Because of my own limited experiences and my exposure to fictional characters such as Two-Face and Jekly and Hyde, I always thought of split personality disorder as a largely fictional disease. Even then, I imagined that if were real, it would have dramatic symptoms. Alter egos were evil beings who love destruction, who revel in chaos and who fiddle while Rome burns.
I've begun to suspect that split personalities are not so rare, nor so dramatic; I even worry that I might have one. I realized this just this evening after returning from the laundromat. I placed my clean clothes on the floor and grabbed my towel off of the door hook only to find a used undershirt hiding there. "I have no idea how that got there" was the first thing I thought, but, deep down, I knew that I myself placed it there.
This is not the first time something like this has happened. In my experience as a (pretend) grown up who does his own laundry, it's a rare occassion that I return to my room not to find an extra sock or pair of boxers hiding in a dusty nook, waiting desperately to be found and reunited with their generation of dirty clothes.
And that bugs the crap out of me. Laundry is already a sysiphean task; it's as if Sysiphus realized reached the crest he had been aiming for only to find it was was actually only a plateau, and the hill continued! So I find it strange that my natural aversion to doing laundry hasn't trained me to clean every possible under(shirt/wear) and sock so that I can get every last day out of that laundry load.
With that in mind, what if I do have an alter-ego who loves destruction, who hates order and efficiency, and whose ultimate goal is to hasten the entropy of the universe? And what if the way that he manifests that is to hide my laundry from me? That would explain the socks tucked inside pillowcases, the shirts hidden in instruments and the underwear disguised in a stack of magazines. This would also explain why my split personality is so well hidden from everyone else, and even myself. His mission is so discrete and precise that he can afford to snooze most of the time, only awakening at key moments. But then, in an instant, he can appear to tug open the doors under the sink and flick an undershirt in before he disappears without me noticing.
I tell you, it's a scary thing once you realize what your alter ego might be up to. I fear I may be trapped in a battle of wits with him till the end of my days.
Showing posts with label Confusion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Confusion. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Yes, I would Like to Eat My Cake
People often accuse me of wanting to have my cake and eat it, too. I used to accept this as a criticism until I actually thought of how I relate to cake.
I don't know about you, but when someone hands me a piece of cake, the first thing I think about doing with it is eating it. Then, I eat it.* I'm pretty sure it's a normal thought process, and it goes like this: "Ah! Cake! My cake! I'll eat it." Generally, I find this pretty satisfying. As a matter of fact, this isn't something I explicitly think about; it's just my normal reaction to having cake.
*This takes place whether or not I have a fork, if you were wondering.
Which is why I'm confused when people tell me that I want to have my cake and eat it, too, as if it were a bad thing. "You can't have your cake and eat it, too," I'm told in the same voice that you might scold a dog who is wandering around under the dinner table alternating between humping diner's legs or making puppy eyes to get a piece of beef. But really, if I can't have it and eat it, what's the point of having it in the first place? What am I supposed to do, just sit around and let it get stale*? If I were to list the top ten uses of cake, I'm pretty sure number one would be "good for eating."
*Unless it's a twinkie, in which case I could just let it sit around and... be a twinkie, I guess.
So in short, I plan on unapologetically desiring to have and eat cake.
I don't know about you, but when someone hands me a piece of cake, the first thing I think about doing with it is eating it. Then, I eat it.* I'm pretty sure it's a normal thought process, and it goes like this: "Ah! Cake! My cake! I'll eat it." Generally, I find this pretty satisfying. As a matter of fact, this isn't something I explicitly think about; it's just my normal reaction to having cake.
*This takes place whether or not I have a fork, if you were wondering.
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| How I feel about having and eating cake |
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| How society apparently feels about having and eating cake |
Which is why I'm confused when people tell me that I want to have my cake and eat it, too, as if it were a bad thing. "You can't have your cake and eat it, too," I'm told in the same voice that you might scold a dog who is wandering around under the dinner table alternating between humping diner's legs or making puppy eyes to get a piece of beef. But really, if I can't have it and eat it, what's the point of having it in the first place? What am I supposed to do, just sit around and let it get stale*? If I were to list the top ten uses of cake, I'm pretty sure number one would be "good for eating."
*Unless it's a twinkie, in which case I could just let it sit around and... be a twinkie, I guess.
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| This list took longer than I thought it would take. |
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Next Police
There's probably too much time devoted on the internet to correcting grammar, but I think it's important that I join the fray now. I only do this because I think it's important. A man must know when to pick his battles (in bars, major world wars, or disputes over toilet seats) and when to pick his nose (stoplights), and this is a battle-picking time.
See you next time!
I take issue with how loosely the word "next" is thrown around. Sure, it doesn't seem like a big deal, but it is. I'm not against "next" in all circumstances. But all too often, it is confused with "this." That's perfectly fine in some circumstances. For example, if you approach me in a bar and say, "What are you getting for your next round? It's on me!," I promise I won't be offended. Partially because you are buying me a drink, but mainly because there's no risk of confusion. You're offering to buy me a drink in the near future. God bless you, and I will toast you for it.
The problem arises when "next" can be ambiguous. This comes up because I was driving and someone told me to "Take the next exit." I asked for clarification.
The problem arises when "next" can be ambiguous. This comes up because I was driving and someone told me to "Take the next exit." I asked for clarification.
"When you say 'next exit,' do you mean 'this exit,' or do you mean 'next exit?' "
Look at that! Say that out loud, especially if you're in a public place. Doesn't that sound crazy*?That's an absurd thing to have to ask. I had to ask someone if he meant what he said, or if he meant what he did not say! And if he were to reply "no," could he possibly have meant "yes?" Obviously, this confusion needs to come to an end.
*It does even more so if you shout it by yourself
Please be precise. "This" refers to the immediate object in question (OIQ*); "next" refers to the object that follows the current OIQ.
*Say this out loud, too. It's fun.
Please be precise. "This" refers to the immediate object in question (OIQ*); "next" refers to the object that follows the current OIQ.
*Say this out loud, too. It's fun.
See you next time!
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Definite (Confusion) Articles
The other week I was in the desert when I noticed once again how self-centered man as a general species is (or at least, English speaking man is). For a fleeting moment, I had cell phone service, and I received a message from a friend asking me if I wanted to grab a beer with him that night. "Can't, sorry" I replied, "I'm in the desert."
Or tried to reply. I didn't have enough service to actually send a message. Even if I had, I realized how frustrating for my friend that would have been. Naturally, his next question would have been "Which desert?" Then I realized that English speakers have a serious problem when it comes to describing their location. It's always "the spot."
"I'm in the desert."
"I'm at the beach."
"I'm in the mountains!"
"Can't talk now, I'm at the movies" (all of them!)
It's as if being someplace immediately transforms it into "the" place. Look back at the first sentence; I did it there!
Normally I'm a stickler for precision in speech, but I don't have a solution this time. Instead, I'd like to propose that every time you fill in this Mad Libs sentence - "I'm ______ (preposition) 'the' ________ (location)" - you take a moment to ponder how non-unique you are. Hopefully, it will make you a more thoughtful, compassionate person.
Friday, January 6, 2012
Packable?
This morning on the train, I saw someone wearing a light jacket that had a tag that said "packable" on it. Why is that something you would mention about clothing? Of course it's packable, it's clothing, not a porcupine!
Quit telling me things I already know, clothing manufacturers!
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| Non-packable item (unfortunately) |
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| Packable item (whatever) |
Quit telling me things I already know, clothing manufacturers!
Monday, September 26, 2011
Light vs Dark, or, Why Mankind Should Not be Allowed to Make Decisions
As a race, we are fundamentally incapable of making up our minds. You've probably noticed this about yourself at some time. I know I feel this way every time I stand in front of a vending machine, which is why I always try to push every button at once and hope that the first button I press is something I like (this rarely happens. Normally it's something gross, like Milk Duds).
I was struck by the indecision characteristic to our entire species when my little brother pulled the shades down the other night.
See, I live in a city. At some point, people decided it was a problem that night was dark. Obviously, it would be better if everyone could see things at night, so they put a whole bunch of streetlights in, and then everything could be bright all the time! Problem solved!
But then, people (probably the very same people) realised that it was harder to sleep when it was bright out all the time, so they put shades in their room, meant to keep the bright light that they made outside stay there, and not sneak its way inside where it isn't always wanted. Second problem solved!
At this point, it didn't seem too ridiculous to me. Then I realised that this continues. Some people, inside their shade-darkened rooms, walk around at night, and don't like stepping on things. So, the nightlight gets invented! But heaven forbid that the nightlight be too bright! They put covers on the nightlight to stop it from shining too much! Of course they did! An uncovered nightlight would be too bright, thus making the shades useless, which were put up to keep the light from outside (which were put there because the general consensus was that it was too dark outside) from making things inside bright! DAH!
Which brings me to my point, namely that as a species, we should constrain our decision making to trivial matters (e.g. Do I want Vienna Fingers or a Snickers bar?), and leave the important decisions (anything that could possibly affect anyone/thing else, ever) to a species better suited for decision making. Maybe dolphins.
I was struck by the indecision characteristic to our entire species when my little brother pulled the shades down the other night.
See, I live in a city. At some point, people decided it was a problem that night was dark. Obviously, it would be better if everyone could see things at night, so they put a whole bunch of streetlights in, and then everything could be bright all the time! Problem solved!
But then, people (probably the very same people) realised that it was harder to sleep when it was bright out all the time, so they put shades in their room, meant to keep the bright light that they made outside stay there, and not sneak its way inside where it isn't always wanted. Second problem solved!
At this point, it didn't seem too ridiculous to me. Then I realised that this continues. Some people, inside their shade-darkened rooms, walk around at night, and don't like stepping on things. So, the nightlight gets invented! But heaven forbid that the nightlight be too bright! They put covers on the nightlight to stop it from shining too much! Of course they did! An uncovered nightlight would be too bright, thus making the shades useless, which were put up to keep the light from outside (which were put there because the general consensus was that it was too dark outside) from making things inside bright! DAH!
Which brings me to my point, namely that as a species, we should constrain our decision making to trivial matters (e.g. Do I want Vienna Fingers or a Snickers bar?), and leave the important decisions (anything that could possibly affect anyone/thing else, ever) to a species better suited for decision making. Maybe dolphins.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Confusion: NASCAR Edition
I saw a commercial with Dale Earnhardt Jr. in which he said that he knew it was important to take care of the NASCAR fans, because without them, there wouldn't be any NASCAR. I understand the logic, but the conclusion he reached is confusing to me. Given the implications, I would opt not to take care of the NASCAR fans.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Frightening Goodbys
For someone who is so bad at personal interaction, I spend a surprisingly large amount of time thinking about conversations. One of the things that really gets me are all of the ridiculous ways we have come up with to ending them.
There are a few in particular that stick in my mind though, mostly because they terrify me. These are irrational, and I know they're not meant to be taken in the way I understand them, but there's still that split second where I have problems dissociating what someone literally says with what someone actually means. Here are three examples...
1: "Break a leg!" Of course it's not meant to be taken seriously. Still, who even says that in jest? I always imagine it with some sort of ominous leer, implying definite foreshadowing of something (maybe a broken leg, for instance). Why say that? Are you trying to insinuate that your hired muscle has it out for my shins? More frightening is the chance that you have strange hypnotic powers, and can command me to break someone else's leg. Either way, this parting comment either ends with me in a wheelchair or in handcuffs, and neither of those is too appealing.
2: "See you later, alligator!" It seems harmless enough. But it really all depends on how you understand "alligator." If it's meant in direct address, then you are confused. I do not happen to be an alligator. If, however, it's the reason you are leaving (which of course I assume it is. I know I'm not an alligator), then the way I understand it is "See you later, there is an alligator very close to us!" Alligator is an explanation, but because you are in a rush, you cut the explanation a tiny bit short, and only said the essential facts. I.e, you are leaving, because there is an alligator close to me. I should probably run, too. For some reason, "In a while, crocodile" does not convey this urgency. It sort of implies that crocodiles are slower.
3: "I'll catch you on the flip side." This one just makes me feel like I'm tripping, but don't know why. Flip side of what? Is the earth flat? Do we live on a coin, and is it about to be heads or tails? I'm not adequately conveying the sense of terror I feel about there being a flip side to this existence, but trust me, I find this terrifying. Maybe you agree.
Sorry (you're welcome?) for the long absence! I've had a (generic complaint about being busy these past few weeks, yada yada yada). I really do enjoy writing these, so I'll be looking for time in the future. Things are shaping up to be a bit better now that the semester is almost over though, so now the limit to how often I post will be how often I'm funny. I guess you should expect a posting once every blue moon.
On an unrelated note, one of my friends is a great bassoonist, and auditioned for the youtube symphony orchestra. She made it to the finals, which is huge! It's an amazing opportunity for her, and you can help her by clicking this link and voting for her once a day until Friday. You can also help by telling all of your friends to do the same. You'll be helping me, too, because Brigid doesn't know this, but if she wins, she's taking me to Australia in her carry-on luggage.
Feel free to tell me more conversation enders that I might find terrifying, just please don't use them with me. Hope all is well!
ps: How great is the lego bartender I drew in? Feel free to praise my artistic talents.
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| "Would ya look at the time!" "But... you don't have a watch, ma'am." "No, no. I meant that you should go look at the time, just... someplace else." "Excuse me?" "I'm asking you to leave." |
There are a few in particular that stick in my mind though, mostly because they terrify me. These are irrational, and I know they're not meant to be taken in the way I understand them, but there's still that split second where I have problems dissociating what someone literally says with what someone actually means. Here are three examples...
1: "Break a leg!" Of course it's not meant to be taken seriously. Still, who even says that in jest? I always imagine it with some sort of ominous leer, implying definite foreshadowing of something (maybe a broken leg, for instance). Why say that? Are you trying to insinuate that your hired muscle has it out for my shins? More frightening is the chance that you have strange hypnotic powers, and can command me to break someone else's leg. Either way, this parting comment either ends with me in a wheelchair or in handcuffs, and neither of those is too appealing.
2: "See you later, alligator!" It seems harmless enough. But it really all depends on how you understand "alligator." If it's meant in direct address, then you are confused. I do not happen to be an alligator. If, however, it's the reason you are leaving (which of course I assume it is. I know I'm not an alligator), then the way I understand it is "See you later, there is an alligator very close to us!" Alligator is an explanation, but because you are in a rush, you cut the explanation a tiny bit short, and only said the essential facts. I.e, you are leaving, because there is an alligator close to me. I should probably run, too. For some reason, "In a while, crocodile" does not convey this urgency. It sort of implies that crocodiles are slower.
3: "I'll catch you on the flip side." This one just makes me feel like I'm tripping, but don't know why. Flip side of what? Is the earth flat? Do we live on a coin, and is it about to be heads or tails? I'm not adequately conveying the sense of terror I feel about there being a flip side to this existence, but trust me, I find this terrifying. Maybe you agree.
Sorry (you're welcome?) for the long absence! I've had a (generic complaint about being busy these past few weeks, yada yada yada). I really do enjoy writing these, so I'll be looking for time in the future. Things are shaping up to be a bit better now that the semester is almost over though, so now the limit to how often I post will be how often I'm funny. I guess you should expect a posting once every blue moon.
On an unrelated note, one of my friends is a great bassoonist, and auditioned for the youtube symphony orchestra. She made it to the finals, which is huge! It's an amazing opportunity for her, and you can help her by clicking this link and voting for her once a day until Friday. You can also help by telling all of your friends to do the same. You'll be helping me, too, because Brigid doesn't know this, but if she wins, she's taking me to Australia in her carry-on luggage.
Feel free to tell me more conversation enders that I might find terrifying, just please don't use them with me. Hope all is well!
ps: How great is the lego bartender I drew in? Feel free to praise my artistic talents.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Relationship Clarification
For some strange reason, friends often feel that I am an appropriate source of relationship advice. I find this ceaselessly amusing, because I'm no more qualified to give relationship advice than I am to give medical advice. In fact, I may actually be less competent in relationship advice, because every now and then, telling someone to "walk it off" might just be what they need.
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| "Oh, man. That looked like it hurt. You should walk that off." |
I think a major issue I have when people ask me for relationship advice is that I have difficulty understanding the situation at hand. In my defense, this isn't my fault. There are so many terms used in so many different ways to describe relationships that it's not surprising that I don't know what's going on. For that reason, I've compiled a list of these terms and how I understand them. In the future, keep these in mind when you are discussing your relationship with me.
Here's how my thought process works for the most basic of statements.
What you say: "I'm single."
How I initially interpret this: "You do not have multiple personalities."
What I eventually assume you mean to say: "I am not romantically involved with anyone."
How I normally use this: "I'm single, mostly because I have trouble talking to girls."
Alternatively, you might say...
What you say: "I'm not seeing anyone right now."
How I initially interpret this: "I have gone blind right now!"
What I eventually assume you mean to say: "I'm single right now."
How I normally use this: "Who are you pointing at?"
It gets more complicated once you start bringing other people into it.
What you say: "I'm seeing this really great girl right now."
How I initially interpret this: "I spy, with my little eye..."
How I initially interpret this: "I spy, with my little eye..."
What I eventually assume you mean to say: "I'm sleeping with someone very temporarily."
How I normally use this: "I spy, with my little eye..."
Ok, now we're getting someplace...
What you say: "I'm sleeping with X"
How I initially interpret this: "I enjoy spooning."
What I eventually assume you mean: "I am spending a lot of time awake with X in places one would normally sleep."
How I use this: "I'm sleeping with my favorite stuffed animal."
More complexities!
What you say: "I'm hooking up with a cool girl right now"
How I initially interpret this: You are a fisherman.
What I eventually assume you mean to say: "I occasionally kiss a girl I would not not hold hands with in public."
How I normally use this: "While playing football, the quarterback hooked up with the receiver for a 30 yard completion"
Even simple statements can make me get lost in thought for a second.
What you say: "I'm dating X"
How I initially interpret this: You are bragging about something, but I can't figure out what yet.
What I eventually assume you mean to say: "I do things in public with a girl I frequently kiss."
How I normally use this: "I guess I'm just dating myself, now..."
But what if things go wrong?
What you say: "We're taking a little break."
How I initially interpret this: "I have a kit-kat bar. Would you like me to break you off a piece, too?"
What I eventually assume you mean to say: "We feel like sleeping with other people for a bit."
How I normally use this: "I and my multiple personalities are not going to do any work for a while."
Lastly...
What you say: "I broke up with X"
How I initially interpret this: Heck, even I can understand this one.
What I eventually assume you mean to say: "That girl I used to kiss is now kissing other guys. Or girls."
How I normally use this: Well, I guess I have to be dating someone and then actually end up deciding that I don't want to date that person, then have the balls to end it. I don't think I've ever used this one, actually.
If you have similar difficulties understanding what people mean when they try to tell you something, please let me know. We should all work together to standardize the vocabulary here.
In other news, I have been featured on another blog! Jeremy and his friend have been alarmed by my actions, but I can inform you, I have only the best intentions in my dealings with the Syndicate Blatt. For complete coverage (and a picture of me shirtless), see here.
Anyway, hope all is well!
Anyway, hope all is well!
Friday, October 29, 2010
A Case of a Mistaken Identity
These past few weeks, there have been a lot of videos directed towards the homosexual community. These videos have been encouraging and supportive, which is great. I don't mean to demean them, their message, or anything else at all that might offend people. But I will say that these messages don't have much to say to me, and I do wish that my kind had as vocal a support community as the homsexual community has. See, I'm not a homosexual, but often, people seem to assume I am. What's worse is that no one has appropriately addressed this issue; often, I feel as if I'm not sure how to when someone confronts me about my mistaken
sexual identity. Apologize for being misleading? Joke about it awkwardly and hope the situation resolves itself? Go along with it and see if I can get a free breakfast out of it?
If anyone else out there shares my concerns, I've compiled a list of a few iterations of situations where someone has mistakenly assumed I was gay, and how I responded
Situation 1: Straight Guy Assumes I am gay.
This is often the most easily corrected and least damaging. At one point in my wilder and crazier days*, I was at a party where there was a girl I thought was pretty. I talked to her for a bit, and then wandered off for a bit. Soon afterwards, I met a male friend of hers. After the usual small talk, I asked how he knew the pretty girl. Very well, it turned out; in fact, he was her boyfriend. Then he turned the tables on me; "What about you? How do you know her? By the way, you're gay, right?"
"Oh, I just met her," I replied. "And no! I'm not gay." We fist bumped, then talked about how much we liked football**.
"Oh, ok. I Just got that vibe for some reason," he said. Then we chatted a little longer; he was a nice guy, and didn't seem like he had any urge to beat me up for talking to his girl.
*Ha! Like I had wild and crazy days. These were the same days where my idea of going out was drinking warm milk in pajamas.
**This is how it happened in my head.
In retrospect, that was one of the best outcomes for the situation. I found out that any more time spent talking to the girl in hopes that she would like me would be a waste of time (more so than usual, that is), and the guy didn't have any grudges against me. "What a friendly, ambiguously straight guy that was," he probably walked away thinking.
Correct response to situation 1: Correct quickly without making a big deal about it.
Situation 2: Gay Man Assumes I am Gay.
I was in a bar over the summer. I went with two friends who were girls. They were talking about whatever girls talk about when they get together in a swarm (that's the proper term for a group of them), so I decided I would happily sip my beer, maybe scope out the bar for any pretty girls who were there. There weren't any (I told myself) so I just sort of stood around and tried to figure out what color my socks were without looking directly at them, when a guy came up to me and introduced himself as Mike (names have been changed to protect the innocent). "Oh, hi. I'm Brendan," I said, smiling because I had just remembered the answer to what was puzzling me (green). I reached out my right hand, and he contorted his left arm so that he could grab my right hand in his left hand.
"The normal handshake is just too formal for me," he explained. At this point I noticed his well groomed facial hair - a thin mustache - and the way he looked right into my eyes as if he was trying to see my soul. My response was to go into small talk mode: a terrible mistake. All of a sudden, I knew all sorts of things about Mike, the most immediately concerning of which was that he was a chef, and had just offered to make me breakfast, if I was interested.
"Ah, a chef! That explains the fork you have wrapped around your wrist like a bracelet!" I continued, stubbornly still in small talk mode.
This would have continued indefinitely, or until he made me breakfast, had the girls I was with not stopped laughing at my expense, grabbed me by the elbow and said "C'mon, we're going to a different bar." They then gave me a few tips for how I should have acted if I really wanted him to take me home, because apparently, my game with the men-folk could use some work.
So, in situation 2, small talk in general is not the best response. Could I do it over, I think the conversation would have involved me swiftly correcting him. The opportune moment comes right after the question, "So, what do you do?" Should you ever feel as if you're being mistaken as gay by a gay guy who is interested in you, I think the proper response would be something along the lines of "Girls. Beautiful girls by the truckload. Sometimes not so beautiful ones, if I can't find any, but yes. Girls. Lots and lots of girls. Or is that not what you meant? Because I'm also a Straight (c)* student."
*haha.
sexual identity. Apologize for being misleading? Joke about it awkwardly and hope the situation resolves itself? Go along with it and see if I can get a free breakfast out of it?
If anyone else out there shares my concerns, I've compiled a list of a few iterations of situations where someone has mistakenly assumed I was gay, and how I responded
Situation 1: Straight Guy Assumes I am gay.
This is often the most easily corrected and least damaging. At one point in my wilder and crazier days*, I was at a party where there was a girl I thought was pretty. I talked to her for a bit, and then wandered off for a bit. Soon afterwards, I met a male friend of hers. After the usual small talk, I asked how he knew the pretty girl. Very well, it turned out; in fact, he was her boyfriend. Then he turned the tables on me; "What about you? How do you know her? By the way, you're gay, right?"
"Oh, I just met her," I replied. "And no! I'm not gay." We fist bumped, then talked about how much we liked football**.
"Oh, ok. I Just got that vibe for some reason," he said. Then we chatted a little longer; he was a nice guy, and didn't seem like he had any urge to beat me up for talking to his girl.
*Ha! Like I had wild and crazy days. These were the same days where my idea of going out was drinking warm milk in pajamas.
**This is how it happened in my head.
In retrospect, that was one of the best outcomes for the situation. I found out that any more time spent talking to the girl in hopes that she would like me would be a waste of time (more so than usual, that is), and the guy didn't have any grudges against me. "What a friendly, ambiguously straight guy that was," he probably walked away thinking.
Correct response to situation 1: Correct quickly without making a big deal about it.
Situation 2: Gay Man Assumes I am Gay.
I was in a bar over the summer. I went with two friends who were girls. They were talking about whatever girls talk about when they get together in a swarm (that's the proper term for a group of them), so I decided I would happily sip my beer, maybe scope out the bar for any pretty girls who were there. There weren't any (I told myself) so I just sort of stood around and tried to figure out what color my socks were without looking directly at them, when a guy came up to me and introduced himself as Mike (names have been changed to protect the innocent). "Oh, hi. I'm Brendan," I said, smiling because I had just remembered the answer to what was puzzling me (green). I reached out my right hand, and he contorted his left arm so that he could grab my right hand in his left hand.
"The normal handshake is just too formal for me," he explained. At this point I noticed his well groomed facial hair - a thin mustache - and the way he looked right into my eyes as if he was trying to see my soul. My response was to go into small talk mode: a terrible mistake. All of a sudden, I knew all sorts of things about Mike, the most immediately concerning of which was that he was a chef, and had just offered to make me breakfast, if I was interested.
"Ah, a chef! That explains the fork you have wrapped around your wrist like a bracelet!" I continued, stubbornly still in small talk mode.
This would have continued indefinitely, or until he made me breakfast, had the girls I was with not stopped laughing at my expense, grabbed me by the elbow and said "C'mon, we're going to a different bar." They then gave me a few tips for how I should have acted if I really wanted him to take me home, because apparently, my game with the men-folk could use some work.
So, in situation 2, small talk in general is not the best response. Could I do it over, I think the conversation would have involved me swiftly correcting him. The opportune moment comes right after the question, "So, what do you do?" Should you ever feel as if you're being mistaken as gay by a gay guy who is interested in you, I think the proper response would be something along the lines of "Girls. Beautiful girls by the truckload. Sometimes not so beautiful ones, if I can't find any, but yes. Girls. Lots and lots of girls. Or is that not what you meant? Because I'm also a Straight (c)* student."
*haha.
Situation 3: A Girl I am Interested In Assumes I am Gay.
This is the most difficult situation to deal with. I don't really feel like picking out an example of this, because there are a few too many than I am comfortable thinking about, and I still haven't found an acceptable response, so whatever advice I can give will be meaningless. I've contemplated wrapping the target of my affections in a passionate embrace, saying something along the lines of "So you thought I was a man's man, huh?" And then kissing her forcefully to fix it, but I normally just go someplace and lick my wounded pride.
But all of these inspirational messages must end with an uplifting note, so here it is.
Situation 4: A Girl I am Not Interested Assumes I am Gay.
This past summer I was walking back from a bar with some friends of friends. One of them invited me to come with them back to where they were staying; they were going to continue the party in their rooms. "Cool," I thought. I was pretty drunk, so they probably could have convinced me to do anything; going to a room to drink another beer seemed like a kind suggestion, all other options considered. So I ended up in a room of a building with a fire escape. As soon as I walked in, I noticed the fire escape. "Oh, look! A fire escape! That looks so inviting," I said, to no one in particular.
"Yeah, you're right. Want to go out on in?" A girl whom I had never seen before added.
"Sure!" The path to the window could have been paved with burning coals, and I probably would have said "sure." I was in a happy place.
Next thing I know, I'm on a roof with a girl I don't know and who I'm not attracted to. Solution? Small talk mode. "Nice night," I began.
"Mhm," she said, leaning in a bit closer.
I let the patter begin. At this point, even I could see why we were up on the roof, and I wasn't happy about it. I covered every possible topic, from baseball to what the people in the windows we could see into were thinking before her friend came up to see what was going on on the roof. They both started down, then gestured at me.
"What about him?" The friend who saved me asked.
"Him? He's probably gay," my evening's love interest replied.
I was about to say, "Hey! Wait a second" when I realized that being taken as homosexual was the most convenient excuse for why I didn't want to hook up with an unattractive stranger - much easier than explaining to her that she was an unattractive stranger.
I shut my mouth, figured out how to get down the fire escape, and left the party.
So if you, like me, are taken to be a homosexual when you're not, don't worry. Someday, it may come in handy. And if you're still worried, look at this article about cuttlefish, and learn from it. It's relevant, I swear.
Well, that was a long post. My brain hurts.
And really, let me know if you have found solutions to any of these situations, especially situation 3. Hope all is well!
This is the most difficult situation to deal with. I don't really feel like picking out an example of this, because there are a few too many than I am comfortable thinking about, and I still haven't found an acceptable response, so whatever advice I can give will be meaningless. I've contemplated wrapping the target of my affections in a passionate embrace, saying something along the lines of "So you thought I was a man's man, huh?" And then kissing her forcefully to fix it, but I normally just go someplace and lick my wounded pride.
But all of these inspirational messages must end with an uplifting note, so here it is.
Situation 4: A Girl I am Not Interested Assumes I am Gay.
This past summer I was walking back from a bar with some friends of friends. One of them invited me to come with them back to where they were staying; they were going to continue the party in their rooms. "Cool," I thought. I was pretty drunk, so they probably could have convinced me to do anything; going to a room to drink another beer seemed like a kind suggestion, all other options considered. So I ended up in a room of a building with a fire escape. As soon as I walked in, I noticed the fire escape. "Oh, look! A fire escape! That looks so inviting," I said, to no one in particular.
"Yeah, you're right. Want to go out on in?" A girl whom I had never seen before added.
"Sure!" The path to the window could have been paved with burning coals, and I probably would have said "sure." I was in a happy place.
Next thing I know, I'm on a roof with a girl I don't know and who I'm not attracted to. Solution? Small talk mode. "Nice night," I began.
"Mhm," she said, leaning in a bit closer.
I let the patter begin. At this point, even I could see why we were up on the roof, and I wasn't happy about it. I covered every possible topic, from baseball to what the people in the windows we could see into were thinking before her friend came up to see what was going on on the roof. They both started down, then gestured at me.
"What about him?" The friend who saved me asked.
"Him? He's probably gay," my evening's love interest replied.
I was about to say, "Hey! Wait a second" when I realized that being taken as homosexual was the most convenient excuse for why I didn't want to hook up with an unattractive stranger - much easier than explaining to her that she was an unattractive stranger.
I shut my mouth, figured out how to get down the fire escape, and left the party.
So if you, like me, are taken to be a homosexual when you're not, don't worry. Someday, it may come in handy. And if you're still worried, look at this article about cuttlefish, and learn from it. It's relevant, I swear.
Well, that was a long post. My brain hurts.
And really, let me know if you have found solutions to any of these situations, especially situation 3. Hope all is well!
Sunday, August 22, 2010
You Mean This Isn't Mario Kart?
Over the course of the past two weeks, I've done a lot of driving. I'm not complaining; I like driving as much as the next person (as long as the next person is Steve McQueen), and I'm not a bad driver*. But one thing I noticed is that whenever I told someone I was getting in the car to go someplace, they would say, "Drive safely!"
*compared to many popular singers, like Billy Joel or Ray Charles.
At first, this seems like a well meaning wish, one that could be grouped with a few other pieces of advice.
1) Drive safely!
2) Don't be a stranger!
3) Pack a towel! They're useful!
4) Evacuate the premises, because they are on fire!
5) Don't ever look at my sister like that again!
The more I thought about it, however, the stranger it seemed to me. What is it supposed to change? And what do these people who say 'drive safely' think I would do if they didn't give me that crucial piece of advice? They probably gloat to themselves happily, imagining me driving down a highway with these things passing through my mind...
1) The drive is 200 miles on roads, but 50 how the crow flies. This isn't even a question! On the other hand, I could drive safely, like Joey suggested. And that lake is probably pretty deep... Ah, I'll take the roads.
2) I am totally going to jump this drawbridge, just like in the Blues Brothers. Oh shoot, this isn't the Blues-mobile, and Billy said I should drive safe. Maybe I'll wait for the bridge to come down.
3) I'll bet with a broomstick on the accelerator and my knees on the wheel, I could drive while sticking my head out of the sunroof... Then again, Maggie said I should drive safely... I'll find an abandoned parking lot to try this out in.
4) Gosh, I'm getting sleepy. I think to keep myself awake, I'll drive against the direction of traffic! I can do this, I played Mario Kart when I was little... Wait, I remember when Larry told me to drive safely. I think I'll just pull over and nap.
5) I think I'll go for a drive with that guy's sister I was looking at funny earlier. Actually, he also told me to drive safely, and getting his sister in this car would be distracting... I'll stay home again tonight.
Still, I understand that people would like me to be safe. And I'm fine with that, if someone personally says, "Brendan, drive safely." But impersonal warnings are just too much for me. The worst case of this I experienced came from the radio. It turns out that some new radios can tell what song is playing on fm radio (!), and if you push an 'Info' button, it will display the song's name and the artist.
So no shit, there I was, driving 90mph down I-87 with two handles of whiskey taped to my hands (half empty already, of course), talking on a cell phone and blindfolded when a good song came on the radio. "Cool," I thought to myself. "This song's got a nasty beat. I wonder who it is." So I pushed the info button. What scrolled across the screen but digital green letters spelling "Are you driving safely? DRIVE SAFELY."
"SHIT!" I exclaimed, ripping the blindfold off of my eyes and tearing the whiskey bottles off of my hands, spilling them out the car, and tossing the cell phone into the back seat beyond my reach. "I've got to drive safely because the radio told me to!"
That's actually not what happened. I laughed that the radio would be so presumptuous as to accuse me of driving dangerously, and tapped on the accelerator a bit to spite it. Whoever programmed that was one smarmy, sarcastic ass who thought to himself, "whoever wants to know what song is playing while driving should be scolded!" Jerk.
That's it for now. Drive however the heck you want.
*compared to many popular singers, like Billy Joel or Ray Charles.
At first, this seems like a well meaning wish, one that could be grouped with a few other pieces of advice.
1) Drive safely!
2) Don't be a stranger!
3) Pack a towel! They're useful!
4) Evacuate the premises, because they are on fire!
5) Don't ever look at my sister like that again!
The more I thought about it, however, the stranger it seemed to me. What is it supposed to change? And what do these people who say 'drive safely' think I would do if they didn't give me that crucial piece of advice? They probably gloat to themselves happily, imagining me driving down a highway with these things passing through my mind...
1) The drive is 200 miles on roads, but 50 how the crow flies. This isn't even a question! On the other hand, I could drive safely, like Joey suggested. And that lake is probably pretty deep... Ah, I'll take the roads.
2) I am totally going to jump this drawbridge, just like in the Blues Brothers. Oh shoot, this isn't the Blues-mobile, and Billy said I should drive safe. Maybe I'll wait for the bridge to come down.
3) I'll bet with a broomstick on the accelerator and my knees on the wheel, I could drive while sticking my head out of the sunroof... Then again, Maggie said I should drive safely... I'll find an abandoned parking lot to try this out in.
4) Gosh, I'm getting sleepy. I think to keep myself awake, I'll drive against the direction of traffic! I can do this, I played Mario Kart when I was little... Wait, I remember when Larry told me to drive safely. I think I'll just pull over and nap.
5) I think I'll go for a drive with that guy's sister I was looking at funny earlier. Actually, he also told me to drive safely, and getting his sister in this car would be distracting... I'll stay home again tonight.
 |
| Probably what I would be doing if no one told me to drive safely. |
So no shit, there I was, driving 90mph down I-87 with two handles of whiskey taped to my hands (half empty already, of course), talking on a cell phone and blindfolded when a good song came on the radio. "Cool," I thought to myself. "This song's got a nasty beat. I wonder who it is." So I pushed the info button. What scrolled across the screen but digital green letters spelling "Are you driving safely? DRIVE SAFELY."
"SHIT!" I exclaimed, ripping the blindfold off of my eyes and tearing the whiskey bottles off of my hands, spilling them out the car, and tossing the cell phone into the back seat beyond my reach. "I've got to drive safely because the radio told me to!"
That's actually not what happened. I laughed that the radio would be so presumptuous as to accuse me of driving dangerously, and tapped on the accelerator a bit to spite it. Whoever programmed that was one smarmy, sarcastic ass who thought to himself, "whoever wants to know what song is playing while driving should be scolded!" Jerk.
That's it for now. Drive however the heck you want.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Anyone for (sport of your choice)?
I'm a regular runner. Not as regular as Grandpa on metamucil, but I normally get out for a run five times a week (and you better hope Grandpa is more regular than that). I don't really compete any more (if you can even call what I did in high school 'competing'), but I run often enough and have enough of a competitive mentality about it to think of running as a sport. Makes sense, because running is a sport, and you won't find many people who disagree with that, although you may find some who view it just as exercising (someplace in the same realm as dancersize).
You won't, however, find anyone who would say that running is a game. Things like golf, or shuffleboard, those are games (Grandpa is regular on the shuffleboard court - take that how you will!). But not running. Now, to me, these are clear distinctions. Rarely do you get activities that really cross boundaries. I ride a high horse, though. I've always thought of running as the most pure of sports, and I'll admit that I look at most sports and think "Sure, it's cool, but it's not running."
This brings me to the point of this post. Yesterday , while trotting down riverside park, I was confronted by one of the all too real dangers of living in New York City (without a trusty stunt double to face the dangers! I've been sorting through applications for this thankless position and have been unable to settle on a candidate). Now, I'd like to show you what you would have seen if you had been with me on that run, but I can't. You'll have to settle for what a camera operated by someone who doesn't know what he's doing with it (i.e. me) recorded.
So I've determined that I've probably fallen victim to one, perhaps two, of these dangers of New York City.
The other option is that I simply didn't know that these people were in second grade. This is also an issue exacerbated by living in New York. Maybe young people are just looking older and older. This isn't a surprise to anyone who loves Miley Cyrus. Honestly, I think this problem is more severe in New York City because so many of those young'uns are so darn fashionable (I say this in the same way that a midget says other people are tall). I'm not judging, but darn it, how do you tell the 22 year old sluts from the 16 year old ones?
Let's just hope that these two dangers never get combined into a sport/game/exercise in which you need to guess if dating someone would end up with you in prison - I'd be horrible at that.
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| Athletes of a similar caliber |
This brings me to the point of this post. Yesterday , while trotting down riverside park, I was confronted by one of the all too real dangers of living in New York City (without a trusty stunt double to face the dangers! I've been sorting through applications for this thankless position and have been unable to settle on a candidate). Now, I'd like to show you what you would have seen if you had been with me on that run, but I can't. You'll have to settle for what a camera operated by someone who doesn't know what he's doing with it (i.e. me) recorded.
 |
| Adults (?) participating in the sport (?) of kickball! |
1) An inability to distinguish what is and is not a sport.
2) An inability to distinguish what is and is not a grown up.
Both of these are caused by living in New York. Let's be honest, there's a space crunch. I remember one time a friend and I made a "sport" in high school that involved trying to get a bouncy ball to bounce on every step of a stoop. But is that an excuse for thinking kickball is a sport? If anything, these people should be kicked off so that area can be used for a real sport, like shuffleboard. Shoot, I've been in this city for too long.
The other option is that I simply didn't know that these people were in second grade. This is also an issue exacerbated by living in New York. Maybe young people are just looking older and older. This isn't a surprise to anyone who loves Miley Cyrus. Honestly, I think this problem is more severe in New York City because so many of those young'uns are so darn fashionable (I say this in the same way that a midget says other people are tall). I'm not judging, but darn it, how do you tell the 22 year old sluts from the 16 year old ones?
Let's just hope that these two dangers never get combined into a sport/game/exercise in which you need to guess if dating someone would end up with you in prison - I'd be horrible at that.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Back from Colorado
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It's true, I did go to Boulder, and it's also true that it's fantastic. As I mentioned before, I was visiting my friend David (he's really the only friend I've mentioned, so it's fair if you assume that he's the only friend I have), who was kind enough to put me up here:
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| Available where all Mattel toys are sold. Assembly not included. |
The hiking portion of the trip began with a warning: If you are attacked by a mountain lion, don't quit!
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| I would never quit on a Mountain Lion without giving my two weeks notice. |
What I really noticed about the area (besides the fact that it is stunningly beautiful) is that people there are generally happier than what I'm accustomed to. I'm not trying to say that no one in New York City is happy, or that my college friends are all depressed (they probably just act that way when I'm around to make me not want to spend time with them... once I'm gone they're all fun and games), but people have a different attitude out there. Those that I met there sincerely love where they are, and many rearranged their lives to be able to live there. For example, David introduced me to Karen, a new friend of his who had moved to the same town David lives in just two weeks ago. She came with a car full of stuff (one of the things was a telescope, which was awesome), not knowing anyone, but confident she would find friends and be happy there. And so far, so good. Deep down, I'm a little jealous. I really respect her for being so confident and making the decision to do what makes her happy, even if the path isn't sure, and I wish her the best of luck.
And lastly, I'd like to show you that just because you can't hold something in your hands doesn't mean you
can't still express confusion.
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| How the heck am I supposed to get up there? |
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Confusion
A few days ago, I was eating my morning grape nuts and preparing for social interaction by watching Saved by the Bell (most of what I learned about people, I learned from reruns of that show. Add in the fact that the other show I learned from was Johnny Bravo, and you will understand a lot about me). At some point in those 23 minutes of brilliance, Zack was told to non-verbally express interest in a girl. The girl expressed her disinterest, also non-verbally. "Hah!" I thought to myself, "I could do a better job expressing myself non-verbally! I hope one day I get the opportunity!"
As luck would have it, I was riding a bus today and got just such a chance. I sat down and leaned my head back for my normal commute nap. Strangely enough, my head hit the headrest and kept going. Not far, but rather than the good, firm-sponge-like feeling I was expecting, there was a little wiggle. I turned around and grabbed the headrest to see what was the matter, only to have the thing come off and be left holding it confusedly! For a good ten seconds, I looked at it helplessly, hoping some caring parental figure would take me by my free hand and explain all that was wrong in the world, starting with the headrest and ending with the BP oil spill, and perhaps why 7-11 sometimes didn't have working slurpee machines. You know, important things. Instead, nothing happened, and I was just left there, confused.
It was at that point that I realized that the one non-verbal expression I have mastered is confusion. So, for those of you looking to master this expression, I offer you a few examples of me expressing confusion non-verbally. Enjoy!
It was at that point that I realized that the one non-verbal expression I have mastered is confusion. So, for those of you looking to master this expression, I offer you a few examples of me expressing confusion non-verbally. Enjoy!
I have no idea how to use these.
Confusion plus distrust is often a good combination.
What is this, and why does it sound like it's my mom?
Honestly, what's the use of a finger-charrer?
I don't even know what this is. I'll go ask my mom.
Shoot, I can't think of anything useful to do with this.
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