Shock

Sometimes things startle you so much, to the very core, that you don’t know how to deal with them at the time. I believe the proper term is shock. And that pretty much describes the last several days. But first, I’m going to talk about something that shocked me at the gym a month ago.

I was on the elliptical machine trying to keep my heart rate up around 160 and trying desperately not to think about anyone else that might be watching me. (I’m a bit agoraphobic in that sense) Its also really late at night, probably around midnight, so the tinted windows in front of me show a remarkably clear reflection. Half the time I watch the TV just above and to the right of the windows, the other half I’m trying to peer through my reflection to see what’s going on outside. Being on the third floor of the building provides a rather striking vista when you can see it. When it happened I was near the end of my time on the machine and I was just starting to get that ache in my thighs and triceps. I glanced down to the pad on the machine showing all the pertinent information like time, distance, calories burnt, etc., and when I looked up to the windows in front of me I missed a step and almost got thrown off the machine. I saw only myself since there wasn’t anyone else in the room, but it wasn’t me. It was a whole new body image of myself. For the first time ever I saw in my reflection someone who wasn’t fat. I saw someone who wasn’t bulbous and distended. I saw a lean, good-looking, strong man working to rid himself of his excess. For once I didn’t see a fat kid trying to become something else, but a skinny guy trying to get out of the body he was stuck with.

It scared the hell out of me.

The vision scared me so much in fact, that until last week I didn’t go back to the gym. When a person becomes so used to something it becomes comfortable and safe, they rarely ever give it up. Having my body image altered like that was an eye-opening experience. It took me a while to realize it, but that moment showed me I was not powerless to change myself. I was not always a fat kid. And I don’t think I’m going to be anymore.

Something happened Saturday night that really threw me for a loop. I had gone out with my friends Jana, Travis, and Chelsea (I think that is how her name is spelled) to the Springfield Brew Co for dinner and then to Bailey’s for martini’s. We had a great time, and Jana and Chelsea wanted to go back to Chelsea’s house to continue the drinking and merry-making. I went with them and Travis went home. The drinking continued in earnest at Chelsea’s house and we all just laughed and had a great time, until they realized I was the only guy in the room and started talking about girl things. I was fine with most of this, until Chelsea started talking about her “type,” and then she described it. When she was done with that she looked at Jana and then directly over at me and said, “I would date you.”

I’m floored by this little tidbit of information, coupled with the fact that she is already dating someone else, I wanted to hit myself over the head repeatedly with my bottle of Samuel Adams®. That little shock was twofold: first, this girl is just hot, and second, to think that she would date me just caused me to loose all sense of coolness I had up to that point. What a cruel world it is.

The last little shock happened Sunday night. I received a rather random text message from a girl I know asking if I wanted to “hook up.” While this was a shock unto itself, when I asked her to clarify (I’m kind of naive like that), she said I was a cute and nice guy.

Two complements in less than 24 hours. Someone out there is trying to build up my ego for some reason, and I beg them not to stop shocking me.

4am

It has been a while since I just wrote. Not about some some meaningless review or about some half-hearted attempt at saving the world, but about me. The people who write every day about what is going on in their heads and their hearts are much braver than I will ever be. For that I admire them. It is probably this admiration that did some small part in getting me to start this thing in the first place. My grandfather also kept a journal. I’m not sure how often he wrote in them, but I know there are several boxes of them. My father has yet to gather the strength to read them and I don’t blame him. He has to come to grips with his father’s death and with the nagging question; “would he want me to read them?”

It is a question I have struggled with myself as the months have droned on about this blog. Do I want to make my most intimate thoughts privy to the world? Should I? Does anyone even want or care to know? At first I didn’t care what the answer was to any of those questions, but as time wore on I have begun to think on them harder. I believe I can distill the questions down to the one that really matters to me; do I truly want to know what other people really think about me?

I believe the answer is yes.

But I am afraid. I am afraid of knowing what kind of man I really am. I have been called everything from amazing to wasted space, from awful to wonderful space, and from heroic to villainous. Who are we really if not reflections of the world that views us? It burns me to know that people think poorly of me. That I have done something to affect them crossly in some way wounds me. Because of this I really and truly get along with everyone. I harbor no long-lasting ill will on anyone. Even the two people who betrayed my deepest trust are spared my curses. Sure I may talk bravado around friends who either know them or know of them, but when it comes down to it I have no desire or will to keep that kind of hate in my heart.

My friends say I am a good man. They trust me (I think). I am a good friend. I am loyal to a fault. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I am the stereotypical “good guy” who always finishes last. I have a paralyzing fear of rejection. I am afraid of women I am attracted to. I am smart, not brilliant like some people say I am, but I am smart. I have a difficult time selling myself because: a) I have a well-bruised self image and, b) I am far too modest about my accomplishments.

Yet I continue to write in this thing and the question begs to be asked, why?

One of these days I might actually get around to answering that.

Happy Holidays

Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Yule, Happy Winter Solstice celebrations, and let peace reign in this international time of reflection and reverence.

FCC Follies

Earlier this week, the Federal Communications Commission voted to relax a 32 year old ban on media ownership. Under the new ruling, newspapers will now be able to own broadcast media. In a country where 3% of the population owns over 90% of the media outlets already, this is something that can not be tolerated.

Over the years, I continue to watch as the diverse chorus that was once our nation’s news slowly fades into a single voice: conglomerate consumer media. The message is being churned out from news factories. Where once my local newspaper was littered with actual local news, now I can scarcely find an article that wasn’t written by the Associated Press or some other wire service. The media giants would have you believe that in the midst of waning newspaper sales other sources of revenue should be allowed, and their solution: even more concentrated media ownership.

The American newspaper system was founded on the principle of being the watchdog of government. The media’s primary job is supposed to be to keep the American public informed of what their government is doing. Rather than this often difficult job, because of the ever increasing media conglomerates, we have seen the media be nothing but the government’s willing cheerleader.

We can start by going here: stopbigmedia.com where you can sign a petition to Congress to nullify the FCC’s actions.

Following that, call your representative, and then your senator.

To find your representative by state, go here: http://www.house.gov/house/MemberWWW_by_State.shtml.

To find your senator follow this link: http://www.senate.gov/general/contact_information/senators_cfm.cfm

The FCC follies have gone on long enough. We must stop this travesty from continuing. Not every one of us has to step forward, but if enough of us do, then we will ensure “that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.^[1]“

Stuff has a story

At least, that is what Annie Leonard says from the documentary video “The Story of Stuff.” You can watch it at www.storyofstuff.com. Never before have I seen the process of consumerism brought under the magnifying glass like this has. From where the raw materials come from to where they eventually go to; this movie walks the viewer step by step through it all. No matter your level of education about this issue, no matter your social or economic status, you should watch this film.

We all know: from the lowest-paid worker in the overexploited nations to the meagerly-paid blue collar American, that there is something wrong, we just can’t seem to all put our fingers on it or wrap our collective heads around it. Annie Leonard helps put some of the pieces together.

One of the interesting concepts she brings up is “externalized cost.” As she explains on the website: “[...] the price tags on consumer products don’t capture the true cost of producing and distributing all this stuff.” In the big box stores, or in any stores for that matter, when consumers want a product sold to them cheaper the store only has a few options to them. They can either: take a cut in profits (highly unlikely), buy it cheaper (more likely), cut their cost in the item, or not care what you think. The problem comes in when the store chooses option two or three. To cut their cost in the item, or rather, their cost of storing and staffing the store house, they have to cut pay or benefits. Failing to meet the customer’s price at that point, they will buy it cheaper. This results in the same problem as before; too many people get their wages or benefits cut just so the consumers can have something they didn’t need in the first place cheaper. By putting the excess cost of the items on the actual people that produce the goods, distributors and manufacturer can enjoy the same amount of profit and still provide consumers with the lowest price.

This has to end. And only the consumers can end it. We are the ones who create the demand. We are the ones who settle for products that will not last longer than a few weeks. We are the ones who are turning a blind eye to the injustices visited upon our planet, our fellow people, and ourselves.

Visit www.storyofstuff.com and get educated on what we are doing to the planet, our friends, and ourselves.

It is time to ensure the continued story of our planet.

I Am Legend

I just finished watching the aforementioned movie. Without a doubt that has to be the best acting I have ever seen from Will Smith. This movie is fantastic: it has seat of your chair action, heart-wrenching drama, a compelling storyline that suspends disbelief just enough to make it believable, and as usual for a Smith film, a touch of comedy to keep everyone on their toes.

For those of you who have been under a rock here is the synopsis (by Warner Bros. Pictures):

Robert Neville is a brilliant scientist, but even he could not contain the terrible virus that was unstoppable, incurable, and man-made. Somehow immune, Neville is now the last human survivor in what is left of New York City and maybe the world. For three years, Neville has faithfully sent out daily radio messages, desperate to find any other survivors who might be out there. But he is not alone. Mutant victims of the plague — The Infected — lurk in the shadows… watching Neville’s every move… waiting for him to make a fatal mistake. Perhaps mankind’s last, best hope, Neville is driven by only one remaining mission: to find a way to reverse the effects of the virus using his own immune blood. But he knows he is outnumbered… and quickly running out of time.

**** Warning! Spoilers ahead!****

3am

It is, as the title says, 3am. I point this out not because that is the time where I am, but because I am awake to see said time. I am having one of my many sleepless nights. Where the mind is racing in all manner of directions while the body is trying to tell it to shut up and go to sleep.

I am exhausted, but alas, sleep is not on the menu tonight. Or is it this morning?

I have several things floating around the gray matter tonight, and perhaps I should share them with my electronic friend since I haven’t been able to articulate them to my living friends. My monitor’s warm silhouette has kept me company on many a lonely night, and tonight is no exception. Which leads me to my first bit of soul-baring; I am a coward. This, to me, is a rather recent realization. Having always been the one to step up and take charge when necessary, the thought that I might be a coward never occurred to me. I have always been afraid of different things, but most of them I have either conquered or have enough of a respect for them that I know my limitations. For instance, I have a terrible fear of heights, but I have climbed to the top of a three story house and survived to tell the tale. I also have a similar fear of drowning, but I know how to swim. When we are faced with obstacles that create fear within us, it is our ability to overcome those fears or move on in spite of them that makes us leaders, but it is when we can not do these things that we know we are cowards. I have come face to face with the cold hard reality that I am a coward. Even if it is only temporary and amounts to nothing more than a momentary speed bump on my road through life, this realization has given me pause.

Thankfully, my dear e-journal, I do not have to listen to or see the groan when I divulge what ails me. The fear that I have thus far run away from every time I am confronted with it, is women. I am an absolute coward with women, and I have told people as much, but never before have I felt like a coward until the other night. I invited this woman I know out to a birthday part for my roommate. I’m not going to go so far as to say that I am smitten with this woman, but I find her funny, attractive, and intelligent (I am always attracted to this combination). So I would like to take her out on a date; nothing more or less. This is normally when I get the groan, everyone tells me to just say something, and while I understand how easy that sounds I just can’t bring myself to do it. The words will not form, my vocabulary goes on vacation, and my mouth goes on strike. She is already a friend and so I am comfortable enough around her, but every time I think of putting her in the role of “a date” my confidence falls apart completely.

Bless my friends, I love every one of them, but their prodding, albeit gentle, did not help the matter. I just don’t have the confidence to do it, and at this stage of my life I don’t know if I ever will. And this, this my electronic friend, is what depresses and angers me the most. I start thinking that I will never get over this, or that I will never get past it, and start feeling sorry for myself, but then I just get angry at myself for throwing the pity party to begin with. I am a grown man and I shouldn’t be doing this to myself. Yet there it is. My real greatest fear is that I will never have the family I want so badly. That I am going to grow old with only a couple of friends and maybe my nephew to keep me company. No wife to laugh at me when I lose my glasses on my head. No children to pass on the family name and heritage to. I am frightened that my life will be devoted to work, married to research and learning, and my only children being the papers I write and the students I teach.

I can’t be the only one like this, I just wish whoever it was would get over that one fear; telling others. So I can at last get the feeling that I’m not alone. Do not let your fears run your life. It is sad and very lonely existence. When I wake up I will have replaced the masks and locked all of this back up behind them, but right now, at 3am, I am sad and I am lonely.

Good night, maybe morning…

Non-traditionality sucks

The singular issue I have with being 29 and still in college: everyone is younger than me. I have so very few people to relate to in college because of this. Anyone that is even remotely close to my own age is about to graduate and go on with their lives. I get invited to parties and they are nothing but drunken frivolities that I want nothing to do with. I’ve outgrown those lecherous alcoholic desires. I like the occasional beer now and then, but the thought of hanging out with several people in the 21-22 range just does not sound like fun to me. I remember what I was like 8 years ago, and I know these people would not have liked me then. Gah!

I guess this next semester I am going to further socially segregate myself by going to night school. As much as I dearly love the atmosphere at Drury’s day program, it is far too expensive for me to continue, and so I’m shipping of to night school. I’m not really looking forward to it, as one of my required classes wasn’t offered in a classroom setting so I have to take it online.

Being labeled as non-traditional sucks so much. You are expected to be able to do everything that the 18-22 crowd does at their pace and sometimes above their level because of your age and experience. It is really just annoying and I’m quite tired of the ageism within the system. Perhaps at night school I’ll be treated like the adult I am, rather than the child they expect me to be.

Yay

Standards

I hate the standards associated with American masculinity. Men don’t cry. Men do not show weakness. Men must be strong. Men must not show fear. Men must have a long list of conquests. Men must be aggressive. Men must be able to fix everything. Men must dominate those weaker than them.

I want to know who the hell said I am no longer a man if I cry! I want to know who created the social stigma that keeps me from being labeled as one of the guys. My best friend in the entire world told me that I’m just a “sensitive guy,” but there wasn’t anything wrong with that. Yet ever since then he has tried to “train” me in the ways of men. Giving me pointers and advice and in a way telling me who and what I am is wrong. But there’s nothing wrong with being a sensitive guy. Right? Right. Bullshit.

Everywhere I look there are ads showing ridiculously cut and highly tanned men doing all sorts of “manly” things. These ads are showing the myth of the regular guy. This is what a man is supposed to look like. This is what a man is supposed to be doing on his days off. This is how you are supposed to be doing it. I am so sick of this crap.

I’m overweight, granted, but I’m working on that and it is a slow process. I’m just so tired of being ignored because I don’t fit the model. I am the nice guy that no one believes is around anymore. I’m courteous, I’m nice, I’m genuinely concerned about my fellow humans, I would not hurt a fly unless it bit me, but because I’m overweight, because I’m not an aggressive prick, and because I don’t brag about my conquests over other human beings, I’m ignored.

Case in point: My best friend is everything I am not. He is in fantastic physical condition. He is a braggart. He is aggressive. He rarely ever shows weakness. When we go hang out to grab a bite to eat or some coffee, I get ignored. The waitress will walk by and ask him specifically if he needs anything and will then walk right away. I remember at the last restaurant we were at, he got a refill three times, while my glass sat empty for twenty minutes. I know, I should have said something sooner, but I didn’t. I wanted to tell her when she asked if we would like to go cups that I would if she ever would have refilled my drink, but that it wasn’t necessary now. Of course I didn’t say this though.

I’m tired and I’m done. I’m also late for work, crap.

updates

Another semester draws to a close and with it brings another round of finals. I’ve spent the last few hours studying for my first final of the week and while I’m not completely confident about my breadth of knowledge in the course, I think I will do just fine.

I two finals tomorrow and one more on Thursday. Between those I will be hanging out with a friend from my online gaming days who came down this last Friday to spend part of his vacation with his friends around here. Wednesday I’ll be driving him to Kansas City for his flight home.

I also went to my insurance adjuster on Friday to get an estimate on the damages to my car. It came to a grand total of $1800.00! For as little visible damage as was done it surprises me the price tag was so high. But I still get to pay $500.00 out of pocket thank you insane deductible and lady without insurance who hit me.

Christmas is drawing ever closer and with it my birthday. There came a point several years back when I stopped giving a damn about my birthday. I don’t think I wanted to have yet another reminder that another year had slipped through my fingers.

I miss…

I miss my son and my grandparents. I’m missing them a lot today. I woke up missing them.

I haven’t seen my son in nine years, my grandpa passed away six years ago, and my grandma passed two years ago.

I always get like this around the holidays. Feelings of familial absence are always more strongly felt in times where the prevalent culture’s social norm is to be or get closer to the traditional family unit. Thanksgiving and Christmas are just those times. Maybe it is because so many of my family was born around this time though. My grandpa and my sister were born on January 20th. My son’s birthday is the 29th of December. Somewhere out there, I hope he will have a fantastic birthday party with cake and friends and adopted parents who love him. Sometimes it is that hope alone that lets me sleep at night.

I miss my son and my grandparents.

The biggest ad for windows functionality… ever!

I was using Google Dice, which is pretty much a random website function of theirs. It’s entertaining, especially when you run into this awesomeness: http://www.aflynn.com/times-square/

If you click on the picture it will zoom in.

This is the funniest thing I’ve seen in quite a while.

Imperfections

Today was an interesting day. I finally started feeling better after pretty much two strait weeks of being sick, and then my voice starts to go again so I take it easy from the phones. I go through a relatively uneventful day at work. But I have to say that a couple of things stood out; First, I have a friend who works in the same shopping center as I do, in a bakery/restaurant, and because of this I regularly visit her while I’m buying food and drink. One of these days I’m going to work up the nerve to actually hit on her and see where that takes me. Secondly, I’ve come to the realization that I have no patience for grown men and women who act like three-year-olds. Well, this isn’t as much of a realization as this: I will actually now say something about it to them. Before now, I would quietly seethe about how imbecilic they are being, but now something in me has changed enough that I won’t be quiet about it.

I’ve done this twice already and I’m just now realizing it. The first time was when one of the people that I work with was running their mouth about another employee, something that this person had just recently been complaining about because they were on the receiving end of it, and I chewed her out for it. This was about a month ago. Then, just recently, I chewed on someone else for snapping at a new employee and for their attitude in general. Now normally I can stand a little bit of grumpiness and complaining at work, everyone does it and its almost expected, but when someone’s attitude is so foul almost every second they are there that it starts to affect my mood and the moods of the people around them, it is time for something to change. It pains me to have to point out others imperfections, even more so when I have to use my own to do it, but sometimes people just need to come back down to earth and get a little truth now and again.

After work was said and done I had to go over to school to start on the last leg of my last group project. We designed and administered a survey on campus. We’re down to the number crunching and seeing if our theory was proven, disproved, or neither. I have to say, (and thank the gods for this because if not I would have a very boring career future ahead of me) that I love number crunching. From coding the surveys to entering in the data to organizing the data into understandable chunks of useful information from the mountain of unreadable numbers to filling out charts so the numbers become visible things, I love this work. Tonight I got to see our hard work begin to pay off. Tonight I got to see what happened with the variables over time. Tonight I got into the dirty work of a researcher and I don’t ever want it to wash off.

My day ended on a rather good note. One of my group-mates, a stunningly attractive mid-twenties exercise and sport science major with long reddish-brown hair and a cute, almost bubbly, personality, looked at me after I had finished explaining some rather technical thing to everyone and had shown them what I had gotten done in their absence and told me that I “rocked her face off!” One of the guys in the group coughed and in the most masculine way possible said roughly the same thing, that I had “impressed” him. I was stunned that they both had such a high opinion of me. All I could do was say thank you to them both, then kick myself later for missing an opportunity to strike up a non-group related conversation with the girl.

Ah well, they can’t all be perfect days, and I’m just glad this one ended on a better than good note.

Thanks

This is just a quick thank you to the close friends in my life who are always uplifting, who always do their very best, and who inspire me every day I know them.

April, Jason, Mikaela, and Jana. Thank you, all of you, for all your kind words and help over the years. I can not say enough how much I have appreciated it.