After last night, I was dreading today. With two presentations today, I thought I was going to spend the whole day stressed out and tired. Well, I was right about half of the equation - I was dead tired. Then this afternoon I sit down at my computer and think to myself, "Oh yeah, I wrote up a post for my blog at like 3am. I don't fully remember what I said in it. I should check that out."
Apparantly I am much more honest when I am dead tired and my brain has been fried from writing around 12 pages of information, because I probably wouldn't have written that otherwise. Now, I could erase that post, but I am not one to take things back once I say them. The truth is that my last post really does explain the way I feel (albeit a little more frazzled and desperate than normal . . . I was tired), but I'll be damned if I am not a little sorry that I posted it. Maybe it is my paranoid nature, but I just can't help but think that this blog is going to end up coming back and biting me in the ass one of these days.
Well, until that day comes I will keep writing things here and hope for the best.
4/27/2006
Musings during Homework
As I sit here at my computer working on two term papers, I can't help but think of you. I have you stuck in my head, and I can't get you out. I have done everything I can think of. I made a playlist on iTunes with no love songs and listened to it for a while, but even in the midst of comedy songs I found things that reminded me of you. When that didn’t work, I put in a movie, but since I was facing my computer and not my TV, my mind wandered back to you. I talked to friends from high school in the hopes that reminiscing would keep my mind off of the present, but most of the conversations drifted towards relationship issues. So here I am, 6 hours till I have to make a presentation to a class and I am writing this about you instead of working on my papers.
Why is it that I can’t just tell you how I feel? I know you care for someone else, but why should that effect the way I feel? How can I have these feelings for you, and yet be afraid to look you in your eyes and tell you that you are one of the smartest, funniest, and most beautiful women that I have ever known? Why is it that I can not tell you that you are probably one of the most amazing people I will ever meet in my life and that every minute I spend with you makes me feel like one of the luckiest men in the world? Am I afraid that it will scare you away? Would you stop innocently joking with me about risqué things if you knew how I felt about you? Am I worried that it might keep that radiant smile from being shown in my presence?
I don’t know if I can bear the thought of that, but at the same time I don’t know if I can just keep these feelings inside. I am risking enough writing them here on my blog when I have a link to it in my AIM profile that you can check at any time. Part of me wants to climb to the top of the Halleck Center (I would find a way) and shout at the top of my lungs how I feel about you, but another part of me keeps whispering, “Don’t do it George. Don’t risk your friendship on it. Don’t give your heart to someone again when it could just get broken.”
And as that second part of me whispers those things, the hopeless romantic in me (I sound like someone with Dissociative Identity Disorder) tells me that the possibility of being with you is worth any injury to my psyche. It reminds me of the quote:
Can I muster up that courage? Can I quell the little voice in the back of my head yelling at me to be reasonable and play it safe long enough to tell you, and if so when? Only time will tell . . . well, time to get back to my homework.
Why is it that I can’t just tell you how I feel? I know you care for someone else, but why should that effect the way I feel? How can I have these feelings for you, and yet be afraid to look you in your eyes and tell you that you are one of the smartest, funniest, and most beautiful women that I have ever known? Why is it that I can not tell you that you are probably one of the most amazing people I will ever meet in my life and that every minute I spend with you makes me feel like one of the luckiest men in the world? Am I afraid that it will scare you away? Would you stop innocently joking with me about risqué things if you knew how I felt about you? Am I worried that it might keep that radiant smile from being shown in my presence?
I don’t know if I can bear the thought of that, but at the same time I don’t know if I can just keep these feelings inside. I am risking enough writing them here on my blog when I have a link to it in my AIM profile that you can check at any time. Part of me wants to climb to the top of the Halleck Center (I would find a way) and shout at the top of my lungs how I feel about you, but another part of me keeps whispering, “Don’t do it George. Don’t risk your friendship on it. Don’t give your heart to someone again when it could just get broken.”
And as that second part of me whispers those things, the hopeless romantic in me (I sound like someone with Dissociative Identity Disorder) tells me that the possibility of being with you is worth any injury to my psyche. It reminds me of the quote:
It hurts to love someone and not be loved in return, but what is most painful is to love someone and never finding the courage to let the person know how you feel.
Can I muster up that courage? Can I quell the little voice in the back of my head yelling at me to be reasonable and play it safe long enough to tell you, and if so when? Only time will tell . . . well, time to get back to my homework.
4/18/2006
Musings on “Nice Guys” and the “Friend Zone”
As a nice guy and eternal resident of the “Friend Zone,” I have a few things to say about the numerous articles online about these concepts. As a nice guy I have looked through every article I could find regarding them, and I was shocked and appalled by what I saw.
Every “Nice Guy” article I have found has at least one or two decent points to it, but then every single one degenerated into complaining that their “Nice Guy” attitudes are being ignored, and they are getting nothing in return. Being repaid for being a “Nice Guy” isn’t what being nice is about. You don’t do nice things for people because you expect them to pay you back. You do nice things because it is the right thing to do. I don’t take sick friends to the doctor’s office because it might impress my female friends and get me some action . . . I do it because I have a sick friend who needs to go to the doctor and doesn’t have a car. I don’t take care of my friends when they are drunk because it will show my female friends that I am good at taking care of people and make me like them more . . . I do it because my friends are morons when they are drunk and have a habit of doing stupid things that can be prevented. If I read one more article about a “Nice Guy” complaining that none of his female friends are having sex with him even though he is a “Nice Guy” I will stab someone in the face.
Disheartened by the fact that I might be the only person who does nice things because they are good and not to get some action, I turned to “Friend Zone” rants to see if my worst fears would be realized, and unfortunately they were. Once more, every article seemed to be nice enough at first, and each one had a few valid points that gave them surface validity. Upon further reading, I found that every one of the articles could be boiled down to little more than:
Why must all feelings be associated only with sex? I am a 21 year old virgin and proud of the fact. I have had chances to, as some say, “cure myself” of it, but I turned them down. I don’t think that sexual feelings are necessary to caring for someone, yet every single “Friend Zone” article says something in it to the effect of “the friend zone is where women put men they have no intention of sleeping with”.
To me, the “Friend Zone” is somewhere I put myself. I fall for a girl, and surely enough she sees me as a friend. For some reason, even knowing that they will never amount to anything, I allow my feelings for her to develop and end up further entrenching myself in the “Friend Zone”. Sure the women involved have something to do with it. If they weren’t the amazingly smart, funny, beautiful women that they are I would never have fallen for them, but it isn’t their fault that I fell for them even if I know they have no similar feelings towards me. Despite my insight into the human mind (Woohoo! Go Cognitive Psychology!), I still end up over my head.
I hold no animosity for the women who have unknowingly (or perhaps knowingly in some cases) held me in their thrall. I did it to myself, and the “Friend Zone” isn’t the lowest level of hell as some would have us believe. The “Friend Zone” is a place where you can be friends with a wonderful woman even if there are some unrequited feelings involved. Sometimes, it is better being friends with them and wondering what might have been. Keeping it inside may lead to some painful moments as you watch them date someone else and get hurt, but if you truly know that your romantic feelings are in no way reciprocated it is better than telling her and hurting your friendship. I say this because if the feelings are not mutual, letting her know will make her feel uncomfortable around you 99% of the time.
Every once and a while, these feelings are just too strong to be contained and must be expressed, even if it does endanger the friendship. In this case, the slightest possibility that these feelings could lead to some more meaningful relationship can be worth the possibility that she will avoid you like the plague from then on. If this happens, accept it and move on. Once things are said, they cannot be taken back even if you wish it so. This sentiment is best expressed by Billy Joel in the song “And So It Goes”.
In summary, any of you who have read other “Nice Guy” or “Friend Zone” articles, please take them with a grain of salt. Few among them are true nice guys, and unfortunately most of them are manipulative bastards who see being “Nice” as a way to get into girls pants.
Ah . . . .what is the world coming to?
Every “Nice Guy” article I have found has at least one or two decent points to it, but then every single one degenerated into complaining that their “Nice Guy” attitudes are being ignored, and they are getting nothing in return. Being repaid for being a “Nice Guy” isn’t what being nice is about. You don’t do nice things for people because you expect them to pay you back. You do nice things because it is the right thing to do. I don’t take sick friends to the doctor’s office because it might impress my female friends and get me some action . . . I do it because I have a sick friend who needs to go to the doctor and doesn’t have a car. I don’t take care of my friends when they are drunk because it will show my female friends that I am good at taking care of people and make me like them more . . . I do it because my friends are morons when they are drunk and have a habit of doing stupid things that can be prevented. If I read one more article about a “Nice Guy” complaining that none of his female friends are having sex with him even though he is a “Nice Guy” I will stab someone in the face.
Disheartened by the fact that I might be the only person who does nice things because they are good and not to get some action, I turned to “Friend Zone” rants to see if my worst fears would be realized, and unfortunately they were. Once more, every article seemed to be nice enough at first, and each one had a few valid points that gave them surface validity. Upon further reading, I found that every one of the articles could be boiled down to little more than:
“I want to have sex with Girl A, but she only sees me as a friend . . . what a bitch!”
Why must all feelings be associated only with sex? I am a 21 year old virgin and proud of the fact. I have had chances to, as some say, “cure myself” of it, but I turned them down. I don’t think that sexual feelings are necessary to caring for someone, yet every single “Friend Zone” article says something in it to the effect of “the friend zone is where women put men they have no intention of sleeping with”.
To me, the “Friend Zone” is somewhere I put myself. I fall for a girl, and surely enough she sees me as a friend. For some reason, even knowing that they will never amount to anything, I allow my feelings for her to develop and end up further entrenching myself in the “Friend Zone”. Sure the women involved have something to do with it. If they weren’t the amazingly smart, funny, beautiful women that they are I would never have fallen for them, but it isn’t their fault that I fell for them even if I know they have no similar feelings towards me. Despite my insight into the human mind (Woohoo! Go Cognitive Psychology!), I still end up over my head.
I hold no animosity for the women who have unknowingly (or perhaps knowingly in some cases) held me in their thrall. I did it to myself, and the “Friend Zone” isn’t the lowest level of hell as some would have us believe. The “Friend Zone” is a place where you can be friends with a wonderful woman even if there are some unrequited feelings involved. Sometimes, it is better being friends with them and wondering what might have been. Keeping it inside may lead to some painful moments as you watch them date someone else and get hurt, but if you truly know that your romantic feelings are in no way reciprocated it is better than telling her and hurting your friendship. I say this because if the feelings are not mutual, letting her know will make her feel uncomfortable around you 99% of the time.
Every once and a while, these feelings are just too strong to be contained and must be expressed, even if it does endanger the friendship. In this case, the slightest possibility that these feelings could lead to some more meaningful relationship can be worth the possibility that she will avoid you like the plague from then on. If this happens, accept it and move on. Once things are said, they cannot be taken back even if you wish it so. This sentiment is best expressed by Billy Joel in the song “And So It Goes”.
In summary, any of you who have read other “Nice Guy” or “Friend Zone” articles, please take them with a grain of salt. Few among them are true nice guys, and unfortunately most of them are manipulative bastards who see being “Nice” as a way to get into girls pants.
Ah . . . .what is the world coming to?
4/15/2006
Well, I get bored easily when I am one of around 20 people on campus. This morning, I started randomly Googling people from here at college. I love what I find.
First, and least funny, is a picture of Pinky giving her valedictorian speech at graduation. Not funny, but still shows what you can find onlne.
The next picture, which is slightly funnier, is of the one and only Matt "Sam" Frankowski in his Hockey getup.
And the final picture is the funniest. When I say funniest, I mean I laughed for around ten solid minutes after seeing it. Words cannot describe what the picture is of, so I will just show you.
That is right . . . BJ in a pink dress. Laugh with me my friends. Laugh.
As for anyone else who knows me, sees this, and wonders why there is no picture of them up . . . well you either have no pictures of you anywhere but Facebook (and those just don't count) or you share a name with people (I am looking at you Trips, Jen, Mothball, and KP).
First, and least funny, is a picture of Pinky giving her valedictorian speech at graduation. Not funny, but still shows what you can find onlne.
The next picture, which is slightly funnier, is of the one and only Matt "Sam" Frankowski in his Hockey getup.
And the final picture is the funniest. When I say funniest, I mean I laughed for around ten solid minutes after seeing it. Words cannot describe what the picture is of, so I will just show you.
That is right . . . BJ in a pink dress. Laugh with me my friends. Laugh.
As for anyone else who knows me, sees this, and wonders why there is no picture of them up . . . well you either have no pictures of you anywhere but Facebook (and those just don't count) or you share a name with people (I am looking at you Trips, Jen, Mothball, and KP).
Damn You iTunes!!!
As I went to go to bed something noteworthy happened, but to fully explain this thing, I will have to delve into some of the events of the past month or so.
First of all, there is a certain female that I adore, but unfortunately it is not to be. Now, normally I would be able to accept this and move on with my life, but there is something about her that is restraining me from doing so.
Secondly, my iTunes somehow knows of this unrequited love and is taking pains to remind me of it and rub it in my face. I know full well as I write this that I am exhibiting animism which is something normally left behind before an individual leaves the preoperational stage of development, but there is a reason for this. My iTunes contains over 2 days of music. Approximately 8 hours of this music is songs of love, loss, and wanting. Based upon these numbers, it would be reasonable to estimate that approximately 1 in 6 songs played while iTunes is operating randomly would be one of said love songs.
Unfortunately, my iTunes has thrown every law of probability out the window. At least two-thirds of the songs it plays while in 'random' mode are sappy love songs. It has become more and more pronounced the past two days. Thursday night, as I got ready to go to bed I turned on iTunes and hit play. . . the song "You Don't Know Me" by Michael Bublé began playing.
Fast forward to this evening as I sit down to check my e-mail on a break from a Security round. I load up iTunes as I start reading a random e-mail from my boss. . . "She's Like the Wind". I pause the song, and quickly finish reading my e-mail before leaving the room perplexed. Three times in a row sappy love songs started when I hit random. Just a fluke I told myself.
So now, as I started to go to bed I turn on iTunes and hit play. . . "Losing my Mind" from Follies starts up.
"What the bloody hell?" I mutter as I reach up and hit the next button. . . only to be regaled with "Being Alive" from Company. Not only did it just spit two more songs about love and wanting, but they were two Sondheim songs. Chuckling at how unlikely this is I sit through "Being Alive" because I love the song. The song that came next floored me though.
"That Face" from The Producers was piping through my speakers, and my iTunes was running six for six in the love song department. Deciding that there was no way to fight it, and not wanting to watch another movie at the moment, I shrugged, got into bed, and decided to sleep. When the next two songs were also sappy love songs ("When You Really Love a Woman" and "Best of my Love") I knew that I had to write about it.
Luckily for my iTunes, the next two songs it played were "Hermaphrodite" and "Bohemian Rhapsody", because I was about ready to retire it.
Anyone who knows me and is reading this (with the exception of one or two people) is probably going "Whoa! You started out by saying that you were crazy for someone and then spent the entire rest of this damned post ranting about a music player! What is going on with your lady friend, why is it not to be, and who is she?" Well, I will probably address those questions at a later date (well, not the who is she, because I know my luck and when I write her name bad things will happen to me), but right now I am going on 68 hours with no sleep. I feel about ready to pass out, and I think my insomnia is actually about ready to relent and allow it.
Until later.
First of all, there is a certain female that I adore, but unfortunately it is not to be. Now, normally I would be able to accept this and move on with my life, but there is something about her that is restraining me from doing so.
Secondly, my iTunes somehow knows of this unrequited love and is taking pains to remind me of it and rub it in my face. I know full well as I write this that I am exhibiting animism which is something normally left behind before an individual leaves the preoperational stage of development, but there is a reason for this. My iTunes contains over 2 days of music. Approximately 8 hours of this music is songs of love, loss, and wanting. Based upon these numbers, it would be reasonable to estimate that approximately 1 in 6 songs played while iTunes is operating randomly would be one of said love songs.
Unfortunately, my iTunes has thrown every law of probability out the window. At least two-thirds of the songs it plays while in 'random' mode are sappy love songs. It has become more and more pronounced the past two days. Thursday night, as I got ready to go to bed I turned on iTunes and hit play. . . the song "You Don't Know Me" by Michael Bublé began playing.
You give your hand to meUnfortunately, that almost perfectly describes my current situation. Annoyed, I turned off my iTunes and instead fell asleep to a movie that had nothing at all to do with love (Wag the Dog). This morning, I wake up and turn on iTunes as I start getting ready to face a boring day on campus. "And So It Goes" by Billy Joel starts playing . . . another sappy love song. I snort and turn off iTunes with a little bit of disgust.
And then you say good-bye
I watch you walk away
Beside the lucky guy
You'll never never know
The one who loves you so
Well, you don't know me
Fast forward to this evening as I sit down to check my e-mail on a break from a Security round. I load up iTunes as I start reading a random e-mail from my boss. . . "She's Like the Wind". I pause the song, and quickly finish reading my e-mail before leaving the room perplexed. Three times in a row sappy love songs started when I hit random. Just a fluke I told myself.
So now, as I started to go to bed I turn on iTunes and hit play. . . "Losing my Mind" from Follies starts up.
"What the bloody hell?" I mutter as I reach up and hit the next button. . . only to be regaled with "Being Alive" from Company. Not only did it just spit two more songs about love and wanting, but they were two Sondheim songs. Chuckling at how unlikely this is I sit through "Being Alive" because I love the song. The song that came next floored me though.
"That Face" from The Producers was piping through my speakers, and my iTunes was running six for six in the love song department. Deciding that there was no way to fight it, and not wanting to watch another movie at the moment, I shrugged, got into bed, and decided to sleep. When the next two songs were also sappy love songs ("When You Really Love a Woman" and "Best of my Love") I knew that I had to write about it.
Luckily for my iTunes, the next two songs it played were "Hermaphrodite" and "Bohemian Rhapsody", because I was about ready to retire it.
Anyone who knows me and is reading this (with the exception of one or two people) is probably going "Whoa! You started out by saying that you were crazy for someone and then spent the entire rest of this damned post ranting about a music player! What is going on with your lady friend, why is it not to be, and who is she?" Well, I will probably address those questions at a later date (well, not the who is she, because I know my luck and when I write her name bad things will happen to me), but right now I am going on 68 hours with no sleep. I feel about ready to pass out, and I think my insomnia is actually about ready to relent and allow it.
Until later.
Hmmmmmmm
Well, this is my first posting on my brand new blog, and I am sad to say that it is going to be meaningless drivel like this. I am tired (that happens when you don't sleep for two nights straight and it is already 4am of the third night) and grumpy (the heat in my dorm is still on, my room is like a sauna, and I have to stay on campus through Easter Weekend). Well, now that I have that out of the way . . . Welcome to my Random Musings. I don't know how you found this place, but I hope it doesn't make you want to gouge your eyes out.
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