Here we go...

This is just going to be a short little post.

I am probably going to be extremely scarce online the next few days. This weekend is going to be just plain crazy. Saturday my grandparents are coming up from Decatur and my aunt and uncle are coming down from Wisconsin. Unfortunately, my grandparents don't like driving if they think the weather is "bad" (read "any rain, snow, or wind above around 5 mph"), so I might end up having to drive down to Decatur at 7 or so in the morning to pick them up and bring them here. Then I would have to drive them back that evening.

Sunday, my aunt and uncle from Wisconsin are sticking around and my aunt and uncle from Farmer City are coming up. This means my house is going to be overrun with cousins all weekend. Luckily most of them are at least 12 or so now, so the craziness level might be subdued some.

Monday, I will be awoken by my brother at probably 5am or so and then get dragged downstairs to open presents. Luckily that means I will have my Wii from then on. . . so that is another reason for me to be offline.

I might get online some every night just to chat and check e-mails, but I probably won't be online during the day (like I have been) until Wednesday or Thursday.

Merry Christmas to all. . .

Tiny Tim: And God Bless Us, Everyone!

Me: How the hell did you get onto my blog?

Tiny Tim: Christmas miracle?

*George then proceeds to beat the most annoying Christmas character ever with his own crutch.*


MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!

Is this even a blog anymore? Or should I just go look for a Publisher?

Ok, before I get into the main body of this post I have to say something about my last post. . . DAMN! I really can be an ass when I feel like it. (and a little voice in my head says, “Yes. Embrace the hatred. Embrace the Dark Side”, or at least it does until I quash it.) I was in a very bad mood when I wrote that post, and it shows. I know I made at least one person mad (and she has already yelled at me about it), but at the time we were talking I didn’t really understand why she was so mad about it. Looking back and reading it now, I realize why. I may have made a few valid points in it, but I was a real jackass about it and didn’t fully explain myself. This whole thing brings to mind a quote:

“Speak when you are angry - and you'll make the best speech you'll ever regret.” – Dr. Laurence J. Peter

And oh boy is that quote ever right. Let me fully explain what I was meaning when I wrote that last post, because the way it looks now. . . well it just looks like I am decrying the whole idea of the “Apples” thing, and that is not what was meant by it.

When I first read the apples quote, my first thought was that it figured that women were pawning off all the blame on men. I am not saying that men are blameless. When looked at using generalities, the quote seems extremely valid and without straining myself I can name countless guys who indeed are exactly like the guys illustrated in the quote. I just don’t like the idea that women are held completely blameless in the whole idea. In the role of an apple, the woman has no say in the matters, and is held aloof. When using the apple to represent the woman, we take away any human actions or responsibilities. They are an inanimate object that is just hanging on a tree branch, while guys are the ones who have to make all the decisions and actions. I think perhaps a better metaphor needs to be found, but I can’t think of one at the moment (Oh, great. I can see another post coming).

The whole situation was further complicated earlier this evening when I was talking with my dad. I warn you now that I am going to compare apples and oranges (literally). I grabbed a couple of oranges out of the fridge and tossed him one and he asked me which drawer I got them out of. Apparently there are two different types of oranges in our fridge and he doesn’t like one of them. That got me to thinking. Maybe one of the problems that guys have is that they go after the wrong kind of apple. Maybe we are barking up the wrong tree. Perhaps we should be going after Granny Smith apples, but we have been going for Red Delicious. Hmmmm, more things to think on.

Now on to the original reason for this post.

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This part of the post will pertain to another conversation I have been having lately (Seems like half my posts are started this way nowadays). The last post inspired by a conversation was about communication between men and women, and I guess this post is somewhat similar in origin.

The main point of this post came from a question I asked a while back: “Why do women have a hard time believing and accepting it when I guy tells her she is beautiful?”

This question came up while we were talking about her insecurities, which I am not going to get into right now (all I am saying is that I still say she is wrong about them).

Her response to the question was thus:

“The reason we don't think we're beautiful is because society has told us since childhood that we're not. They say the only way we can be beautiful is if we buy these clothes, wear this makeup, and worship these airbrushed celebrities.”

I know that arguing against that kind of thing is like bashing my head against a brick wall, but what can I say, I am an argument masochist. So I tried. I made comments about how, while mass beauty is labeled by society, individuals are eventually the ones responsible for their views on beauty. None of it worked though. Eventually I just gave up on that side of the argument for the moment. Instead I turned to trying to find how a guy can be believed when he is trying to say something of that sort and was given the following response:

"So if a guy wants to tell a girl she's beautiful, he shouldn't start by saying that she is beautiful. That's a very daunting statement. He should start smaller. He should say that she has beautiful eyes, or something. She'll believe it if he compliments a specific feature. Then he can gradually start to go larger and larger until she's comfortable hearing that her complete package is beautiful."

Once again, I knew that trying to argue about this would be the equivalent of banging my head on a brick wall, but I continued. . . to no avail. Eventually I got bored of running in circles (there was a circular brick wall I was running around to keep the head banging up) and decided to post the comments on a Facebook group to get some feedback.

There was a general consensus on the Facebook group that:

A. Women are (generally) insecure and because they see their flaws they don’t understand how others can think they are beautiful because of the flaws.

B. Because there are a lot of guys who will say things like “You are beautiful” as a way to get into girls’ pants, it is hard for a woman to just accept it (unless she knows the guy well enough to trust that his motivation is pure, in which case she should accept it).

C. No matter how often she is told by people she is beautiful, a woman won’t believe it unless she thinks she is beautiful.

Disheartened by this, I returned to thinking about it myself. How could I reconcile the comments I had gotten from people with my personal beliefs? How could I come up with a concise statement detailing how I felt? The only thing I could think of right off was the old adage “beauty is in the eye of the beholder", but that didn’t really say all that I wanted to say. I couldn’t think of anything else at the moment, so I started looking for a quote to detail how I felt.

I found a few:

I only hope she knows she is beautiful inside and out. If not, maybe she can borrow my eyes for a night.

I have seen sunsets, sunrises, blue oceans, deep seas, lush forests, dense jungles, but nothing - not even these - could compare to the beauty that lies before me.

I'm sitting here thinking about your beauty, but no words come to mind. Then I realize that no words could ever come close to the beauty I see in you.

I don't care what you're wearing, or how much make-up you have on or don't have on; it's just you that makes you so beautiful.

When a guy calls you hot, he's looking at your body. When he says you're pretty, he's looking at your face. But, when a guy tells you that you're beautiful, he's looking at your heart.

The mirror doesn't show what you truly are but what you believe.

I even found one I had written down from Professor Seely:

Beauty has power over us. We can't control it. We can be aware of it and try to reduce the effect, but we can't control it - Mark Seely

Now, those are all great quotes, but none of them really said what I wanted to convey. Eventually I thought up a personal statement that fit what I was thinking at the moment:

Beauty is a personal concept. One man may find beauty in a sunset, and another in a flower. Society may say, “This is what is beautiful, and everything else is ugly”, but I don’t care about what society sees. I care about what I see, and when I look at you I see beauty. - Me

So there you have it folks. That is my statement on Beauty. Beauty is personal. Beauty is individual. Beauty may be roughly defined by society, but it is the individual who actually decides what they find beautiful. So ladies, next time you are called beautiful, don’t think “But I don’t look like (insert Hollywood celeb here)”. Instead, think “Wow, this person finds me beautiful” and take it as a genuine compliment.

Apples to Apples

GEORGE SMASH!!!!

Ok, now that I have that out of my system, I would like to thank whoever came up with the moronic “Girls are like apples” thing. Not only have girls been using it for months now to justify why they are alone when there are plenty of good guys around (It is our fault, not theirs. We are just apparently too scared to climb.), but I have now had a guy send me an e-mail about it.

For those of you who don’t know what I mean by the “Girls are like apples” thing, I have a nice little image of it –
(And for the extremely lazy among us, I will post a text version of it. I personally like the text version better because it doesn’t mess with the spelling of words to fill out the tree form.)

Girls are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree. The boys don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they just get the rotten apples from the ground that aren’t as good, but easy. So the apples at the top think something is wrong with them, when in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right boy to come along, the one who's brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.

First I am going to talk about what this e-mail I got said, and then I am going to get into my response to the e-mail and then the quote in general.

The e-mail I got said –

“George, I just saw this and realized how true it was. I know that I was scared to ask out my girlfriend, but once I sucked it up and did it I became happier than I have ever been. I think that every guy out there just needs to get the balls to climb up the tree and grab his apple.”

My response was as follows –

“Thank you so much for that. I never knew that was my problem. I just haven’t been trying hard enough. I am too much of a fucking pansy apparently. Just don’t seem to have any balls according to you. I guess all those rejections I got from the ‘best apples’ were just because they thought I hadn't climbed well enough for them.

I understand that you have had a girlfriend for three years, but for the sake of every single guy alive, don’t take all the blame for every relationship problem a girl has ever had and put it on our shoulders. Ok? Thanks."

Now here’s my response to the quote. Sure, women are like apples, and the apples at the top of the tree are beautiful. The thing is, there are some guys who have climbed the tree multiple times in the past. We gather up our courage and struggle up the tree. We use whatever handholds we find - at times having to make our own handholds if we can’t find any – and climb up to the top of the tree. Once we get there, we find the beautiful apple we were climbing for and think we have reached our goal. It is only then we find that apparently we aren’t good enough for that apple and get laughed at and pushed out of the tree. Do any of you have any idea how much that fall hurts – to go from the highest heights and plummet to the ground, seeming to hit every branch of the tree along the way? Well, I can tell you from experience that it isn’t a fun thing.

So ladies, while it is true that there are some guys who aren’t willing to work for the beautiful apples at the top of the tree, you have to take responsibility for your own actions. There are plenty of guys who are willing to do the work and climb as high as they can in the tree, but they aren’t the guys the apples want climbing up. Thus, the apples either ignore them or kick them out of the tree and then resume their lonely vigils; all the while complaining that there aren’t any guys who are brave enough to climb and pick them.

Skirmishes in the "Battle of the Sexes"

Lately a friend and I have been talking a lot about how men and women communicate. Neither of us can understand the other sex, and no matter how much we try explaining it to one another, confusion reigns supreme as always. Of course, this has gotten me to thinking more and more about the subject. Then, lo and behold, one of my buddies from high school posts on his blog a post about that exact issue. (Love ya Newman.)

*Waits for laughter, snide comments, and such to die down.*

Yes, yes, yes, I said “Love ya” when talking about a guy. Please keep the snickering to a minimum… you know who you are. Now back to the topic at hand.

Over the past couple weeks I have heard from various friends (both male and female) “George! Why are (the opposite sex) so damned confusing?” or “Why can’t guys/girls just say/do what they mean?” The truth is that I have no idea. I would like to think that I am a straightforward and easy to understand guy, but I don’t know. Maybe what I find to be straightforward and honest is confusing to some people. I hope not, but you never know.

In talking with my friend, I came up with a few thoughts and ideas. First, the subject of men and women communicating has been a topic of discussion, argument, and thought for as long as humans have had language, and yet we still don't understand the full complexities of the opposite sex. Funnily enough, I don't know whether it is sad or amazing. I don't think any man has ever fully understood any woman (or vise versa), yet somehow the human race has gone on. Somehow through the confusion of our mixed up and crazy communication patterns, people still find a way to fall in love and live out their lives with people they don't truly understand. I don't know how or why it works the way it does. It is simply amazing what humans are capable of.

Well, I am going to cut this post short because I am oddly tired for some reason tonight. So here are a few quotes I found while thinking about the relationship between “Men and Women” and our communication problems:

“To effectively communicate, we must realize that we are all different in the way we perceive the world and use this understanding as a guide to our communication with others.” – Anthony Robbins

“Nobody will ever win the battle of the sexes. There's too much fraternizing with the enemy.” – Henry Kissinger

“The woman who appeals to a man's vanity may stimulate him, the woman who appeals to his heart may attract him, but it is the woman who appeals to his imagination who gets him” – Helen Rowland

“And verily, a woman need know but one man well, in order to understand all men; whereas a man may know all women and understand not one of them.” – Helen Rowland (apparently she was one of the few women who actually understood men)

Oh me

*Sigh*

So last night was the Winter Formal, and I let myself get roped into going. It is amazing what Jello Shots, old friends, Jack, and a penchant for masochistic behavior will get you into.

The dance itself was alright, but I spent most of my time gravitating between it and Core XI. It seemed that every time I walked into the ballroom, someone would say, "GEORGE! Come down to Core XI and have a drink with me." . . . I was at the point where I was just like, "More booze sounds good to me."

As you can tell by the above paragraphs, I was pretty far gone most of the night, and I was having a ball doing it. I was walking back and forth between various groups of friends, joking, laughing, dancing (extremely badly, but fully aware of that fact). Things were great and I was loving life.

.... Then I made a fatal mistake. I started talking to people who I shouldn't have and saying things I shouldn't have. I took a walk and ran into the one person I... well I can't say I didn't want to run into this person, because I did, yet at the same time it was the one person I didn't want to interact with last night. I wanted a carefree night where I didn't have to have internal battles every few minutes. I mean, I even managed to mostly avoid this person at the formal... even though I walked past them around three dozen times. Sure enough though, while walking around campus I ran into this person and we talked for a couple minutes, then I went back to my room, and sure enough I started talking to them online.

I have found that I talk far too much when I am inebriated, and unfortunately alcohol is to my internal filter what magma is to ice. So here I am at my computer with my internal filter melted into a little puddle on the floor and I start talking to people. I know for a fact I said more than I probably should have, and of course I realized it every time I said something. I would send a message, and then go "Wow, I can't believe I just said that. Oh well, can't take it back".

So here I sit now, wondering how I got where I am in life and why I feel the way I do, and I don't know how to answer my own questions... although my computer is answering me. Thanks Bob.

Now, some lyrics and quotes to finish off this little rambling post:

"I just want one day to go by where I'm not pretending I'm happy!"

“Loneliness adds beauty to life. It puts a special burn on sunsets and makes night air smell better.” - Henry Rollins

“Go out in the world and work like money doesn't matter, Sing as if no one is listening, Love as if you have never been hurt, and Dance as if no one is watching”

“I don't wish to be everything to everyone, but I would like to be something to someone.” - Javan

One day Love met Friendship.

Love asked, "Why do you exist when I already exist?"
Friendship replied, "To put a smile where you've left tears."

"How do you teach your heart it's a crime to fall in love again?"

That was then and this is now
I'm a new man, yeah, I'm a brand new man
And when they carve my stone they'll write these words
"Here lies a man who lived life for all that its worth"

I'm gonna stop lookin' back and start movin' on
Learn how to face my fears
Love with all of my heart, make my mark
I wanna leave something here

Go out on a ledge, with out any net
That's what I'm gonna be about
Yeah I wanna be runnin'
When the sand runs out
-Rascal Flatts "When the Sand Runs Out"

Uuuuuuuuugh

You ever have one of those fantastic days when you are in a great mood for no reason? I mean, you are "Walkin' on Sunshine" all freaking day any you have no clue why. There is nothing good that has happened to you, but for some reason you are acting like you are on mood elevators. You know the kind of day I mean?

Well, I had one of those yesterday. It was great. I was in an amazing mood (anyone who talked to me throughout the day can attest to that). I was on cloud nine for no reason and nothing was bringing me down.

Then, at about 11:30 or so, I crashed and crashed hard. Once again, I have no clue why my mood changed the way it did. (For the smartasses among my readership [aka all of you], no I am not bipolar. These mood shifts are neither long enough not severe enough to qualify for Bipolar Disorder or Cyclothymic Disorder.) But, yeah, I went from giddy as a kid who has just been told he won a shopping spree in a candy store to an adult being told that the shopping spree was now null and void, and I had to pay for all the candy the kid took in his hour long raid.

Eh, I just wanted to let that out. Now I am sick and throwing up all over the place (well, dry heaving all over the place because I haven't eaten anything in the past 16 hours now). Later all.


P.S. My dad is actually going for 13 trees now (14 if he puts the one in my room). Now, these trees vary in size from 1.5 feet tall to 7.5 feet tall. Most of them fall in the 3-5 foot range, but that is still way too many Christmas trees. . . and there are going to be a couple rooms in my house that have more than one tree in them. . . . *Sigh*

GRAH!!!!!!

This morning was one of those mornings that I am glad my Narsil is a blunt prop piece and not a fully sharpened sword capable of maiming someone. . . because if it was I might be heading for jail at the moment.

So my parents get home this morning at 5am, and are they quiet? Not even the slightest bit. Hell, they called me at 4:15 to tell me they would be home in 45 minutes. I think the conversation went a little like this:

*Ring* *Ring*

*Sleeping George wakes up, grumbles, and starts fumbling for his cell phone.*

George: "Wha?"

Dad: "Hey George, I know we told you we would call a couple hours before we got home, but we are in Champaign. Be home in an hour or so."

George: "Huh? I thought you were stopping at a motel."

Dad: "Eh, we changed our mind because we couldn't find a non-smoking room. Bye."

George: "Bye."

Somehow I managed to fall back asleep. I was an hour and a half into my night's slumber and I was shooting for my five hours. . . Didn't happen. Half an hour after I fell asleep I hear my parents come in the house and start making noise as they start playing with the dogs and ushering my brother to bed. Groggy and annoyed, I roll over and pretend I can't hear them for a while, but half an hour later I am up and there is no going back to sleep.

I stumble downstairs and greet them. Of course I am immediately roped into helping unpack things, but that is fine because I fully expected it. They are jabbering on about the things they did in Florida and how my brother was so well behaved. Then they start talking about how it is as warm here as it was there most of the week . . . well you get the picture.

This inanity continued for around half an hour before the topic turned to me. I thought I was ready for the "So why didn't you come to Florida" conversation. I thought I had come up with every possible question they could ask me about it, but I was wrong. First thing my dad says, "So, why did you stay up here all week? Wanted to visit your girlfriend over break? Don't want us to know about her? How is the love life going?"

*Snap*

I almost lost it. Of all the questions he could have asked. He could have asked what I did over the week. He could have commented on my haircut. He could have made some comment about the mountain of dishes in the kitchen (I was planning on them getting home this afternoon, not at 5am. I didn't have time to clean the place up). But did he ask about any of that? No, he jumped straight to the relationship questions.

Luckily I am good at improvising and I just made a joke out of the whole thing. I think I said something to the effect of "You caught me, Dad. I wanted my five girlfriends to come over so we could have a wild orgy on your bed while you guys were gone. Unfortunately they all brought friends and, well, even I can only do so much at a time. In fact, I think two of them are still waiting up in your room for me, so if you will excuse me" and walked away.

By now I have calmed down, and we have talked about other things like what I did over the week. My dad keeps trying to steer the conversation back towards my love life and I am sick of it. What is it with my parents? Do they intrinsically know when I don't want to have that type of a conversation? Because one of them always seems to bring it up when I don't want to talk about it. Last year when I got home for summer break it was the first thing my mom talked about, and anyone who knows about the end of the year knows that is the last thing I wanted to talk about.

Oh well, I guess that is what parents are for. They are here to annoy the crap out of us when we don't want to talk about something and bring up the awkward conversation topics around people we don't want them brought up around. C'est la vie. . . . or maybe just c'est mon vie. Either way, I should be used to it by now and I shouldn't let the little things get me down.

On the up side they brought up a whole lot of Florida produce, so I should be chowing down on delicious delicious oranges for a while. Mmmmm. Couple that with the fact that I am going to bring several chocolate truffles (and hopefully a pie or two) back with me and all is well in the world (well not all, but enough that I can ignore the rest).

Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go begin the Christmasing of my house. . . My dad is probably going to shoot for 11 trees throughout the house this year, but I am going to try to make sure it stays 10. I refuse to have a Christmas tree in my room at home. I will have one in my dorm room, but not at home!

Hmmm

This post has been six days in coming. I started typing it the first time on Friday night, and now here it is Thursday morning and I am writing it again.

Each time I have sat down to write, I have known what I wanted to write about. It hasn't been the same topics every time. In fact the topic of this post has changed in each of the incarnations of it I have had in my head. It has gone from why I needed George time (which I have gotten plenty of this past week), to some of the crazy things that have been going on in my head (which I decided not to subject anyone to), to my recent bout with uber-insomnia (so much worse than normal that it isn't funny at all). Now, I think I will write about dreams and how much I hate them.

Some of you may have read my earlier post about my dreams. I don't usually dream, and when I do they tend to be meaningful. Yeah, so in that post, the second dream was about my future wife giving birth. When I wrote that post, I could have sworn I included a description. In fact, I have had two or three people say that they thought there was something about her appearance there, but there is nothing there about it. Quite eerie really.

Well, I have been having that same dream. . . well not the same. It has been slightly different. First off, my wife's face hasn't changed. In fact the first three times this week I had the dream I didn't see her face at all. Of course, then I talked to people about it and her face started being clear to me. It is the same face as the first time I had the dream . . . which some of you know the description of. By now, part of me is ready to just give in to the Freudian explanation of the whole situation and believe that it is all being caused by thoughts buried in my unconscious mind (and those who know my thoughts on psychology know how much I normally loathe the idea of Freud being right about anything other than defense mechanisms). As I said, a part of me wants to give in and believe that. Most of me keeps pointing out that my dreams have meant something in the past and this dream must mean something too.

Oddly enough, this isn't the only dream I have been having. I have been having it every night, but then I have also been having other dreams. Some of them are about past events. Others are about things that haven't happened with the same people as in the past event dreams. I don't know if my brain is just stuck on certain topics lately, but I am getting sick and tired of the few hours of sleep I have been getting the past couple days being plagued with dreams. I want my sleep to go back to normal. No more 8 hour nights of sleep (Friday and Saturday) and no more 2 hour nights of sleep (Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday) full of dreams. I want to go back to my 4-5 hour nights of sleep with no dreams (ok, very very infrequent dreams).

On an unrelated note, I am going to my Grandmother's for Thanksgiving. . . Lunch this afternoon. Hopefully I don't get food poisoning this year like I did last year. Couple the horrid food with the fact that I am going to be the only person there under the age of 65, and things should be rather fun. Wish me luck. I just hope I don't feel obligated to stay there too terribly long and not get home in time to enjoy my delicious steak. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to get the pie I just baked out of the oven and let it cool for a while before putting it in the fridge and going to bed.


Eh, I guess I should throw in a quote or two. Both of these have been brought up or shared with people I have chatted with the past few days, so I guess I will just share them with everyone.

"We are all a little weird, and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love." - Anon

"That's the nature of women not to love when we love them, and to love when we love them not." - Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

Birthday List

Sitting here in my room at 2am on my birthday has gotten me in a wistful mood, so I am writing up a little Birthday Wish List.

1. A Million Dollars (I would settle for less, but why not shoot for the stars)
2. A kiss from a beautiful woman (Hey, a guy has got to want something purely for himself)
3. Hugs from my friends
4. Smiles on the faces of my friends (Far too many people have been far too stressed out lately)
5. A Wii
6. An Alienware Computer (Sorry Bob, I love you man, but c'mon Alienware)
7. A Monkey
8. A copy of "The History of the World Part 1" on DVD. . . I have been hankering for it ever since someone mentioned it two weeks ago and the file on my computer is corrupt.
9. Someone to finish my Abnormal Psych paper for me.
10. A nice long back massage.

That is about all I can think of right now. Remember multiples on any/all of the gifts will be accepted (although I don't know what I would do with multiple DVD's).

More Rantings

I have had several comments on my last post (none actually posted online though). Most of them told me that they liked it but were expecting a longer post. To be honest, the post was going to be quite a bit longer, but I kept getting distracted while writing it. By the time I really got into it, Senior Karaoke rolled around, so I decided to put it off and write up a second portion.

This is that second portion.

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My name is George White, and I am a nice guy. I say this not out of some conceited notion of knowing what does and does not constitute a nice guy, but I say this because I have been told this by innumerable people. I am the “nice guy”, the “good guy”, the “guy who is a great friend”, the guy women know “will always be there when they need a shoulder to cry on”, and (my personal favorite) the guy whose friendship is just “too close to ruin by dating”.

I am the kind of guy who loves being in a relationship because it gives me an excuse to do all the little things I love to do to make people feel better, but seem odd when done by someone you aren’t in a relationship with.

I am the kind of guy who will call in the morning just to say “Good Morning”. I am the guy who can’t help but smile when he sees his girlfriend, just because she is who she is. I am the guy who surprises his girlfriend with a rose for no reason other than to make her smile. I am the kind of guy who holds people when they are crying, not because I think I will get something out of it, but because I hate seeing people hurt. I am the kind of guy who people call when the rest of the world has let them down, just so they know that there is someone out there who still cares about them and smiles when he hears their voice. I’m the guy who listens when people talk, and tells them what they need to hear, not just what they want to hear. I’m the guy who accepts people for who they are and doesn’t try to force them into molds they don’t fit in. I am the guy who thinks a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt can be sexier than a mini-skirt and low-cut top. I am the guy who finds women beautiful when they are the way nature intended – not just when they are surgically altered and covered with makeup. I am the guy who knows that you can’t always get what/who you want. I am the guy who appreciates the women in my life for what they are, even if I want them to be more. I am the guy who doesn’t stare at attractive women while I am out with a woman. I am the guy who will tell someone she is beautiful, not because I am hitting on her, but because she is beautiful. I am the guy who will tell you the truth instead of lying to get into your pants. I am the guy who won’t get jealous when you talk to your male friends, because I know that you aren’t flirting with or hitting on every guy you talk to. I am the guy who doesn’t see put downs as the only way to have fun and look cool, although I may make the occasional put down myself in jest. I am the guy who can normally get the little hints and suggestions, even if I don’t immediately act on them. I am the guy who treats his girlfriend the same when I am with my friends as I do when we are alone. I am the guy who will be there for the people who matter to him, through thick and thin, good times and bad, and I will do everything in my power to make them happy and try not to hurt them.

I am not trying to say that I am perfect. Hell, I am far from perfect. I am overweight. I tend to be a procrastinator, and I am nice to the extent of sometimes being a pushover. I am an intellectual snob, a smarmy smart-ass, and overly hesitant when it comes to expressing my feelings (for good reason I think).

Over the past few days I have been trying to decide why, when so many women tell me that I am such a great guy and then turn around and tell me that I am not “boyfriend material”. Well, I had an idea that was later brought up by two different friends as I was writing this (thanks ladies). The reason I am not “boyfriend material” right now is because we are in college. I am the safe choice right now. I am the stable guy who won’t cheat on my girlfriend or do anything to hurt them. I’m not the crazy wild Adonis who makes women drool when they look at me. I am the shoulder women come crying to when the bad boy has broken their hearts. I was actually told tonight that the reason I am always relegated to the “Friend Zone” is because I am marriage material. She then pointed me in the direction of the movie “Wet Hot American Summer” for a good quote:

Listen, Coop. Last night was really great. You were incredibly romantic and heroic, no doubt about it. And that's great. But I've thought about it, and my thing is this. Andy is really hot. And don't get me wrong, you're cute too, but Andy is like, cut. From marble. He's gorgeous. He has this beautiful face and this incredible body, and I genuinely don't care that he's kinda lame. I don't even care that he cheats on me. And I like you more than I like Andy, Coop, but I'm 16. And maybe it'll be a different story when I'm ready to get married, but right now, I am entirely about sex. I just wanna get laid. I just wanna take him and grab him and fuck his brains out, ya know? So that's where my priorities are right now. Sex. Specifically with Andy and not with you.

Unfortunately that kind of behavior doesn’t end at 16. Far too many women in college still feel that way. Some of them smarten up early and stop going after the bad boys. Unfortunately, these wonderful women are few and far between at this point in life. Hopefully I will one day soon join the ranks of the lucky guys who have found their woman, but till then I will just be content being me.

Writing this post has made me think of a few quotes:

“Every woman needs one man in her life who is strong and responsible. Given this security, she can proceed to do what she really wants to do-fall in love with men who are weak and irresponsible.” – Richard J. Needham

“A true man does not need to romance a different girl every night, a true man romances the same girl for the rest of her life” – Ana Alas

“The most human thing we have to do in life is to learn to speak our honest convictions and feelings and live with the consequences. This is the first requirement of love, and it makes us vulnerable to other people who may ridicule us. But our vulnerability is the only thing we can give to other people.” – Leo F. Buscaglia

“Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will lie under the stars and listen to your heartbeat, or will stay awake just to watch you sleep... wait for the boy who kisses your forehead, who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats, who holds your hand in front of his friends, who thinks you're just as pretty without makeup on. One who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares and how lucky his is to have you.... The one who turns to his friends and says, 'that's her.'” – Anonymous

A Tirade

Alright… You up there in the cosmic vapor. God, Yahweh, Allah, Odin, Ra, Ganesh, Zeus, Quetzalcoatl, Ishtar, Marduk, or whatever else people call you. What do I have to do? Actually, is it more appropriate for me to ask what did I do?

Is it not enough that I seem to be eternally single, but you have to rub it in by having assholes come to me for relationship advice? Is a homophobic moron whose favorite mode of communication is calling people "gay" what women really want in a man? If not, then WTF mate?

I have been single for far longer than I care to remember, and things just seem to be going downhill. This summer it was multiple females informing me, before I even thinking about making a move, that I am "a great friend who is always there to listen to them, but just not boyfriend material" (Oh how I love that sentence when I have done nothing to elicit it.) Then there was the capstone of the summer… the “Oh I got engaged this morning, and I think you need to know that before we go out on a date”.

Now… well now you decided to take a new tact. You decided to raise my hopes before slamming me down. Is there some kind of sick “how many times can I make George slam his head against the wall before he just gives up” game that I don’t know about?

Once upon a time, I wrote up a nice post regarding my views on Nice Guys and the Friend Zone. Unfortunately, viewpoints change, people change, and most importantly I have changed. When I wrote that I believe it wholeheartedly. I held myself responsible for everything that had happened in my love life (even those things I logically know I had no control over). I beat myself up over each and every one of the failures in the past. I blamed my own hesitant nature. I told myself that somehow it was some flaw in my nature that was causing these failures.

Heh, I am done with that. It isn't my fault. There isn't anything wrong with me. Being a Nice Guy isn't a problem . . . regardless of how many times Bob wants to play "Nice Guys Finish Last" today.

*Comes back after attacking the computer for a few minutes.*

Smug asshole is lucky I don't have a baseball bat in my room...

Now where was I? Oh yes, Nice Guys. As a friend and I decided yesterday, it isn't so much that Nice Guys finish last. It is more like there is a sniper making sure the Nice Guys don't even leave the starting gate. Sadly this time he was a little slow and I got a few feet out of the gate before the shot hit. I think it is worse this way. I guess the Divine realized that the same old "telling him that they are just gonna be friends before he can get his hopes too high" ploy wouldn't be as effective this time.

Well, he/she/it got me good this time. I actually let my natural cynicism fall. My normal walls keeping my hopeless romanticism away from my own love life were lowered and I allowed myself to think maybe, just maybe. But no. I think that currently my emotions run along with the emotions of the character Dave from a webcomic I read. The comic is "College Roommates from Hell" by Maritza Campos. (Click the image to enlarge it)

So, this is all I have to say right now... Women, know what you want before you lead a guy on. Guys, can I get a hell yeah to a quote from Dr. Gregory House - "To women. Can't live with 'em, and you can't kill them and tell the neighbors that they are stripping in Atlantic City."

Now, I will finish this little rant with a quote from Neil Gaiman.

Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.

Quotes

This post is going to be short and somewhat pointless, but I have had quite a few quotes running through my head recently. These quotes aren't all about the same situation. In fact there are tons of situations involved in the various quotes but oh well. I just need to put them all together somewhere and think on them.

First off, “Love is a special word, and I use it only when I mean it. You say the word too much and it becomes cheap.” - Ray Charles

That being said, it is hard to find any quotes about how you feel for someone that don't include the word love. Apparently if you are attracted to someone, but you aren't in love yet, you are screwed. You don't get to tell anyone how you feel unless you love them. . . Bah.

“I don't pretend to know what love is for everyone, but I can tell you what it is for me; love is knowing all about someone, and still wanting to be with them more than any other person, love is trusting them enough to tell them everything about yourself, including the things you might be ashamed of, love is feeling comfortable and safe with someone, but still getting weak knees when they walk into a room and smile at you.”

"You know that you're in love when you freeze up for the first time in your life--my feet were frozen to the elevator floor, but my heart was screaming to take one step closer and give her a kiss."

"I would be lying if I said you stepped out of my dreams and into my life... My dreams were never this wonderful!"

"If I could spend every minute of every day with you I would. I think about you all the time. I think of you when I go to bed, and you're the first thing I think about when I wake up. I can't go through one day without wanting to see you, needing to see you. You're addictive, I don't get it ... what is it about you?"

"You look in the mirror and you don't like what you see? Don't believe it. Look into my eyes; I'm the only mirror you'll ever need."

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.” – Neil Gaiman

"There's a lot to be said for self-delusionment when it comes to matters of the heart."

. . . Nothing really to say about that section of quotes.

"A true friend is someone who will always be there when the whole world left you, he always cheers you up when the whole world has turned you down and he never asks you to act like an angel but he becomes your angel."

"Some people come into our lives, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never the same."

"It's a lot like nature. You only have as many animals as the ecosystem can support and you only have as many friends as you can tolerate the bitching of." – Randy K. Milholland

"Sometimes the measure of friendship isn't your ability to not harm but your capacity to forgive the things done to you and ask forgiveness for your own mistakes." – Randy K. Milholland

“There are three types of friends: those like food, without which you can't live; those like medicine, which you need occasionally; and those like an illness, which you never want.”

“If you're alone, I'll be your shadow. If you want to cry, I'll be your shoulder. If you want a hug, I'll be your pillow. If you need to be happy, I'll be your smile. But anytime you need a friend, I'll just be me”

"A true friend is like the sound of your footsteps; always with you, through light and dark, in silence when there is no one else, and in a crowd even when you can’t hear them. When things are soft and comfortable you may not notice the sound of your footsteps, but when things get hard, that is when you notice that the sound of your footsteps is always there keeping time with you.” – George White

“Sometimes you put walls up not to keep people out, but to see who cares enough to break them down.”

This section encompasses several situations recently. From the people who I like to think I have helped with their problems, the people who have helped me, and those friends who knew that the walls I was putting up were meant to be torn down. I thank all of you for giving me the kicks in the rump when I needed them, the friendly ear when I needed to vent, and the helpful words when I needed advice. Truly without you I don't know what I would do.

"All it takes to fly is to hurl yourself at the ground... and miss." - Douglass Adams

Sounds like a plan to me Doug.

Philosophizing (Yes, it is a real word)

I have been getting a little blog happy lately, but oh well. This is how I get when my brain is working a lot and I need to get things off my mind. Now the things that are setting my mind to racing aren't really going to be talked about in this blog, but the random thoughts I come up with to keep my mind off of said things will be.

Lately I have been in a philosophical mood and a few interesting questions have come to mind.

The first of these is an actual philosophical question which has no right or wrong answers. It is designed to make you think about yourself and how you want to live life. Well, here goes. If you could have in your life one day of perfect happiness - the type that great love stories and legends can only vaguely explain - and the memory of that day would stay bright and new in your mind for the rest of your life, but for the rest of your life all other good things would make your current happiness feel like a candle next to the burning sun of the happiness you once enjoyed. . . . would you take that happiness? Would you be in perfect bliss for one day if you knew that the rest of your life would be pale and wan in comparison, or would you choose to be relatively happy for most of your life and never know that perfect joy?

The next question isn't so much philosophical as it is just interesting. Why does my being agnostic seem to affect the opinions of professors so much? I have been in Core IX with Nichols for half a semester now, and for some reason now that he knows I am agnostic he keeps pointing it out, and whenever I answer one of his religious questions he acts as if I am dropping a bomb on the class because I can logically deduce what kind of answer he is looking for. My agnosticism doesn't make me any different once you know about it. I am still George White. I still think and act the same way, but professors can't seem to just accept it and move on. They have to make it a central point of who I am in the class.

Oh boy . . .

Ok, I was told to write about pickles and pineapples, so this first section is going to be about those two things. They are delicious foods (not together), but I have to say I like pickles more than pineapples. I mean, with a pickle it could be any of a dozen tasty flavors. It could be dill, kosher dill, sweet, bread and butter, garlic, spicy dill, etc. At the drive-in we actually sell pickles and I find myself eating one every few days while I work there. The delicious garlic flavor sustains me for the night and all is well. Pineapple on the other hand, while being sweet and delicious, is a very monotonous taste.

------------------------

Anyway, to the body of this post. I am not entirely sure what I am going to write about, but it should be interesting. Life is coming at me at about 186,282 miles a second and I can't seem to figure out how to slow it down. Between classes, work, theater, clubs, and personal business I just don't seem to have any free time in which I am not working on one thing or another.

Speaking of the play. I am starting to get a little worried. Two of the other guys are driving me insane. One of them used to know his lines, but has recently just seemed to lose them all. The other knows his lines, but questions himself so much that he will stop in the middle of a line and ask for it, even though he was saying it right the whole time. Everyone else is doing great (even Spence is finally getting into character), and I am really happy with the majority of the show. Hopefully this tech week kicks the two guys into gear and things work out.

Classes. . . well the majority of classes are going great. Human Sexuality is tons of fun, Core IX is a breeze thus far, Social Psych is boring but easy, and Abnormal Psych is going ok because Pulver seems to have racheted down his assholishness. Professional Seminar though . . . that class is going to kick my ass. Wong isn't giving us enough direction in things. She is pretty much just looking at us and saying "Ok, go do it" and not explaining what "it" is. This drives me crazy and there are times I just want to strangle her. She explains concepts we had as freshmen, but doesn't give us any actual structure or guidance for the new things. Seely . . . or even Pulver. . . needs to take over the class. At least that way things would be run smoothly.

Jobs. . . it seems whenever I am not at play practice in the evening I am working. If it isn't RA duty, it is working Security at a sporting event (like twenty minutes from now). I need the money, but there is no chance for me to sit down and do other things. Last night while on duty was the first night in a while I have actually felt relaxed and free to sit and think about things.

Clubs. . . Oh clubs. . . These aren't quite as stressful, but at the same time they are. These are things I like doing and want to be part of, but unfortunately everything else seems to be crowding them out. I need to come up with some T-shirt ideas for the College Republicans, but every time I try to sit down and brainstorm, I end up getting pulled into something else.

My personal life, well I am not even sure I want to think about it right now. Confusion reigns supreme as always, and I don't know what to do. Part of me likes things the way they are and doesn't want to mess them up. Another part of me (and several friends) are yelling at me to do something.

Just when you think you're in control,
just when you think you've got a hold,
just when you get on a roll,
here it goes, here it goes, here it goes again.
Oh, here it goes again.
I should have known,
should have known,
should have known again,
but here it goes again.
Oh, here it goes again.

Yes it does, Ok Go. . . . yes it does.

Well, off to stand and watch a Soccer game.

Soundtrack of My Life

IF YOUR LIFE WAS A MOVIE, WHAT WOULD THE SOUNDTRACK BE?
So, here's how it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button

Opening Credits:
Home by Michael Buble

Waking Up:
Come On, Come On by Smashmouth

First Day At School:
I'm Going to Go Back There Someday by Gonzo from The Muppets

Falling In Love:
It Had To Be You by Frank Sinatra

Fight Song:
Every Time I Hear Your Name by Keith Urban

Breaking Up:
You Don't Know Me by Michael Buble

Prom:
Kiss The Girl from Little Mermaid as sung by Acoustix

Life's OK:
Theme from House MD

Mental Breakdown:
Change in My Life by Rockapella

Driving:
From Time to Time by Rascal Flatts

Flashback:
Special Fred by Stephen Lynch

Getting Back Together:
Joy to the World by Three Dog Night

Wedding:
Where've You Been by Kathy Mattea

Birth of Child:
Flagpole Sitta by Harvey Danger

Final Battle:
The Steps of Saint Patrick's by Jason LeVasseur

Death Scene:
Betrayed by Nathan Lane from The Producers

Funeral Song:
Hooked on a Feeling by Rockapella

End Credits:
You Have AIDS from Family Guy


Ok, the beginning works ok. . . but when it gets to Flashback it starts breaking down. I mean c'mon . . . Steps of Saint Patrick's for Final Battle?!?!?!


That is just how bored I am people.

Wow

Well, it has been over a month since I have posted anything here . . . and my last post was nothing more than posting up something JP said.

It isn't that I haven't had things to write about (Oh boy have I); it is just that I can't seem to find the time when I want to write or the desire to write when I have the time. It is actually quite funny.

So, what has been happening the past month?

Well, first and foremost, I don't bloody understand women. No matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to figure them out. They are enigmas, they drive me crazy, yet I can't help but be enthralled by them. Over the past month, I have been stymied by no fewer than five women's actions. Every time I think I get one of them figured out, every time I think to myself, "Hey, this is what this woman thinks about me" . . . BAM! Something happens and it completely mystifies me. My viewpoint becomes completely skewed as I try to assimilate this new information into my existing schemas regarding women. By now, you think I would have learned that women are not something I am meant to understand, but no.

Add onto all this the sheer amount of drama seeming to consume everyone the past few weeks and you just have insanity. This isn't the good drama either. No thespians playfully cavorting around a stage. This is pure high school melodrama. This is the kind of drama that occurs when Person A gets mad at Person B, but they don't confront Person B. Instead, they go complaining to Person C, Person D, Person E, and Person F. Of course, one of those four will say something to someone else, and eventually it gets to Person B, and they get mad. This of course can either lead to another round of bitching to other people, or to Person B confronting Person A about it. Of course, this confrontation leads to Person A getting mad at the people he/she complained to and can start the entire process over again.

I AM SICK OF IT. It has been going on all over the place this past month, and I don't know why. When did we revert back to freshman year of High School? Why can we not be adults and face up to each other? If you have a problem with someone, tell them about it. If someone does something that pisses you off, let him or her know. I know it seems like a novel concept, but maybe honesty is the best policy here people. A little bitching about things is all well and good. Hell, I know I do it plenty myself, but if I have a real problem with someone I let them know. I don't sit around griping with people and making jokes about how to hurt/kill the person who angers me. I don't avoid the person like the plague. I don't ignore the person when they try talking to me.

Ah, venting is good for the spirit. I have been thinking that stuff, but not saying it for a while. Because these feelings are not being caused by any one person, I haven't said this to anyone. It just didn't feel right to vent all that to one person who only tossed a few straws on the camel's back. Sure, one of their straws may have been that one that just snapped the spine, but can you really blame that one straw for the weight of all the others?

So here I am, sitting in my room at 4:50 on the Saturday of Homecoming. I am alone, completely sober, bored, and unable to sleep. It is a little sad, but then again, that is how I spend most of my nights. For some reason I feel have been feeling quite lonely lately and I don't know why. I have more friends than I know what to do with. I walk into a building and half a dozen people say my name with the sound of joy filling their voices. This year's freshman class has a multitude of people in whose company I find myself laughing, thinking, and generally having a good time. You would think that them, in addition to all of my old friends from years past would be enough, but the thing is, none of these relationships is as close and intimate as I would really like. I miss the feeling of having one person in the world who feels that I truly mean something to them and just wants to spend time with me. I want someone who truly and deeply cares about me in a manner that means more than simple friendship. Don’t get me wrong, friendship is all well and good, but I want more.

Quotes of the night -

Could you imagine how horrible things would be if we always told others how we felt? Life would be intolerably bearable. – Randy K. Milholland


"What part of my message did you get? We've been having trouble with the com system, see, and--"
"The most important part. The part that said: 'I need you.'"
"And you came here just on that?"
"What more is there?"
Garibaldi and Lise

Oh JP . . .

In my AIM profile I have a quote from everyone's favorite chubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff (for the heathens who read this . . . that means Winnie the Pooh).

If you live to be 100, I hope I live to be 100 minus 1 day, so I never have to live without you.

Now, I have that in my profile because it is a sweet expression that expresses Pooh's love for someone (I don't know where the quote came from exactly, but I am assuming he was just saying it to a friend). Well, JP took it another way.

I think Winnie the Pooh might be suicidal.
A caveat for my argument: Just as Pooh, I will utilize days as my smallest increment of time measurement.
Logically, we can eliminate the possibility that Pooh's audience is older than Pooh, because when if his elder dies at 100 (36,524 days, given leap years and the skipped leap year on the centennial that passes at some point in the duration), then if Pooh is to reach 36,523 days he will necessarily spend some time living without them.
Now, if the person(s) to whom Pooh is speaking is the exact same age as Pooh, I think his this statement could be off-handedly dismissed as a tender bit of affection. However, barring that exceedingly unlikely circumstance, and having already eliminated the possibility that Pooh will outlive his counterpart(s), this statement essentially amounts to a wish for an early death. For example, if Pooh's partner is 7,305 days (20 years) younger than Pooh, Pooh is essentially hoping to die fully 7,306 days earlier than the time of death of his friend. I submit that this is an unhealthy and potentially dangerous attitude towards his own longevity, especially considering that on his 36,523rd day Pooh will almost certainly have absolutely no knowledge of the actual date of the other person's/persons' demise(s). As such, not only is he committing himself to shortening his own lifespan, it will quite likely be a futile gesture in terms of attempting to coincide with an event that is still an unforeseeable time in the future.
Ultimately, this depressing sentiment on the part of Pooh is representative of the phenomenon of growing teen suicide rates over the past several decades. Likewise, let us not forget that Pooh is similarly hoping for a pre-determined time of death for another, which I think draws a chilling reference to the various tragic acts of violence that are becoming all too common in middle and high schools in our nation. Given that this timeframe coincides with Pooh's own rise to popularity as a cultural icon, I cannot help but wonder what correlation may exist.
Regardless, as a responsible American, I humbly request that all Winnie the Pooh television shows and movies be removed from the airwaves, and all toys, books and other commercial products of or pertaining to that corporate entity be heretofore burned.
Thank you.

Yeah. . . JP saw Pooh's expression of love as an evil statement hinting at Pooh's ultimate goal for everyone to die when and as he plans.

Oh I miss you JP.

Thoughts provoked by boredom (during class even)

Here we are, two days into class and I am already somewhat bored by them. Maybe it is because they were the "Here is the syllabus. . . and now I will read it to you" class periods. Regardless, most of the following was written during my classes today.

____________________


So yeah . . . I am writing this while listening to Hartley ramble on about Social Psychology. He and his salmon colored shirt are annoying me. His teaching style thus far has not impressed me. He is rambling at two miles a minute, sidetracks himself from his lecture, and has said the word 'uh' approximately 40 times in the past minute and a half.

Because of this, I am letting my mind wander, and I decided to write down my thoughts. Right now I have a song stuck in my head - "She Is" by The Fray. The chorus of the song states, "She is everything I need that I never knew I wanted. She is everything I want that I never knew I needed."

I love the song (one of my current top two in fact), but every time I listen to it, two questions pop into my head.

1. Who is she?
2. Sure, she's everything I want and need, but am I anything she wants or needs?

____________________


Ok, that was rather pointless, but it shows the odd tangents my mind gets off to when I let it. Unlike most people, when I hear a song, I don't just listen to the lyrics. I analyze the lyrics and try to fit them into some sort of context and meaning. I poke and prod the lyrics until I find some weird analogy or question I can press them into and BAM . . .I sound crazy.

____________________


A brief interlude for class 2. I am sitting here in Abnormal Psych and Pulver is barely even putting up his thin veneer of tolerance for me. It makes me laugh, but I am going to tolerate him, suck it up, and get through the class as quickly and cleanly as possible. Well, back to pretending I care one whit what he is talking about.

____________________


Class #3, and here in Professional Seminar, Chau has been reading straight from the syllabus for 50 minutes. This class is going to be interesting for me. The majority of our work here has vague deadlines. My procrastinatory nature will make this hard for me, but I will hopefully find some way to force myself to work on things in advance. . . . I hope.

____________________

Ok, so now I have another song stuck in my head. Earlier it was "She Is", and funnily enough I associate this next song with "She Is".

I first heard "Find Yourself" by Brad Paisley the night the movie Cars came out (yayy for working at a Drive-In theater). When I first heard the part of the song that states "When you meet the one that you've been waiting for, and she's everything you want and more" I was struck by the sentiment in those words. I also felt that they were somewhat lacking and said as much to my co-worker. I told him that the lyrics should have been more along the lines of "When you meet the one you've waited for and she's all you ever needed but didn't know you wanted".

About a week later, I bought myself The Fray's album "How To Save A Life" and popped it into my car's CD player as I drove home. When the chorus to song number 1 started I starting laughing so hard I almost cried. Song number 1 was "She Is" and if you have read the beginning of this post you know that the chorus of the song is almost identical to the lyrics I suggested to my co-worker.

_______________________


Well, that is the extent to which I wrote during my classes today. I now have another song in my head, but the reasoning behind having that song stuck in my head are quite different from the above. There was nothing that caused me to have "She Is" or "Find Yourself" stuck in my head, but this other song is stuck in my head for a reason . . . and I like it.

I just don't know anymore. . .

Ok, so first the good news. . . my little brother has been home for a couple of days now (just now getting the time to write down stuff about it).

Now for the real reason I am writing this blog . . .

Well, I’m running down the road tryin’ to loosen my load
I’ve got seven women on my mind

And oddly enough, three guys (although they are all tied to at least one of the women).

Of course, unlike the song I have no clue what is on most of these people's minds.

Let's start explaining why each of these people are on my mind. Two of the women on my mind . . . . I don't even know. I know of them both, but I have never met either of them and it is one of my buddy's fault that they are on his mind. For some reason I have him and his women problems on my mind . . . but I feel for him, so I don't hold it against him.

So, two down and five to go. Two of the other women on my mind I thought I had excised from my mind. I thought I had gotten myself so far from even thinking about them that it wouldn't bother me any more, but through the years and the mists of time thoughts of them have recently invaded my head and I don't really know why.

Ok, so only three more women and two more guys to explain away. The next woman . . . well I don't know what to think or feel about her. At points I think she may actually have feelings for me, and then the next minute it seems that she sees me as nothing more than a friend. Several of my friends say that "it is obvious" how she feels about me, but most of the time I just don't see it. Will I say anything about it? HELL NO! That has led me to nothing but pain, confusion, and ruined friendships in the past and I don't really think I could handle losing another friendship.

The next woman infuriates me at the moment. She is a nurse I met while my brother was in the hospital. We hit it off, swapped cell phone numbers, and have talked a few times since my brother got out of the hospital. I thought that maybe, just maybe something good had came of my brother's hospitalization. Then Tuesday we were chatting and she stopped the conversation with a shocker. It turns out that when we met she had just had a fight with her boyfriend and they decided to see other people. Well, on Tuesday morning he showed up at her door, told her how miserable he was without her, and asked her to marry him. Just another episode in the continuing saga of "Why George's Love Life Sucks".

The last woman on my mind is my mom, and the other two guys are my dad and little brother. I am thinking about them a lot lately because I am worried about how they are going to cope with things when I head back to school in less than a week. They have already taken off tons of time with my brother's illnesses, and me being home during the day has allowed them to continue working now that he is back home. I am worried that they will run themselves ragged working and watching him for the month before he heads back to school. Part of me thinks I should call up my bosses and tell them that I won't be able to make it to training so I can stay home and take care of him, but I know that my parents would never allow it because they would be so worried that I would lose my RA job. I dunno, I just dunno.

Grah! Well, it is time for me to try to get some sleep. I have to get up in a few hours to take my brother to the hospital for a checkup.

Letting my guard down

. . . . . . . Why?

How many fucking crosses does my little brother have to fucking bear?

Are cerebral palsy, mental retardation, Attention Deficit Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and Pica not enough?

Apparantly not, because he just had two and a half feet of his small intestines removed because they became twisted and died. Right now he is in the intensive care unit of the hospital heavily sedated and unconscious so he can't pull out the various tubes and IV's they have him on. Apparantly he is going to be sedated like that for at least the next two days.

My parents are on the verge of breaking down. He was just starting to really recover from his leg surgery in April and then this happens. It seems whenever we start getting one of his problems under control a new one crops up.

Oh yeah, did I mention that it looks like he has spontaneously become diabetic?

At the moment I am sitting in my room with tears streaming down my cheeks as I write this. I am keeping myself composed and calm when I am around my parents because if they see me lose it I know that they won't be able to take it any more and they will both have breakdowns . . . my dad is just about there already. I am dead tired after getting up to take care of Tom yesterday morning when he started feeling sick, working last night, and then going to the hospital not once but twice today to ferry my parents back and forth and make sure they are taking care of themselves and eating (the place is 45 minutes away). And now I am getting ready to head to work for the night.

I am physically and emotionally drained and I want to know why the hell my little brother who is probably the closest thing to an innocent over the age of 5 I have ever seen has to suffer so much. This morning he was crying and begging my parents to give him something to drink, which of course we couldn't do because his bowels were twisted and anything that went into his stomach would just have to be suctioned out. He was even begging for pop - my little brother who has spit out every mouthful of every carbonated beverage he has ever tasted was begging for pop. . . .

I am glad I have this place to just vent and let out all the shit that is building up inside of me, because keeping it all inside when I am in front of my parents is so hard that sometimes I just want to scream.

Why Tom? Why can't it be some drug dealing, smut peddling, crackwhore and her pimp who have this type of shit happen to them? If there is some grand plan out there, why does it strike down the good people like my little brother and allow whores, pimps, and drugdealers to thrive?

Whew . . . . I feel a bit better now. Well . . . time to go to work and serve the masses their popcorn and pop.

You ever have one of 'those weeks'? You know, the ones where EVERYTHING just seems to happen at once? Well I just had one, and boy am I tired.

As Neil Gaiman put it in "Neverwhere" -

Richard had noticed that events were cowards: they didn't occur singly, but instead they would run in packs and leap out at him all at once.

Well, I noticed that this past week or so.

I am not going to get into too many details, but a few of the highs/lows are as follows - my grandfather is on his deathbed, my godfather just got married and he and his kids are happier than I have seen them in years, we are showing two extremely long movies at work which is stretching my worknights into workmornings, my dogs have been acting insane recently, and even when I do get a chance to try and get some sleep I normally don't end up falling to sleep until the wee hours of the morning (normally around 4 or 5 in the morning).

Now that that is out of the way, I can get down to the real reason I am writing this post. The ideas behind this post started brewing last Thursday night, and I haven't found the time or energy to write them down until now.

Femmes!

I've said it before, and I will say it again - I don't understand women, and I know I never will. I don't think that there is a man in this world who truly understands women and the way their minds work. Oh sure, some guys may know how their wife thinks, but that is one woman. Women as a whole are one confusing bunch.

Now, after reading the above paragraph, many a woman would counter, "Women are easy to understand. Men are the confusing ones." Women may actually believe this argument, but the truth to that argument is that men seem confusing . . . because they are confused. Men don't know how to act around women because women say, do, and think different things. They say one thing, mean another, and think a third, but somehow they expect men to be fully cognizant of what they want.

A classic example is the "Where do you want to eat" dilemma. Most of the time when a man asks, "Hey, where do you want to eat", he will get one of the following responses: "I don't know", "I don't care", or "Oh, it doesn't matter, you pick". Do any of those three things really mean what they seem to mean? NO! They normally mean something more to the effect of "I know exactly where I want to eat, but I want you to prove that you know me and pick the place I want". Every once and a while a woman will be honest and actually say "How about (Insert overpriced eatery here)", and the man involved will internally dance a little happy dance.

Or how about the ever popular "Are you mad" question. Most women have several types of anger that they can express, and the most frustrating of these is the type where they profess to be completely calm, collected, and not in the least perturbed, and all the while they are seething inside about some slight that the man probably doesn't even realize he has committed. As the man remains blissfully unaware of his wrongdoing, the woman continues to allow her anger to build up without expressing it in any way other than to become slightly withdrawn (perhaps with a few surreptitious glares in the man's direction). When confronted about her behavior, the woman continues to deny any anger until finally exploding at the man.

Then there is always the question of what a woman wants in a man. I have heard countless women say that they look for a man who is "Smart, funny, kind" etc. etc. etc. Unfortunately I can count on my hands the number of times I have actually seen a guy who is all the things listed, but not physically very attractive, with one of these women. This is another case of women saying one thing, and their actions saying another. Far too many women date guys based solely on physical appearance, and then when the guys turns out to be an ass, complain that men are all jerks. A great many men are not jerks, but we are looked over because women are as shallow and hormonal as men (they just don't like to admit it).

Due to these - and other - situations, men have learned think things through and tread carefully around women at times, but these are not the main cause of stress between the sexes. In my opinion, the one situation which has caused more stress between men and women than anything else is the question of honesty.

Most men like to be honest about things. If a buddy is doing something stupid, men point it out. If a guy is wearing a hat that makes him look like a moron, his friends will point it out and tell him not to wear it.

Women claim to love honesty, but at times they prefer to be lied to. "How do I look?", "Does this dress make me look fat?", etc. . . . why do you ask these questions if you don't want us to be honest? If any man ever answered either of those questions with a "Sorry honey, that dress does not flatter your figure at all. Maybe you should wear that other one" he would not only be sleeping on the couch for the next week, but he would probably have a few things thrown at his head.

The question of honesty also comes into play when a guy has feelings for a woman. If a guy just comes out and says how he feels, he risks several possible complications. First, he could say it at the wrong time and make the woman upset and uncomfortable. Second, she may have no feelings for him whatsoever, in which case he has probably just flushed a friendship down the toilet by being honest. Third (and in some guys' cases most likely) he can get the always popular "I don't like you in that way", the "I don't know how to respond to that", the classic "You aren't boyfriend material", or my personal favorite "You are just too nice, and I don't want to ruin our friendship".

Of course, if he keeps these feelings in when she wants him to say them, then she can become upset that he is too closed up emotionally. Maybe, while he is wrestling with whether or not he should say anything (probably for fear of one of the above complications), she will decide that he doesn't have any feelings for him, not tell him, and just move on to one of the shallow pretty-boy asshats talked about a few paragraphs ago.

So, with all these confusing possibilities and complications fouling out male-female interactions, men muddle on slowly and confused. Do they tell the truth this time, or is this a case where the truth will get you slapped? Does she really not want to talk about what is wrong, or does she want you to just automatically know what is wrong and apoligize for it? Graaaaaah!!!

From now on, I just want everyone to be honest with me. If you want to say something, say it. Please don't hold back (except for you Mike and BJ . . . I don't even want to know what Mike is thinking, and I already know what BJ is thinking). Just cut through all the bullshit and come out with it already people.

Thoughts Fermented By Boredom

After a day spent doing absolutely nothing for once, I sit here at my computer, chatting with an old friend from high school who I haven't had a conversation with in years and random thoughts have been bubbling up through my boredom. . . mayhaps it is the small amount of Canadian Whisky (that is one of the few things I will commend Canadians on - they make some decent booze) I have imbibed, but many of these thoughts are completely unconnected. To tell the truth, they are as unconnected as the bubbles I compared them to above.

-Pop-

Coincidences happen all the time. Tonight I started talking to a friend from college and she started asking about a friend I hadn't even thought of in months. Turns out one of her best friends goes to college with him and when he learned where she went he remembered that I was there. Through her I got his AIM name (funnily enough it turned out to be the same as his old Yahoo name that I used to chat with him on years ago). After starting up a conversation with him, I realized how nostalgic I get every once and a while for the simpler times of high school. No need to worry about when your various classes are . . . they are scheduled out for you in one long block every day. No need to worry about changes in schedules or whether or not a professor will cancel class on a given day or take attendence on that one day you skip . . . because they are always there and they always take attendence. Boy were those days were easier.

-Pop-

Recently I have become more aware of how my parents are having to change their perceptions of me. My dad was talking to my godfather on the phone the other night about his eldest daughter who recently graduated high school. My dad started talking about how "she can't be that old already" and "did she really already graduate?" and was about to continue on until he glanced over at me (probably because I was laughing at him). When he glanced over I just raised my wine glass (I was having a nice glass of Merlot with dinner) and smiled.

Sometimes my parents still see me as nothing more than the little boy I used to be, but then something jars their memory and they realize that I am an adult. It is refreshing to know that some part of them will always remember me as the little kid even if I can't remain as such.

-Pop-

I heard a song on the radio last night that I fell in love with. It is called "When Did You Fall" by Chris Rice. It is a really great song, with a catchy tune and some touching lyrics.

You’re all smiles and silly conversation
As if this sunny day came just for you
You twist your hair, you smile and you turn your eyes away
C’mon, tell me what’s right with you
Now it dawns on me probably everybody’s talkin’
And there’s something here I’m supposed to realize
‘Cause your secret’s out, and the universe laughs at it’s joke on me
I just caught it in your eyes, it’s a beautiful surprise

Chorus:
When did you fall in love with me?
Was it out of the blue
‘Cause I swear I never knew it
When did you let your heart run free?
Have you been waiting long?
When did you fall in love with me?
When did you fall in love?

Make your way over here, sit down by this fool, and let’s rewind
C’mon, let’s go back and replay all our scenes
You can point out the hints, the clues, the twists and the smiles this time
All the ones that slipped by me
I bet my face is red, and you can hear my heart poundin’
Well I guess it don’t matter now that I realize
‘Cause baby I missed it then, but I can surely see you now
Right there before my eyes
You’re my beautiful surprise

Chorus

Was it at the coffee shop
Or that morning at the bus stop
When you almost slipped, and I caught your hand
Or the time we built the snowman
The day at the beach, sandy and warm
Or the night with the scary thunderstorm
I never saw the signs
Now we’ve got to make up for lost time
And I can tell now by the way that you’re looking at me
I’d better finish this song so my lips will be free

Chorus x2

(Before anyone asks, no nothing prompted the posting of that song other than the fact that I heard it.)

-Slide-

What is it about love songs that can cause such reactions in humans? I know that I for one feel calmer and more relaxed after a nice love song or two. In fact, I try to listen to a couple such songs each night before going to sleep to relax me. I know a guy who has one of the meanest reputations I can think of, but he absolutely melts when he hears certain love songs. Love songs can pluck at heartstrings in almost anyone. I have yet to meet a person who doesn't have a soft spot for at least one love song for one reason or another.

-Pop-

Lalala . . . Purple Monkey Dishwasher

-Pop-

I have been re-reading the Wheel of Time recently and I noticed a few things that I haven't noticed before.

1. Berelain is going to fall in love with "a man in white". My guess is Galad.

2. Min predicted Moiraine's return in Book 7 (right after Rand meets with the Sea Fold) even though nothing else hinted at it until Book 11.

3. Methinks Thom and Moiraine are going to hook up. Both of them had thoughts about the other at one point or another through the books that are extremely similar to the thoughts echoed through the other couples in the book (ie. Rand and Min, or Rand and Elayne, or Rand and Aviendha, etc.)

4. I am not sure Mat is going to lose an eye as some people think. I think he is going to hand half of the main continent to the Seachan in order to save the world.

5. Logaine has been getting a raw deal through the entire series, but I think he is going to pick up things where Rand drops them after the Last Battle.

6. This is connecting the above two points and adding more - After the last battle the "Known World" will be under the control of 5 rulers. Mat will control the Western areas with the Seanchan. Lan will control the "Borderlands". Elayne will control the midlands (Andor and Cairhien). The Aiel will either choose a new Car'a'carn or break back to their clans. And finally Logaine will control Tear, Illian, and possibly to some degreee Mayene.

So has George spoken, and so shall it come to pass.

-Pop-

Well, off to bed with me now. Happy Independence Day everyone.

I realized today how much time to think you can have when you are doing a mindless task like mowing a lawn or doing other yardwork. In the three hours I worked outside today I had a lot of time to think about things, and a quote popped into my head that I read a couple of weeks ago.

You see, over the past week I have had several chats with old friends from high school and I have had a very similar conversation with four different female friends. In our conversations, all four of them found some way to say that I was "great friend material, but none of them ever considered me as boyfriend material", "a big teddy bear", "the guy who they know they can always come to for help and advice", and "the kind of guy that women bring to clubs to act as a bodyguard to keep the creepy guys away" (or some similar comment to the same effect).

After all of these conversations, my mind took the three hours of yardwork to sort through how I got categorized as the "great friend, but not boyfriend" type. . . and I think I got it.

I am a weird guy, I am fully willing to admit that, but to counter that weirdness I have spent most of my life developing the nice guy image I have. I don't act the way other guys tend to around women, and I think that is my problem.

In my attempt to be a gentleman I have done the following:
I put myself out and give up chairs to women without any thought of gaining anything.
I take the bait whenever a female friend goes fishing for compliments.
I make no untoward comments unless I know all present females will not be offended.
I focus on a woman's face (that is right guys, women have faces) and not on other assets when talking to her.

When you add up all of these little things, and thousands of other tiny things I have trained myself to do over the years to make girls actually feel comfortable around me have backfired. They now feel too comfortable around me. No one feels that they have any reason to worry with me around, because they know I won't try anything.

Hell, I can wander the halls of the women's dorms and the only thing Security or the RAs will say to me is "Hey George".

At one point right after Christmas break, someone made a joke about me giving up my seat to a female because I wanted to get in her pants and she responded by saying, "George isn't the kind of guy who tries to get into girls' pants."

Telling these stories about myself sadly reminds me of a story my mom told me about one of her friends at college. This guy was so openly gay that he was allowed to sleep over in the girls' dorms because the RAs knew he wasn't doing anything with the girls. That sounds way to close to my stories for comfort.

I have made myself seem so nonthreatening and normal that I think I finally understand why kings used to trust eunuchs to guard their harems. If a guy shows absolutely no overt signs that he realizes when women are attractive, he is considered harmless. . . which brings me to the quote that I thought of earlier today -

There's nothing worse than the girl who is considered charmless, except the man who is considered harmless.

That is right people, I am the saddest thing in this world. I am that man who is considered so harmless by women that I might as well be a eunuch. Hell, I might even get women to show more interest in me if I actually castrated myself. At least then I would have that whole "crazy guy who cut off his own balls" edge going for me.

Luckily for me, not everyone sees things in the exact same way, and one of these days I am going to find that woman who doesn't see me as a eunuch. . . hopefully.