Resolution for New Year: No More “Mr. Nice”

I’ve made a New Year’s Resolution for 2013:  I will no longer try to be “Nice”.

Now, I’ve spent my entire life actively trying to be nice.  Honestly… I don’t even know why.  I look at how I was raised, and the schools I went to… and I have no clue where I even got the inspiration to want to be nice in the first place.  Sure, we always “heard” that we had to “be nice”, but the actions I witnessed always seemed to tell the exact opposite.  Any small courtesy I tried to show people wasn’t usually returned with the same.  Usually… it just became an advertisement of being a target for bullies. (I honestly cringe at the thought of what would have happened if there was Facebook around when I was in High School.)  My four years of High School… I don’t know if there was anything that “being nice” got me, except embarrassment, pain and rejection.  Why didn’t I change?

The only thing I can think of is that the trifecta of The Muppets, Fraggle Rock, and Charlie Brown must have had an overly-profound impact on me.  You may be laughing, but I’d say there’s a 94% chance that’s a non-exaggerated truth.

In The Muppet Show, I saw characters who were always trying… and usually failing.  Gonzo with his acts of insanity artistic genius, but never fully working being appreciated.  Fozzie with his horrible jokes, and constantly being heckled and insulted by those two old A-holes Statler and Waldorf (Yes, they’re lovable coots… but they were still A-holes).  Miss Piggy, with her grand diva-ness, making a grand entrance… and suddenly grandly tripping down the stairs.  Kermit trying to keep everything together and running smoothly… and it inevitably gets out of hand and becomes a disaster.  But amidst it all, they were silly, they had fun, and were always there for each other, trying to make a great show.  In that backstage world… No one hated each other, no one was overly cruel… and if they accidentally were mean, they apologized sincerely, and with meaningful gestures (usually a sweet song).

Fraggle Rock was even more so.  All of the Fraggles were nice to each other… that was simply “their way”.  They got mad, frustrated, and all of that… but they were always there for each other and treated everyone well.  Even if they were afraid of them… even if they had every reason to hate something, should that something be in trouble, they would still help.  Not wanting anything in return… doing it because they loved to help and liked being nice.  That’s a beautiful thing.

(It’s not a coincidence that both are Jim Henson projects.  I feel strongly similar about all of his projects, and am an eternal fan.)

With Charlie Brown, I felt like I found a kindred spirit.  He always fails, but more importantly, he keeps trying.  No matter how much he’s bullied and berated by the others… he’s always nice and courteous to them.  He did no wrong by anyone, yet they called him Wishy-Washy for it, and adults gave him rocks on Halloween for it.  (Seriously… who the bloody hell would give a child ROCKS on Halloween?  What kind of a sociopathic neighborhood did he live in?)  Come to think of it… maybe Charlie Brown is the opposite argument for those very reasons.  “If you be nice to everyone, they’ll make your life miserable.”  Somehow, I got the “be nice” message.

Yet, it still never paid off.  When the other kids see my Charlie-Brown like actions, they’d ask, “Why do you do that stuff?”  I say, “Just trying to be nice.”  Then, it was inevitably met with “Nice Guys Finish Last.”

Those words have been drilled into me time and time again.  And I *know* it rings true all too often.  I’ve seen it, experienced it, and been consistently frustrated by it.  But the weird thing is… I was okay with it.

Having been on the receiving end of people being A-holes, I’ve told myself several times, “I do not ever want to make someone else feel this way.”  Because I knew how horrible it was, and I could never think of intentionally inflicting that onto another.  I was never one to feel better with the role-reversal or revenge.  Maybe its empathy, maybe its guilt, I don’t know.

But being nice… DID make me feel good.  I know, its cliché, and seems like something in a badly-written kindergarten after-school special.  But I genuinely felt some warm fuzzies by performing an act of niceness.  It wasn’t because “Jeebus told me to”, or because “Karma will pay me back later”, and especially not because “This person can benefit me later.”  All of those… I don’t think are very good reasons.  If Jeebus told you to do something… It doesn’t sound like you could be trusted to do it on your own.  If you think Karma will pay you back… that seems a bit like a selfish reason.  You’re only doing something because you think you’ll be benefited later.  If you didn’t believe in Karma, would the other person be crap-outta-luck?  That’s doubly so with the last one… you’re expecting to benefit later, but just admitting it up front.

Well, I’m not religious in any way… and I don’t believe in Karma, either.  I always thought that the niceness wasn’t a means to an end… it was an end itself.  Because of that, I even attested that my niceness was, technically, selfish.  I like feeling good… being nice makes me feel good.  So to feel good, I’m nice.  With Karma, it’s an extra step.  “I’m doing something nice, so later something nice will be done to me… and I’ll feel good.”  My way was more efficient, frankly.

So I did all the “little things”.  Giving up my seat on a train or bus for someone else.  (The elderly, a pregnant woman, even a non-pregnant woman, or someone that just looked too dang tired), opening doors for others, picking things up for people that they’ve dropped… and I just called those things “Common Courtesy”.  Little things that everyone should be doing, and cost next-to-no effort.

Then, I looked out for the bigger things… the things that you have to go legitimately “out-of-your-way” to do.  The things people ask you to do… walk them home, run an errand for them, help move, etc.  Chances are, if you’re asking me to do something like that, we’re friends… and I would do absolutely anything for my friends.  But I’ve been asked of things like that by people who weren’t really “friends”… but I did it anyway.  Why?  Honestly… because they needed it.  The pleasure I got from being “nice” was actually secondary.  I was no longer thinking “this will make me feel good”… but rather, “They need help?  I’m there.”  My own convenience and pleasure became an afterthought.  (That’s partly why I think I’ve got a bit of a “superhero complex”.)

Now, I’ve still made all the cliché complaints:  “Women don’t want a nice guy, they only want the A-holes.”  “Oh, no… I’ve been friendzoned!”, “Everyone says they want a guy like me, but they don’t want *me*!”, and of course, “Why do they complain there are no nice guys, when I’m right here!” 

I admit, these are just statements of frustration about my horrible luck.  Ultimately, if a woman doesn’t want to go out with me… then she doesn’t have to.  That’s her choice, not a pattern of abused thinking.  (Granted, I wish some of them would *tell* me that instead of just not returning my phone calls… but I digress.)  I’ve never been able to get actually angry about it… only sad.  (The one type of Love I know the most about is the Unrequited kind.)  Because I know it really is “Luck”… and with my introverted personality, it can be a touch more difficult to really connect with someone in a romantic way early on.  So, I lick my wounds, feel bad for myself, question my masculinity, spout a few of the cliché complaints to let off steam, and in about a week or so, I’m back to normal, giggling incessantly at The Muppet Show. (You have your rejection-recovery system… I have mine.)

(By the way… a word about the “friendzone”:  No, it’s not inherently a “bad thing” to be “just a friend”.  But keep in mind, if we meet, have a date, and you decide you just want to be friends… that is basically starting a friendship on a rejection.  And as I am someone who is *extremely* careful about the friendships I do cultivate, that’s not exactly a comfortable way to start, especially if I was getting my hopes up.  Please realize that’s probably not going to happen.  Nobody’s fault… it just happens that way.  If we’re already friends for a good period beforehand, try it, and it doesn’t work… then maintaining the friendship afterwards is easier… I just need a little time to lick my wounds, feel bad, question my blah blah, etc.  Okay?)

Through all the (numerous) rejections in my time, I’ve still tried to maintain the “nice” part of me.  But you know… I never really liked saying the word.  Something about declaring myself as a “nice guy” always felt a little fake. I’ve done it on occasion, but it never sat right in my craw.  It’s a bit like a knighthood… you can’t declare yourself a knight and put “Sir” in front of your name.  Someone else has to call you that.

Yet at the same time… I got a little competitive over it.  I figured, “if I was going to be rejected over being “Nice” (socially and romantically), so be it… that’s who I am, reality be darned.”  So, I buckled in and wanted to embrace it.  But then I start hearing murmurings of some other guy… another “nice” guy.  Women that I had crushes on gave him high recognition as a “nice guy”, talked glowingly about him… and then say the dreaded sentence:  “He’s the nicest guy in the world!”

That… has always been a red flag to me.  I admit… there’s a good chance it’s jealousy.  But when I’ve gone out of my way, throughout my whole life, to try and be “nice”, and always do the right thing… hearing of someone that has apparently beaten me at the “Nice Guy Olympics” (Because that statement is an absolute… there can’t be 2 “nicest guy” winners) is… well, a bit jarring.  Especially, if he is seemingly being celebrated for that which I was always rejected for.  Now, sure… the statement was maybe a bit of hyperbole, and I don’t know if anyone was saying that about me to other people.  But for probably the only time in my life… I actually felt competitive about this.  If I finally got to meet this mystery “nice guy”, it was always with a very critical eye.  Most of the time I came up with the conclusion, “He’s not that nice.”  Oftentimes… I thought they were A-holes.  Maybe a couple of those were unfounded, and spurned by jealousy… but mostly, I would see genuine evidence of A-holishosity (Yes, that’s a word.  Now.).  It actually drove me a little nuts to think that THIS individual is seen as “nicer” than me.

A friend of mine in Grad School once told me of a survey he read about something like this.  (I don’t know the source, so as far as I know, this is not much better than anecdotal, but anyway…)  Some sociology class set-up an experiment.  They brought in people to give responses, and had them meet up to 4 different kinds of people.  The first was someone who was nice and pleasant for the entire interaction.  Second was someone who was a Jerk for the entire interaction.  Third was someone who started off as a Jerk, but then became nice during the interaction.  And finally, was someone who started off as Nice, but then became a jerk.

According to the findings of this survey… they found that the individuals who started off as a jerk, and became nice were perceived as then being MORE nice than the people who were nice the whole time.  Likewise, those who started off as nice and became a Jerk, were then seen as a BIGGER Jerk than the Jerk who was a Jerk the whole time.  That concept blew my mind.  It was the first time I actually said to myself, “Have I *really* been doing it wrong this whole time?  Is that why Assholes are seen as Nice people?”  What the hell????

Now, believe me… I see the irony here.  The very fact of getting jealous and a raised ire do not seem to be traits of a “Legitimate Nice-Guy”.  Well, guess what?

Niceness is not a benchmark of Perfection.

I have always tried to be nice, but I also try to be aware of my mistakes and flaws.  In no way have I tried to be perfect.  There are a couple of times; I’ve been the one to do the rejecting.  I’ve neglected to follow-up on what could have been a good thing with someone, and in doing so, did not show the respect to that someone who should have received it.  I’ve had a few times where I willingly let my ego get in the way.  I’ve said mean things that I haven’t regretted, and I’ve even had to purposefully turn on the “A-hole” switch a couple times in life.  (I never liked doing it… and I hated myself afterwards, but at the time, I determined it had to be done.)  I know I can’t please everybody all the time, and on rare occasions, you need to make people hate you.

Maybe that will be easier now.

And maybe you’re saying, “Wait, if you genuinely enjoyed the experience of helping people, of being courteous and all that… why stop being Nice?”

Hey, I didn’t say I was planning to become an Asshole.  I don’t even *want* to change anything about my personality right now.  I’ve just been thinking a lot lately, and in my reflections, I’m seeing a none-to-pleasant trend:

The large majority of “Nice Guys” are total douchebags.

I don’t just mean the ones I had experience with in the past.  There’s a website on Tumblr called “Nice Guys of OkCupid”.  (It seems to be down as of this writing, but a quick Google search will pop up several articles and examples talking about it.)  It has their picture, the part on their profile where they talk about being a “Nice Guy”, and a selection of some of the “Match Questions” and their answers.  It’s the “Match Question” part where most of them reveal they are not exactly “nice”.  Rather, they are a bit misogynist, homophobic, racist or even a potential rapist.

One of the questions is a statement: “No means NO!”, and the answers to select from are degrees of agreement or disagreement.  So when some “Nice Guy” answers, “A No is just a Yes that needs a little encouragement”, suddenly the bile starts to rise in my throat.  Same happens when an inordinate number of them answer “Yes” to the question “Do you feel there are any circumstances in which a person is obligated to have sex with you?”

Now, I do take some solace in the fact, that my own answers to those questions have already been answered… and they are all widely different than these tools.  I guess I just took it for granted, thinking that it was shockingly obvious that no one ever “owes” me sex.  (I wouldn’t even want it if it’s only being offered out of obligation.  What fun is that?)

I realized… THESE are the people that share the label I’ve been trying for my whole life?  Seriously?  I got depressed, because technically, these guys are “my peers”.  No thank you.  Not anymore… I’m seceding.  I’m getting rid of the “Nice Guy” label.

First part to go… the “Guy” part.  I don’t know about you, but I feel like there’s a distinct difference between “Guy” and “Man”.  I think “Guy” implies something more of a college-aged mentality.  With bikini-calendars, and posters covering the walls.  Neither of which I’ve had since I was in Undergrad in the late 90s.  During calendar- shopping season, I’ve on occasion considered, “Maybe I’ll get one of those with the pretty ladies this year…” but quickly switch to, “Nah… I’m long over that.”  The prospect of a cool travel-themed one just seems more entertaining to me to look at every day.  (Besides, air-brushed models aren’t as attractive to me anymore.  Reality is sexier.)  As for posters… I don’t think I’ve had one on a wall since before my first apartment in California.  Any picture on my wall is in a frame.

“Man” sounds more mature, and that’s appealing.  Maybe it’s an “alpha” kind of idea… but growing up, I always thought about the “Man I want to be”, not “The Guy I’ll probably end up”.  And yes, even though I read comics, quote from The Muppets and Monty Python, and squee when I watch a new Doctor Who episode… I do try to think of myself as a somewhat mature(ish) “Man”.

So, it’s “Man” over “Guy”… and I certainly don’t want to be an asshole.  Therefore, instead of being a “Nice Man”… I think I’ll just try to be a Good one.

I like the term “Good Man”.  A Good Man implies having a sense of honor.  A Good Man may not always do the nice and pleasant thing… but will always try to do the “Right” thing.  Won’t always succeed… but will at least try.  (And the “Right” thing is rarely the Nice, Happy thing.)  That’s something I wouldn’t mind seeing on my tombstone.  “Here lies a Good Man.”

When I really think about it… maybe that’s what I’ve been shooting for all along.  Being “fair” has always been important to me; If I had a choice of being really nice to one person (which meant screwing over someone else), or being “fair” to both, with not particularly nice to either… I tended to go with “fair”.  I felt like that was the better long-term solution.  The times I’ve had to turn on the “Asshole Switch”… I did it because I was trying to be fair.

So that’s what I’m doing, trying to be the Man I want to be:  A Good Man.  Maybe I’m there already, but that’s not my call to make.  I hope I never stop striving for it.

Yes, this does mean that I’m not actually changing anything about my personality… I’m just changing the terminology I use.  Frankly, I think that’s a much easier New Year’s Resolution to make… and those are my favorite.

Nice guys may finish last… but a Good Man doesn’t need to make it a race.

Happy New Year, everyone!

The Great Property Purge of 2010

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.

Funemployment

(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”

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?”

Putting the Harm in eHarmony...

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

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.