and Reality?) If you honestly think that real life can and should be like those sappy pieces of crap, then stop being so surprised when I put on a 13-foot-long-scarf and claim a big blue box is “my ship”.

I say Garry Marshall should be the first to go. Set phasers to “puree”.

There were a few women that I did hear from afterwards… to tell me that they “didn’t feel any sparks.” Which frankly, only feeds into my frustration-rant above. Same reasons… blah blah… why are you expecting them so soon?

One actually told me that she had “too much going on right now” to devote to a new relationship. Sorry to ask… but why the hell are you on there in the first place? Oh, a friend put you up to it? You let your friends throw away your money? (Like I said… eHarmony isn’t cheap. I thought that’s what would weed out the “not serious” ones) Furthermore, you let your friends push you into things you don’t want? Oh, please. Frankly, it screams “lame excuse” to me.

Oh, sure… but in *this* case you really are “too busy”, not like those other liars. Here’s the thing about being “too busy”; And I’m not trying to sit on a high horse here… I’ve been insanely busy before, myself. But you know something? If I want to spend time with someone… or pursue a relationship… I *make* the time. I rush around a lot, oftentimes like a chicken with my head cut off… maybe lose a little sleep here and there… but I make it. Especially if I think someone is worth it. A relationship would definitely qualify for that.

And thing is… I’m a patient guy. I’m willing to wait for a little time to open up in someone else’s schedule. Sure, long pauses suck… but if they at least make an effort, it means a lot to me, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Love will find a way… but *we* have to do the actual looking.

So… my time on eHarmony. I’ve had a LOT of first dates… and 3 second dates, total. Of those other 2 second-dates… both just disappeared afterwards. One mysteriously just stopped calling/writing/texting soon after said 2nd date… and the other, I started to get the impression that she wasn’t as attracted to me as I was to her, and that’s when I stopped hearing from her. (But since I’m horrible at the body language, what do I know? Maybe she never was.) eHarmony is officially a complete bust. If I ever see Dr. Warren, I’m going to tell him where to shove his 753 questions and “personality match-ups”… because I don’t think he knows squat.

And it occurred to me… I don’t actually know anyone that’s met their sweetie online. Not even an acquaintance. I have a lot of friends and acquaintances that say THEY have friends/relatives/etc that met the Significant Other online… but I don’t actually know anyone myself that it’s worked for. So… from my point of view… they could all be making it up.

There is one person, whom I met online, that I’m in contact with currently. We’ve had a first date… and a second… and even a third. We met during a free weekend on Chemistry.com. (I’ll be darned if I’m paying for ANOTHER site. That one weekend was it for me on that.) I haven’t tried for a kiss… or even a hug. I’m wanting to go so insanely slow here, my previous pace is blowing past. But we have a nice time, and I actually do hear from her… albeit sporadically. I know she is busy right now, but unlike the other “busy ones”, I do actually hear from her, and we find a little time to meet up. (Like I said… the effort means a lot to me.) Hell, just the fact that she’s an attractive woman, who’s single and *my age* gives huge brownie points… and while I’m not totally sure of her level of interest (take nothing for granted!), I am. So I’m hoping I get to see her again, and fairly soon.

If it doesn’t work out… that’s okay. But I’ve given the online method enough chances, and this is the last one. More power to you if it works, but it’ll mean it doesn’t for me.

If it DOES work out? Then that is a-okay by me, and I’ll sing the praises of online dating.

But I’m going to need a neon sign with arrows to signal the time for that first kiss. You’re high if you think I’m going through that embarrassment again.

Death-Cheating

2010-02-08T01:25:00.006-05:00

Just after my last post of 2008, a good friend of mine passed away.

That was the start of my hiatus.

I found out, quite literally, about 5 minutes before I was leaving to go to a memorial service. (I don’t know if that’s ironic or appropriate) I was… a mess the entire day. The Memorial service was for the father of my cousin’s husband (we were there showing him support as he’s done for us), but I obviously had something else on my mind.

I don’t know if I’d consider myself good or bad at dealing with Death. I suppose it’s something that no one is either “good” or “bad” at. Frankly, I’m curious to know exactly how a “good dealing of Death” would go. Does it involve a lot of crying? No crying? A zen-like calmness and a “c’est la vie”? Crying and getting drunk *until* you get to a zen-state of c’est la vie?

My earliest memory of anything involving death was my brother waking me up one dark morning and telling me our Bampi (My Mom’s Father) had died. I was really young… probably no more then 6. I have vague recollections of the man, mostly just sitting in the background of family gatherings from that side. My brothers and I were deemed “too young” to go to the funeral.

The first wake I went to… I don’t remember who it was for. It was for a distant relative, one I don’t think I had any recollection of… we either saw them rarely or not at all. I was probably 10 or 11. The only thing I could think of was how I really didn’t think I wanted to see a dead body (yes, despite all the violence on TV, I was hip enough to know the difference between that and reality. Go figure.)… and I was actually relieved to find it was a Closed-Casket. That relief was short-lived however. After getting a drink of water, I saw my dad standing in the middle of the foyer of the funeral home. He motioned me over, so I went… and he pointed into one of the other wings (where there was another wake going on), and while I was turning my head and saw what he was pointing at, said, “That’s what an Open-Casket is like.” And I was looking at my first dead body. It was from a distance, but I could still see it was an elderly gentleman (and I recall he had a big nose). I quickly turned away, because I was still not ready for it… nor had I been ready for the all-too-sudden fashion my dad thrust upon me without warning. (He has a habit of that.)

I remember when the mother of one of my Aunts passed away. I had met her when I was really young… meaning, I don’t remember. But here, I was in High School, and we went to the Wake one evening. I spent the entire time just thinking… I felt like I should say something to my Aunt, but I didn’t know what that would be, because I didn’t remember her mother… and I didn’t want to lie and say “oh yeah, I remember her.” (If you knew my childhood, you’d probably wonder where I got this idea of “honesty” from… sometimes, I don’t even know.) When my parents told us to gather up our things to go, we all went up to her one last time to pay respects and say goodbye. When I got to my Aunt, I said, “I don’t remember her… but if she’s important to you, she’s important to me.” Then I hugged her, and we left.

My mom told me the next day, after my parents came back from the funeral (They didn’t want to take my brothers and I out of school for it), that my Aunt really appreciated what I said to her, and it made her feel better. (I guess I did something right.)

In High School, when I was a Senior, I was at the after-hours rehearsal for the school play (on a break) when I looked over down the hall and saw a few people gathered around standing still and listening to this one woman who was crying. My concern and curiosity got the better of me, and I walked over to see what was going on. When the woman finished (of which I didn’t know the context of what she was saying), and the group started to break up a little, I asked one of my other cast members what happened… and he told me that a kid in his class (the one just behind mine) had just killed himself.

It was not a guy I knew… but his sister was in my class (she apparently found him), and I would come to learn that he and I apparently knew a LOT of the same people. For awhile, I was wondering how it was I *didn’t* know him. But it seemed that just about everyone else in the school seemed to. (Though, he was part of the “jock” crowd, if I recall, so maybe that at least gave him some notice or popularity) Seeing the fallout the next morning was pretty surreal.

My first class was Physics, and our teacher was reading a prepared statement from the Principal’s Office… and everyone else was just quiet. Except for our Class President, Joe… who was balling his eyes out. Apparently, he was really good friends with the kid. When the teacher was about halfway through the statement, Joe got up and ran out suddenly. The teacher didn’t look up, just paused for a second, and then continued. Once he finished… there was complete silence… broken by me. Because I had gotten up and quickly headed for the door. I said to the teacher, “I’m going to check on Joe” and kept going. As I was going through the door, he said, “Thank you”… and I was off down the hall.

The first place I checked was the bathroom. I had the worst thoughts running through my mind, that *he* was going to try and kill himself too, or something. I dropped down to look under all the stalls at once, saw nothing, and checked the next closest one. I did see someone else in the hall, and asked if they had seen Joe, and they told me he went to the Guidance Counselor’s office. So that’s where I went. Joe was in with our Guidance Counselor (who was actually pretty useless in all of my interactions with him over the years… though he did try, I admit), and I just went in and sat down in another seat. I didn’t think I should say anything, I just felt that maybe having someone else there for him would be worth something.

For the next few hours, I pretty much stuck by Joe. Maybe it was part of my inner Super-Hero complex coming out, but I just felt like I had to stick by him and look after him. Logically, maybe I shouldn’t have done that… because I wasn’t even good friends with Joe, but I was going on gut feeling and instinct (despite my gut having steered me wrong in the past). I even escorted him to the local church, where an impromptu sermon was being given… that almost everyone in the school showed up to. I stuck by Joe, sitting next to him. I stuck by him until the sermon was over… I think he and a lot of other kids ended up going home by mid-day… I went back to the school to the scheduled classes, even though no one actually did anything in any of them. Each class ended up being an extra-quiet study hall.

I did go to the funeral services… mainly to “pay my respects”. Again, maybe logically, I shouldn’t have. But he was a kid from my school… we knew a lot of the same people (though for me they were acquaintances, and for him they were actual friends)… and his sister was in my class (again, despite not knowing her very well). That made me think I should be there for some reason or other. But I left after the church services… I didn’t follow the casket to the graveyard across the street. I just walked home.

In 1995, when I was in Undergrad, my Nana (Mom’s Mom) passed away. It was near the beginning of the Spring semester, and it was still a lot of snow on the ground. A few days before I had headed back there, I went with my Mom to the Nursing Home where Nana was living, bed-ridden. She recently had one of her legs amputated due to gangrene… and she didn’t seem to remember it. She also didn’t seem to remember my name. She looked at me with a big smile, then turned to my Mom and mumbled, “Which one is this?” Her tongue was majorly swollen and couldn’t drink normally. She had to have her mouth re-hydrated with a cotton swab that was dunked in a glass of water. It was… a bit painful to see her like that. There was also this awful stench that I had never experienced before. Later, when I asked my Mom about it, she told me that was the “rotting flesh from her bedsores”.

My Grandmother was rotting alive, and there was nothing I could do about that. That really hurt to think about.

Out of myself and my brothers, I think I was the last one to see her alive.

So, about a week later, I got the call at my dorm room from my Mom. I still wasn’t prepared for it, even though I knew it was inevitable. After I got the news, I put on my Coat and winter stuff… and just went walking. I think I circled the campus twice, when I finally ran into a friend of mine (the one whom I considered my long-lost twin, actually)… who could see that something was wrong. I managed to get it out, but was crying pretty much throughout while actually saying it aloud. (Prior to that, it was just silent, stoic contemplation) She then stuck with me to keep me company for the next few hours… which I’ve always been grateful for.

(At one point, she did say, “Um, listen… I have to say that if you’re thinking of trying to kiss me… please don’t.” To which, I turned and looked at her like she had 4 heads, with two of them singing Lithuanian Opera, and the other two licking their own eyeballs. I’d say that Sex was the *last* thing I was thinking about… except that to be honest, it wasn’t anywhere even on the list. So yeah, there’s no danger of that from me. And the thought that some guys *would* try to take advantage of that situation… dude, there’s a reason I hate my own gender.)

By the time I had gotten home for the Wake, I had pretty much cried myself out. I remember telling another one of my Aunts about my reactions, and she was surprised that I did so much crying… she had thought I was “taking it quite well.”

Still wasn’t sure what that meant.

In my next-to-last semester there, I was heading into a Tech rehearsal for the current show one Saturday morning. I ran into one of the other cast members, and I noticed he looked a bit down. So I asked him what happened, and he said how a girl in his dorm died in a car accident the night before. I said, “Oh God, I’m so sorry… may I ask who it was?” Then he told me… it was Carol Soucie.

Yes, I know this breaks the anonymity rule I have by naming her… but she deserves to be known and remembered. Carol was one of the absolute sweetest girls there was… and yes, I knew her.

When my friend told me it was her, my jaw dropped, and I was in shock.

Carol had been a neighbor of mine in our dorm the previous year, and I got to know her a decent bit from that. She also came to a lot of the department shows, and at one point I was told that “she was a fan of mine”. (No idea how true that was, but it made me smile… she had that effect on you, regardless.) This was the epitome of the unfair death. She was on her way home for the weekend and got hit by a milk truck (the driver of whom I believe I heard was drunk.)

A group of us carpooled up to Maine so we could go to the funeral. While it was a nice roadtrip… I wish we didn’t have to lose such a jewel of a young lady to do it. (Yet, she was worth driving 20 times the distance) It’s hard to say goodbye when, cosmically, you’re just saying hello. I think everyone felt cheated to not have had more time with her… because the little that we did was so good.

When I moved to California for Grad School, I was getting ready to fly back east to see one of my best friends get married. It was about a week and a half off, when one afternoon, at about 3:30 or so… I had this sudden flash in my head. A passing thought, a question, really… “What if Dzia-Dzia passed away?” (That’s my Grandfather on my Dad’s side. It’s a Polish thing.) I don’t know why… but I quickly and purposefully pushed it out of my head. It was a depressing thought, and there was no reason to have it.

When I got back to my apartment later that evening, I had a message on my answering machine. It was my Mom, asking me to call her “no matter the time”. As it was about 10pm when I got this, it was 1am where she was… so if I had to call, no matter the time… it can’t be good. I called her instantly… and she told me that Dzia-Dzia passed away suddenly that day. Recalling my earlier thought… I nervously asked her what time it happened. She said about 6:30pm… which would be 3:30 in the afternoon, my time. (I don’t really believe in psychic stuff… but that really disturbed me.) It was very sudden. He just fell over… no pain or anything. But completely unexpected.

Like when I heard about my Nana… I went walking. Trying to process it.

My parents had said to “not bother” flying back early for the funeral… it wasn’t worth it. (So nice of them to make that decision for me, wasn’t it?) As I believe I was the only one out of state at the time… I think I was the only one that missed the funeral. And it kinda pissed me off… I didn’t get to say my Goodbyes. I didn’t get the hugs I wanted or needed from my family WHEN they were wanted and needed! And timewise, I missed this all… by one week. I felt so incredibly cheated.

And it wasn’t the last time. A couple years later, just a few weeks before Christmas, the mother of another one of my Aunts passed away. This one was almost always at our family gatherings… we knew her and remembered her very well. She had gone into the hospital, and word hadn’t been good. Being the one so far away, and in another time zone, I had to rely on my cell phone for all information and staying in the loop. (Made more difficult by the fact that where I was staying, didn’t have any reception… I had to drive 8 miles into town to get my messages or make a call.) So, once I got into range of a tower, I called my parents… and my Dad answered. I asked what the news was… he said, “What?” I said, “Is there any change in her condition?”

And my Dad, in his infinite sensitivity… said, “No there’s no change. She’s dead.”

And he even said it with the tone of voice that just says, “What are you, a complete moron?”

I was shocked… not only at the news, but the complete assholishness of my own father at that moment. “Okay… when was someone going to tell ME???”

Then he goes on the offensive and starts getting mad about how my oldest brother was supposed to have told me, blah blah blah… Okay, if you want to throw blame at someone, fine… but how the hell can you hear those words from me: “Is there any change in her condition?” and actually believe that I had that information? How can you NOT say, “Oh… he doesn’t know.”?

But once again… they said not to fly back early. “It wasn’t worth it.” So, just being a few weeks away from flying back for Christmas… I had to miss another family funeral. And not say my goodbyes. Once again, feeling cheated.

And now my friend.

Now, I was living on the East Coast, and the funeral was on the West. Well, I wasn’t going to miss this one. His partner, one of my best friends, needed me… and if there was any way I could make it… I was going to be there. I lucked out, and got a decent last-minute flight into San Francisco, where I rented a car and drove the 5 hours north (the services were back in the area I went to Grad School, where we all met him)… and I was in town less then 24 hours, before I had to drive back down to San Fran to get my flight back. Travel-wise, it was a hellish weekend. But I’ll do it for my friends. Every time.

The funeral… felt a little off to me. Really for one reason. You see, I knew that he was going to be cremated… but what I didn’t know was that he had ALREADY been cremated. So, it was just a little urn there, no casket, no body.

That seems odd to me. I always saw cremation as simply the “alternative” to burying. They’re both just ways to dispose of a body, in the end. And the funeral and wake… are all supposed to be BEFORE the actual disposal. So people can say the goodbyes, look at the person one last time, remark how they look “so peaceful”… etc. But having the cremation BEFORE the funeral… is like having the wake over an already-buried grave. Makes no sense.

Once again… I felt cheated.

Funerals are for the living… this is about closure. Personally, I thought it was a bit selfish of his family to deny other people that opportunity for closure. Sure, there are different views on it, and they don’t look at it like that… but I do. And I think it’s cheating.

Sure, you can say, “But he’s still right there. That’s the ashes… that’s him. Right there! Literally!” And you’d be right, technically... he's just been converted to carbonized form. But you can’t look at the eyes of a pile of ashes. You can’t comfort yourself and say that they look so peaceful and happy lying there. Ashes don’t look happy. Or sad. They don’t look anything. It’s really hard to say goodbye to a pile of ashes, because you want to say it to a face, even if it’s not moving. And trying to say that to a picture is even harder… because that’s how they were THEN… at a frozen moment in time, when they were a different individual then. You want to say it to them as they are NOW. And now, if they’ve been converted to an unrecognizable form… and just as your brain could feel “they look so happy”, when the body is there… it is also easy to feel, “this really didn’t happen”, because it’s NOT there.

When I caught up with my friend (the partner) I asked him, “Is this a funeral or a *memorial service*?” He said, “It’s sort of both.”

It wasn’t fair. Not just losing him… but losing the chance to say goodbye.

So is that a good way to deal with it? Feeling like you’ve been able to say goodbye? Or does it come back down to the whole “crying/not-crying debate”?

Either way, the only answer or epiphany I can come up with is this:

I don’t think you can actually cheat Death… because Death doesn’t exactly play fair, either.

Hiatus...

2009-11-11T13:14:00.006-05:00

Yeah, I know it’s been awhile… a long while. Just over a year now, in fact. It’s not that I didn’t have anything to write about… quite the opposite, actually. In some ways, I almost had too much to write about, and couldn’t get the thoughts organized. Basically, in the end, it came down to “Life got in the way”.

It’s not the first time I’ve taken a hiatus. It happens during correspondences with friends (e-mail or when I used to write actual letters), journal writing, hobbies, cooking, or most any other good habit I tried to set over the years. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about the people, or appreciate the activities… immediate issues became a distraction, and next thing you know: days, weeks, and maybe months go by.

When I turned 14, in 1989, I started a journal. (It wasn’t a “diary”… that’s for girls. Guys write “journals”… such was my reasoning concerning certain synonyms) I began it on my birthday, as a matter of fact... a small blue book. That day I had also watched Batman (the Tim Burton one) in the theater, and had considered it, literally, to be the greatest movie ever made. Much of that first entry was gushing about how I think it should win all kinds of Academy Awards, and how great it was, etc… it was typical kid-geeking-out, I admit, and nothing as truly deep and thought-provoking as I once thought it was. But it had started, what I hope, was going to be a nice habit or tradition.

Side note: It also began a tradition of seeing the current Batman movie in the theater, ON my birthday. The first time I moved away from that, was with Batman & Robin… and I used to think that was why it sucked. (I did a bit of unnecessary apologizing for it.) But in reality… it was Joel Schumacher. I re-started the tradition with Batman Begins, and it returned to greatness. Unfortunately, The Dark Knight, the best one yet, didn’t even open until after my birthday… so the tradition is fully broken. But I don’t mind so much, cause it was that good. (Okay, so maybe some things concerning geeking-out don’t change as much as we hope).

I didn’t resolve to write in that journal every day or week… I never did set down an idea of a schedule to try and keep to. Sometimes I’d write into it a few days in a row… other times, it’d go a few months without. I wrote when I felt like I had something to say or get off my chest. So, there ended up being a lot of pauses in the writing… a number of hiatuses.

But throughout High School, and then into college (where the writing became even more sporadic)… I did eventually fill up that little blue book, and then started a second volume in a little red book. That one… eventually got filled too. Then I started a third one, a multi-colored one... which never got filled. To this day, there’s still a lot of blank pages in the latter half of it. In fact, the very last entry to it was written on my very first night in California… when I flew out there by myself to try and find an apartment to live in, before I made the drive with all my stuff just before Graduate School started.

I don’t even have to look in that book to remember what I felt that night. I was scared out of my gourd. I was in my early 20s… had never travelled alone before. And while I had been involved with a road trip to Athens, Georgia… and a weekend train-trip to Washington D.C., those had both been with friends… But I had never been in a different TIME ZONE so far away from everything and everyone that I ever knew… and completely on my own. To attend a school I hadn’t even seen in person (and the stress of not having an apartment and actually feeling “homeless”). Even though it was because I felt I *had* to get out of where I had been… I was wondering, and even wrote this down in that little journal, if I had just made the biggest mistake of my life. I felt so intimidated; I could barely sleep in that room on the second floor of the Motel 6. (Which was another first for me… renting a hotel room by myself.) That was the very last entry I ever wrote… and that was just over 10 years ago.

While the story of my Grad School experience (especially the beginning) could be a post on its own (maybe some day)… I am happy to say that it WASN’T the biggest mistake of my life… in fact, it was probably one of the best things I’ve ever done, overall. While the cliff-hanger nature of that journal entry doesn’t sound so promising… I ended up learning a lot about myself… made some really good friends early on, learned a lot about my chosen field, had a great time, and I think became a better, more self-reliant person because of it. (Well, I sort of HAD to on that one.)

I’ve thought about going back to that little multi-colored journal and picking it up again on the next blank page… but I really think that too much time has passed. Because when I come off a hiatus, I feel the need to ‘recap’ what happened during that pause in writing. And… well, too much has happened. There’s no way to be able to condense it down to even fit IN the rest of that book, just to be able to get to whatever was bothering me currently. Nah, besides… I think it’s more interesting to leave it as a cliff-hanger for whatever unknown, unseen future reader that might happen to see it. Whether that’s a descendant, a lover, or some stranger picking it up at a Garage Sale.

Besides, I’ve got the blog for all soul-bearing. Plus, I think I’m a little more articulate then I was when I started at 14 (well… except maybe for the Geek stuff).

Now, I’m not going to promise that I’ll write with the frequency I did before… that was my New Year’s Resolution for that year, to write regularly in the blog. And as I actually ended up with more blogposts then I originally thought I would, (It was originally “once every other week”, and then I upped it to “once a week”) I feel okay saying that resolution was fulfilled. (My resolution for this year was to “get into Boston more often”… which I’ve done pretty good with as well.) From here forward, I’ll post when I’ve gotten something written. Maybe once a week, maybe 3 times a week, maybe once a month or more. I’m not going to worry about schedules.

I do have several ideas lined up to write about… and I will get to them. Starting with the next post about the event that started off the hiatus (which happened just after the last post). Then I’ve got things and subjects that have happened in the last year, things I’ve tried, and things I’m thinking of trying. Now, I know I never had that many readers (frankly, I never felt it was the sole purpose of a blog), at least to my knowledge… but maybe you’ll find yourself back here too.

Take care.

Religion, Politics and The Great Pumpkin

2008-11-07T16:03:00.002-05:00

“There are three things I have learned never to discuss with people… “ - Linus Van Pelt

(I may never get such a convenient opportunity to use that title again… it applies on several levels today… though, I’m actually working backwards.)

First up, my Halloween recap:

I went back to Salem… and actually had a much better time then before. Now, the stuff I said last year still applies, so I won’t repeat that. But the biggest difference was that this year… I went in costume. So not only was I “people-watching”… but I was also being watched by people.

Now, I did put some effort in to my costume. When I have the time to actually plan out in advance and make my own costume… I do pretty well. Last time I did was in 2001… I went as a tiger. To be precise… I was Hobbes from Calvin and Hobbes (greatest comic strip ever). I was simultaneously cute and lovable, and scary and terrifying… exactly like Hobbes himself (just ask him). Man, I wish I kept that costume…

But this year, the concept of it was a little more simplistic… but still required a bit of advance work… and I made the extra effort this year.

So what did I go as?

Charlie Brown… and his costume from It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.

When I went online looking for patterns and instructions how to make it… all I could really find was “just get an old sheet and cut a bunch of holes in it. You’re all done!”

No. Sorry… but that’s stupid. That’s what he did in the cartoon… but this is supposed to be a real-life representation of it. In the cartoon, a hole in the sheet shows a black oval. In reality, it’s a hole… that you see through, and see the face beyond. There’s no blackness involved. Plus, when you drape a sheet over yourself, there’s extra material falling where you don’t want it, and not enough material where you need it… you don’t get the simple cylindrical-shape that you get in the cartoon… because it’s a drawing.

I wanted to look like I came right out of the TV and started walking around. Sure, maybe I’m a tall Charlie Brown… but I think I did okay, all things considered. I bought a sheet and sewed it to try and get the right shape, and stitched black felt “holes” all over myself. For the eyes? I bought black mesh, folded it up and put it over the eye holes. No one could see in, but I could see out fairly easily. Yet, when it got dark, I knew it’d be even harder to see… so I’d have to eventually take it off. So, I made sure to make a yellow shirt and stitched the black scribble across the belly… for the full Charlie Brown effect.

But the part I’m probably most proud of… I had an Mp3 player with built-in speakers. I loaded the music of Vince Guaraldi on it… and when I walked around, you could hear “Linus and Lucy” (commonly known as “The Peanuts Theme”) quite clearly.

I am nothing if not dedicated.

Yet, I was incredibly surprised by the number of people that not only wanted my picture… but wanted a picture WITH me. I was stopped quite frequently by people politely asking for a photo op. It was really neat… I’ve *never* had that happen before. And when they heard the music… their smiles got so big it just made me smile, too.

Though… there were a very few select people that DIDN’T know what my costume was. A few were young kids… calling me, “That tall polka-dotted guy.” (I’m tall? Well… maybe to them.) Those I can understand… maybe they just never sat down and watched the show in their mere 10 years on earth. But I did run into an older woman who apparently thought I was the “ghost of a spotted cow”… but it clicked in when I told her. The coup de gras, however… a woman ran up to me and said, “Excuse me… I’m from Channel 4 news. What are you?”

“Uh…. Charlie Brown?”

“Oh, okay.” And then she walked away. The cameraman wasn’t pointing the camera at me or anything, so I don’t know why she bothered to tell me she was from the news… but I really wanted to say, “You don’t recognize an American Cultural Icon of Halloween for the last 50 years… and you’re job is to inform the masses????” I can understand the occasional person not figuring it out… but someone in the media shouldn’t be one of them. Am I wrong?

Anyway, like I said… I had a good time. Got a lot of pictures of other good costumes, met some nice people… even saw a guy dressed as Jeebus with a sign saying, “Judgment Day is Nigh! Show Me Your Tits and I Will Judge Them.” (Which I thought was *really* funny. I hope it pissed off the obnoxious street preachers who were constantly spouting how everyone deserves Hell. Why you gotta preach hate?)

One thing I’m surprised I *didn’t* see? More political costumes. A friend and I were remarking how we hadn’t seen any all night. I only saw one as I was walking back to my car… a guy dressed as John McCain. But that was it.

I found that surprising, as we were just 4 days away from Election at the time.

Of which… to take the opportunity of a segue…

Yes, of course I voted. I got up an extra half-hour early, left my house early so I could hit the polls before work. (I knew I wouldn’t have time afterwards) The most difficult wait was the traffic. But the voting itself? In and out in less then 5 minutes. We didn’t have the new-fangled electronic voting booths in our town. Ours was the old fashioned pen-to-paper kind. Your ballot is basically a scan-tron sheet like in school, and you blacken in the little circle for the people you’re voting for. And apparently, there are no propositions right now in my state, so we’re just voting for the people. *shrug*

Normally, I keep my voting selection private… because I am and always will be an Independent. I don’t go with the whole “Are you a Republican or a Democrat?” crapola. That’s why I don’t vote in the primaries. When you enter the building, they ask you which side you want to see… and they register you AS THAT SIDE. I’m not saying I AM a Democrat… I just want to see what they have to say. I plan to do the same for the Republican side… but they don’t allow that. You’re only allowed to listen to one side in the primaries, and I’m not down with that. I want to look at one set of options and pick what I think is the best. Then look at ANOTHER set of options, pick the best one from there… then have those two choices start talking to try and convince me. They don’t let you do it that way. In the election, you can be independent… in the primaries, they have to label you. So I don’t do the Primaries.

But I did vote for Barack Obama. I think in large part because he’s more inspirational then most other candidates in the last 20+ years. And I think national esteem and identity is at a low point… and overall we NEED someone inspirational now more than ever. It’s a damn good country we have… and we want to feel good about being Americans again. I think National Identity is kind of important.

So I think that this IS a historic moment in a few ways. And not just because of the color of Barack’s skin. (Of which it’s technically false to call him the first African-American President… because he’s Bi-Racial. His mom is white, and his dad is black. Which makes him a great bridge of the two worlds, yes… but media likes to throw out buzzwords without always having the accuracy to back it up. I’m just saying.)

I’m not saying that John McCain would be a BAD leader. In fact… frankly, I think he wouldn’t be too shabby. The personality he showed at his concession speech was the same one he showed at the very beginning of his campaign… but had completely disappeared throughout the middle. Had he showed that grace in the last several months, I would have listened to him more. But I think the strategists in the Republican Party (who don’t care about policies, politics, or the best man for the job… they just care about winning) told him, “This is what you need to do to win. Now do it.” So the mudslinging started. (Hey, Obama’s camp had them, too.)

I also believe those same strategists told him to do what would become the absolute deal-breaker for me. He picked Sarah Palin as a running mate. I believe they came up to him and said, “America doesn’t want to see 2 Old White Men in the White House this time around. No matter what, the Democrats are giving them something different… so we HAVE to shake this up or we’re done for. Here, this one seems like a good puppet!”

When I first heard she was picked… I said, “Okay, let’s give her a chance. I know nothing about her, so let’s see what she’s got.” The first thing I read: She’s a staunch supporter of Abstinence-Only Education.

“I’m out!”

Yeah… because it doesn’t work. The numbers tell you it doesn’t work. The kids themselves tell you it doesn’t work. Guess what? It doesn’t work. Her own DAUGHTER is a teenage pregnancy… though, apparently that’s okay because “they’re planning to get married, anyway.” (Even though the guy’s MySpace profile clearly stated he didn’t want to get married or even have a long-term relationship with the girl. The same profile that mysteriously disappeared shortly after… Gee, who did that, I wonder?) That’s not even talking about all the OTHER things I read shortly after.

2 weeks after she was announced, I saw a book in the bookstore with her picture large and in-charge on the front… the title of the book was “Sarah: How a hockey mom turned the political establishment upside down”. Sorry, she didn’t “turn it upside-down”. It only made so much news because it was a completely nonsensical choice, that has no basis in this, or any other, plain of reality. She is not a “maverick”… no matter how often she says the damn word. I don’t care for her being a “hockey mom”… which is no slight on hockey moms. I’ve known Soccer Moms and Football Moms and many other types… but NONE of them are people I would want to place on the other side of the table… from Kim Jong Il. Or any of the other 1,000 psychos with political power in this world. (Hilary, at least, would grab them by the balls and twist… figuratively AND literally.) She has contradicted herself several times, shown ignorance and intolerance… and knowing that she might be a heartbeat away from the presidency… honestly scared me. That’s what shot McCain in the foot. If it was anyone else he picked… I would have had a harder decision.

So, I feel we dodged a bullet with this election. For that, I’m very thankful. I went to sleep Tuesday night pleased.

Woke up Wednesday, however… not-so-pleased.

When I discovered that Prop 8 in California passed. Proposition 8 is for the Ban of Gay Marriage. (Arizona and Florida passed it, too.)

I don’t care that I’m straight. I don’t care that I no longer live in California. I called that state “home” for 7 years, and many people that I love are still there… so I feel I have a vested interest in what happens out there. Finding out that several of my friends now are about to have their marriages dissolved, as if they never happened. And many more that are now told they’ll never be able to marry the person they love.

Those that know me, know that I would take bullets for my friends. But there’s nothing I can do about this. And it hurts so much, I’ve actually cried over this.

In the same 24 hour period of electing a historic president… a culmination of a movement that started with Abraham Lincoln and gained momentum with Martin Luther King Jr… as one minority group is validated, another is pushed down and is now LEGALLY considered to be second-class citizens, and not granted the basic human rights of others.

Hell, I was shocked to find that it was such a close race! (51% to 49%) I felt sure that it would be blown out of the water! But no. Why there are still people who so readily promote hate and discrimination on such a grand level… astounds me to no end.

I’ve heard their arguments… “the government doesn’t have the right to legislate the definition of marriage that’s been around for hundreds of years!” Pardon me… isn’t that EXACTLY what you’ve just done? You’ve used legislation and the political process to legally define what marriage is??? That is known as Hypocrisy.

I’ve heard their logic… “to protect the sanctity of marriage”. Okay, you’ve just opened up a can of worms… because they’re constantly using the word “sanctity”. “Sanctity” refers to something that is “Sacred”, which is a term to refer to something that is Holy or “From God”. That means you’re talking about RELIGION.

First amendment of the Constitution (correct me if I’m wrong) explicitly states that we’re allowed the “Freedom of Religion”. So what’s “Sacred” to one person isn’t so to another person… and that’s a-okay! You can’t infringe on their BASIC freedom of religion!

Wait a minute… what’s that say? Right there… look… here, at the Constitution. A little further down. What’s this, “Separation of Church and State”? Oh yeah… that means that Religion and Government have to stay as FAR away from each other as possible. One cannot dictate or influence the other.

So if marriage is a RELIGIOUS institution… then you can’t say anything, because THEIR religious beliefs allow them to marry, and we protect that with blood, sweat and history… and government can’t do anything about it.

If marriage is a LEGAL institution… then religion has absolutely nothing to do with it. Since the sole arguments against Gay Marriage is all about religion… then they have NO argument.

And if it’s both? Well, you’re doubly fucked. So take one of them and sit the fuck down. Take the other and shut the fuck up.

Proposition 8 should never have been on the ballot in the first place.

But hope remains.

There are some lawsuits already filed… trying to get this overturned. The one that I think is the most logical one has to do with “minor” and “major” changes. In California, minor changes are “amendments”, and are passed with a majority vote (51% or more). But major changes, “revisions”, have to be passed with a 2/3 majority vote.

Does taking away the civil rights of an entire demographic qualify as a “minor change”? I think not. Hopefully, the State Supreme Court of California will also see it that way. If so… then Prop 8 is 15% short, and it will be overturned!

People may have failed… but maybe Justice can still win.

So we have to remain hopeful. As hopeful as we were Tuesday night when we told the world who we wanted our new leader to be.

As hopeful as Linus, who dutifully sits every year in the most sincere Pumpkin Patch he can find… believing and hoping that The Great Pumpkin will finally arrive.

Now I’m waiting, too.

PostSecret Update: UVM

2008-10-17T14:51:00.002-04:00

I said I’d do it… and here it is.

I finally got to go to a PostSecret event.

The last one that came close to my area… got cancelled a few days before it happened. Yeah, me not happy about that. Now, when I heard that the University of Vermont was hosting one… well, it’s the closest it has since come to me… so I’m going.

Burlington, Vermont is a 3 hour drive from me… so it was going to have to be a day trip. I figured I’d take a half-day at work, leaving at noon… and just get back REALLY late that night. The website said it was scheduled from 7pm to 10pm… so I was expecting to be home a little after 1:00am, probably later. Sure, the lack of sleep was going to be hell… but something about planning for it way ahead of time doesn’t make it seem so bad.

Of course, had I realized that the day before was Columbus Day, of which I had the day off… I might have just taken a full day for an extra-long weekend. Oh well.

After about a 3 hour drive, I got into Burlington. Now, I’d been there once before, about 11 years ago with some friends for a small day trip during college. But I didn’t drive, and I only remembered this little outdoor-mall area. As far as I knew, that was the extent of Burlington. I had forgotten the whole town was built around a fairly big school. (Or maybe it was vice-versa) I actually lucked out with my parking… I got into a tiny lot not far from the building where the presentation was going to be. Just as some lady from New York State was pulling out of a space, I snagged that one. (Score!)

I went to pick up the tickets (I ordered them online in advance… I’d be damned if I drove 3 hours to and from just to find that they were sold out), and saw that it was actually a chapel. Most of the buildings I saw looked to have that “chapel-like” architecture… but this was an actual chapel, yet it didn’t look like it was used for actual services. (If it was, they were very sparse with the religious iconography) I did see a sign that told me it WAS used for Tae-Kwon-Do classes… which I think is great! Hell, if I had that near me, I’d have gone to church more myself. There was a group of student workers setting up a table display of all 4 PostSecret books… and by “setting up”, I mean they were sitting and reading them. Couldn’t blame them… I’d be doing the same. Got the tickets from them, and called my friend that I was meeting.

She’s an old friend from college… I don’t think I’ve seen her since before I first went to California, but we kept in occasional communication. She’s the one that got me onto Facebook (or rather, the final person to prod me before I finally caved), and she drove up 2 hours herself to get there. She took the whole day off, and spent the whole day in Burlington.

I headed downtown to meet her, and on my way passed a picture stuck to a lamppost. It was a flyer advertising some local band concert or event (I don’t even remember what it was)… but as many of these college-type advertisers do, they grab humorous pictures from wherever they find (mostly the Net these days) and use them on their flyers, regardless of the copyright. Since its college, no one ever really cares. This picture… was of Chewbacca grabbing Princess Leia’s boob, and both turned giving a faux-shock gasp. This wasn’t a drawing… it was a PHOTO. And I *don’t* think it was photoshopped. My guess is it was a picture they took behind the scenes while goofing around during Empire Strikes Back. This part has nothing to do with PostSecret… it just made me laugh.

Met my friend and we went and got sushi. Mmmmm…. Sushi. We talked, did some catching up, and then headed to the chapel, as the doors were scheduled to open soon. When we arrived, there was already a fairly respectable line formed. We sidled on up and got in line. Soon after, the line started REALLY growing. Thank Jeebus we got in line when we did. The young lady that stood right behind us struck up a conversation, and we chatted for a bit… asking where we were from, how we heard about PostSecret and all that small-talk stuff. She was a nice gal, very pleasant, even ended up sitting next to us inside.

Looking at the rest of the crowd… I think my friend and I were probably the oldest ones there. Hmmm… I guess I was hoping for a little more age variation in the audience, but then again, it’s a college campus… what was I expecting? I also found myself surprised by the fact that there seemed to be very few guys in the crowd… it was probably 90% girls. Normally, I don’t mind being genderly outnumbered… but this situation felt a little off. Maybe it was just the combination of the two. *shrug*

Some security came around for a quick camera check (they weren’t allowed inside), and we started to slowly file in. The seats were pews (it was a chapel, after all), and we actually ended up with a pretty good view I thought. We weren’t right up to the stage, but we weren’t far back enough to have trouble seeing or reading anything that was up there. I thought we got a good spot.

We waited there for a while longer, and a little after 7:00, it started. Frank Warren, the guy who started and runs the site, came out… a very calm, unassuming guy. He didn’t exude an overpowering feel-good touchy-feely fakeness, he seemed humble, modest… normal. Hearing him talk, it felt… genuine. He wasn’t giving pseudo-pschological Oprah/Dr. Phil-style speeches about how you should feel good about yourself… in fact, the things he did talk about, and the stories he relayed… were about listening. He wasn’t the kind of guy that did a lot of talking… he listened.

That’s the best part about PostSecret… even the best part about when I was going to therapy for the time I did… just being able to have someone LISTEN to you. I mean, *truly* listen… without judging or just waiting for their turn to talk. And when you send in a postcard, you really do have someone listening… potentially thousands. But guaranteed… at least one.

When it came to the part of the presentation where the audience was invited to share their own secrets… with 2 microphone stands set up in the aisles. A few people started to get up and formed a small line at each. Frank had mentioned how the lines were always small at first, but quickly grew (mainly because few people are comfortable being first). After a few secrets were told, I turned to my friend and asked, “Should I?”

In retrospect, I know that just saying that is me looking for a “yes, go.” So even though she said, “I don’t know… do what you want”… I decided to get in line.

I’ve sent in secrets, texted them and randomly placed them around my gym… it seemed almost silly to drive 3 hours there and NOT say something. Was I going there for the experience to be just voyeuristic… or for it to be cathartic? I don’t know if it was ever about voyeurism (maybe a little bit)… but the other always seemed more important to me. So I got up.

Just after I did, Frank asked that no more people got in line… but we would hear those who were already there. I looked behind me… no one. I looked at the pattern of going back and forth between the two microphones… and figured out that I was going to be the LAST person that spoke one. More than not being first… I didn’t want to be the LAST one. Maybe the performer in me felt slightly pressured to give a really good last secret for people to end the night with, but mine wasn’t that kind of secret. But… when it got to me, I just said what I was going to. I tried to say it simply… I didn’t want to give explanation or a set-up, and I tried to pick the words carefully so it wouldn’t take long. I tried to say it like I would on a postcard.

Probably didn’t make a lot of sense to all the others… but it’s what I wanted to say, so screw ‘em.

The presentation ended not long afterwards… actually, I thought it was going to go a lot longer. It definitely could have. It was only about 8:30 when it finished. Frank was being taken over to the next building for the book signing portion of the evening, and most people were either leaving or heading over there. My friend decided to get on the road and head home… I wanted to hang around just a little longer.

I didn’t bring any of my PostSecret books to be signed… which is okay, because I’m not really into the autograph collecting. To me, the experience of being there was more important… and that happened whether I have an ink scribble to prove it or not. But I got into line anyway… because I just wanted to shake his hand. He’s read my secrets, he listened… as he’s done with a few hundred thousand others… and never violated that trust. I’ve only witnessed integrity from him and the website… and I think that’s worth a handshake.

When I got to the front of the line, and it was my turn… I told him, “I’ve sent in secrets… I’ve texted them, and even randomly placed them around…

… But never this one.”

And I handed him a folded up piece of paper… where I had written another secret. One I’ve never told ANYONE… one that I’ve never even formed into words, spoken or written. It’s not something *I* think is bad… but something that I was made to be ashamed of when I was a kid. I’ve never told my best friend… nor any of my girlfriends, not even the one I thought was “the one”. But I told him.

He smiled and thanked me, and shook my hand. I said, “Thank you… for all that you do.”

Then I turned around and walked away… then drove 3 hours to get home.

And you know something? The 6 hours of driving was completely worth it. While driving and reflecting on the trip… I started to tear up a little, and I’m not even completely sure why.

He’s been called, “The Most Trusted Stranger in America”… he humbly says he’s not so sure of that.

I think there’s a damn good argument for it.

Do-over Make-over

2008-10-11T11:10:00.003-04:00

I seem to be going through a bit of a makeover. Granted, it’s a slow, subtle makeover… but a makeover all the same.

I just got a new pair of glasses, for one. The last time I had glasses was the pair that I lost when I was in Grad School… about 8 years ago. I never bothered to replace them, and have just used my contact lenses ever since. I had that particular pair for about 7 years by that point… and they just didn’t go well with my face, anyway. (Maybe they did at one point… but in growing, my face changed shape a little, and I just didn’t like the way they fit… so I wasn’t heartbroken or even slightly stressed when they got misplaced)

I had shopped around a couple months ago, toying with the idea of going with glasses again (because putting in the contacts everyday can be annoying)… but the store I went into had the salesman wanting me to try on “all the latest styles”. I asked for a particular shape of frames, and he just told me how they “don’t really have any in that shape… they’re not in style. But these look good on you!” Yeah, thanks Sparky. But this isn’t a t-shirt or a funky pair of jeans… these are significantly more expensive… and are meant to last upwards of a few years, at the very least. So the LAST thing I want is the “latest style”… which will look very stupid as soon as the NEXT style is “in”. I want something that’s going to look good on ME… and compliment my face, no matter what the latest “style” is. No matter how often I said, “I don’t care what the latest style is”, he kept saying it. I eventually left, making it clear I wasn’t buying anything from him. Screw his commission. Maybe he should try actual customer service.

Then, a little over a week ago, I got a notice at work… I’ve been paying into a “flex medical spending” account all year. (If you buy anything vaguely medical… you can get reimbursed from this fund, as you’ve already paid for it. Mainly a handy way to keep some money aside for random medical stuff that comes up.) Apparently, if I don’t use up what’s in there before the end of the year… I completely lose it. So, I could just buy a bunch of cough syrup in December… but then I figured this is a good time to get those new eyeglasses.

So, I put the call out to some female friends and relatives… looking for anyone in the area who’s available to help me pick out a pair, or give suggestions. A female friend did say that she thought I’d look “delicious in glasses”… which was nice encouragement. One of my cousins said she was available, and recommended a store that she always had good luck with. I also got suggestions from my gay friends. (Because that’s who I trust for fashion advice… women and gay men. It seems to work.) I was told to look for “round, frameless lenses”… as they would compliment the shape of my face (which can look a little “blocky”), and be subtle enough to let my face be seen and not distracted.

That part actually fits my personal tastes. I don’t want something that says, “LOOK I’M WEARING GLASSES”. It’s like my shirts… I don’t do a lot of printed t-shirts with logos or funny sayings on them. I’d rather have people look at me and see *me*… not some clever art or gag that someone else wrote.

I think I did well with the glasses I picked out. They are frameless… and roundish (if not perfectly round). Not many people seem to notice them at first… but some eventually said, “Did you wear glasses before?” Yeah, I think that means they’re subtle enough.

The other big makeover element… is that I’ve been hitting the gym. Now, I don’t want to get to a point where I invalidate last year’s post about my fat days… but rather, I think this move compliments it. In the past, I had started working out after I was feeling particularly good about myself… this particular instance started a little differently.

I was at a friend’s house for his 8-year-old daughter’s birthday. I was there making animal balloons, juggling, etc… most of the stuff I used to do when I did children’s parties back West. Anyway… those kids tired me out WAY too quickly. And when I used to work with a Kid’s Theatre Group… I was helping to deal with 30+ kids every day for 5 days a week, for up to 6 weeks at a time. Now, one day for a few hours… I’m dead tired. Some pointed out, “Yeah, but you were in the Bounce-House… that will tire anyone out!” Which is true… maybe I shouldn’t feel so bad… but I still felt like I should have lasted longer than that. I so quickly got to the point of “over-exertion” that it seriously felt like something was wrong. So the next day, I went to the gym closest to my work, and signed up. (It helps that my work reimburses me for half the cost of the gym)

I do like this gym… much better than when I used to go to Schmally’s Total Fitness. Here, they tout it as a “judgment-free zone”. (Nice thought… but how do you control someone “thinking”?) They also have a trainer on-hand to help you out, almost all the time. When I joined Shmally’s… one of their bonuses was a “free hour with a personal trainer”, which was basically a one-hour advertisement to spend $1,000 to hire him. Wasn’t useful at all. Here, they actually sit down with you and create a personalized workout plan based on you and what your goals are. (My goals: “To have more energy, and to look good naked.” Hey, everyone’s thinking that… I just had the balls to say it.) That’s exactly what I need… a structured plan. If you just give me a bunch of machines and say “Go for it”… I’ll do a bunch of excercises, but I’ll end up missing a lot of key muscle groups, because I won’t know what I’m doing. They also gave me a little dietary advice, and they’re always willing to answer my questions whenever I ask. This is a much better place than Bally-… I mean, Schmally’s. (Don’t want to do any endorsements either way)

I started that program in mid-August. My goal was to hopefully see some decent results by Halloween. Figured 2 ½ months was a reasonable amount of time to do so. Well, since then, the bathroom scale has constantly said “205 lbs”… then again, my cat stepped across it the other day, and I could have sworn it said “205 lbs”… so I’m thinking I can’t exactly trust it. My arms have gotten a little bigger… and my legs are a little slimmer… yet I haven’t really noticed anything in the belly-area… the part I was mainly concerned about. But last week, when I went for a haircut… the girl that I go to asked me if I’ve lost weight, saying I look a little slimmer. That comment just ensured me going back to the gym for the next 2 months.

Some minor elements of the slow-make-over… I’m trying harder to upgrade my wardrobe. Last winter, I sprung for a new suit… which was a big step for me, actually. The first suit I ever got was the one my parents bought for my Senior Pictures in High School. Which I ended up also using for my Senior Pictures in College… and several other instances in between and after. I also got some hand-me-downs from relatives and whatnot… but no matter how often they said, “Wow, it looks like it was *made* for you…” I knew it wasn’t. It wasn’t *my* suit. None of them were. So this… in a very real sense… is my first suit. (I also picked up a navy blazer with it. Thank you, Men’s Wearhouse.)

Fashion-wise… my tastes are fairly simple. Most of my dress shirts and even t-shirts, are solid colors. I’m not big on patterns… but I’m trying to keep an eye out for striped shirts that I think look good. Again, though… it needs to be a simple pattern for me. Not 17 stripes of different shades of the same color… that’s too noisy for me. Even if they look good on me… I don’t like it. Pants… I like khakis mainly, but I’ll only wear my black slacks for work or something.

One of the qualities I’d really like to find in my next relationship is someone with a good sense of style. Someone that I can go shopping with and will do well with helping me to look nice. (Yes, I’m a man that doesn’t mind going shopping.) With my last relationship, we didn’t do that very often… I would have liked to, but not having a lot of money to do that with puts a damper on it. (The curse of the starving artist) She did help me pick out my first leather jacket… which I never wore that often, actually. I think the reminder of her (this was *that* relationship) dissuaded me from wanting to wear it… but thankfully, it doesn’t bother me that much anymore. (Which is good… because it’s coming up on the not-so-happy anniversary. Yes, I hate the fact that I still remember that.) So, these days I’m trying to wear it more often.

Now, I’ve tried to go through a few “make-overs” over the years… and oddly enough, usually whenever I did try to have a make-over… or at least make some “change” to myself that was noticeable to others… I found I got noticed by the opposite sex a lot more than usual, and sometimes would end up in a relationship within a couple of months. After I shaved my head (for a show) and sported the “bald” look for a while, I found several instances of being noticed. Same thing after I started dyeing my hair blonde and returned to school after working out for a summer. Maybe it was the confidence of feeling like a new person that showed through… or the drastic change that caught their attention… or maybe a bit of both. Who knows?

This certainly didn’t happen ALL the time… in fact, only a few relationships started after a make-over. Most of the time it was just little ole me from start to finish.

But the thing that I’ve noticed about make-overs… they’re not permanent. We think of them as potentially life-changing kinds of things… but after a period of time, we do fall back into old habits. At best, make-overs tend to be “temporary ego-boosters”… which can be a good thing. Many of us need more self-confidence more often. (I know I wouldn’t mind it) But the brief nature of them… can be a bit depressing.

Maybe that’s why I’m sticking to the “slow” make-over. Doing it slowly, over a longer period… trying to work on one element at a time, which will hopefully be healthier for me both physically and mentally. If it’s a choice between feeling FABULOUS about myself for a very short time… or feeling “pretty darn good” about myself for life. I’ll take the latter.

Sure, the changes will be subtle and gradual… so anyone that already knows me won’t overtly notice it right away. Plus, it’s a LOT harder to do it long-term… it’s easy to shave the head or dye the hair or get a new suit. But the hair grows in, the dye fades, and the suit won’t get worn all the time. But just maybe, while walking around on a normal day somewhere down the line, I’ll be able to catch the eye of someone new… someone that’s worth noticing, and who will find me to be noticeable, too.

At least now I’ll be able to see them… because I gots new glasses. :)

Awesome Autumn

2008-10-03T15:54:00.002-04:00

Ah, October… this really is my favorite time of year.

Autumn is the best for me, hands down. And to me, the Fall begins in October. The Summer ends on the 31st of August… and September was always that weird limbo-month when school started. But it’s officially Fall when October hits.

When I was living on the West Coast… this was always the time of year that I missed New England the most. From October 1st to Thanksgiving… if I ever got “homesick” it was then. (After that, it got too freaking cold. I’d spend a week back home for Christmas, get my fill of snow in that time… and most of the rest of the year can be nicely experienced in the fairly tepid temperatures of the Pacific Time Zone.) Northern California had *some* similarities to New England… mostly in the Geography (at least the area I was in), but you still didn’t have the color changes of the leaves. Up there it was almost all Evergreen trees… which were pretty on their own, but you couldn’t tell if it was the Dog Days of Summer or early February just by looking around.

In fact, the changing of the leaves is what really signifies Autumn. The colors of Fall are yellow, red and orange… and you get the best color-changes here in New England. You even get people from out-of-state that make trips solely to see the leaves change color. Personally, I think that’s a *tad* on the extreme side. It’s all great to look at when you’re on your way to see or do something else… as part of the journey… but as the destination? That just seems… a little boring. If you’re only reason to come to New England right now is to watch leaves die and fall off their branch… you *really* need better hobbies. We do have a few amusement parks, and other things worth looking at, you know… not just rotting plant life. (Which is essentially what it is)

But still, whatever floats your boat, I guess. Though it actually is a bit on the appropriate side to go out of your way to see death and decay… because October is also the time of Halloween!

Yeah, I admit… that’s probably my biggest reason for loving Autumn. It’s the closest thing that I have to a true “religious holiday”. (In fact, I *am* taking that day off work this year.) Sure, my first Halloween back here wasn’t the greatest, as I mentioned last year, but I’ll always be hopeful. In fact, I *am* planning to give Salem another shot this year… so we’ll see if it goes any better than last time.

But even if it’s too commercial or “sell-out”… New England is still THE place to be for the Halloween season.

Face it, New England INVENTED freaking Halloween!

(Okay that statement is 75% mistaken… and the other 25 is a flat-out lie… but hopefully you know what I mean…)

You wanna know why Halloween in New England is the best? Because living around here… is like living in an actual horror film.

There’s a damn good reason that Steven King and H.P. Lovecraft set 95% of their stories in this region. Because it can get pretty damn creepy… and that’s WITHOUT specialized decorations or any effort at all.

Looking at the history of the United States (as an entity)… this is the oldest part of it. Yes, I know that the Native Americans were all over the place long before that… but this is where the silly Europeans first landed… and brought with them all the superstitions and religious fire-and-brimstone stuff that scared the piss out of them in the first place. The native tribes looked at us like we were slack-jawed “furr-en-ers” and decided not to clue us in on what we should and shouldn’t really be afraid of in nature. (So, we ended up getting some of the ideas flipped)

But silly ideas and superstitions are what made for good atmosphere… so we had witches and spooky nights almost from the get-go. So now New England has atmosphere in spades, moreso then probably any other area of the country… and I eat it up like a kid’s sugar-laden loot after a hefty trick-or-treating haul!

Speaking of which, the art of trick-or-treating seems to have declined. I consider them sad, almost tragic, stories when I hear of houses that “didn’t get many kids this year”… or in some cases, none at all.

The last time I went trick-or-treating was actually in Graduate School. I went with a bunch of friends in my Improv Group… we dressed up, grabbed pillow cases for sacks, and headed into the suburban neighborhoods and went trick-or-treating. The fact that we were all in our 20s (I was the oldest at 25) notwithstanding… we wanted our candy! (and the people were fine about giving it to us) I didn’t even care much about the candy, and I think I just threw a lot of it away in the end… but the experience of it was so much fun. It was a nice substitute for not being in New England that year.

Halloween is such an “overall” experience for me… I can’t just be satisfied with a one-night thing… it’s a full month-long celebration!

Every movie I see… I want it to be a horror film. I especially love the old ones… the black and white ones. They just help give me the “feeling” of Halloween so much more. And I’m not into the blood and gore (which I’ve talked about before), but the actual scary stuff. It’s annoying when studios make horror films and release them in August and September… but *rarely* in October. *That’s* when I want to see them! Not in the summer, or limbo-month! At Halloween! November? Why bother??

The books I read… have to be scary stories. I break out my scary story anthologies, and read them with the biggest smile on my face.

TV… I always try to catch the “Halloween Specials” that my favorite shows inevitably have. And thanks to DVD, I can watch them at MY schedule. It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown is always required viewing (I have to see that, or it’s guaranteed to be a bad Halloween that year)… if I watch The Muppet Show, I watch the episodes with Vincent Price or Alice Cooper. I always wanted The Simpsons Halloween Special to be a part of that tradition… but they always show the newest one AFTER Halloween. Like the November Horror movies… why even bother?

You see… for me, Halloween is a bit like male sexuality. It works best with a slow build-up… almost teasing. Gradually getting more and more intense and fun all the way up to the pinnacle, the climax… the coup-de-gras… Halloween night! And once that’s over… my interest COMPLETELY falls off. (A bit of an uncouth comparison… but an accurate one all the same)

Yep, as soon as it hits the morning of November 1st… I am finished with Halloween for the year. I don’t have much interest in eating Halloween candy… I’ve had my fill of horror movies for awhile… if I’m thinking of it, I *might* go to the store and get some discounted stuff to prepare for next year (but I rarely remember)… and all I care about is cleaning up and putting my attention to the upcoming Thanksgiving/Christmas holiday. (Basically going from one extreme to the next) Sure we can hang around a little and talk about how much fun we had… but when the calendar changes… I’m looking forward to what’s next.

As much as I love Halloween and horror… it isn’t my life. (Some may argue this) I just enjoy the season of “my” holiday, and like to get the most out of it. And that usually tides me over quite nicely until next year.

But for now… it’s only the beginning of October… and I’ve got lots of plans for the next few weeks. :)

Huzzah!

Secret for Secret...

2008-09-26T12:46:00.002-04:00

My love of the website PostSecret… ironically, is not a secret.

I last wrote about it almost a year ago… about the first postcard I sent in. Since writing that, I’ve made more postcards (like I said I would) and sent them in. Probably about 5 or 6 more. It *did* get easier to send those in. Some, I just wrote simply on the postcard, others I tried drawing.

None of them were ever posted… but like I said before, if you send it in with the expectation of them appearing on the site, you’re doing it for the wrong reasons. The guy gets over 1,000 a week, and posts 25 of them. Odds aren’t in your favor.

But it’s the telling of the secret is the key. It’s entrusting it to a complete stranger… even potentially the world. Maybe even getting away from it. Giving the secret to someone else… because you don’t want it anymore.

Since last year, the site now has a presence on MySpace and Facebook, of which I also check every now and then (though not as often as the main site). These sites are mainly used as “what’s going on” with the site, and upcoming seminars/exhibits and whatnot… while the main site is solely for the weekly postcards, and nothing else.

Last Saturday, I was looking at the latest MySpace blog… and people have started posting their cell phone numbers in the comments section… for the purpose of letting strangers text-message secrets to them. The “instructions” just said to go to the latest one posted, and send it to that person. I thought that it could be dangerous… but honestly… I think the only people that READ the PostSecret MySpace blog… or the main site itself… are the kind of people that wouldn’t abuse it. Plus… you can always go back and remove your comment if you get too nervous.

I sent off a few of my own to some numbers that were posted. And a few minutes later:

I posted my own cell number.

Within 2 minutes… I got my first text-secret.

It… was a bit heavy. More so then I was expecting. It definitely showed me that this is an experience that isn’t F**king around.

But the trust it shows… to send that to *me*, and who the hell am I? It absolutely humbled me. Sorry, I won’t say what it is… because it *is* a secret. Entrusted to me, and I don’t tell secrets that aren’t mine to begin with. I took the secret so this person wouldn’t have to keep it. Hopefully, it helps them… they said it did.

Within the hour, I got several more. For the next 3 hours, until I went to sleep, I just lay on my bed, texting secrets back and forth to strangers from across the country… some told me their names, some asked for feedback. But I always exchanged a secret for a secret. I believe that’s part of the trust.

It felt… very intimate. Sharing some things that even people I’m close to don’t even know about me. I actually felt connected to so many people at once… it kinda feels like falling in Love. The trust I felt… the trust I gave… the vulnerability, seeing and feeling it… and especially NOT suffering embarrassment for it, or having it shoved back in your face.

I think I can honestly say… it was one of the most Beautiful experiences I’ve ever had. And you know I don’t take the word “Beautiful” lightly.

I was still texting a few people the next morning… continuing conversations. Now, I don’t have unlimited texts… but frankly, I don’t care. I’ll pay the extra fees… this experience was too wonderful to not continue as long as I could. I even got some new people texting me… even though there were more recent numbers posted after mine.

I wanted this to continue… I wanted to do something more.

So, I wrote out several secrets of mine… and when I went to the gym for my daily masochism/work-out… I placed them all around. (I don’t think anyone saw me) Didn’t put them in obvious places… but hopefully places where they would be found. I did notice a few people actually saw them… fewer actually picked them up to read them. But I don’t think anyone threw them away… at least when I was there. But the next day they were gone. So… I put out a few more. I’d like to think that someone was picking them up and keeping them… and not tossing them in the trash, but who knows? Maybe the gym isn’t the most empathetic place to hide secrets at… but the place does advertise itself as a “judgment free-zone”… so that makes it sound kind of appropriate. It’d be hypocritical if they frowned on my behavior… don’t you think?

Hiding those secrets… was fun. And a bit cathartic. Because like the texting and sending in the postcards… it’s a way to get away from the secret. To get rid of it, in a sense (though not really).

This whole past week has been filled with PostSecret for me. I discovered that there’s going to be a “PostSecret Event”… basically a seminar and exhibit, given by the founder, and it’s coming fairly close. By “fairly close”, I mean about 3 hours away. But it’s the closest the tour has come to me yet… about 7 months ago, another was scheduled that was closer… but it got cancelled a few days before it happened, much to my chagrin… so I’m not skipping *this* opportunity. I’m taking a half-day at work, and driving up for that evening. Sure, coming back so late will suck… but I think it will be worth it.

And I’m sure I’ll do another update when that comes up in a few weeks. Count on it.

Nobody knows…. How Dry I Am… (sing if you know it!)

2008-09-19T13:01:00.001-04:00

I don’t drink.

Now, to answer the questions I’m most often asked, from the start:

No, I’m not a recovering alcoholic… no, I’m not Mormon, or otherwise religious in any way… and no, I’m not allergic to it.

I just don’t drink. In fact, I’ve *never* been drunk.

Whenever someone asks me, “Why?”… I usually say something like, “It’s just something I never got into”, and leave it at that. Admittedly, this isn’t much of an answer. Almost sounds like I never had the access to alcohol, or was never in a situation where it was available, and just grew up feeling that’s the norm.

Oh please… I’m not, nor ever have been, THAT sheltered. I did not spend my childhood in a Sense-Dep Tank… and while my High School socialization may have been limited, it wasn’t like I didn’t have a clue where to find alcohol. Access and opportunity were not lacking in my world.

There are several reasons why I don’t drink… though if I had to pick ONE as the root of it all… the answer is simple; My dad.

Now, my dad is not an alcoholic… as one might think when I mention him as a reason. No, he never let the bottle affect work, or the normal day-to-day functioning of his life… he was just a blue-collar shmoe that liked his beer, like most people. He’d have one, maybe two in the evening after work… and when he had a day off, he’d have… more than that. If you look at all the instances or him pissing me off, upsetting me, or (when I was young) flat-out scaring me and making me feel horrible and stupid… let’s just say it’s no coincidence that those stories almost invariably begin with the words, “Dad had a few too many beers that day…”

Combine that with an already short temper, a wavering idea of personal space, and a stubbornness that borders on self-delusion… No, he’s not an alcoholic… just a complete obnoxious asshole when he *is* drunk.

Some people fall into similar patterns of libation-consumption that they witnessed growing up… Some people rebel, and go the opposite way… only to eventually end up in those same patterns… some learn actual moderation and end those patterns in a responsible way. Me: I just rebelled 100%, and never stopped.

Now a lot of people have looked at my personality and lovingly tell me I’d be a “happy drunk”, and how I most likely wouldn’t be an asshole. But you know… after years of the kind of aforementioned stories, and hearing some of the most horrible, hateful, insulting things spoken (or “yelled” would be more accurate) while under that influence… I really don’t think that’s something I care to even take a chance on. Nah, I’m all set on that.

Even on a practical level… I hate the taste. We can also attribute that to my dad. When I was a little kid, Dad would let my brothers and I have little sips of his beer. For me, I would then go about a year or so before I thought “I forgot what that tastes likes”, and ask Dad for another sip, which he’d oblige. THEN I’d remember why I went a year plus without trying it. Henceforth, it always confused me when people told me how beer was an “acquired taste”… because if you put something disgusting in your mouth… what on earth would give you the bright idea to do it AGAIN??? Jeez… little babies figure this stuff out.

Though what may be a missing piece in that story is the *brand* of beer my Dad drinks. Apparently, my “hate-the-taste” position makes sense to some people when they hear it, as it seems that brand is universally referred to as the “rat-piss” of the beer drinking world. I probably shouldn’t mention the name… but I will say that it rhymes with “Shmold Shmilwaukee”. (And if that’s a proud export of Wisconsin… they should stick to the cheese.)

Now, I’d be lying if I said I’ve NEVER had a drink (since being legal). My first one was a “Suffering Bastard”. I specifically wanted that to be my first… solely because of the name. (It seemed like it fit.) I finished maybe a quarter of it… IF that. Another time, I had a Zombie. Again… for the name (Cause zombies are cool), and still only finished a fraction of it.

I did try wine a few times… and wine was actually something I would have liked to know more about. It just seems like a very “James Bond” kind of thing to know… the years of vintage, the regions it comes from, and how to accompany it with crackers and cheese to help bring out the subtlety of the flavors. You’re not even supposed to get drunk on wine, it’s supposed to be a sipping/tasting experience. If you want to get drunk, you drink whiskey or vodka or something of that ilk… not wine. If you’re drinking wine with the intention of getting drunk… I think you’re doing something wrong. Wine is about the actual flavor… of which the few times I tried, I didn’t really like. I was given half a glass one time, and I nursed it for about 3 hours… and by that point, I’d only finished maybe a quarter of what was poured (so not even 1/8 of a glass). I wasn’t so much “drinking” it… as I was “letting it evaporate.”

I think the taste of the alcohol itself is just kind of repulsive to me. And since I’m not used to the taste of it… when it does exist in my glass, it’s pretty obvious. I’ve taken a drink of punch before, to find it had been spiked. I then found out it was *very lightly* spiked, and that no one else had been able to taste it… but I did. *shrug* I’ve been told several times that I “just need to find something I’d like”… and I’ve had many offers to “help” me with that. I don’t know… maybe there IS something out there I’d like. But I don’t think I have any interest in finding it. (And if you want to “help”… Worse have tried… and Better have failed.)

Even though, I seem to find a lot of disadvantages to not drinking. That seems like an odd statement, I know. Most people can immediately think of several reasons why it’s good to NOT drink (even though they are drinking themselves)… “It’s healthier”, “saves a lot of money”, “you’ll never do anything you regret”, blah blah blah.

Yeah, that’s what they SAY. But I think the subconscious says something different.

Alcohol is very much a social lubricant. It lowers inhibitions and gets strangers talking, opening up a myriad of possibilities both bad and good. We walk around with our guard up all day, and to relax we want to let that guard down… and most people don’t consider the bad possibilities 100% of the time (otherwise, they’d NEVER let their guard down). Always keeping your wits about you… can be hard work and stressful on its own, so who wants to constantly worry about that? It’s nice to feel you can let that responsibility go… which alcohol can do, artificially.

Me… I’ve always got that guard up. Now, from my point of view… it’s a little tough having an intelligent conversation with someone who’s visibly inebriated. For them, I can only imagine what they’d be thinking… anything from “What a stick-in-the-mud, he’s no fun” to “I’m vulnerable and he’s not… oh my, this is uncomfortable” to “I’m engaging in a horrible vice and therefore, he must think he’s so much better than me, the bastard”, etc. Sure, they “say” it’s good I don’t drink… but they talk more/flirt more/get-to-know the other people that ARE drinking. (I *do* meet people who drink that are 100% a-okay with it and really don’t care that I’m a teetotaler... but it’s rarer than you think.)

In all honesty… I don’t care if other people drink. My “no drinking” policy is only for me and me alone. I hold NO one else to those standards. I think some of my past relationships felt a little awkward with it… being in a situation where they wanted to have a drink, but knowing that I wasn’t. Whether they felt pressured by my presence to not drink, or didn’t want to “leave me out”, I don’t know. But I want my friends to have a good time… and if that entails knocking back a few… go for it. I will never tell someone they *shouldn’t* do that. It’s our inalienable right to do whatever you want to yourself… that’s the beauty of America. If you’re my friend… especially if I’m dating you… then I’m accepting flaws, vices and all. If I’m THAT opposed to something you practice/engage in… I’ll leave or just won’t get involved in the first place. (In which case it really is an honest-to-goodness “it’s not you, it’s me” situation. I don’t like the idea of asking anybody to change for me… as I don’t think I have the right.)

Yeah, there are times I do feel a little “left out”. I wonder if it would be nice to get vulnerable like that. Hell, maybe I’d have had a lot more sex in life if I did… (but I think I’d rather have sex that I *remember*… and not have to regret later)

I think it’s a trade-off.

I’ll gladly be the designated driver. Sure, maybe I’ll be a bit bored while sitting around and people-watching drunk strangers… but if I know my friends are having a good time, that’s okay by me. As long as I have my wits about me… as long as I have control over myself, I have control over the situation. There are a lot of bad possibilities that *can* happen. At least I can make sure that those things don’t happen to my friends. If you get drunk-sick, I’ll hold your head over the toilet… and when you have the hangover, I’ll bring you the vitamin B and water.

Call it another part of my inner Superhero complex. If you’re with me… you’re getting home safe… I guarantee it.

I’ve seen some people at their absolute worst while drunk… alcohol combined with medication (or even alcohol withOUT medication that they should have been on), borderline alcohol poisoning, falling off the wagon, getting violent and even acting downright stalkerish while under the influence.

I’ve also seen people become scared for their own safety, and the safety of those they love… deathly afraid that they are going to be hurt or scarred forever from someone who was drunk and not in control of themselves. I’ve seen too many tears and have heard of far too many stories of good friends turned into victims and statistics.

Since there’s almost nothing that pisses me off more than that, I say this with as much passion, rage and utmost seriousness that I can muster:

THAT WILL **NOT** HAPPEN ON MY WATCH!

(God help whoever tries to F**K with me on this one.)

Looking Through Another Eye

2008-09-12T12:38:00.004-04:00

I first started getting into photography when I was in Graduate School. I had gone home for Christmas break, during which I had bought myself my first digital camera. It was 1.3 Mega-pixels, (which at the time was a half-decent resolution) and I barely knew anything about it.

My only experience with taking photos was earlier failed attempts with a “regular” camera, using actual film. Rarely did those pictures even come out... at all. It was pretty frustrating to take a few rolls worth of pictures, send them in for developing, spending 5 bucks or more per roll, waiting a few days for developing, making a trip to the store to pick them up… only to find that just about all of them were too dark, too fuzzy… and totally incomprehensible. When I figured I’d be in events or situations that I wanted to take pictures, I bought a few disposable cameras, and hoped for the best.

So, I was pretty happy to get a digital. You can see right away how the pictures come out, and if they suck… you can instantly delete. Plus, they hold a LOT more than regular cameras, and no film to change. If I wanted a hard copy… you can even get prints of them at the store. (And eventually, even print them out myself) In the long run… they would be a lot cheaper… so, on a practical level alone, it seemed worth it.

Wanting to get my money’s worth, I carried it around a lot. Just threw it in my bag, and if a sudden Kodak moment showed up, I’d be ready… (even though it wasn’t a Kodak). People noticed I had it… and for some reason, everyone assumed I knew how to USE it. Not many people had digital cameras (it was still in its relative infancy in the market), and since I was in the Theatre Department… I got requests. Some of the directors doing the small tiny one-act plays were asking me if I could take pictures of their shows, so they could have them for their own portfolios. Or if the Film Majors needed a photographic prop for their film, they came to me. These were all people I liked, so naturally, I’m going to accommodate and help them however I can. So I found myself, several times, being the “show photographer”… sometimes even listed in the program as such. (I considered it an unnecessary credit… but they wanted to put me in there.) When I actually found myself taking archive photos of the large-scale, highly-funded official Department Musical… I looked at my tiny, low-end 1.3 Mega-pixel camera and thought, “How the hell did THIS happen?”

But everyone seemed to like the photos I took. Granted, I knew nothing about lighting, or shutter speed or anything that “real” photographers use to get the “perfect picture”… but hey, if the customer is happy, right? And it’s not like I didn’t learn anything. I did figure some things out… like the darker the room, the brighter the picture would end up being. (The shutter has to stay open longer to absorb the little available light… and usually absorbs too much, hence… brighter picture.) Plus, my camera did have a neat feature… panoramic pictures. Not *real* panoramic pictures… but rather it would take up to 5 photos and stitch them together, so you had to make sure you lined them up right from shot to shot. It was neat to take a picture of someone, have them move a few feet to the side, take another picture… and stitch them together so there’s two of the same person in the same picture.

Plus, once I got the pictures onto my computer, I could play with them even more. I guess the word would be “photoshopping”… but I never actually had Adobe Photoshop. Rather I had the really cheap program that came with the camera… but I got by nicely. My favorite thing was (and still is) to add captions or “word bubbles” above people… mainly to give myself a laugh (and I think occasionally other people find it so). That’s why I love the “candid shots” more then the “oh-there’s-a-camera-let’s-pose shots”. There are more possibilities with the split-second looks on people’s faces which can be drastically misinterpreted from the original context. (That cracks me up)

Once Grad School ended, I figured that was the end of my Photo career. I had no training, very little knowledge… and the camera is not the kind of Pro equipment one would need. Honestly… my heart was not broken. It was such a small part of my life… a minor hobby, really… that I barely thought of it.

Then, when I was living down in Los Angeles, I got involved in a weekly ongoing monologue show. The subject of all the monologues were sex and relationships… so it was considered an “adult-content-show” even though there was no nudity or anything like that. Now, all the actors were supposed to have their own poster… in a town full of actors, everyone wants to promote themselves… it made sense to have it like that. So after my first night of performing, the director mentioned that we needed our own posters, and she would call the photographer that did the last batch… and I noticed she didn’t seem too happy to pay the guy again for more pics. Well… I saw the last batch of posters… I didn’t think they were that great, frankly. Not to be elitist or judgmental… but for a show talking about sex, the posters weren’t very sexy.

I raised my hand. “You know… I have a digital camera. I know it’s not much, but if you’d like… I’ll take the pictures. No need to pay some guy for it.” I mean, this was a no-budget off-off-off-off-off-off-off-broadway theatre show… let’s pinch pennies where we can. I had no problem helping to promote a show I was a part of. (Call it a vested interest) She emphatically took me up on it. This way, I could make appointments with each person individually, take as much time as we want (so you’re not shuffling people one after another just to get the job done and over with in one sitting), I’ll put the text on at home on my computer… e-mail the finished product to the individual… they can print it out and make as many copies as they want… voila. Cheap show posters.

When I got together with each person… I gave each person the exact same spiel:

“Okay… just so you know: I’m NOT a professional photographer. I’m just ‘the guy with the camera.’ I have no interest in asking you to do anything you’re not comfortable with… frankly, I’m making this up as I go. So, if you have ANY ideas about what YOU want for YOUR poster… please, let me know. Cause I need the help.”

Everyone seemed to respond favorably to that. Some of the women that didn’t know me from Adam had brought along their large, karate-expert boyfriends because they didn’t want some “creep asking them to take their pants off”. They would later tell me that they thought I was a total sweetheart, and thanked me for being so respectful. Some even said they considered me more professional than most photographers they worked with. And everyone was happy with their posters.

(And yes, there is a poster of me… half-naked with a white sheet draped over my shoulder. One of the actresses took the picture for me. No, you can’t see it.)

No, I never asked them to take their pants off… though some did it anyway. (Only in L.A…) Since we only had to “imply” nudity under the sheet… that did give some leeway. Plus, when I looked at the “last batch” by the guy who got paid for it… they were all from the same level and angle. Almost like he just set up a tripod and lined people up, took one picture and moved onto the next.

I tried to give a little variety. I tried from lower angles, higher angles… tilting the camera a bit. Played around with them sitting or standing… anything but the same angle and level… all the while trying to leave room on the side for the titles and show info to go on. I didn’t want any words or info overlapping the actor… I figured that would be bad. They’re not the background of the picture… they ARE the picture.

After I took all the pictures, I went home, chose maybe 10 of what I thought were the best ones, e-mailed them to the performer, who would make the final decision. (Like I said… it was THEIR poster, so they should have that right.) Then I make the final poster, and when I saw them at the next show… I brought a burned CD with the finished poster and every picture I took of them. I know a lot of professional photographers actually claim legal “ownership” of the pictures they take… but what the hell was I gonna do with them? I think the subject of the photo has every right to know and control where that picture is seen. Sure, I kept copies for my archives… but they never have, nor ever will be released to be used by anyone else.

Like I said, people were happy with the photos and posters… which was a nice compliment for me, I thought. But I was getting bored… with the SAME corner inside of the SAME building, and everyone wearing the SAME white sheet. There’s only so much variety I can get with that situation. So, without telling the director… the next person that joined the show and needed a poster (it was a rotating cast… I was one of the few that was with it for so long)… said, “Yeah, I think I’m supposed to be wearing a sheet or something, right?” I replied… “*Actually*… I’d like to try something different…”

We got the hell away from that corner. I asked the performer to pick out a few of her/his own outfits… ones that they felt Sexy in. Not ones that other people said were sexy… but ones they FELT comfortable in and FELT Sexy in. (Big difference) Some women would come in black cocktail dresses, or a business-type outfit, or an artsy-kind of getup, or PJs, or even just jeans and a t-shirt. (Most of the guys came in jeans and a t-shirt… go figure.) But that’s what they felt sexy and comfortable in… (and I think “comfortable” is always sexier anyway). And some would come to my apartment, or I’d meet them elsewhere… anywhere but that damn blue corner. We tried different places, different outfits… different ideas. Now that we had more options… we came up with a lot more ideas for each shoot.

I quickly became very surprised at what I could get people to do when I had a camera. Having one guy stand in my shower, fully clothed, with water streaming all over him, soaking him and his clothes to the bone, and me snapping pictures… Again, I thought, “How the hell did THIS happen?”

And I really liked how the pictures came out. They looked sexier than the ones before… and they even had more clothing than the sheet. (Funny how that works, huh?) When the final picture was selected and the poster made up… it was shown to the director. Who loved it. Finally! I was away from the white sheet and that blue corner… and allowed to do whatever I want.

Plus, I started getting a little money. I started asking for about $5- $10 to help cover the cost of making the posters (really for the ink and paper from the computer)… everyone gave me at least that with no problem… quite a few actually gave me more. One women handed me $50… and when I told her I didn’t have change, she said, “I didn’t ask for change.” (That helped with groceries that week)

Wow… I was technically getting paid for making sexy pictures of people... with my low-end crappy 1.3 Mega-pixel camera. (As the technology got better and cheaper, the more adjectives I added to describe that thing.) Kick ass.

One night, after a show… a guy not much older than me had seen the show, and asked me, “Hey, who took the pictures of the posters that are outside?” (I signed them all… “Photo by Victor Riley”, adding to the history of not using my real name.) I told them, “Actually… it was me. The name on there is a pen name.” Then, this guy told me about a project he was doing… he had made an adult board game version of “Spin the Bottle”… with drinking rules and everything. He had a prototype, and needed some photos taken for the website and promotional stuff… he asked me if I was interested.

I had to tell him… “Uh… just so you know… I’m NOT a professional in the least. And the camera is NOT a high-quality camera. It’s just this little crappy thing that’s getting us by.” (I believe in letting people know exactly what they’re getting.)

He said, “Well, you bring your crappy little camera… and make some money.”

About 2 weeks later, I was in this guy’s apartment… with 2 attractive young women he hired for models… taking playful/suggestive/sexy pictures of them next to and playing with this adult-themed board game.

When the guy’s business partner was standing next to me, looking into the camera’s viewscreen with me… and whispering to himself, “Oh Baby…yes yes yes…” Admittedly, I was a little creeped out… and once again said to myself, “How the hell did THIS happen?”

Only in freaking L.A.

But apparently, I was good at making people look sexy. Even fully clothed. I think me doing all this with the other actors inspired my girlfriend-at-the-time to suggest that we “take some pictures” of our own. You’re not getting details… that’s a little *too* personal… but suffice to say , these were not going to be seen on any poster to advertise the show. I did make an effort to make them look more artistic rather than pornographic… and I thought we did that nicely. I even experimented with shadows and silhouettes… and suffice to say (again), we had fun. When we broke up… I looked at the CD we had the pictures on, the only copies of them, and gave them to her. I figured they were taken in a state of trust in our relationship. Now that it was over, the only way to honor that trust was if SHE had the only copies of the pictures. I don’t know if she realized I was giving her the sole copies… but that’s what I did.

(I did tell some friends later that I actually kept another copy of them… but I really didn’t. I said that to try and make myself feel better, like I still had some kind of advantage or something. Going further will get into a subject I don’t care to devote time to anymore. Anyway… yeah, I’m a lying liar who lies.)

I did actually get some requests from friends… ones who weren’t connected to that monologue show… “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you… could you take some pictures like that of *me*?” (They were implying the “fully-clothed-sexy” ones of the show posters, not like the private ones that they didn’t know about.) I did mentally kick around ideas of some things I’d have liked to have done, picture-wise… but I never did get around to shooting photos for any of them. But it was a nice compliment that they thought I’d do good at making them look sexy.

When I got back to the East Coast… my brother gave me his old digital camera. It was only a few years old… is about 5 mega-pixels, has a great lens… and is a MUCH higher quality that my little 1.3. Looking at it… if I had THIS camera in L.A… I would have felt more confident about actually pursuing more paying options with it. At the time he got it (he won it from work), it was worth over $1,000. Nowadays, there are more powerful cameras that are cheaper… but it’s still a very nice camera.

Most of my pictures these days are of the “candid” variety… (because I love putting those word balloons in)… or more landscape-type pictures. I’m a sucker for good scenery. My new letterboxing hobby helps me with that. I take pictures of the different places I go and hikes I do, and put them in my logbook. It keeps me snapping pictures, and makes my logbook more interesting to look at.

That’s my photo career as it is today. Back to being a nice hobby rather than a pseudo part-time (not even “part”… more like “fraction-time and low-paying-but-interesting”) career.

But you know… while I’m usually behind the camera, rather than in front of it… that does me just fine. Because picture composition is pretty interesting to me… and whether I’m taking photos of models or scenery, I have fun with it. Who knows… maybe in the future, I’ll once again be put into a photographic situation where I’m saying:

“How the hell did THIS happen?”

Cause at the very least… it’ll be a lot of fun.

Zen and the Art of the Late-Night-Parking-Lot-Conversation

2008-09-05T15:09:00.002-04:00

My first real job (not counting a paper-route from 8th grade) was at a small family-style restaurant in town. The majority of us employees were all High School students… except for a few older ones that did the slow day-shift. When it came to evening rush, along with cleaning and closing up shop… that was left to us High School kids.

In school, I didn’t really have friends… just a lot of “acquaintances”. Relationships and friendships are built on “experiencing” things… and I never was able to get invited to the parties, or even take a lot of initiative to pursue “hanging out” with people (I was terrified of rejection)… so I never did a lot of “experiencing” with people. My world was the world of school. While there were people I liked being around (they were actually decent to me), if you asked me the bottom line… School was a big ball of misery.

But this little family-style restaurant… suddenly became another world for me. One I actually didn’t mind. In fact, I liked working there. Sure, washing dishes was messy and a tad smelly… the late-night rushes of large groups were stressful and filled with muffled cries of, “God, I’m never going to get out of here!”… but for me: It wasn’t school. And I wasn’t at home. I was somewhere else… with people my age (give or take 2 years) and actually Experiencing with them.

And my favorite memories of working there… were the late-night-parking-lot-conversations. These *were* fun… every single time.

We would finish cleaning anywhere between 11 and midnight… the dishwasher, the cook and the supervisor would be the last three to leave. Most of the waitresses (yeah, there were no male servers… the owner was a bit of a dirty old man) finished up before that, so they were usually gone already. So it was just us guys. The walk from the front door at last lock-up to the cars at the end of the parking lot would be filled with the in-jokes and previous topics of the night (attractive waitresses was a common one). When we arrived at the cars, all parked fairly close together… we’d still be chatting, so we didn’t get into our cars and drive off right away. Oftentimes, we’d just stand outside the cars… and continue talking.

Sometimes, for up to 3 hours. Suddenly, I didn’t care about school in the morning, or any other reason I had to go to sleep… and we just hung out right there, in front of our cars… and talk.

These conversations… would run the gamut. From life, love, lust… to colleges, problems, personal philosophies, fears, rants… Everything! Something about being in a wide-open parking lot… few to no other cars around… alone in the night air… allowed me, them, us... to open up ourselves. Conversations were uncensored, brutally honest, always real, and always known to not be blabbed about later. The Late-Night-Parking-Lot-Conversation is always considered “not for gossip, on the QT and the down-low.” In the open air, yet behind closed doors. I always respected that. That unwritten rule is what made ME feel comfortable to talk.

But I especially loved to listen.

I wonder how many things I heard that had never been told to other people before? How many things have never been told to anyone since? (Probably not much… but maybe something.)

In the years since working there… I’ve had other Late-Night-Parking-Lot-Conversations. (Not all of them were even in a parking lot, technically.) But they were all in the open air… late at night… no one else around. I often forgot about the specific phenomenon until I found myself in one and remembered, “Hey… this was my favorite thing about my first job… and here it is again!” As soon as I recognize that I’m in that situation… I find myself listening more intently, and speaking more honestly than maybe I usually do. I don’t often get the LNPLC as much as I used to… so when I see it, I don’t want it to go without savoring it as much as possible… and appreciate exactly what it is I’m hearing.

A few weeks ago… I found myself in another LNPLC. A fairly new friend of mine and I were walking to our cars, continuing our earlier conversation that took place during a weekly Geek Game we play. We weren’t talking about the Geek Game, we had moved on to other topics… and we got to our cars, and just stayed there chatting. Fairly early on, I recognized the start of the Late-Night-Parking-Lot-Conversation… and at first opportunity, I took a seat on my car… ready for a wonderfully long conversation.

I got it in spades. It actually wasn’t as long as some LNPLCs I’ve had… but it was high up there in quality. The honest and the revelations… hell, just the plain old fashioned getting-to-know-someone aspect… was nothing short of Beautiful. Like the best ones I’ve had in the past, this was uncensored, honest, real… a real glimpse at the genuineness of another human being.

Reflecting on it later… made me remember how much I loved it. I remember his story… but will never repeat it (remember: The unwritten rule)… and that’s the way it should be. Because to me, empty parking lots are bastions of honesty… places where your soul can be poured out, and not be soiled by the gravel and dirt, nor trodden on by the hundreds of cars and feet the may trek it in a day.

I’ve always been a huge fan of one-on-one conversation… a *really good* one-on-one conversation, that is. And late at night, outside in the open air… with few to no one else around… is my favorite way to have it.

Bedroom Communism

2008-08-29T10:22:00.004-04:00

Because it’s too good of a title to NOT use.

The starting idea for this entry came from a conversation I had with a friend about the topic of “Threesomes” or Menage a Trois. I simply stated:

“I look at Threesomes in much the same way that I look at Communism. Sounds like a great idea… Looks great on paper… but just doesn’t work in the real world.”

I still stand by that. It seems to be something that adds a lot of unnecessary complications to something that is already, by its very nature, complicated. It’d be like throwing a wrench into a monkey-house… someone will get hurt before they get the banana. (Wasn’t sure where I was going with that sentence… but it actually makes a bit of perverted sense in the end.)

I’ve can think of two dissertations on the arguments favoring Threesomes. One is an early episode of Sex and the City. One of the characters talks about how the best way to have a threesome is to be the “Guest-Star”… the outside individual that is not in a relationship with the other two, so you have no emotional connection or commitment, and therefore has no obligation or even a care if any ensuing drama commences. (Kind of a cold approach to it… but admittedly valid.)

The other was from author/blogger/podcaster Violet Blue, who runs and writes a website called Tiny Nibbles, which is, in my opinion, a VERY good sex-education site... one of the best. It’s fun and informative, she’s open and intelligent… and extremely easy on the eyes. (But then, I may just have a thing for Beautiful Brunettes in Glasses. Or just Beautiful Brunettes. Or just Beautiful.)

Anyway, one of her podcasts talks about Threesomes, and methods to introduce it into your relationship should a couple want to do so. She talks a lot about “laying ground rules”, lots and lots of communication, as well as using a nonsensical “safe word” should one start to feel left out, knowing when to stop, etc. All good concepts… and I’d agree, if you’re going to bring in a guest-star, that DOES sound like the best, healthiest way to go about it.

I’m just not a fan of the logistics. Not in the preparing and communication parts… I’m all for those. I mean the logistics of the actual ACT of the Threesome.

I’m a guy that likes to please my lady (when I have one). Bringing in a second... now I have to please ANOTHER? Sheesh! I try to give it my all to my partner, so that means I have to either double my effort… an even more tiring prospect… or split the effort. At the very least, I’m splitting my focus, and I don’t like doing that. That’s not an area I want to squeak by with doing a half-ass job, know what I mean?

As a counter-argument to that, I’ve had some people tell me, “Okay… but you could also just lie back and have 2 women pleasure YOU.” I guess that’s true… but I actually don’t like that idea. I don’t like sitting back and being greedy, without putting forth effort myself. I think half the pleasure is being pro-active… and getting without giving would just make me feel guilty, and hence I wouldn’t be enjoying it as much.

Plus, I don’t like being a hypocrite. Because if I have the desire to be involved in a Male-Female-Female Threesome… then by rights, I have to be okay with the idea of being involved in a Male-Female-MALE Threesome as well. Frankly, I don’t think I like the idea of sharing my lady with another naked dude. Nope. Not for me. (Though if it’s for you… more power to ya.) Sorry… In that manner, I *am* greedy.

I can only recall one instance that I heard of a Threesome actually “working”. Chatting with 2 friends one day… talking about dating, and one guy told us his “once-in-a-lifetime-chance-encounter” of how he met two girls at a party… they all hit it off, and that night, they had a threesome. No one was in a relationship with anyone else… and no one felt any emotional pain or jealousy afterwards. Clean break for all involved (seemingly, at least). The guy said it “just happened”, and was a total fluke, the chances were one-in-a-million (though it was in Hollywood… so if there’s any place where the chances may increase, it’d probably be there. So “2-in-a-million”, then), and won’t happen again, no matter how hard he tries.

In a normal “Threesome” situation, a clean break won’t be so easy to attain. Two of the people will be in a relationship, and committed to each other. In something like that, if it’s going to happen, both partners have to truly *want* the experience, 100%, gung-ho, “let’s-do-this-thang!” When one partner is pushing the other (mostly the guy trying to get the girl to go with it… big surprise there, right?), that’s just a recipe for disaster and pain. If one is 100%, and the other is only 95%... you’re better off NOT doing it.

In fact, it’s a major annoyance of mine to hear when some guys are really pushing for it because of the fact that their girlfriend is a Bisexual… “So *obviously* she’s into it!” Uh…. No. Guess what, Sparky? Just because she’s attracted to guys AND girls… doesn’t mean she wants them AT THE SAME TIME!! Hey, I like Milk and Orange Juice… but I don’t drink them simultaneously! *sigh* Assholes.

(and by the way… just because your girlfriend is singing along to “I Kissed A Girl” doesn’t mean she’s bisexual, either. It just means she likes modern music.)

Of all my Bi-friends… more have told me they felt “pressured” into a Threesome, then there were ones that were suggesting it in the first place. And if you try to pressure someone into doing something they don’t really want to do… well, for one, you’re not going to get their best effort… so will it really be worth it? Plus, they’ll probably end up having more than a tad bit of resentment towards you. Yeah, suffice to say, you will lose a few brownie points with them, at the very least.

Then again, what do I know? I don’t have a lot of experience in that area… I’ve never had the opportunity for a Threesome… never been offered, never had it suggested, nor have I ever suggested it myself.

I just do a LOT of thinking. And there’s still so much that confuses me.

I’d even go so far to say that the formal Sex Education I got in school was pretty horrible. In our school system, it was first introduced in 7th grade… and didn’t really tell us much. They showed the disgusting side-view dissections of the penis and vagina… and that was pretty much it. In all honesty… I didn’t even know the concept of “insertion” was involved until about 4 years later when I got a glimpse of my first adult film as a teenager. Isn’t that freaking pathetic?

Birth control was barely touched on… they never even mentioned masturbation as a healthy, safe alternative, or anything about emotions and feelings. Alternative lifestyles? No such thing… It was just a lot of fallopian tubes, ovaries, testes, glands and other medical words… coupled with “Don’t do it.”

Wow… that was unhelpful. The only sexual-thing I learned in public school was, “be ashamed of your spontaneous erections. They’re not normal in the least and are the easiest thing for kids to make fun of you for.” Sweet Jeebus, I got better Sex Ed watching The Electric Company than I got from that school system.

Most of my learning came from my own research. Normally, I wasn’t crazy about reading non-fiction outside of school… but face it; Sex is a REALLY interesting topic. So, to quote one of my favorite stand-up comedians, Emo Philips:

“I learned about women the hard way… through books.”

Yeah, I read a lot. I was a late bloomer in terms of physically dating… but when I actually got to it… I was fairly well-researched, theory-wise. My first girlfriend really didn’t believe that she was my *first* girlfriend because she told me, “Well… you seem to know what you’re doing.” (Sure, there’s the possibility it was just ego-stroking… but I’ll take it.)

Thankfully, with the advent of the Internet, it’s gotten easier… sure there’s a lot of porn out there, but there are also a lot of useful sites. Like I mentioned before, Violet Blue’s Tiny Nibbles is a great site for that kind of info (on ALL aspects of Sex and Sexuality). But there’s also the radio show Loveline with Dr. Drew Pinsky (a celebrity doctor that actually knows what he’s talking about… he’s a *practicing* physician.)… they stream it online, but you might also be able to find a local radio station that carries it. It’s probably one of the best resources out there for young people wondering about Sex and Health.

Yet, as interesting as I found it, Sex was never something I put THAT much emphasis on, when it came right down to it. Now a friend once heard me mention that, and she interpreted that to mean that I “didn’t like” sex. Far from it. Hell, I’d love to get it every day if I could. What I meant was that… Yes, it’s an enjoyable thing… but there are also lots of OTHER things I enjoy. Being on stage… hanging with friends and laughing till your face hurts… having a great conversation... As great and important as Sex is, there *are* a lot more things in life. That was always my philosophy… so it always enabled me to easily wait for the lady in the relationship… and let her dictate the pace, sexual-wise. Sure, some relationships went faster than others… but no matter how brief or how long I was with someone, I do not regret ANY of the women I’ve been with. Nope. Not one. (Though there hasn’t been that many of them)

But these days… I *am* putting more emphasis on Sex. I still believe there’s more to life… and I will still wait on the lady, and all that. But now, once its introduced into a relationship… its downright unfair and callous to try and remove it, without severing the relationship altogether. Beforehand… I think I wasn’t putting ENOUGH emphasis on it. It’s like when you’re sewing two pieces of fabric together. You can easily get by without putting in the Sex Stitch… but once you do, trying to pull it out later will just make everything else unravel. I’ve been in that situation. It sucks… AND blows. More than you can imagine. Having that intimacy and then NOT having it… is not just about physicality and orgasmic gratification. And it unravels more than just a relationship.

(Though I have been told I think a bit “like a chick”)

One last thing I wanted to mention before the end of this… is the fact that I absolutely HATE the idea of “Damaged Goods”. I’ve heard more then a few people over the years that consider themselves as such… and it’s at the point now where it flat-out pisses me off. We’re humans… not “Goods”. We are not bought and sold… (or at least, we shouldn’t be) and I don’t like people using slave terminology when referring to their options of happiness.

I know some women that consider themselves as such because of the fact they are single mothers. In a roundabout way, that’s partially laying blame on the existence of the kids… and I kind of take it personally when a kid is being blamed for something that’s not their fault. (More accurately, that’s the kind of thing that would incur my wrath.) Plus… it’s blaming them self for not picking the right partner in the first place. So what? You made a mistake in judgment. It happens to the best of us. Yes, some choices bring about consequences, but you know what? It’s never too late.

A woman having kids is NOT a deal-breaker for me. I’ve briefly dated women with kids before… and I’ve been *rejected* by women with kids before (even with the old, “Sure-let’s-do-this-again-and-then-never-return-my-calls” method). As long as I know that some time can be carved out for me… I’m okay with the idea of dating a single mom. (But I do need to know the Sperm Donor is out of the picture… if he’s still allowed to make life a living hell, that’s a sign of deeper problems, in my humble opinion) Yes, there’s a lot of guys that won’t want to get involved with a single mother… but there are guys that don’t mind it at all, and even think of it as less of a problem than *I* do.

The other type of woman that seems to consider herself as “damaged goods” is the “promiscuous” type. I put that in quotes because I think it’s a word whose definition isn’t the same as it used to be… in fact, it’s all a matter of perspective on what you think “promiscuous” is. 80 years ago, a woman that’s slept with 1 guy out of wedlock would be a “harlot”. Nowadays, some people can hear a number up in the 20s and consider that “normal”… while others would hear it and think “slut”.

There was a non-fiction book I read called Fast Girls: Teenage Tribes and the Myth of the Slut. (This was the book that gave me the quote which inspired the whole “anonymous forum” part of this column.) It was all about dissecting the idea and archetype of the “Slut” in society, and looking at the specific stories of women who were branded as “the Slut” when they were young. Some of the rumors spread about them were true… most were false… and all of the stories were remarkably similar. It’s not so much a book about promiscuity… but rather more about how cruel the “Grapevine” can be.

If you take one of those girls, and actually assume that the stories are true… they slept with 50+ guys, or whatever. Well, we live in a Cause-and-Effect world… these kinds of actions have their origins and seeds from earlier on. Maybe a sexual assault, or abuse growing up… something made it click in the gal’s head that sex = approval or abuse = love or however they’re thinking of it… but they’re getting around, searching for that love and approval. (It could also be, they just REALLY like Sex… and nothing to do with any trauma. It happens.) Are these women truly less deserving of finding Love?

Hell, I’d argue that they’re probably MORE deserving of Love, because they were dealt such a lousy hand that gave them these skewed ideas in the first place. (You won’t recognize Heaven until you’ve been through Hell.) We all make relationship mistakes… and some people will make a lot more than others. Why would you be rejected for being human?

The only concern that I would have, personally, is that of Health. As long as I’m truthfully told that disease is not to be worried about… as our modern technology brings us protection and medicines to help PREVENT that sort of thing (sometimes even just blind luck)… I don’t see a problem. She likes you, you like her, you’re both clean… what’s stopping you from giving it a shot with each other?

Do guys still have a fascination of being with a Virgin? Yeah, I guess you don’t have to worry about some of the health things I mentioned above… (But SHE may have to worry about them from YOU) and maybe guys look at it as “she has no frame of reference, therefore I *will* be the best she’s had! Huzzah!” Hmmm… Maybe that’s why they don’t like the so-called “loose” ones… they’re afraid of being compared to other guys, which means it’s their own insecurities holding them back. Well… I’m actually confidant in my own abilities, thank-you-very-much… and always willing to learn. Being a Virgin isn’t going to be a detriment (like the “kids” thing)… But, it’s not going to be a point of attraction, either.

Frankly, I don’t care if I’m your first.

I don’t care if I’m the 10th… or the 50th… or the 100th.

I only care about hopefully being the Last.

I let everyone start on equal footing, regardless of their history. Everyone is the same… just like Communism.

Which is the only part of Communism that I think is worth a thought.

Be an Individual... like everyone else.

2008-08-22T10:48:00.002-04:00

One of the biggest hypocrisies that I can think of which exist in this world is the concept of Individuality.

Especially so, when you put it with its opposite: Conformity.

…And even MORE so when you put this battle into the gladiatorial arena known as Youth.

On one hand, with Conformity, the arguments in favor of it are usually along the lines of, “Don’t rock the boat”. Hearing this, some of us might picture a very straight-laced, suit-and-tie, corporate-type saying it… or a pair of ultra-conservative parents… or you may just think of the word, “fuddy-duddy”. (Which, for some, are the exact arguments AGAINST it) At the very least, I think most people at least subconsciously think of the word “boring”. That is… taking the word and concept at total face value.

For Individuality… it’s presented as the greatest idea since sliced bread. Something about the word gives the image of exciting, fun, cool and sexy. I think you ask anyone the straight-up question with no qualifier or previous information or points of view… “Which is better: Individuality or Conformity?” I think you’ll be told “Individuality” at least 85% of the time. (Allowing the 15% fuddy-duddy factor. This is only my theory, with no scientific evidence to back it up.)

It helps that it’s kind of pounded into our heads… we’ve all had the art teachers that stress “finding yourself” and “being your own person”. Or the James Dean wannabes that say, “Come on, Man, don’t be a sheep”. And not to mention all the fashion advertisements from clothing companies telling you to “express your personal style”. Listening to the words… Individuality is the way to go.

So why do the actions tell us something completely different?

If artists were all truly “individuals”… there wouldn’t be categories like Impressionism, Surrealism, Expressionism, etc. Everyone would be in their own, separate category.

Why does the guy saying, “Don’t be a sheep” want me to follow what HE’S doing?

You know, if it really is my “personal” style… why do they make 500,000 copies of the same shirt and ship all over the country? Shouldn’t they just make ONE and sent it right to me? Hell… why are THEY even involved??? The whole fashion industry is sold on individuality but based on conformity (getting thousands of people to buy the same thing).

When I was young, and even now, we get bombarded with “be an individual”, “be yourself”, “don’t follow the herd”. There are critically acclaimed movies that point out the “Dangers of Conformity” (Dead Poets Society, anyone? Which preaches the dangers of conformity, but actually *demonstrates* the dangers of individuality) and give an overriding message to “be you”.

It definitely SOUNDS like the best option… and I can’t really think of an argument to ever NOT “be you”… but why doesn’t it always feel that way? Because when you ask any kid that’s feeling lonely and ostracized, “What they want”… they’ll tell you they’d give their left arm to just simply “Fit in”.

Hell, I’d almost rather hear the Conformity arguments from the Fuddy-Duddys… at least with them, you know where you stand. A lot of the “Individuality Bombardment Brigade” can seem like they’re not living in the real world.

In school, if you’re different enough in the eyes of others… the last thing the majority are doing is celebrating your “uniqueness”. Unless by “celebrating” you mean such statements as, “Why are you so weird?”, “What a loser.”, “Ugh… freak”, and the ever popular “Why can’t you be normal?”.

Not seeing a lot of incentives to “be yourself” there… or is it just me?

Sure, a lot of kids that say that are the kind that “aren’t worth it”… and that’s what we usually tell ourselves… but it still hurts to hear it. That’s when you start to realize that a synonym for “individuality”… is “alone”. Once you know what its like to feel completely alone in a room that’s filled to the brim with people… you start thinking that maybe “being an individual” isn’t such a great idea.

Now, I am by no means giving 100% endorsement for Conformity. Actually… far from it. I’ve never been one to consciously follow the notion of Conformity… But if I simply did the “preaching what I practiced” without forcing myself to look at a different angle… then this would just be another piece of useless propaganda that you could see in any magazine ad or feel-good-self-help book.

What I *am* doing… is trying to find the right balance.

When you’re young… you’re a bit of a blank slate. Sure, some of us have chemical imbalances, or trouble at home, or whatever life-altering conditions… but it is by no means “too late” for any kid. The person you are in 5 years from that point will be COMPLETELY different, and again so another 5 years beyond that. I believe any situation can be changed given time.

At that age, we’re all filled with advertisements, music videos, flashy images, and at best… *other* people’s opinions. Such as, if your dad is a Cubs fan… YOU are a Cubs fan. (You can figure out some “not-so-nice” variations of that on your own) All the jokes you know were read from a joke book or heard from someone else… who most likely got it from a joke book. (And no kid has ever mastered the art of “the delivery” at that age) Originality doesn’t exist yet… it’s all a spin-off or teeny-tiny variation of something else that you loved… whether it’s a comic book, song, story, drawing, etc. It’s almost like we’re not so much “people” as we are pop-culture repositories… but at that age, you rarely complain about that.

And everyone is on the path to try and “find themselves”. Some just give up the search before others. And we all love the idea of being individuals… because we like to think we’re “special”. Though deep down, we all recognize (and we can credit the movie The Incredibles for this wording) that “saying everyone is special is the same as saying that no one is.”

In a world of Individuals… how does one be truly unique?

Which could also bring up the argument that NO ONE is a true “individual”. If “Conformity” truly is the opposite of “Individuality”… then a synonym is “Non-conforming”… and everyone, no matter how “individualistic” they are… does some kind of conforming.

What is friendship… but a version of Conformity? Two people (or more) finding some kind of a common ground, and bonding over it in some fashion. (Look at any group of Goth kids for an example. All considered freaks and weirdoes… all actively trying to be “individuals”… yet all wearing black, listening to Industrial music and being morose.) The simple nature of BEING friends with someone is changing and “conforming” you… it’s just conforming you in ways that you *want* to conform to. Without the friends I’ve met, I never would have gotten into gaming, horror movies, Doctor Who, or most of the Geek hobbies I have. My friends have influenced me, and I’ve influenced my friends. No, I haven’t drastically altered the way they live their lives… nor have they to me. But “conformity” doesn’t have to be major.

Several months ago, I mentioned/stressed how I have “similarities” with my friends, but ultimately, we’re all different from each other… which is true. And the opposite is true. Sure, we’re all different… but we have some things in common… that’s how we *became* friends.

We’re always going to have qualities in common with *someone* in this world… there’s 6 billion of us, and not as many human traits as that. It may take us time to find each other, but eventually you do. In the right settings, those like-minded people tend to gravitate towards each other.

So when we think of “individuality”… it’s never going to be 100% completely-different-from-everyone-else-in-the-world. But the best we can hope for is a unique COMBINATION of particular traits. And when you are “finding yourself” and discovering the hobbies, likes, dislikes, traits, and morals that you want to have and employ in your life… try to make sure you’re picking and choosing the particulars for YOU… and not for/because of someone else. (Parents, that hot guy/girl, the government, etc)

I look at the lesson like this:

Conformity… helps us to love others. Individuality… helps us to love ourselves.

Both are pretty important, if you ask me. And as many will tell you… it’s important to love yourself before you can love others. I think it all goes together nicely.

A certain amount of conformity is important… and to some who’d agree with that… “probably not as much as your thinking”.

Likewise, individuality is important… but to some that would agree with *that*… “Don’t let that go to your head.”

Balance. It’s all about finding the balance.

As for what that balance IS….

What the hell are you looking at me for? How would I know?

My Sci-Fi High

2008-08-15T11:52:00.003-04:00

Science Fiction rivals… if not beats… my love of Horror.

I know I’ve talked a little about it before… first in my Star Wars post, and the Geek post… but I wanted to expand on it a bit more, because I love it just so much.

But like Horror… there’s a lot of crap out there. Seriously. A lot of it just blows.

In fact, I’d say it’s easier to have bad Sci-fi then it is to have bad Horror. Likewise… it’s harder to have good Sci-Fi then good Horror.

You see… Horror is relatively easy. ANY movie can be considered a Horror movie, when you think about it. Horror is simply “conflict”… and every story needs conflict or a problem that needs solving, or there’s no story to tell. I once scarred a friend of mine when I took her favorite Disney movies and re-stated them with an emphasis on the conflicts, and basically made them sound like horror movies. (She never looked at Mary Poppins or The Little Mermaid the same way again.) Whether or not a certain movie is categorized as “Horror” in the video store, really just depends on how the filmmakers place the focus on that conflict. Ever see the re-cut trailers of some movies on YouTube? The first one that gained big popularity was of The Shining… edited to make it look like a heartwarming-family-road-movie (with Peter Gabriel music in the background and everything). The secret to that is simply shifting the focus away from the blood and madness that we normally associate with that film… suddenly, it doesn’t look like a horror film anymore.

Sci-Fi… not so. It’s more specific. Not any film can be a Sci-Fi film… because Science Fiction is SO dependant on the Idea… with a capital “I”.

You can’t just throw in laser guns and outer space and have it be a true Science Fiction film. An aesthetic does not Sci-Fi make. The common conception, however, IS that’s all it takes. That’s why we have so many “sci-fi” films that are severely lacking in the science… (remember: Star Wars is NOT Science Fiction)

Think of Science Fiction as an experiment… an actual scientific experiment. We learned from school that when you wish to conduct an experiment, you need 2 groups: A Control Group… your subject in a completely normal and known set of circumstances. Then you need the Test Group… which is the subject in the same circumstances… but with ONE change to it. One singular major or minor change to it. Then you compare the two groups… and you see the consequences of that one change, and what exactly it does.

The Control Group is simple… that’s our world. The real one we live in. We *know* the normal, standard, everyday set of circumstances… we see it everyday. The Experiment Group is the world of the story… which should start out like our world… and then have one change to it. The story itself is the results of that test… whether immediately after that change has taken place… or maybe even far in the future, and you hypothesize about the long-term effects of that change.

Science Fiction allows… sometimes even forces us, to philosophize. It brings up questions that we would NEVER have probably thought about otherwise.

Have you ever thought about what it REALLY means to be “Human”?

What if you really were able to travel through time? Would you try to change anything? Even if it meant that yourself or someone you loved would then never exist? And could you kill the baby that grows up to be Hitler?

What if Man could *create* Life? (Not just perpetuate it)

If life on other planets exists… what does that mean for US?

Plus, Science Fiction can re-charge OLD philosophical questions and give whole new directions to them.

What is Reality?

Do we really have Free Will, or is everything pre-ordained?

How can we know what is truly “moral” and “good”?

And don’t forget the granddaddy of all…

Is there a God?

I’m not saying that some of these questions can’t come up in other genres… but Science Fiction is more readily able to ask them… *because* of the experimental nature of it. It “pushes the envelope” more than any other.

When you make that change in a story, you have to follow it through and look at THAT change… you can’t suddenly cop-out and then start looking at the old “two lovers from opposite sides of the tracks” kind of situation… at best you could do that in a subplot… but if you’re not going to look at and examine the change you made… then there’s no point to make it. (Looking at that change is what reveals the metaphor… which is what connects the story to us and our “control” world… maybe even helps us recognize things that we should change with ourselves.)

When it comes to the narrative, that one change you make, that idea… has to be the rule that dictates the entire underlying reality of that world. Because that one change is the audiences allowance for “suspension of disbelief”. For example, look at 2001: A Space Odyssey… the whole movie occurs and moves forward based on the idea that there are benevolent aliens aiding in human evolution. The Matrix… All events stemmed from the off-screen expositional discovery of true Artificial Intelligence. (Think about it)

I think a great example of Good Science Fiction vs Not Science Fiction… actually came from the show Star Trek: The Next Generation. Now, Star Trek can’t be blanketed as saying its Science Fiction… because it really comes down to each of the individual episodes, and the specific story each one is telling. Star Trek is a great “background” that can be used for good Sci-Fi. One evening, I was watching TNG in syndication… and they had 2 episodes back-to-back:

The first one was about a civil war. The Captain recruited a young protégé of his to infiltrate one side of a conflict… of which she eventually grows to sympathize with, ultimately abandoning her role on the Enterprise, and joining this rebellion full-time. The story… wasn’t Science Fiction… that’s a Military Espionage story. You could easily transplant into ANY period in history… with very little tailoring of the details. Take out the ray guns… put in whatever weapons from any time period, slap it in a third-world country… the story will still work, and give the same message. 95% of that dialog won’t have to be changed if you take it out of the Star Trek Universe.

The second episode… through a strange encounter, the crew finds that their ship, the Enterprise… is starting to gain actual sentience, and become truly “alive”. Through the entire episode; every scene, every plot, every action and reaction was coming about due to the fact that the ship was becoming alive. You could take it out of the Star Trek Universe, sure… but you couldn’t put that story just anywhere else. It needs to be, and can only happen in, a world that can allow for that possibility.

THAT is true Science Fiction. You can think of questions like, “If a computer… a machine, can truly be alive, without organic parts… then what IS Life? Would simply unplugging the console be murder? Do we have a responsibility to preserve this machine life?” And if you didn’t want to think that deeply… you can immerse yourself in the creepy notion of things spiraling out of hand in a way that no one could have foreseen.

There IS a lot of great, underrated Science Fiction out there. I think some of the best stuff comes from the show The Outer Limits… with one of the most iconic opening narrations of all time:

There is nothing wrong with your television. Do not attempt to adjust the picture. We are now controlling the transmission. We control the horizontal, and the vertical. We can deluge you with a thousand channels or expand one single image to crystal clarity - and beyond. We can shape your vision to anything our imagination can conceive. For the next hour we will control all that you see and hear. You are about to experience the awe and mystery which reaches from the deepest inner mind to... The Outer Limits.

Dude… that still give me goosebumps. (This version is from the newer series that started in 1995)

Every episode was a tightly structured, completely independent story… and managed to convey some great Science Fiction ideas consistently throughout both its runs (from 1963-65, and 1995-2002).

More recently, I discovered the movie Sunshine, directed Danny Boyle. I was so blown away by this movie, I couldn’t believe it. The design and effects were beyond top-notch… with the CGI impressive yet not over-powering. I’m surprised that it didn’t get a wider release when it came out in early 2007. It’s simply about a team of astronauts that are sent on a mission to re-ignite a dying sun... and is very well told. Personally, I loved it.

Bicentennial Man… A lot of people seemed to hate this movie, but it’s another one that I think is very much underrated. One of the big criticisms I hear of it (and indeed of a lot of true Sci-Fi) is that it’s very slow-moving. Yeah, I can see that… but when it comes to Sci-Fi… I don’t mind if it moves slow. (As much as I love 2001… I have fallen asleep during it several times) Since it often is a world quite different from our own… it takes a bit of time to adjust to it. As long as the underlying idea is solid… I’ll move with the slow pace. Here… a robot’s journey to become human… is one I found really interesting… and the execution of it was nicely done. (By the same token… I didn’t think A.I. was so horrible, either)

Gattaca… I resisted seeing this movie for awhile… probably because I just wasn’t a fan of Ethan Hawke. But a friend insisted that I “had to see it”. So I rented it (just before the days of DVD)… and I watched it… and was so engrossed and touched by the story that the credits played through… the videotape went to static, then the screen went blue as it reached the end of the tape by itself… and I just sat there, thinking. I still think its one of the best Sci-Fi movies of the last 25 years. It’s a world where human genetic manipulation is possible… and even commonplace. The main character is a normal guy who is not genetically manipulated, (considered “inferior”) who is passing himself off as someone who is. I was completely shocked at how good I found this film.

Obviously, this is by no means a complete list of the only good Sci-Fi that I’ve found… but it is some of my personal favorite.

It’s actually a bit heartbreaking to think how Sci-Fi gets a bad rap for being utter shlock. Granted, with a lot of the Non-Sci-Fi out there being called Sci-Fi… maybe that reputation is slightly deserved.

But at its best… it is solid, tangible proof that human beings… can truly Dream.

So let’s Dream big.

Mother-$@#%&!!

2008-08-08T09:58:00.008-04:00

Request by (and blame to be attributed to) Fritz.
Alright…you may have seen the “NC-17” rating at the bottom of this page. That’s not an official government-slapped certification… just a silly little “find what your website is rated” kind of thing. Someone made a program that does it for you, and it’s solely meant for entertainment value. And even though I don’t think I get too nasty or controversial on this blog… the program gave me “NC-17” because of the occurrence of certain words… most of them stemming from my very first post… which was about a movie-premiere party for a Light-Bondage and Discipline Porn Film. So, I wasn’t getting violent or writing anything blatantly and purposefully offensive… I was just peripherally talking about Sex. (Go figure)

Well… today, let’s EARN that NC-17 rating! And talk about some Mother-Fuckin swear words! Huzzah!

Now, I can’t say I particularly *like* cussing… nor can I say I hate it.

Actually, my views on it are probably a little contradictory.

On one hand, I see the point of view of them being “bad words”… and in the interest of manners, civilization and appropriateness… I can see why some wouldn’t want them to be said. In fact, sometimes I have to watch myself to make sure I don’t say any “bad words” around kids.

Which of course, then begs the question… what makes them bad? For instance…. Shit, Poo, Doo-Doo and Crap are all talking about the exact same thing. All synonyms of the same noun… and when using it as a metaphor, they can be interchanged there as well. So what makes one phonetic formation worse or more offensive than the other? What exactly is so offensive about “Doo-Doo”? (Wait… is that the one? Or is it Poo?)

Which leads me to the other hand… my “Fan of Lenny Bruce” hand. He used a lot of naughty words in his stand-up act… because he felt they were only words. If certain words were offensive or had any kind of “power” to them, it was because we gave it to them. As Saint Lenny himself said:

“It's the suppression of the word that gives it the power, the violence, the viciousness.”

So… to battle this idea… he used them. A lot! He was actually thrown in jail numerous times for violations of “indecency laws”. Later on, his entire act would be just reading the transcripts of his Indecency Trials… trying to point out how hilarious the whole situation is… because they’re only words.

One of the first bits of his that I ever read about involved using pretty much every racial slur imaginable inside of 45 seconds. He would go on to say:

"Now why have I done this? Is it only for shock value? Well, if all the niggers started calling each other nigger, not only among themselves, which they do anyway, but among others. If President Kennedy got on television and said: 'I'm considering appointing two or three of the top niggers in the country to my cabinet' -- if it was nothing but nigger, nigger, nigger -- in six months nigger wouldn't mean any more than good night, god bless you... -- when that beautiful day comes, you'll never see another nigger kid come home from school crying because some motherfucker called him a nigger."

Holy crap… shock comedy with an actual POINT! I think that *would* be a beautiful day… but we’re not there yet… and he was talking about this in the early 60s. (It’s probably worth noting that I’m *only* comfortable writing or saying the N-word when I’m quoting Lenny Bruce.)

It’s there… they’re just words, and we have “Freedom of Speech” in this country… so go nuts. What’s the big deal?

That’s when I think that personal tastes come into it… because I actually try to watch my OWN language, (even as a Lenny Bruce fan). I wholeheartedly agree that a lot of words need to be stripped of their power… but to let a *few* of them retain some power and strength to them… isn’t entirely a bad thing.

Take “Fuck” for instance.

There was a guy in High School… looked like he was straight out the 70’s. He had a poofy kind of mullet, always wore jeans, a heavy-metal t-shirt, a brown leather jacket… I think he fancied himself some kind of “rebel without a care”. And he used the F-bomb, literally, as every other word in a sentence.

“What the fuck is this fuckin shit? I fuckin, don’t fuckin care about the fuckin homework. Fuckin, why the fuck do I fuckin gotta do this fuckin stupid fuckin thing?”

It literally took him twice the time to say anything, because he was adding so many “fucks”. Wow… I’ve never heard a swear word mean LESS coming from anyone else. Now, I highly doubt he had the wherewithal to be pulling a “Lenny Bruce” here… no, he didn’t have a social message he was trying to impart… he just thought he was “playing by his own rules”. (I think he actually sounded more like an idiot.)

I’m sure we’ve all seen the chain e-mails and gags that illustrate the variety of uses for that word… it can be a noun, adjective, a title, a qualifier… pretty much anything you need it for. Because it CAN be used in so many ways… it’s important that you’re careful not to overuse it. Think of “Fuck” like Spider-Man… “with great power, comes great responsibility.”

So I say be careful where you use it… because it’s such a great word.

Especially when an attractive member of your preferred sex is using it as a verb, in a request involving you and saying it with a particular look in their eye. But I digress…

I remember when I was a Senior in High School… walking down the hall with a few acquaintances of mine. And in our conversation, I swore. I don’t remember if I was angry about something (I don’t think so) or what… or even what I said, but I used a swear word. One of the ones I was walking with was a young lady and was suddenly a bit shocked, saying, “I don’t think I ever heard you swear before!”

Well… I *had* sworn before… but I think I realized that I didn’t really do it that often (at least in public). Hence the shock when I did.

A few years later, I went through a period when I swore a lot more often… don’t know why, I just did. After one particular instance of interspersing several curse words, a friend of mine actually paused and studied me for a second… then saying, “Nah, swearing doesn’t work for you.”

I think it doesn’t necessarily “work” for me… because I’ve always looked younger than I was. It was like hearing a young kid, or a toddler, say “Motherfucker”. Shocking yes… but also freaking funny as hell, so you can’t take it seriously. So, me looking more “innocent” and young… the extreme swearing just didn’t “feel” right when hearing it from me. Nowadays, even if I look younger than I am… that younger-looking age is old enough that hearing swears and cusses from me sounds a little more normal.

Still… I do like to be careful of my language. Being a writer, I like to consider myself as having a decent-sized vocabulary… (and find it a point of pride that I’ve been able to use the word “Machiavellian” in a normal conversation) and I think its more interesting to not have to rely on the same old words time after time. Which makes it give the words a little more punch when a well-placed “bitch” or “fuck” is thrown in.

Course, there are some swears that don’t have a lot of meaning to me, so they’ll be thrown in willy-nilly to a conversation, and it just feels like saying a preposition or any other word. Like “hell”, “ass”, “damn”… whatever. Those are no big deal.

Now “Jesus”… is a special case. You may notice in this blog, that I don’t use it. Rather, I use “Jeebus”. Now, I don’t consider it “taking the Lord’s name in vain”… because I don’t think I’m using it in vanity, nor am I even a religious person. So… it honestly doesn’t really mean anything to me… not in a positive or negative way. I don’t use it that way… NOT because I’m afraid of offending people… but rather, I say “Jeebus” (of which that pronunciation comes from The Simpsons) solely because I find it funny. That’s it.

There ARE some words that I don’t use at all. The aforementioned “N-word”… because it is still MAJORLY taboo. In fact, I wouldn’t mind if that word simply went away… and NOONE used it at all. (It’s hypocritical to say that one group can use it, and another can’t. Even if that one group is using it to “take away its power”… the fact that you won’t let other groups use it is only FEEDING it that power.) The word is associated with so much hate… that it would be better to just erase it from everyone’s brain. And in 100 years, if the word is rediscovered, the context will be completely lost to history and won’t make any sense to those finding it. They’ll say, “Who cares?”… and then it will truly be finished.

I also don’t use the “C-word”… and I’m not sure why I think it’s on that level of “that bad”. Maybe it’s the hard consonant sounds at the beginning and end of the word… makes it sound harsh and uber-insulting. But it’s a female body part… that’s it. We have no problem using the synonyms… especially in the heat of the moment when that type of language is appropriate, and even encouraged from your loved one. Even amongst many people that advocate swearing and freedom of speech… the C-Word is still seen as ultra-taboo and very few seem to want to even touch it.

But the first time I ever saw The Vagina Monologues… a friend of mine was performing the piece entitled, “Reclaiming C*nt”. And… Holy Crap… she made that word sound SOOOO freaking Sexy. Wow! And the point of the piece was really to take away that negative power to it… and in the context of that monologue, it totally works. (Not to mention that my friend totally nailed it... it was awesome!) Unfortunately, outside of that… it’s still a harsh, unforgiving word. That is one I’d like to see have its power taken away. Not so that *I* can say it… I have no desire for that… but rather because no part of the human body (especially a woman’s) should be presented as a negative.
Which reminds me of another Lenny Bruce quote:

“If something about the human body disgusts you, the fault lies with the manufacturer.”

Yeah, it really does all come back to Saint Lenny. (His autobiography How to Talk Dirty and Influence People is great… one of the extremely few biographies I ever had an interest in reading.)

I’m actually going to make a recommendation here… if you’re interested in learning more about cussing and some different viewpoints on the social implications… the show Penn & Teller’s Bullshit!... has an episode all about the subject of profanity. Very much worth watching… entertaining and even a bit educational.

There. Don’t ever say I don’t promote education.

I’ll end off with another quote… this time from the late, great George Carlin. A very poignant moment from one of his most famous routines:

“Shit, Piss, Cunt, Fuck, Cocksucker, Motherfucker, Tits.”

Jerked and Re-Jerked

2008-08-01T11:03:00.004-04:00

There was a young lady that I had met through a dating/meeting site. (I don’t remember which one) We had written a few times early on, and added each other as friends on MySpace… and then nothing really happened. We sat there as “MySpace friends” for probably about a year. Then one day, I was looking through my friend list, and saw her, and was reminded of her.

Now, I don’t like to have “MySpace Friends”… that is to say, people whose only connection to me is through MySpace. I took a bit of pride in the fact that all my “friends” on there… were ACTUALLY my friends, and I at least knew them in SOME capacity outside of MySpace. There are a few I’ve never met in person… but those are women that were posters to the now-defunct Grrl Genius Blog that was on iVillage.com… so I don’t mind having them on there. But this woman was someone that I really *didn’t * know… but I had wanted to. Technically… since I met her “online” BEFORE I swore off the Internet dating… well, I figured I’d be okay making that last exception. (The fact she had a very beautiful picture probably helped with that… I admit.)

So, I wrote to her… reinstituting contact. She wrote back… and we started a pretty regular correspondence for a week or so. Then we traded phone numbers… and chatted a few times. I enjoyed what I was hearing… and she didn’t seem turned off by my self-deprecating geekiness (though I was trying to keep it under control). I took the chance and asked if she wanted to go out that weekend. She said yes… and we made plans.

She lives just outside Boston, so it took me a little over an hour to get there. Now, it being a first date and all… and I had a *little* more interest in her going into this then the other casual dates I’d met… so I wanted to do something “date-like”, but non-pressure. I admit… I’m looking for love, not just friends… but I also don’t want to jump into anything. I don’t want to go into this thinking, “Yes, let’s start a relationship right now”… but rather say, “I want to give this a fair opportunity to see if it goes anywhere.”

Pressure sucks… I’m not looking to give any pressure, and I don’t want to get any. I just want to be able to relax, and have a good time with someone and be myself.

Then again, I also move slower than a snail through a tar pit.

Anyway… I wanted to do something “date-like”… and I considered flowers, or rather a single flower… but thought that *would* be a slight form of “pressure” or even cliché (maybe not… maybe I’m the only one that overthinks this crap). But I did get, what I thought was, a good idea. I got her a book. “The Tao of Pooh”… we had actually talked a little about that subject during one of our conversations, and I mentioned that book as one I liked, and she said she never read it. I thought it might be a nice, no-pressure kind of small first-date gift that would be appropriate, respectful, fun… and hopefully leave a good impression.

I got to her apartment building, called her, and waited outside. When she came out… I would go so far to say that I thought she looked BETTER than her picture. She dressed practically (it was chilly New England Spring Weather), and still looked very stylish. I thought she looked great. We greeted, I gave her the book, (which she seemed pleased by) and then we got in my car to go get lunch.

I figured “lunch” was a nice, casual non-pressure kind of first date. I knew it was going to be fairly short, as such… and I was okay with that. I didn’t want to wear out any welcome… especially on the first in-person meeting… and of all the “Dating Rules” I’ve ever heard, “leave them wanting more” was one of the few that ever actually made any sense to me. I just had to hope that brief time we hung out… would in fact leave her wanting more.

To be honest… I had a great time. Yeah, driving there felt a *little* awkward… only because I never know what to do with the awkward silences. For me, it’s easier to forward the conversation when I’m facing her. Obviously, that would have killed us (ramming into the guardrail is never cool)… but I did my best, and didn’t think the drive was painful. When we found a restaurant, I felt that the conversation went a bit easier… (but that’s only my opinion… she could have had a completely different view on the matter)

And she was really nice to talk to. You know, if I were to try and judge by body language… I would have thought that she was interested in me as well. There was lots of smiling, a little bit of shyly looking away… all the crap *I* do when I’m interested in someone. I was actually feeling good about this date… and I hadn’t had a good first date (meaning “one that I wanted to lead to a second”) in a very long time.

I dropped her off at her home… I think we only spent about 2 hours… maybe 2 ½ hours together total. Like I said… wanted to start light… not overstay my welcome, and leave her wanting more. (Because I sure did)

Now, I told her flat-out and upfront and honestly… I had a great time, I really liked her… and I wanted to see her again. She said, “Sure”. But I reiterated… I wasn’t saying this because that’s what you’re supposed to say at this point… I wanted to make PLANS to see her again. She said she was busy that next weekend, due to a fundraiser she was working at… but the next weekend, she was free. I said, “Great! I hope I’ll also get to speak to you several times before then.” I told her I would give her a call soon, we hugged goodbye and I left.

No, I didn’t try for a kiss. (I told you… snail through a tar pit.) I figure if it really does go somewhere, there’s plenty of time for that in the future… and again, I don’t like to give pressure. Maybe I move TOO slowly for most people… but I was hoping it would be just enough for her.

I called her the next evening… just like I said I would. She didn’t answer, so I left a brief message… thanking her and telling her I had a great time, and that I hope to hear from her soon.

Nothing. Didn’t hear back from her.

I knew she was majorly busy during the week most days (though we didn’t have much of a problem with our phone calls before… oddly), and normally only “available” on weekends. With it being an hour-plus drive for me… that would have to be the only time I’d be able to physically see her. But I was okay with that idea. If we did develop into something, I’d rather see her once a week than not at all… but I would at least want to TALK to her as often as possible.

But the week went by… and I heard nothing from her. No call… no e-mail message. That Friday, I sent her a message saying, “You’ve probably been busy… but I wanted to wish you luck with your fundraiser tomorrow, and I hope to hear from you soon.” After that… I wasn’t going to send any more. I instituted contact twice… and that’s enough. Any more than that feels stalker-ish. (And stalking is soooo mid-90s)

So, after another week… I concluded that I was being blown off. For the next 3 weeks, I *still* hoped she would call.

I’ve gotten that kind of rejection several times before. Seem to have a great time with someone… they say they’d like to see me again… I call, and they never call back. Why can’t they just say upfront, “You’re a nice guy… but I don’t know if I feel any sparks”?

Personally, I feel that if I have to work up the guts to ask you out… you should work up the guts to tell me you’re not interested. I’ll respect that a hell of a lot more than just being blown off, while keeping my expectations going and stringing me along. It’s the “inaction” that sucks.

A bit more than a month goes by… it’s May. After 4 years of having the same cell phone… I decided to finally upgrade. I go into the AT&T store… my provider, and see what they have. I find a pretty good deal… with the same phone plan I have, same cost and everything… so I get it. The clerk takes the chip out of my old phone and puts it into the new one… and it brings with it the address book and all my contacts. (ooooh… neato) While he’s ringing up my order… I’m playing with the buttons on my new phone… which is turning out to be VERY different from the old one. The concurrent conversation in my head went something like this:

“Okay, that seems to be the ‘menu’ button… that brings me back to the start screen… okay, that’s what brings up the address book….I’ll scroll down a bit… yep, they all seem to be there. Alright, cancel out of this, and get to that main menu… Wait… that’s not it. Dialing? What’s it dialing? I didn’t want it to dial… Who’s it calling? “So-and-So”… Huh? Oh, So-and-So was that Beautiful one that blew me off and didn’t call back. Why do I still have her number? It says I’m calling her… I’m calling her?... Uh… Oh my God… I’m *calling* her! AHHH!!! CANCEL CANCEL CANCEL CANCEL CANCEL CANCEL!!!!”

Visions of her looking at her “missed call” list and saying, “Oh God… not this guy. I thought he got the hint!” plagued me for the next 3 hours.

Yeah… further proof that my life is a badly-written sitcom.

After that little “3-Stooges” moment… I did delete her number, out of fear of that happening again. Also, it didn’t make sense to hang onto it… as I most likely wasn’t going to hear from her again.

A few weeks later, after I got back from a brief trip to California for a friend’s wedding… during which I attained some minor revelations about other issues in my life… I did some “clean-up”… and deleted some people from MySpace… ones that I didn’t really know, and seem to have no interest in knowing me. So-and-So was one of them.

Now it brings us to about now. 2 months later… 4 months since that initial first date.

So-and-So wrote to me.

It came pretty much out of the blue… she thanked me for the book, said it was thoughtful… and she was sorry for being so inconsiderate for waiting so long to write me. She also said that if I wasn’t “too mad”, she’d like to hang out as friends, as she thinks it would be fun.

Well… I wasn’t ever “mad”. Just disappointed that she seemed uninterested.

But now… does this mean she is/was interested? That’s only the start of my questions…

Does she *really* want to just “be friends”? Because I thought I made it clear that I was looking for *more* than “friends”. I’ve got a lot of friends… several that are already an hour-plus away. I go that much North, I see my Best Friend… I go that way West… I can see another friend. I go that way East, I… end up in the ocean. Okay, East is out… but still.

Is saying “Friends” just a euphemism? Is she trying to undershoot with her words, playing it safe? What exactly are her expectations here?

And what is the impetus for all this? What was the sudden inspiration to write to me after 4 months?

Did she also go out with another guy at the time? Decided to try and pursue something with him, that didn’t work out? Then thought, “Hey, what about that other guy, the one that gave me the Tao of Pooh? I never really gave him a chance…” (If so… I can understand that… that’s fine. Maybe that makes me sound like the Second Choice… but I also tend to look at those kinds of situations as “Second Chances”.)

Did she randomly come across the book in her apartment, and that reminded her of me?

Or did she notice I deleted her off MySpace? *shrug* I have no idea.

I wrote her back the next morning, after sleeping on it. I’m open to the idea of seeing her again… and yes, I’m weary… but I don’t want to reject what could be an opportunity. I was busy that weekend, but I suggested we could plan something for the next weekend.

And that was the truth… She left a great first impression on me… and yeah, the blow-off may have sullied that a bit… and I think I do deserve to know why it took so long… what was the holdup, why was I seemingly being jerked around? But if she’s serious about seeing me again… I can wait until she’s willing to tell me on her own terms.

I sent it off. Didn’t get a reply. One of the neat things about MySpace is that you can go to your “Sent” messages and see whether or not the recipient actually read your e-mail. Well… she apparently didn’t check her e-mail all weekend. In fact, apparently, she didn’t check it until Monday… and she did read it.

As of this writing, she hasn’t responded back.

So… I’m suddenly feeling “jerked around” all over again. Sheesh… why is it when I get someone out of my mind, they try to show up in my life again? Why does anyone think I need the reminder?

I wasn’t mad before… just disappointed… but now I’m getting a bit “upset”. If you contact someone and you’re expecting/hoping for a response… why wouldn’t you try and check your e-mail more often? She probably doesn’t know I no longer have her number… but I’m not going to assume she still has mine... so maybe she just doesn’t get the chance to check e-mail. Okay, I’ll go with that. But when she DOES check it… and reads my response… no reply? I’m sorry… if you have time to read it… you have time to write a fast note saying, “I don’t have much time… here’s my number again, call me so we can plan something. I look forward to it!” There. Voila. That’s all you need. That’s all *I* need. (and when I call… return it!)

But if she honestly didn’t have the time to read or reply to my messages… well, if we *were* to develop into something… when was there going to be time for Me? I understand “being busy”… but guess what? We’re ALL busy. But I *make* the time if I want to see someone.

That’s one of the things on my “Required List”… I want someone who’s willing to MAKE time for me… and I’m under the impression she’s not willing or able to do that.

So why am I torturing myself over all this? Especially when there’s a 95% chance that she probably ISN’T thinking about it.

Cause I’m an idiot. That’s why. (Good thing I’m okay with that…)

So… I wish her well. She’s smart, beautiful, and more than pleasant to be around. I hope she finds what she’s looking for… I just have a sneaking suspicion it’s not me.

*shrug*

Talk Nerdy to Me

2008-07-25T12:38:00.004-04:00

As you may know… I’m a proud Geek.

(I’ve also been told, in a loving fashion, I’m a Nerd. And I’ve also heard that I’m “a Dork… but in a good way!”)

That wasn’t always used as a badge of honor, though. When you’re young, awkward, and just wanting to be liked… and people are saying it with a sneer in their voice and a condescending look in their eye… you’d prefer to be anything BUT a Geek. Because then it sounds synonymous with Outcast, Aberration, Unliked, Unwanted, “Oh-My-God-Just-Go-Away-You-Pathetic-Piece-of-Nothing”, and so much else.

It’s hard to comprehend exactly WHY that is. Being a Geek is a trait connected to the attribute of Intelligence… and we are really the only species on this planet that actually *uses* our Intelligence to the degree we can. Our brains are larger, more defined than other animals… we have short-term and long-term memories, we can use reason and logic, we have a sense of morality… and it’s because of our brains and those functions, that enable us to live and adapt to almost ANY environment that we can encounter. As such, we are not slaves to Mother Nature, and can actually exist despite some of her harsher efforts.

It is an incredible achievement of Evolution, God, Fate, Luck, Buddha, or whatever you believe in… that we *can actually BE a Geek*. (Whoever is responsible… they done good!)

So, it’s odd that amazing achievement singles out some people over others… and not in a good way.

Don’t forget or ignore the fact that every human being on this planet can (and does) find pleasure solely in the acquisition of new knowledge.

That’s right… *everyone* has fun with facts. It’s obvious that when you meet someone that really likes Science Fiction or Film History… they’re going to know a lot about it. They’ll probably have a few hundred facts that you won’t give a damn about.

But exactly how different is it from the tough, jersey-wearing sports fan that knows all the names of all the players on his favorite football team? (Even the 4th stringers!) Or who’s leading the league in touchdown passes… or knows about all the college players that are up for the annual draft… AND has opinions on how they’ll adjust to the big leagues? Guess what? They got themselves a bunch of facts, numbers and statistics that the majority of the world doesn’t give a flying freeball about.

Or what about the person that spouts off memorized book and passage numbers from the Bible?

Or the Golf enthusiast who knows par for every hole and every course that Tiger Woods is playing on?

Or the guy that knows the name of every Playboy Playmate of every month from 1983 to today? (Actually… that one’s kinda creepy)

Or the tough-talking, tattooed grease-monkey mechanic that “knows everything about engines and cars”?

Or the gal that knows all the plotlines and episodes of Friends?

Are we allowed to get in a group and point at them, yelling:

“NNNNNEEEEEERRRRRRDDDDDD!!!!!!!!”?

What makes some subjects more “socially acceptable” than others? In America, someone who’s a fan of Doctor Who is considered a Nerd and a Geek, and maybe a bit shunned for being “weird”. Yet in several other countries around the world… the show (old version and new) is wildly popular. I hear Steven Spielberg himself, arguably the greatest filmmaker of the last 35 years, is a fan of Doctor Who. Would you call him a Nerd to his face? Or does the fact that he can buy and sell you 900 times over give him some leeway? Hell, I’ve seen intelligent, incredibly Hot women tell me how hooked they are on World of Warcraft.

We’re all Geeks. It just depends on exactly what you’re a Geek about. There is a subject that you know a lot about, that other people don’t (and don’t even care about)… but you derive a lot of pleasure from it. Doesn’t matter what it is… but that’s what you’re a Geek about. Even if your knowledge in it is limited… the pursuit of that activity/show/subject is enough to get your Geek on. I say… Embrace it. It’s healthy… it gives us an escape… a pleasurable option in life to relax within.

Me… I’ve got plenty of Geek to go around.

The aforementioned Doctor Who… I’m a fan. I watched the old series a little as a kid, but I was given a more thorough introduction in college… and I find it immensely fun. My favorite of “The Doctors” is Tom Baker… he had the big curly hair and the 13-foot long scarf. Sure, the acting wasn’t the best… but they were earnest, and had fun. Yeah, the sets wobbled… but the whole show has a “charm” to it… that just makes it endlessly watchable to me.

As for the new series… some of the best writing and effects I have ever seen on television. It’s absolutely genius!

Star Wars… I’ve talked about before. Admittedly, my enthusiasm for it has dropped off a bit… because sadly, the story *didn’t* end with the 6th movie… No, George Lucas is continually beating a dead horse… insisting there’s still milk in that teat. Cripes on Toast, man… just let it die! But the originals are just so great…

Harry Potter… I didn’t get into it until after the fourth book came out… and just before the first movie. It was my Graduate advisor, of all people, insisting that I read them… and once I did… I was hooked. Those books are like crack! I read the first four straight in a row. I ordered the fifth book, got it when it came out… but didn’t read it for about a month or two. Sixth and seventh books… read them the days they came out. I revel in most any opportunity to talk about and dissect that story… and my favorite character is actually Neville Longbottom… I was so glad he got to shine in the last book! (It’s not that much… but enough. He kicked ass! Hells yeah!)

Horror… well, I’ve also talked about this before. It still applies… I love it, but most of it sucks.

Science Fiction… a lot like Horror… there’s a lot of crap out there. But when it’s good… it’s brilliant! (And there’s quite of bit of underrated stuff out there) What makes most of it crap… is that the stuff they call science fiction, *isn’t really* Science Fiction. I may have to do a whole post on this sometime.

Theatre… probably my first official Geek label. It was really the first thing I found that got me on my way to actually finding an identity for myself… and even so, I think I’m a bit of an anomalous freak amongst Theatre Folk. For one: A lot are touchy-feely, and say, “I’m in Theatre, I don’t have a personal bubble”… but I do. I’ve been told several times over the years that I’m “not a typical theatre person”… whether they meant it as a compliment or insult, I’m not always sure. And while I usually know what I’m talking about… as I’ve been studying it about half my life, and even taught it for awhile… there’s STILL a lot I don’t know. (Musicals for one… I’m not *that* learned in.)

Movies… while I attain that I’m not a “film buff”… I do know what I like, and like to see it often... and I have opinions on it. When I worked on the fringes of the industry, and trying to get into it… I did learn a lot, and was exposed to a lot of older movies and shows that I wasn’t previously aware of. And whenever I watch a movie or a new show… usually right after, I hop on IMDB or Wikipedia and look up any trivia or notes they have about it… just to find out more about it. Hmmm… maybe that *would* make me a film buff… I just think that’s a silly title.

Graphic Novels… This is kind of intersecting with movies, these days. Normally referred to as “comics”… but I think this is more accurate. I haven’t collected actual comic books in several years… I wait until they collect several issues together and throw them in a trade paperback, otherwise known as “graphic novels”. Sure, maybe it’s a little more expensive… but I get a complete story… with a beginning, middle and end. And there’s no chance of missing a middle part of the story, by having that chapter sell out before I can get to it. Plus, there are a lot of stories made FOR the graphic novel format… and there’s nothing “comic” about them. There are a lot of darker, more adult-style stories out there. Hell, anything written by Alan Moore I’m willing to read… he’s just that good of a writer. Same with Neil Gaiman, Kurt Busiek, and the Granddaddy master: Will Eisner (who is probably responsible for elevating the world of comics to Art).

But at the same time… every now and then, I like to kick back with an old Donald Duck/Uncle Scrooge comic (written by Carl Barks… without him, there would never have been Ducktales). They’re just so much fun!

RPGs… Yep… Role-Playing Games. No, I don’t mean Final Fantasy and World of Warcraft. This is not computer or video games… this is the actual and original meaning of Role-Playing Games… where you actually play a role. You have dice and character sheets, and actually sit around with friends and interact and engage your imagination in ways that video games can’t. It’s more social than computer pixels… and more interesting to me. If you have a problem or an obstacle in a computer game, it can only be solved by doing one of the solutions that has been pre-programmed in by the developers… which is limited, no matter how many options they give you. In a real pen-and-paper RPG… the options are whatever you can imagine. The inventor of the obstacle may actually have no idea HOW you’d get past it… just wants to see you try. It’s basically Co-operative Improvisation Storytelling… and I’m surprised more people in the Theatre/Filmmaking world are not involved in it. (Though it is gaining some credibility these days… as filmmakers and actors like Jon Favreau, Wil Wheaton and Vin Diesel have all talked favorably about their past involvements with the hobby) I actually credit this hobby for having a significant impact on my personal writing and storytelling skills. Don’t knock it till you try it.

And no… I’m not a Satanist, I don’t know how to do Black Magic, nor do I think I’m a Vampire. Sheesh… And for the record, I’ve never gotten lost in Steam Tunnels. (Okay, I have… but NOT for purposes of gaming)

Board Games… Because you wouldn’t put Monopoly in the RPG category, that’s for sure. I have myself a nice collection of board games. Hell, I’ve got almost 10 different versions/variations of the game Clue (my all-time favorite classic board game). Plus several horror-themed ones (perfect to pull out around Halloween)… some collectible games… and still have several games that I’ve owned for awhile, but haven’t had the chance to play yet. Yeah… this probably is the hobby that takes up the most room in my house. Ooch!

And my newest hobby:

Letterboxing… it’s very simple and very cheap to do. Since discovering it a short ways back… I think it’s just the Bee’s Knees… and can’t believe it took me this long to discover it. It’s like Geocaching… only you don’t need a GPS. All you need is a rubber stamp (either buy one, or make your own for cheap), and a logbook. Then you go to this website (www.letterboxing.org), and look for “clues” in your area. You follow the instructions on the clues (they can be very direct or very cryptic… mostly they lead you through public parks and hiking trails), where you eventually find a small box… and inside is ANOTHER rubber stamp and another log book. You use *your* stamp on that logbook… use that stamp on *your* logbook, sign and date it with a little message… and put it all back for the next person to find.

It’s basically a treasure hunt! How cool is that? When I was first told about it… I was intrigued, because I never heard of it before. So, I got a little book… made up a crude rubber stamp… and grabbed a clue off the website… and went to see for myself.

It was right there… just where it said it would be. And this particular one had been there for months. It was so neat… and I couldn’t believe that something like that could be there, and not be vandalized or taken away. I got such a kick out of it… I felt like I was Five! I loved it!

I’ve even made my book a little more elaborate. All you’re really supposed to do is stamp your book, write where you found it, and move on. Me… I’ve been adding photos of the locations and hikes to mine. Making it into a little art project/collage-type-thing… and gets me back doing a little photography. Gives it kind of a “storybook” feel to it… is an easy reminder of the experiences of getting each one… and also makes it easier to illustrate to others what exactly the hell it is I’m doing on my weekends.

More than anything… it’s a great little excuse to go for a hike, and get a little exercise. I think that’s a wonderful byproduct of a “Geek Hobby”. Plus, I’m having fun… so bite me.

So… that’s my Geekness (or at least a good portion of it).

How about you?

What are YOU a Geek about?

Adjective Grudge Match… Hot vs. Beautiful

2008-07-18T13:21:00.001-04:00

I’m almost scared that I’m not going to be making much sense this week… but here goes:

[deep breath]

I’m not that big on Hot women.

Oh, don’t get me wrong… I sure like looking at them. What red-blooded Heterosexual guy wouldn’t? I’m not repulsed by them… far from it. If given the opportunity and permission, I’d gladly pull up a chair, grab some popcorn and enjoy the view.

But when it comes to developing a crush, an interest, relationship, or just plain unrequited longing… I prefer having HIGHER standards, and prefer the Beautiful women.

Now, when I’m talking about Beautiful… you see I’m using an Upper-Case B there, right? I’ve talked about and made less-than-pleasant comments about “The Beautiful People”… but those are in a different context. Notice the quotation marks, and the presence of the word, “The”? “The Beautiful People” is a category… a clearly-defined demographic group, that looks more-or-less exactly like what the Media says is the definition of beauty… and since a large percentage of the world do not have the genetics to support that narrow range of Body Mass Index, or even have the model-quality symmetrical looks… it’s a category that’s pretty exclusive and elitist, if you ask me. The wording is only talking about the shell… only looking at the surface, and refers to nothing else. It pretty much HAS to refer to looks exclusively… because most of “The Beautiful People” have absolutely nothing underneath in terms of personality or heart. Saying someone is one of “The Beautiful People” is NOT a compliment, as far as I’m concerned…

Now most of “The Beautiful People” are Hot, as that’s another term that’s almost exclusively used to refer to the outward appearances.

Yet, not all Hot people are necessarily part of “The Beautiful People”… it’s easily possible to defy the common conventions of the Media-dictated idea of beautiful, and still be smoking Hot and Sexy. Watch enough Porn (pro and amateur) and you’ll see women that weren’t part of “The Beautiful People” crowd… but are still Smokin Hot and full of Sexual Sexiness.

(That is… from what I *hear*. Yeah, I heard. I’ve only seen…. Two? Yes, two! Actually one and a half… I was walking by someone’s dorm room in college and they had it on. And the first time I was barely paying attention. Seriously. Yes. That’s right. Stop looking at me like that… [insert non-challant whistle here])

Hot… with a capital H… *can* be, and is usually intended as, a compliment. Face it… it doesn’t matter you’re intelligence level, your breeding, your pride or whatever… it’s just that sometimes it’s a lot of fun to know you appeal solely to the baser, animalistic, Neanderthal instincts that involve the Hokey-Pokey. (After all… that *is* what it’s all about.) Other times, it can be a bit on the degrading side… because it can be interpreted that your looks and NOTHING ELSE ABOUT YOU is at all appealing. Kinda goes back to my “deep” blog entry… while it can be nice to feel attractive, you’d prefer to be more than just that.

So… “The Beautiful People” is an ironic insult.

Hot… is neutral (depending on what you’re going for, and how you interpret it at that time.)

With me so far? Good.

If you’re wondering where my disdain for “The Beautiful People” comes from… well, I think I can trace that back to Middle School. I can probably come close to pinpointing it, actually…

I wasn’t popular. In fact, I was considered to be the “shyest” in my class… and I was an easy target for bullies. And not all of them were male.

In 8th grade, one of these bullies was a girl… one of “The Beautiful People” and throughout High School would be considered one of the Hottest girls. I will admit… she was very physically attractive… everyone knew it, and I’m pretty darn sure she did too. And she acted like she had a crush on me. Yes, I say “acted”… and I know it was acting. How did I know? Simple. For one, the advances were a little “Too” strong… and to a late bloomer that was still just starting to discover the phenomenon known as “girls”… it was a bit off-putting, actually… and it made me suspicious.

Then… when it was still early on… she sat next to me in Science class… where the brunt of the abuse came. It was the first class of the day, so there were several minutes before the day actually started when it would be convenient to take pot shots at the chosen victim. And since it was science class… you didn’t have the regular desks like in other classrooms. They were the long black tables that several kids could sit around and do lab stuff… and by strange coincidence, most kids ended up at a table with ALL their other friends. (Go figure) I was at the table in the front, center… and I sat with ONE other kid (and not always) Anyway… this girl… (her initials were “CH”, so that’s how I’ll refer to her)… sat at the table directly to my right, the one against the wall, with her little clique of friends. She would venture over and “flirt” with me. (It’s in quotes because it wasn’t sincere flirting) This occasion, she came over and started talking to me… and was actually quite convincing. She asked me questions about myself… even though I didn’t say much (my shy reputation *was* deserved), and then at one point directly asked me if I wanted to go out sometime. I said, “uh.. yeah, sure.” She stared at me in the eyes… then immediately turned and walked to her friends, saying, “Oh my God, he believed me!” They all had a big hearty laugh, and I sank lower and lower in embarrassment.

Apparently, this joke was so funny to them, it was worth repeating. She’d make “advances”… would actually grab my ass (the old-fashioned “Goose”) when she walked by me, then look back at me and laugh with her friends. Personally, I never got the joke. The Goosing never went beyond that 8th grade year… but the gag did. All through high school, every now and then… I’d get it again. Even from her friends… “Hey, you *do* know CH has a crush on you, right? No, seriously!” (Really? Is that why she’s very publicly dating that football guy? Hell, one time HE even said that to me!) I’d find rare notes in my books in study hall, describing overly-pornographic things that she (and others) “wanted to do to me”. Yeah, right. I was short, weak, awkward and I knew I was an easy target… but did they *really* think I was that stupid? I wasn’t going to fall for it twice… under ANY circumstance. Which is pretty much why whenever a “Hot” girl made an advance (always on the “too strong” side)… I recognized it as a set-up and an insult. You know, it may be entirely possible that I actually passed up legitimate opportunities for love and relationships in high school because of that mistrust… (but honestly, I doubt it).

Now that it’s been about 15 years since graduating… I sincerely hope that CH went off and became a better person… one where the inside actually matched the outside. It would be depressing on a societal level if she and all those others were still complete bitches now.

But that’s pretty much where my contempt for “The Beautiful People” started (and why whenever I see folks that would fall in that category, I have the urge to use them for target practice...).

But then, there’s Beautiful… capital B… no “the”, no quotes.

While “The Beautiful People” and Hot really just refer to the direct appearance… Beautiful *can* be influenced by the personality. To me, that’s a word that can encompass more than just what’s on the outside. But it doesn’t have to… I can look at a woman and find her Beautiful without knowing about the personality. (and a Beautiful Woman can become *really* Ugly if the personality is crap) For purposes of this discussion… I’ll stick to the looks aspect.

Having said that… there IS a difference between Hot and Beautiful… and I prefer Beautiful.

Now, a woman can be Beautiful *and* Hot… both at the same time… or even exclusively, one at a time… Yet, she can also be Hot and *not* Beautiful… and Beautiful and not Hot.

Simple, right? (Sheesh, I feel like I should have a graph or something to help here…)

If you’re Hot… I’ll imagine having the Freaky-Deeky-Sexual-Sexy-Sex with you.

If you’re Beautiful… I’ll imagine waking up next to you afterwards and lazily cuddling under the covers in the morning light, and not getting up till the crack of noon.

Being Hot… is probably somewhat definable… because it does go more with the Media-dictated standards mentioned earlier. (But not always) As a general rule… wearing low-cut shirts helps (actual boob size doesn’t matter, believe it or not… and yes, I’m referring to women only. I have no idea what makes a man hot, otherwise I’d be trying harder).

Beautiful… that’s a bit more difficult, actually. Because there is no standard to it. I have no set “rules” for what makes someone Beautiful, physically. The only thing I can think of is that a Beautiful woman has a… “thing” about her. Some examples…

My first really huge Crush… the first girl I ever asked out (and subsequently rejected by) was this VERY attractive girl named Shannon. She remained in the “Very Attractive” category… until I saw her smile. THAT’S when she became certifiably Beautiful. I wouldn’t have called her Hot… because it didn’t seem like a high enough term… and she didn’t wear low-cut tops and wasn’t someone I wanted to just bone… I wanted to be in Love with her. Oddly enough, with me in the midst of puberty, thinking about Sex every 3.2 milliseconds, I don’t think I ever imagined her naked, or doing the nasty with her. All I thought about was that smile, her laugh and very sweet personality. Till that point in my life, she had to be the most Beautiful girl I’d ever seen… once I saw that smile. (Ever since, whenever I wrote a play or story that had an unrequited love… I named that crush Shannon. It became symbolic for me)

In Grad School… there was a young lady I’d see walking around campus. Part of the “punk rock” crowd. She wore big, bulky clothes, combat boots, all that stuff. And this gal had her head completely shaved. Now, she probably did it to rebel against the “normal conventions” of beauty and what is considered “attractive”… I’ve known a lot of people to intentionally try to uglify themselves for that reason. The only hitch with her… she was Breathtakingly Beautiful… WITH the shaved head. Maybe her head was just the right shape or whatever… but on her… and only on her… the shaved head made her look absolutely Beautiful. No idea what she’d look like *with* hair… but I like to think it wouldn’t give or take away anything from her. So maybe that means she was Beautiful *despite* the no-hair…

When I lived in Los Angeles, and the first year I worked with a children’s theatre group… there was another of the teachers (or “Big Kids” as we were called) that I had me a bit of a crush on. She wore the long flowing skirts with a full t-shirt… not showing anything for skin, except for her arms, really. She also wore these cat’s-eye style glasses… and I looked at her and thought she was absolutely Beautiful. As much as I was having a lot of fun there anyway… I looked forward to seeing her everyday. Plus, she was great with the kids, and she was very friendly and sweet. I figured, I’d be an idiot if I didn’t at least TRY to ask her out. So, I did. She actually agreed… but I don’t think she was looking at it as a “date”… just a friend-thing. The first night we went out… she actually took me (and two other guys) to a small party at another friend of hers. Yeah… didn’t get much of a chance for one-on-one time with her. But when I saw her dressed up for this evening of socializing… she was showing some cleavage… her skirt was shorter, she put in contacts… admittedly, she was like the librarian that lets down the hair, unbuttons the blouse and is instantly Hot. No doubt… she was *extremely* Hot…

But personally… I preferred the Beautiful.

We did go out again… this time just her and I. She didn’t dress “hot”… and she looked Beautiful. I took her to dinner and we saw a movie… the standard date-date. I thought we had a really good time… she introduced me to the concept of smoothies with “boba” in it (which, actually I haven’t had since… it was kinda weird) and I figured I was doing okay with laying the nice foundations for something better in the future. That’s basically my reasoning for not trying to kiss on first dates… its too bad that never actually works. Yeah, I actually never saw her again after that night… no returned calls or e-mails. Guess she got the realization I was interested in “that way”… and she wasn’t. Last I heard, which was about a year after that… she had flown to Iraq to be a War Correspondent. (????... yikes! Guess she was a roaming soul…)

For a more pop-culture example everyone can witness… Ashlee Simpson. Yes, the younger sister of Jessica Simpson (man, there’s a name I hoped I’d never be mentioning on here)… I thought she was absolutely Beautiful… much more so then Jessica. Jessica just has that Barbie-Doll-just-out-of-the-clone-vat look to her… that is just SO unappealing to me. Seriously… it actually disgusts me. (Plus, the complete airhead part is a total dealbreaker… I can’t even have porno fantasies with her in them. I just can’t.) Ashlee… I thought was Beautiful… until she had her nose job. Then it got smoothed out, looks more like the rest of Young, Hot Hollywood… and became a complete clone… just like her sister. Her non-perfect nose is what MADE her Beautiful… and she threw it away with an outpatient surgery.

When I look at some women… and I’ll remark to a male friend that’s accompanying me of how Beautiful I think that woman is… sometimes, they’ll very much disagree with me. “What? You think *she’s* Beautiful? Are you kidding? There are MUCH hotter women around here!” They won’t think she’s Beautiful because she’s got no boobs, is too tall, too short, has too big a nose, too small a nose, her hair is too short, too many piercings and tattoos, too exotic, not exotic enough, covered in freckles, or any of 100 other reasons.

But those are the EXACT reasons why I think that particular woman is Beautiful. Sometimes, it’s the little “faults” that make someone Beautiful.

Guess it’s just a personal taste… and maybe my tastes are a bit on the different side, but I never thought so.

Sure, it’s nice to be thought of as Hot from time to time… but I think its overall better to be seen as Beautiful by someone. I certainly would rather BE with someone that thought of me that way… and I’d rather be with someone that I find to be Beautiful.

All the women that I’ve been with… or had big crushes on, or asked out, or made a pass at, and had serious romantic interests for… I saw them as being definitively Beautiful. (Even the psycho one from 10 years ago. Physically Beautiful… just a bit nuts.) I wouldn’t even want to kiss you if I didn’t think you were Beautiful. (Not to mention the several I didn’t kiss that I thought were Beautiful) And if I get e-mails from any past crushes, relationships… or gals that I missed opportunities with, asking, “Really? Even me?”

The answer is a resounding Yes.

And I think it’s a tragedy unto itself that they even have to *ask* that.

The Psychic Circle

2008-07-11T12:31:00.002-04:00

Request fulfillment for Agent Cake…

I consider myself to be a fairly scientific guy.

I like to have evidence. Hard, actual, touch-it-look-at-it-feel-it-rub-it-on-your-happy-parts-kind-of-serious-proof when a fantastical claim is made. Even still… I never buy the “you’ll believe it when you see it” arguments… because I *don’t* trust my own senses, and don’t consider that to be solid enough proof. No, senses can be influenced and tricked… by others and even ourselves… so “firsthand experience” isn’t as reliable as most people think, in my eyes. We need actual informed, 3rd party-science to back it all up.

Simply put… I find Scooby-Doo to be more scientifically realistic than The X-Files.

(The talking dog part is simple… we all know Shaggy is a Hippy with Constant Munchie Syndrome, so we all know what he’s on. In fact, he’s doing so much of it, that all the others are on a continuous contact-high as a result. Notice how Fred, Velma & Daphne never talk to Scooby without Shaggy around? But I digress…)

Yes, I’m a skeptic. But I don’t think that’s a bad thing to be. Being skeptic doesn’t mean “ultimate non-believer that can’t be swayed”… it just means that I don’t take things for granted. I got questions that I would like answered before I swallow the “miracle elixir that cured a hundred European villages in the 17th century”… or whatever it is I’m being asked to swallow. Just because the sales-pitch, label and a so-called “doctor” reading a cue card (badly) say its good for me… doesn’t mean I’m going to believe it.

So, I think I’m a fairly tough sell when it comes to “the Unexplained”… that is, if you want me to take it seriously. For pure entertainment value, however, I’ll sign up on it in a second.

That’s kind of the trick to it… at the bottom of the screen on every Psychic Hotline commercial… in tiny letters on every daily horoscope… hidden away from obvious view on every pack of Tarot cards and store-bought divination method… there are the words “For Entertainment Only”.

Which seems a bit hypocritical when you think about it, actually… because aren’t these practices and items based on religions and practices from other parts of the world? So wouldn’t it be a slight infringement on the right to Freedom of Religion to insult it by saying it’s “For Entertainment Only?” I’ve never seen a similar disclaimer in the front of the Bible… nor do I think you’ll find a church bulletin that mentions the subject of that day’s sermon, along with an asterisk telling you that.

Though it would be a VERY interesting way to piss people off. (That almost makes it worth it to try…)

Hypocrisy aside… there are a lot of people that DON’T look at them as “Entertainment Only”, and in fact put a lot of stock in them. I’m not one to say one way or the other that “your belief is crap”… I wouldn’t do that to anyone, no matter how silly I think the logistics are. It’s important to have SOMETHING to believe in… and I hope that in believing in whatever you choose, you don’t get fleeced, betrayed, molested or are ever referred to as a “mark”.

But for myself… if you want me to swallow that “wonder elixir”, then you better be able to back it up… and NEVER say, “Well, you just have to ‘trust me’” (or anything resembling it). Ironically, that’s when I *won’t* trust you. I can’t blindly trust on something like that… it’s just not in me. I’m way too suspicious of humanity.

So, it’s the Path of the Healthy Skeptic for me. I’m able to stay open-minded and yet critical at the same time. Nevertheless, I’ve known many people that were determined to make a “believer” out of me. More often than not, they were talking about Psychic readings, tarot cards, or other methods of fortune-telling and divination.

I’ve had several friends that read Tarot Cards… a few of them took it WAY too seriously. I came in late to a gathering one evening, where this ultra-serious-pseudo-Wiccan (“pseudo” because she called herself that… but really didn’t know that much about it) was doing Tarot readings. When someone suggested that I get mine done… she was hesitant, saying she was “feeling so drained”.

Uh… aren’t you just dealing out CARDS? I don’t exactly see what’s so physically or mentally “draining” about that. Other Tarot readers I’ve known have been more realistic… they knew it was only card-dealing, and didn’t mind doing more than one on a particular evening.

Most times, I kept hearing that my future holds great riches and wondrous happiness. (Or was it wondrous riches and great happiness?) The first time I had a friend that practiced Palmistry, she looked at my hand and said that I had the “longest Fame line” she’d ever seen. “This is like… Robert De Niro-type famous! It goes right off your hand!” Now, I’m not one to criticize the gods or my Fate or anything like that… but I’m just saying: I’m hurtling towards my mid-30s. De Niro had already done Godfather Part 2 and Taxi Driver at my age… tick tock tick tock, know what I mean, guys?

Too bad my Psychic visits were never that optimistic. There were 2 times that I’ve talked with a professional Psychic… I say “professional”, because I assume they make money at it normally. I didn’t pay them anything.

First time was just after I graduated High School. The school had a big all-night Lock-In After-Party for the graduating class at the YMCA. They had a bunch of activities, carnie-style games, and one of these was a group of Psychics giving free readings. Now my love-life hadn’t even begun at that point, never had a relationship… so naturally the first thing I asked was what my love-life was going to look like in the near future. I had recently met, in person, a pen pal (female), and we had been hanging out a bit, and becoming good friends. So when the Psychic asked if I’ve met anyone new recently… well, that was my answer. The Psychic got a big smile and started spouting, “WELL… I see you two dating for quite awhile, and while it won’t ultimately last, you two will be mature enough to remain good friends.”

Now, I found this slightly comical… because we DID talk about the possibility of dating prior to this… and both mutually decided that we didn’t want to. We just wanted to be friends. And that’s how we remained… as good friends.

What I found even MORE comical was when she concluded the reading with, “Now remember… this is all in the future, so nothing is set in stone… it can easily change.” Even at my 17-year-old-about-to-be-18-naïve state of mind… I still had the intelligence to think, “What the F did she just say? Did she just give herself an ‘Out’? So that even if/when the predictions DON’T come true, she can still have credibility? Are you F-ing kidding me????”

That… was a complete sham. An obvious one.

The second time was a few years later when I was at college. The school hired a few psychics for a “Psychic Fair”, to give free readings to the kids. I managed to get in line fairly early (I had to get in there about 2 hours early and wait… because it filled up FAST). When I got my turn… I soon realized I got the “low-rent” psychic. She said she was a Numerologist… so with all the questions I was asking, she was basically saying, “oh… Numerology doesn’t answer that. Nope, not that either.” (What the hell DOES it answer?) Again, I was asking about my love-life (because our priorities never *really* change, do they?)… and I kept insisting that she give me SOMETHING to justify my 2 ½ hour wait in line. She relented and asked me to slowly count to 10 aloud. I did, and while I was counting, she closed her eyes and put her hands to her temples and “concentrated”. When I finished, she said that she saw, “A girl… thin, a little shorter than you, with straight black hair, and an ‘Up’ personality”. Okay… that sounded pretty specific… and the first person that came to mind was a friend of mine… who was like my long-lost twin sister. And… frankly, it would have felt incestuous to even think of dating her. (Not to mention her long-time boyfriend who is now her loving husband)

Just after I left, I spotted a group of my friends, and I ran over to join them. They asked what I was doing over there, and I described my “totally bogus psychic reading” I just got. And I described exactly who she said I’d be dating… just as I’m finishing, expecting us all to laugh together… someone else approaches us. A young lady named Erika… who was a little shorter than me… was thin… had what could be considered an “Up” personality… and while she was a straight-haired blond… on this occasion, had dyed her hair jet black. I suddenly start having a brain hemorrhage over the coincidence… all my friends are cracking up laughing, and Erika is saying, “What? What? What did I miss?”

And later that night… ended up being mine and Erika’s first date.

Now… it does sound like the low-rent Numerologist totally pinned me on that one… but the description she gave, wasn’t exactly *that* specific. I was just a little taller than most women. EVERYONE is trying to be thin. An “Up” personality is really someone that isn’t completely depressing… so that was most people. And the hair color? 50-50 shot at the two most prominent hair colors… blond or brunette. In actuality, that woman probably described 75% of the sorority girls on campus. It’s called playing the odds.

Not to mention that I could have made it a self-fulfilling prophecy. Now, Erika was extremely attractive… but I had never conceived the idea of dating her prior to that. Given this description, maybe I was ON THE LOOK for someone like that… and since Erika was the first one to come along that fit that… well, maybe that’s what made me interested, and not for her actual personality. (Which, I’m sad to say, is admittedly an insult to her, as SHE was interested in me at the time. Sure, we didn’t last long, and broke up under unpleasant circumstances… but I do hope she’s doing well today.)

I told you… I’m skeptic. I don’t take personal experience as stone-cold fact. No matter how convincing.

Now, my best friend has told me about a “Great” Psychic that she’s seen… an older woman named Ramona. Apparently, my friend never gave her much information… and Ramona started spouting back specifics and all-too-freaky-hit-the-nail-on-the-head kind of things. She said that if I’m interested in seeing a Psychic… she’s the one.

And I’ll tell you… I *am* interested, still. I never paid for those other two… and well, you do get what you pay for. Maybe I’ll have a different experience when currency is exchanged… or maybe I’ll just lose the money. I’ve gone to the store/liason that Ramona deals through… a new age store about 45 minutes north of me. I’ve stopped in and inquired about making an appointment… turns out Ramona only does the “Psychic Fairs” they put on about once a season. (Hmmm… I don’t fare well with the Psychic Fairs… but still, I’d be paying, and my best friend, whom I very much trust… highly recommends her. And she’s a tough cookie to pull the wool over.) So whenever the next one is… I’ll try to make an appointment.

If the experience is at all note-worthy… I’ll do a follow up about it on here.

But I’m going in ultra-skeptic… because maybe she’s just REALLY good at cold-reading (the technique used by con artists to pass off fake psychic abilities)… or has a crack-team of Super-Google Search Engines sitting in the next room, on the other side of a wireless microphone. Because ultimately… it doesn’t hold a lot of outward credibility for me. It has to be earned, and psychics, tarot cards, reading tea leaves, throwing stones, examining goat entrails… they haven’t earned it yet.

Now, I’ll flat out admit something… that probably will make me sound very hypocritical.

I own a set of Viking Runes. Yep… I own my own set of a divination method.
I got them in 1993, just after I graduated High School. In my town, there’s this little train caboose that just sits by a set of unused tracks… and it’s rented out as actual business space. Tiny business space, sure, but business space nonetheless. At this time, I think it’s rented by a massage therapist. But back then, it was a New Age Hippy selling New Age-Hippy stuff. He was a very friendly guy… and I bought two things from him in total. One was a shirt with about 1,000 skulls all over it (I thought it was cool), and the other was this set of Viking Runes. They were in a bag that was hand-made by some little old lady on consignment… and I was under the impression that runes themselves were also hand-made, but I’m not exactly sure on that. They also came with a small book that detailed what the runes meant. I’d seen similar sets in regular stores… runes and a book in a shrink-wrapped-mass-printed-box (looked very commercial)… but these were just the bag with the runes and book inside. Basically, the way I keep them now, is the exact way they were purchased. The non-commercial simplicity of it kind of appealed to me. Felt genuine. (Though it’s entirely possible that one of those mass-produced sets was bought, unwrapped and dumped into a $2 cloth bag. But it FELT genuine.) When I went back the second time to pick up the skull shirt (it was a special order), the Hippy told me that the woman was “so happy someone bought her runes”… so I thought that was nice.

It didn’t come with a “playing field”… usually a piece of cloth used to simply lay out the Runes when doing your “readings”. I was in Spencer’s and found a placemat… that had a big picture of the moon on it, with stars and other planets dotting the outside. Since I’m a Moon Child 3 times over (I’m a Cancer, born on a Monday and in the evening… any one of which makes you a Moon child… I’ve got all 3), I thought it was appropriate for me. Sure, the moon has a big cartoon smile… but still…

Anyway, I looked over the book… trying to learn how the darn things work. It had several examples on doing different kinds of readings… and how you could do them to look at once specific issue in your life… or do it to look at your life as a whole. I was interested in the “life as a whole” reading… but I was hesitant. I mean… I only have one life… from birth to death… so logically, I can really only do ONE reading of it to get the overview. Doing any more after that simply invalidates the first one. “Oh, I didn’t like that one… I’ll do another until I get something I like.” No, I don’t roll that way. If I’m going to do the “Life Reading”… I’m only ever doing one. None of the models they gave appealed to me that much… so I made up my own. Nothing too imaginative… I just laid out all 25 Runes in a circle. (I was thinking of a whole “circle of life” thing… and this was well before The Lion King.) I also copied the layout on paper, and marked where I began.

I looked at the whole layout, and didn’t see anything that had earth-shattering meaning… I wasn’t really expecting that. But at the very end of the circle… the last two runes did seem a bit symbolic. You see, out of all 25… the last rune is the “unknowable” Rune… or the Blank one… is supposed to hold the most mystery. I was partially hoping to get that as the very last one… maybe symbolizing jumping into the next life/plane of existence/whatever. Because that truly is “unknowable”. It wasn’t the last rune… it was the second-to-last on mine. The very last one… when I looked it up… was the “Rune of the Self”. It kind of represents who you truly are (and is the first Rune in the set). So… according to this… I encounter the unknown… and then Myself.

Metaphysically speaking… whoa, that’s heavy. (isn’t it?)

Now I never did another reading like that… true to my word. From then on, the way I used or “read” the Runes was reaching my hand into the bag… mixing them around until I’m sure I’ve at least touched each one. Then I pick them all up in a mass, and while still buried in the sack, start to shake and move my hand, causing them all to fall out… until only one remains in my hand. Then I pull it out of the bag and look at it. I never did more than one a day at any one time. Sometimes going a long time without selecting one… other times doing it for several days in a row. Sometimes I’d pick a Rune before a performance for whatever play I was in… just as a personal tradition, to see how that performance would go. (It helped keep me on my toes)

I never looked at it as “the Gods were guiding my hand in picking the Runes, and this is their divine wisdom”… because reading the meanings of the Runes… they’re pretty darn generic, actually. EXTREMELY generic. Downright vague. In fact… ANY of those Runes could apply in “some way” to my current life… So I know I’ll never get an earth-shattering answer from them… but I saw them as “a different way to look at things”. If something was bugging me… they gave me a suggestion to meditate on it in a manner I probably hadn’t yet considered at that moment. Sometimes it helped, sometimes it doesn’t. Its credibility is similar to me directly asking my cat what the solution should be. (Which, according to her… usually entails eating a snack and sleeping in the sun for 5 hours. Admittedly, that *does* often help…)

So there’s my Hypocrisy. I know it. I admit it. Bite me.

Book Me!

2008-06-27T11:35:00.007-04:00

Suggestion by fritz.

I’m an avid reader… who doesn’t read that much.

That’s the fantasy as compared to the reality.

I love books… always have. I just don’t actually sit down and do a lot of reading. Maybe the more accurate term for me would be “book lover”… because the words don’t actually imply the act of reading.

Yeah, I like that. That’s what I’ll go with:

I’m a book lover.

You know that silly crap they spew about books being “doorways to another world” and other magical metaphoric terms? Yeah… I buy into that 100%. To me, that’s not crap.

It is one of my long-term dreams to have a library in my house… and not just a small room to keep my books on a couple of makeshift shelves. I’m talking a full-on, two-story LIBRARY… with high shelves in which you need to climb a rolling ladder that’s permanently attached… with a balcony section with even more shelves up there, all filled to the brim with books.

And hardcover… lots of hardcover books. Sure, there’s no difference in content between the hardcover versions and paperback copies… but having a hardcover version just seems… I don’t know… more permanent… longer-lasting than a softcover. If I find a book series I really like… I’ll try to find it in hardcover. That’s what I did with Lord of the Rings… I wanted a really nice, classy, hardcover set that didn’t have pictures or references to the movies on them (even though I love the movies, I always find it cheesy to have “now a major motion picture” permanently printed on it). I even got the hardcover, complete collection of Calvin & Hobbes… even though it probably would have been cheaper to get the few remaining paperback collections I was missing. Hardcover is just… better. That’s why I like it when I find the inexpensive copies of old stories… like a collection of H.G. Wells stories, Thoreau’s Walden, or short-story collections. I even have nice little hardcover versions of the 2 original Winnie-the-Pooh books. Opening a solid cover, as opposed to a paper one, really feels more like “opening a door to another world” (I told you I buy into that 100%).

Too bad I acquire more books than I actually get around to reading…

The earliest book I remember reading and loving was The Little Bear books. There were only three of them (that I remember)… and one of them had him flying to the moon, another had him having a birthday party with his other little animal friends (because… well, he was a bear. A little one.), but I don’t recall the plot of the third one. I remember about 7 years ago, I was walking through a bookstore (as I was often want to do) and saw The Collected Little Bear… which was ALL three of those original books, bound together, and it was even hardcover. It had the one where he went to the moon… the one with his birthday party… and I still can’t recall the third one. *shrug* Needless to say, I made the impulse buy right then and there… because that’s one of those books that I wanted to definitely have for MY kids one day (when and if I should have them). Now I do (somewhere… I just have to remember where I stored it).

I remember doing a lot of reading in Middle School… probably because I wasn’t doing too much else, social-wise. That was the time I discovered John Bellairs… who I would probably consider to be one of my all-time favorite authors, solely because I enjoyed his books so much at that age. He wrote in the “Junior Readers” category… so you’d most likely find his books in the kids section… but they were SPOOKY. I’m talking these things had atmosphere to spare… creepy old houses, cobwebs, dark corridors, secret passages, old dormant mysteries, scary figures lurking about… if those books were written and reviewed today, I don’t think they’d have been put in the kid’s section… (but only because people are too damned sensitive these days.) The first book of his I ever picked up was A Figure in the Shadows, which was actually the second book in a trilogy that featured the same characters. I used it for a book report… and I thought it was absolutely fantastic! I went and found the other books… The House With a Clock in Its Walls, and The Letter, The Witch and the Ring… and enjoyed them just as much. Then I collected the Anthony Monday mysteries, and the Johnny Dixon mysteries… all characters of John Bellairs, and all had that same style of atmosphere. Even after I reached adulthood (an arguable statement, I know), I went back and re-read a couple of them… and they’re STILL really good. I say… F the “kid horror” writers like R.L. Stine and his ilk… they’re gross-out hacks that churn out bad plots for a quick buck… doesn’t impress me. You want to hit me with a good spooky story? Look to Bellairs… who rarely had blood… no gross-out scenes… just solid mystery and tension with well-written characters… in a kid’s book.

Plus… the guy’s from New England. Yep… he’s a local boy. Or was… he died in 1991. I was sorry to hear his passing… as I credit him with getting me into the Gothic Mystery genre… and even horror in general.

Come to think of it, he was probably the only “horror” writer I liked… I couldn’t find any others I considered memorable. The only other horror books I liked were short story collections like Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (and its sequels More… and Even More…) and The Thing at the Foot of the Bed and other stories. Something about the “extreme” scary stories (that add in more gross-out and visceral ideas) that makes it fit into the short story form so much better in my eyes. They’re short, sweet… quick and to the point, not wasting any time… like getting to the punchline in a joke. Probably because I love the idea of “telling scary stories around a campfire”… and if you try to tell a Stephen-King-length novel in that situation… you’d get a Boy-Scout-style-Lynching. (Which I think involves being tied up with very complex knots and whittling) Edgar Allen Poe wrote mostly short stories… and pioneered the whole horror genre that way. Even the Bellairs books… are very quick reads, all things considered. Sure, there’s always the examples like Dracula (which I did my Senior Year Book Report on in High School… and covered the title page in fake blood) and Frankenstein…(who have both earned their pedigrees for a reason) and plenty of others. But I would consider those “exceptions”… because I think it takes considerable skill to write a horror story that big and still remain interesting. (And no… I’m personally not that crazy about Stephen King… his best works are short stories and novellas.) At best… most horror novels, especially the ones of today… elicit a “that wasn’t too bad” from me. But again, there are always exceptions.

So, in my youth, with the quality of literary horror lacking (movies were a much different story… and my standards were lower for those), I had to move to other genres. Back then, I did a lot of literal “judging a book by its cover”. Look at the cover illustration, read the blurb on the back... am I still interested? If I was… I checked it out of the school library. I remember finding one book that way… but I can’t remember the name of it for the life of me. It was about a kid inventor… who got his hands on a time machine and went looking for his adult friend who looked like a cartoon version of Ted Nugent. He went back to Camelot and cured the king with aspirin and even traveled to a future utopia/dystopia where he finally found his hippie friend. I think it had a long title… like “The adventures of (so-and-so) and his amazing (thing-a-ma-bobber)” But that’s all I remember. I want to re-locate it… pretty much solely out of nostalgic curiosity.

Another book I’ve been keeping an eye out for is a telling of the Hercules tale from Greek Mythology… this particular one had a head-on picture of Hercules on the cover, while wearing the pelt of the Nemean Lion… the full head of the lion being the headpiece of his armor. Seriously… it looked really badass. And the version was well-told and kept my interest (well… to the 12-year-old Me)… and went all the way from his birth to his death. Me want. Still.

Anyhoo…

When I hit high school… I still kept my technique of finding books to read… and now I was doing it in a bigger library. I then found the book that probably kick started my love of the “pulp adventure” genre (in the books, that is… of course I loved Indiana Jones and all those kinds of high-adventure movies set in the 1930s)… it was a more modern book written in that style… a series called Agent 13: The Midnight Avenger. Book 1 was The Brotherhood of Evil… it looked neat, it looked scary, it looked exciting, it looked like I was checking it out of the library. I read it. I loved it. It was just a fun, exciting read with international espionage, action and lots and lots of teenage-geek-style coolness. After that, I immediately checked out and read the sequel… The Serpentine Assassin. Again… it was great! Just as good as the first! I then went to get the third book, The Acolytes of Darkness… and they didn’t have it. I tried looking elsewhere… to some bookstores… but they didn’t have them either. In fact, all the bookstores didn’t even have the first two books… that school library was the ONLY place that I could find, in which those two Agent 13 books actually existed in reality. (It was kind of a frustrating search) Even after I got out of High School… I searched in vain for these books… especially because now I couldn’t check them out of the school library anymore, and I wanted to own them for myself. Nope… they were no where to be found.

Fast-forward to years later… when I first head out to California for Grad School… it’s actually the week I flew out there in advance to find a place to live and scope out this school I was about to attend, but had never seen before. There was this big 2-story used bookstore right on the edge of the downtown area… definitely the biggest and most well-stocked used bookstore I’ve ever seen (before or since), and right across from a really nice little old-style movie theater. The very first time I stepped in there to check it out, I look straight ahead where they had a huge rack of sci-fi/adventure paperback books… and I hadn’t been in that store for more than 5 seconds when my eyes drifted downward slightly… and I saw a copy of Agent 13: The Midnight Avenger – The Brotherhood of Evil. Out of sheer instinct I grabbed it, before ANYONE else could! (Even though there was no one else in the store) I opened the front flap to see how much they were asking for it: 2 dollars.

I walked out of there owning that book, needless to say. After years of search, I had the first book in my possession. I eventually even acquired the second book… through an online seller. Had to pay a little more, plus shipping… but it was still less than 10 bucks, and it was in good condition as well. And imagine my glee when I FINALLY located a copy of Acolytes of Darkness! It was printed along with another spy-thriller called Web of Danger (which I still haven’t read)… I now had all three! I re-read the first one… it was still fun! Re-read the second one… it was still great! I then, for the first time, got to read the conclusion to the whole story & series… and it blew.

Wow… probably one of the biggest disappointments I ever read. They took away the cool gritty exciting espionage action… and replaced it with lamely thought-out supernatural half-assed sequences that made no sense in the context of the previous stories. *shrug* Oh well… I still have the first two… and I just look at the ending of the second to be a cool cliffhanger that will never be resolved… which is all the more exciting for it. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

As you can probably see… my “leisure-time-reading” was solely about my own personal entertainment, not so much about expanding my own mind with the “classics” and examples of great, intelligent literature. The closest I came was reading Dracula for that book report… and that’s one I really WANTED to read, and just wanted an excuse to do so.

Whenever I did hit the “classics”… well, it was for a class. Frankly, when you HAVE to read something… you don’t really want to. They weren’t all bad… Freshman year I got to read Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World… which I liked, because how often did I get to read science fiction in school? And I remember Camus’ The Stranger being pretty interesting (Senior Year)… but most of the others, not so much. Junior year especially… the year you focus on “American Literature” solely… I actually HATED every single book we had to read. Though, I actually blame my teacher for that. He just made everything seem so mind-numbingly boring. He was this pretentious a-hole that thought everyone was stupid (and if he didn’t think that… he sure acted like it), and was overly-tough on his classes. (Now, I have no problem with tough teachers… I’ve had plenty… but they were fair… and interesting, which is why I did well in those classes. This guy was ONLY tough… and neither fair nor interesting) The first book he made me utterly hate was The Scarlett Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne.

That’s a book I will NEVER give another shot to, I hated it so much. When I discovered that Hawthorne actually died in the town I went to college, it actually made me happy. Whenever I walked by his memorial plaque in the park, I gave it the finger. Granted, the hatred was more of a result of this teacher’s work then Hawthorne’s. When explaining why he took five pages to describe what a garden looked like that was sitting outside of someone’s house, the teacher would talk about how brilliant Hawthorne was, and how poetic his prose was, and how it paints such a detailed picture, blah blah blah. (When in actuality, the reason for the overly-long descriptions? Authors back then were paid by the word. The longer the book, the more money you made, and they all had house payments to make.)

The other books I was made to hate? The Great Gatsby, The Adventures of Huck Finn and The Catcher in the Rye. Now… years after I got out of high school… I decided to give The Catcher in the Rye another chance… mainly because I started hearing that it was tied into so many conspiracy theories. (Jack Ruby and Lee Harvey Oswald both supposedly had it in their pockets during their respective killings… so did Mark David Chapman, John Hinkley Jr., etc) Whether it was true or not, I don’t know… but it intrigued me enough to try and see what the fuss was about. I still don’t know the fuss… but I did enjoy the book a LOT more when reading it on my own time… and I don’t think it had to do with my maturity level now as opposed to then. To try and describe the book to someone… it wouldn’t sound interesting. But actually reading it… I thought it was well-done, and it actually kept my interest.

I’ve started Huck Finn a couple of times… but always got distracted with life before I got too far, and ended up putting it down for so long, that I would have to start over. Maybe I’ll have to give The Great Gatsby another try sometime. Maybe I’d like it. Just *that* teacher made it unbearable.

Fortunately, I had other teachers that were better at it. Hell, it was my Graduate Advisor that insisted I get into the Harry Potter series. I resisted for awhile… mainly because it was “popular”… but when I finally did, I was completely hooked. Sure, Potter lives… but Longbottom kicks ass! Boo-ya!

(I could probably do a whole geek blog on Harry Potter alone.)

These days… I still try to read every now and then... and my tastes have opened up more. I actually find pleasure in reading non-fiction books these days (the subjects I’m interested in, obviously)… and I’ve been trying to get to books and series that are modern “classics”, but I just never got around to reading before. I started reading the original James Bond books by Ian Fleming… I’m on the third one, Moonraker (though I haven’t picked it up in a while). And I was very happy to see that they were re-publishing some of the old The Shadow pulp stories that came out in the 1930s (Since really discovering him in the early 90s, he’s become one of my absolute favorite characters of all time), so I’ve been collecting some of them when I can. Plus, as I am a proud geek, they still occasionally publish new Doctor Who books (featuring the older versions of the character… taking place in between the episodes of the old series) that I occasionally indulge in.

Maybe its just pure escapism… I’m okay with it. I just love the feeling of buying a new book… and I frequent book stores as often as I can. With the bigger stores, I tend to browse around the Bargain section a lot… if there’s a specific book I want… I’ll usually order it cheaper online. But I like digging through and taking chances on books in the hopes that I’ll find a really neat treasure somewhere in there… a great story, or an interesting subject… or maybe just an outdated horoscope (if it looks funny enough).

Because I think there are perfectly acceptable times to judge a book by its cover.

Literally, that is.

Sexual HISassment

2008-06-20T10:03:00.006-04:00

That was what a friend of mine in college called it. Her reasoning was that “if a guy ever tried it with me… that’s what I’d get. His ASS!”

She was also the only woman, nay, the only PERSON that, during a Strike (the one-night takedown of an entire set at the end of a show), grabbed the chainsaw (before I could) and yelled out, “Where do I start??” Ah, a woman with a penchant for power tools and destruction… So, *I* thought she was the cat’s meow.

Her description of it, to me, actually seems to be a lot more accurate. At least, it’s a lot more accurate as to what would happen to ME if I were caught up in it. Then again, I’m one paranoid sucker.

Suffice to say, I’m more or less terrified at the idea of being accused of Sexual Harassment. (And I don’t throw around the word “terrify” lightly) Years ago, when I was first entering the workforce during high school with a job washing dishes… I assumed that it’s probably something that never would have to worry me, because I was a respectful guy. I assumed “Sexual Harrassment” invariably involved ass-grabbing and very blunt, straightforward orders to remove clothing and perform… *ahem*… “non-work functions” while on the clock. And seeing as how I flat-out knew that women were not objects, but rather belonged to the same sentient and intelligent species category that *I* did… what did I have to worry about? I’m polite and cordial to everyone… and since I’m not a touchy-feely person, I won’t have to worry about people claiming I molest them. As for the female co-workers I was attracted to? Well, I knew I was too chicken to do anything, so how can anyone complain about advances I’m not making? To me, it’s always been “Look, but don’t touch” when it comes to women in the workplace.

Now, thankfully, I’ve never been accused of Sexual Harassment, or even reprimanded for it. But what I *did* do… was read about it. I’m not talking about just the examples given by Human Resources whenever I had to take the “mandatory sexual harassment workshop” (isn’t there a better title? It almost sounds like they’re going to show you how to do it… and that’s not the kind of job training I expect). Those workshops really only give you the obvious clear-cut scenarios, where there is NO doubt in anyone’s mind that “yes, what that guy is doing is sexist, an abuse of power, inappropriate, wrong, and 100% no-ifs-and-or-buts-about-it Sex-U-All Harassment!”

They DON’T tell you about the examples from the ugly gray area… the cases that sound flat-out shady and miscarriages of the system. The cases that to any logical individual aren’t actually sexual harassment… but are called, tried, and convicted as such. These are some of the cases I read about… the ones that got me REAL paranoid.

Like a guy who simply came up behind a colleague and tapped her on the shoulder with one finger just to get her attention. No, the colleague had no problem with it. It was the THIRD person… another woman who was *watching*, and suddenly ran to HR saying, “He was feeling for her bra strap! Sexual Harrassment!” The guy lost his job… and somehow the complainer got money out of it.

Or the woman that brought a lawsuit against her company for Sexual Harassment because… everyone in the office was hooking up and getting into relationships with each other and… wait for it… she WAS LEFT OUT!!! Yes, NOTHING happened to her… and THAT’S why she was complaining! And… she… *won*. A very large settlement.

Or the example I heard not too long ago on a morning radio show… A woman went to a male co-worker, because she discovered that he “found something funny”, and when she asked him about it, he refused to tell her… because he flat-out said it was raunchy and inappropriate. She pressed him, asking for the internet link. He still refused. She insisted, and kept insisting that she really wanted to see it. So, eventually he relented, and by her permission and emphatic request… he sent her the link. Two days later, he was called into HR, because that same woman then complained, and called Sexual Harassment. The company, wanting to avoid any and all trouble whatsoever… fired the guy, on what they admitted was very flimsy grounds for Sexual Harassment.

What- The- F---K???

That’s when I realized exactly what Sexual Harassment is. And every time I had to go to another mandatory Sexual Harassment Workshop, I expressed this out loud. Because invariably, the whole thing would start off with a manager or some outside “consultant” (brought in specially for this “training”) asking the very simple question:

“So, what *is* Sexual Harassment?”

It’s a standard technique in seminars (Hell, *I’ve* even used it). I don’t know, maybe it makes the speaker seem smart for “stating it so simply”. But they’ll go around the room and get everyone’s “answer/opinion”… and then poke holes in everyone’s answer, all in a set-up to simply get to THEIR definition, stated in a “nice, convenient, accurate wording” which is, in reality, the language of “Legalese”. People will talk back and forth, spouting something about “Well, what about *this*? Or how about *this situation*?”… and the speaker will be pleased because they initiated a “dialog” that goes on for an hour, but it doesn’t teach anyone anything new, yet everyone THINKS they learned something new, and walks out of the conference room saying, “Wow, that was enlightening”… without ever actually solving or changing anything.

My answer is quick, dirty, simple… and I don’t see how you can poke a hole in it, or ask a question that can’t be answered simply by repeating the exact wording. And it’s this:

Sexual Harassment is whatever the Accuser says it is.

It covers every “interpretation” point that is made when talking about “comfort” and an “appropriate work environment”… but I can tell that people don’t usually like me to state it like that… because it also encompasses a very ugly truth. This is the fact that Sexual Harassment has the capacity to be a Witch Hunt.

I’m sure we all know what a Witch Hunt is, right? For those that may not be sure: It’s looking for something that isn’t there, and finding it anyway.

The Salem Witch Trials in the 1600s… no one there was *actually* a Witch. It was just an excuse to get your neighbor’s land if they didn’t want to sell it to you cheap. They accuse you as a Witch, and that’s your death sentence… and you have no defense.

The McCarthy Communist Hearings of the 1950s… Hundreds of people blacklisted because someone named them “Communist” (accurately or not), and even though they were on a public “trial”… again, the accusation IS the sentence, with no due process and no defense.

Sexual Harassment has that ability. No guy wants to hear those words, because no matter what the facts are, chances are he’s losing his job (at the very least). Even if there IS direct evidence showing his innocence… he’s already been put through the ringer so much that he *couldn’t* stay there, even if he wanted to.

Higher-ups will admit, “yes, it can unfortunately be that way… that’s why WE thoroughly investigate the validity of each to fairly assess each situation and find the truth!” Sounds great… that’s what *should* be happening… but that takes a lot of time… and when the Accuser is on the horn to their lawyer, who is in turn pushing that paperwork through as fast as possible… well, the pressure starts coming down faster than a penny off the Empire State… and if something isn’t resolved *fast*, then the consequences just start piling up. Too often, the word comes down from on High saying, “make this go away”. The easiest way to do that? Eliminate the source of the apparent “problem”.

Now, I’m definitely not saying that ALL Sexual Harassment suits are attempts to cruelly ruin someone’s life for no reason, or looking for a big payout. Nor am I suggesting that all Accusers don’t FEEL threatened and harassed… which is the biggest legal snag. (How can you argue feelings? You can’t. That’s why they pretty much HAVE to side with the Accuser.) I’d like to think the vast majority of reports are legitimate and honest. (But not in the sense that I like to hear about people being accosted.)

Every angle of the whole issue is just so muddy and foggy, 100 times more than it’s even made out to be. Even if your company is incredibly strict on it… they’re still underestimating all the ramifications. And yes, I know it is fully possible for Men to be Sexually Harassed by Women. Now, pretty much my only example of that is an episode of Three’s Company, where Jack Tripper (John Ritter) was working at a restaurant, and his female boss kept grabbing his butt. (There was a movie with Demi Moore and Michael Douglas about that too… but I never saw it.) But I think, deep down… with everyone “knowing how guys are”… people probably don’t take that as seriously as they should.

Sure, I’ve heard the statistics that say how a lot of people end up dating and marrying people they work with… but what about the instances when it doesn’t work out? If there’s a bad breakup… and then you have to still see that person every day? (I know I’m, at the very least, uncomfortable being the same area as an Ex.) Oooch, that’s just a recipe for bad karma, right there.

That’s why I do my best to remain Asexual when it comes to women I work with. I so blatantly keep my eyes above chest level, most people think I’m fascinated by the ceiling tiles. Yet, despite all my efforts, sometimes just the circumstance of owning a penis tends to throw it all out the window.

I used to work at a women’s clothing catalog… Now, it wasn’t the first or last time I’d been outnumbered at a job, gender-wise… but definitely the one where I had the greatest odds against me. Including myself, I think there were 5 guys in that office, compared to 150 women. Two of those guys were corporate, and were locked inside their office all day. So that left 3 male cubicle-jockeys in the joint to sell women’s clothing alongside the legion of actual target customer demographic. (Oddly enough… I was actually good at selling clothing to women I’d never seen.) Some guys would consider that “heaven on earth”… not me. Eyes on my computer, ears on my phone system, and just do my job. Last thing I need is to give a reason to be lynched by a score of scorned women.

Still… it didn’t stop many women there from believing that I *was* there with the intention of feeding my libido. I actually got several dirty looks from women that believed that just because I was walking past them and said “hi” when they looked at me… figured that meant I obviously wanted to do the horizontal hokey-pokey with them. There was one that was actively telling people that I “had a thing” for her, and she was annoyed at me for it. When a friend of mine told me this, (one of the few really cool gals I met… who was in a relationship, so off-limits) and asked if it was true, I said:

“Who?”

Yeah, methinks she was only seeing what she wanted to see. To the point of complete self-delusion.

Hell, I might have had a case MYSELF… I was having an uncomfortable work experience because I was being judged on my gender. Hell… I could have paid off college years ago!

Anyway, with the next job I had… I decided to try something. This was when I went off to Grad School, and ended up going back to my roots… washing dishes. When I started there, I made the resolution to not let ANYONE know what my sexuality was.

Granted, it’s not one of the first things that come up in conversation… but I’ve been thought to be Gay before, and that’s from no effort on my part. So maybe I actually get that to work *for* me this time around. (There was always the extremes… either I’m Gay, or a disgusting chauvinistic pig. Apparently no room for the “nice guy” category that I’ve always tried for) With a little effort, I got pretty good at being very cryptic and ambiguous with the things I said, especially when asked questions of a love/dating nature, or that were just plain risqué. (When working in restaurants, those subjects come up on pretty much an hourly basis. Its how we got through the day.) One day, one of the waitresses was flat-out asking me if I “liked” any of the other waitresses, and was mentioning each individually by name. My answer for each one: “She’s not my type.”

It worked! I was avoiding that attitude of “He’s straight and has a penis, so he must *obviously* want me”… and having a pleasant time at work, and not getting the standoffish treatments from the single gals. Yes, no one should really care about that gay/straight kind of thing… but it’s often entertaining to see how many people DO care. Even the ones that say they don’t.

And when the day came that a young lady I was dating came in to see me… and after talking with her briefly, we kissed goodbye… the look of utter shock on everyone’s faces was absolutely priceless. I just stopped, turned my head, and said, “Yes, I’m straight”… then continued on. I could hear my boss say, “I was *wondering*…”

(Not only a neat social experiment… but a fun way to screw with people. I highly recommend it, if you have the opportunity.)

One of my first Temp jobs when I got back to New England was for a company down in Massachusetts. And my cubicle was smack next to the resident “hot chick”. Pretty face, blonde hair, tanned skin, yadda yadda… all the stuff that appeals to the superficial guy. My total conversational time with her over the 6 months I was there, totaled to a 15 second conversation by the vending machine one morning. That’s it. Frankly, I just didn’t give a crap.

I swear, on almost a daily basis, guys twice her age would be flirting with her. They just “happen” to swing by to “see how you’re doing? How was your night last night? Do you work out? If you ever need anything, let me know… etc” Funny how they never seem to swing by MY cubicle to say that… or anyone else’s, really. To her credit… I think I detected some annoyance in her voice on some of these numerous occasions.

One morning, she came in… and had just locked her keys in her car. Simple mistake… I’ve done it a bunch of times myself. But she has sometime in the next 8 hours to find a solution… locksmith, AAA, ask a favor whatever. She doesn’t actually ask for help, but does try to think of what she’ll do. Then… I see FIVE guys… count them, FIVE… *immediately* jump up to run out to the parking lot to get her keys out. Two of them grab coat hangers, another says he has a slim jim in his car… and I don’t even know why the other two went out. I was almost crushed underneath the shockwave of testosterone. 20 minutes later... (for a 5 minute job… methinks it did not go smoothly) all five come strutting in declaring satisfied success in a manly way.

Wow… it was F’n pathetic.

The young accountant in the corner cubicle pushing 300 lbs probably wouldn’t have gotten that level of attention. I’m just saying…

That’s walking a very iffy line. If she ever thought for a bit, and decided that she didn’t want so much attention… she would probably have a case.

Honestly… I wish I had some kind of conclusion to come to here. But the rules of the issue change back and forth, differ from place to place, person to person and situation to situation so often… it all really does is just support my earlier summation.

Sexual Harassment is whatever the Accuser says it is.

At the very least… it’s worth repeating.

So, thank you… to the over-sensitive accusers, and the under-sensitive perpetrators… for making me so freaking paranoid I barely leave my cubicle, because everyone will think I’m looking at their cans.

I hate you all.

(Besides, I’m more of a Leg-and-Butt Man. *grin*)