After spending the last weekend with some work folks and random people who latched onto the group, I've been given another chance to have a momentary glimpse into the social dynamic that is life (or at least life out here in BC).
It never fails to amaze how easily distracted ladies can be by a cocky guy with cash. Don't get me wrong, confidence has always been the one true way to grab attention of either genders; admittedly a lady who struts her stuff is more likely to catch my eye and I've been known to use false bravado in the past in my efforts to woo a woman I might be interested in, but that's pretty well where it ends. Perhaps it's because I've never had the disposable income most guys living with their parents seem to have access to (lol @ the irony of that situation) but I've personally found that trying to build something off of flash and presents is nothing more than filler, really.
Why must I bring this up, you ask? Well, during the aforementioned outing this weekend a few of my new "boy-o's" thought they'd give me a good laugh by first putting on a show with the random ladies we encountered.. and, less than surprisingly, it actually was pretty funny to watch. Of course things went in a bit of an odd direction when they insisted I try as well and they even had the good graces to provide me with a money clip to start flashing from time to time. And, like clockwork, it went off without a hitch. But this just brings me back to my original point - it was all empty, all soulless, all filler. I tried my very hardest to be a rude, crude douchebag and still I was swarmed like an all you can eat buffet in Vegas.
Oddly the best part of the night was after I had left the group and meandered around on my own. Seeking the comfort of a dimly lit spot away from the blaring music and throngs of dimwitted people seeking an immediate fix of entertainment, I happened to come across a few people who I felt like testing the night-long lesson on.. and was told to flat-out fuck off. Could it be? Could there be some small iota of redemption-worthy people? Granted, the next half hour of convincing these folks that I wasn't an actual guido-wannabe-doucher did take a lot more effort than I'd like to admit, but afterwards it was quite worth it. The night ended with intelligent conversation, new friends being made, and a renewed sense of self-worth.
The whole experience really made me ponder my recent emo-fueled rant in the last blog. Here I've been filled with self-loathing and feelings of inadequacy when I should have been asking - why? Is there truly anything wrong with me? Society would like to have me think so, as I'm unable to be a baller/shotcaller in my own impaller, no pimp cup to spare and completely incapable of "dropping 5 stacks on a make-up bag" in the event I piss off a lady, but why in Buddha's name should that matter? At what point in our lives do we value material possessions over inner-peace and connecting on a personal level? Understandably, when meeting new people we all subconciously realize the ways they better our lives, be it just in having a new person to spend a good time with or .. hell, I don't know, they've got a new game system. But when did those things start outweighing a person's true inner self?
This blog may not be the most well thought out and even I think it seems a little loosely strung together, but hopefully it's given y'all something to think about and consider. Perhaps there'd be a whole lot less divorces, unhappy relationships, and over-all bitterness in the world if people were slightly more aware of some of the thinking behind my above rambling.
Then again wadda I know about mankind, I'm only Jesus right?
It never fails to amaze how easily distracted ladies can be by a cocky guy with cash. Don't get me wrong, confidence has always been the one true way to grab attention of either genders; admittedly a lady who struts her stuff is more likely to catch my eye and I've been known to use false bravado in the past in my efforts to woo a woman I might be interested in, but that's pretty well where it ends. Perhaps it's because I've never had the disposable income most guys living with their parents seem to have access to (lol @ the irony of that situation) but I've personally found that trying to build something off of flash and presents is nothing more than filler, really.
Why must I bring this up, you ask? Well, during the aforementioned outing this weekend a few of my new "boy-o's" thought they'd give me a good laugh by first putting on a show with the random ladies we encountered.. and, less than surprisingly, it actually was pretty funny to watch. Of course things went in a bit of an odd direction when they insisted I try as well and they even had the good graces to provide me with a money clip to start flashing from time to time. And, like clockwork, it went off without a hitch. But this just brings me back to my original point - it was all empty, all soulless, all filler. I tried my very hardest to be a rude, crude douchebag and still I was swarmed like an all you can eat buffet in Vegas.
Oddly the best part of the night was after I had left the group and meandered around on my own. Seeking the comfort of a dimly lit spot away from the blaring music and throngs of dimwitted people seeking an immediate fix of entertainment, I happened to come across a few people who I felt like testing the night-long lesson on.. and was told to flat-out fuck off. Could it be? Could there be some small iota of redemption-worthy people? Granted, the next half hour of convincing these folks that I wasn't an actual guido-wannabe-doucher did take a lot more effort than I'd like to admit, but afterwards it was quite worth it. The night ended with intelligent conversation, new friends being made, and a renewed sense of self-worth.
The whole experience really made me ponder my recent emo-fueled rant in the last blog. Here I've been filled with self-loathing and feelings of inadequacy when I should have been asking - why? Is there truly anything wrong with me? Society would like to have me think so, as I'm unable to be a baller/shotcaller in my own impaller, no pimp cup to spare and completely incapable of "dropping 5 stacks on a make-up bag" in the event I piss off a lady, but why in Buddha's name should that matter? At what point in our lives do we value material possessions over inner-peace and connecting on a personal level? Understandably, when meeting new people we all subconciously realize the ways they better our lives, be it just in having a new person to spend a good time with or .. hell, I don't know, they've got a new game system. But when did those things start outweighing a person's true inner self?
This blog may not be the most well thought out and even I think it seems a little loosely strung together, but hopefully it's given y'all something to think about and consider. Perhaps there'd be a whole lot less divorces, unhappy relationships, and over-all bitterness in the world if people were slightly more aware of some of the thinking behind my above rambling.
Then again wadda I know about mankind, I'm only Jesus right?
Heard from a reliable source recently that these blog things are somewhat therapeutic, let's give it a whirl.
There's a thought that's been nagging at me for years now, creeping up when either I'm alone or around others. It's been the most constant observation that can pop up if left unchecked and truly has been a burden for as long as I can remember. Even if forgotten it's still in the background, doing it's thing, potentially unnoticed until I realize yet again that my actions are actually being dictated by it.
Well, maybe I should backtrack a bit. I mean, chances are somebody's going to be bored enough to take a gander at my inner musing, so let's try and bridge the gap between my rambling and your being able to actually understand what I'm talking about. Pop culture reference - ever seen The Big Bang Theory? One of my favorite characters would have to be Raj, the affable immigrant who can't seem to talk around women unless drunk. It's sad that a comedic device in a nerdy show can so effectively sum up my social failure.. only my conversational skills fail with either gender, of any age, of any creed.
Any reason for this, you might ask? Hard to say; an easy fallback would always be "psychological trauma" or some such nonsense but, after so many years of trying to figure this thing out a reason like that seems more like a crutch than anything else. Yeah, okay, I was born the youngest of three with two siblings who I couldn't really bond with given my physical disabilities at birth. Okay, so I may have more abandonment issues than the average fella, but given the rich and colorful life I've had it only seems par for the course. And you don't see the old pensioners becoming incapable of speech; quite to the contrary it seems to give them an even bigger desire to mingle!
It's not exactly like this is rocket science we're talking about. Hell, I live with a guy who's such a skeez he swears by his "How to pick up women" book, and always seems keen to give a high-five when his newest acquisitions forego having him take an AIDS test - seriously, the way his face lights up you'd think it was Christmas. Except Christmas doesn't come twice a year (the barstars of lesser caliber never care, apparently, or perhaps they're just too drunk to notice that particular catholic man is as against rubbers as the popes of old. God knows he's had to come out bragging about it enough times you'd think one of them would overhear). And yet as he is a master linguist even the future carriers of his STD's seem to think that, comparably, I'm the failure.
Back to the original mulling at hand - what in the hell is wrong with me? It's not a matter of being shy as that was a painful hurdle I overcame as a child. Or perhaps it is, and it's just evolved much in the way I've had to. But then that just begs the question - why in god's name should I care about anyone's opinion?
Either by my own accomplishments or overcoming the many funked up challenges thrown my way, I've lived a life I can be mostly proud of whereas most people are still trying to "find themselves" and seem to base their perception of the world around that thought process. Perhaps it's my constant observing of situations that trips things up - misconstruing people's actions and immediately pondering what their thought process is does have a tendency to fuck up a conversation be it in depth or a light one. It sure would explain why drinking brings out the social creature within; being too immersed in one's own drink and any immediate source of entertainment would definitely plug any hole of interest/empathy my unprioritized brain may seem to have. It'd sure explain why the green alternative makes it even worse.. try Not zoning out on things after some BC cheeba.
Then again, perhaps this is just another case of my mind looking too deeply into things. It could just be that with the recent change of job, the impending mid-winter house move, the unexpected helping of a friend in a dire situation, dealing with my less-than-healthy mom, or the fact that the anniversary of my late sister's passing is less than two weeks away, have all culminated together to create an introspective outlook on things. Although the fact that my trying to find ways to actually say this verbally results in either my getting distracted or the conversation degrading into one of boobs or video games .. maybe something is "up" as the kids like to say nowadays.
Alas, this first time "minor" glimpse into the psyche of ol' Jesus seems to have gone severely off course and degenerated into a multi-paragraph whinefest. Perhaps I'm just a quiet dude who enjoys contemplation and has a speech impediment. Or maybe I, like the nerd mentioned so far above, have selective mutism.
Either way, fuck it, I'm tired. G'night people; may your dreams be of things to come and may things to come be of your dreams. And if not, blame Canada. Or the States. Whatever.
There's a thought that's been nagging at me for years now, creeping up when either I'm alone or around others. It's been the most constant observation that can pop up if left unchecked and truly has been a burden for as long as I can remember. Even if forgotten it's still in the background, doing it's thing, potentially unnoticed until I realize yet again that my actions are actually being dictated by it.
Well, maybe I should backtrack a bit. I mean, chances are somebody's going to be bored enough to take a gander at my inner musing, so let's try and bridge the gap between my rambling and your being able to actually understand what I'm talking about. Pop culture reference - ever seen The Big Bang Theory? One of my favorite characters would have to be Raj, the affable immigrant who can't seem to talk around women unless drunk. It's sad that a comedic device in a nerdy show can so effectively sum up my social failure.. only my conversational skills fail with either gender, of any age, of any creed.
Any reason for this, you might ask? Hard to say; an easy fallback would always be "psychological trauma" or some such nonsense but, after so many years of trying to figure this thing out a reason like that seems more like a crutch than anything else. Yeah, okay, I was born the youngest of three with two siblings who I couldn't really bond with given my physical disabilities at birth. Okay, so I may have more abandonment issues than the average fella, but given the rich and colorful life I've had it only seems par for the course. And you don't see the old pensioners becoming incapable of speech; quite to the contrary it seems to give them an even bigger desire to mingle!
It's not exactly like this is rocket science we're talking about. Hell, I live with a guy who's such a skeez he swears by his "How to pick up women" book, and always seems keen to give a high-five when his newest acquisitions forego having him take an AIDS test - seriously, the way his face lights up you'd think it was Christmas. Except Christmas doesn't come twice a year (the barstars of lesser caliber never care, apparently, or perhaps they're just too drunk to notice that particular catholic man is as against rubbers as the popes of old. God knows he's had to come out bragging about it enough times you'd think one of them would overhear). And yet as he is a master linguist even the future carriers of his STD's seem to think that, comparably, I'm the failure.
Back to the original mulling at hand - what in the hell is wrong with me? It's not a matter of being shy as that was a painful hurdle I overcame as a child. Or perhaps it is, and it's just evolved much in the way I've had to. But then that just begs the question - why in god's name should I care about anyone's opinion?
Either by my own accomplishments or overcoming the many funked up challenges thrown my way, I've lived a life I can be mostly proud of whereas most people are still trying to "find themselves" and seem to base their perception of the world around that thought process. Perhaps it's my constant observing of situations that trips things up - misconstruing people's actions and immediately pondering what their thought process is does have a tendency to fuck up a conversation be it in depth or a light one. It sure would explain why drinking brings out the social creature within; being too immersed in one's own drink and any immediate source of entertainment would definitely plug any hole of interest/empathy my unprioritized brain may seem to have. It'd sure explain why the green alternative makes it even worse.. try Not zoning out on things after some BC cheeba.
Then again, perhaps this is just another case of my mind looking too deeply into things. It could just be that with the recent change of job, the impending mid-winter house move, the unexpected helping of a friend in a dire situation, dealing with my less-than-healthy mom, or the fact that the anniversary of my late sister's passing is less than two weeks away, have all culminated together to create an introspective outlook on things. Although the fact that my trying to find ways to actually say this verbally results in either my getting distracted or the conversation degrading into one of boobs or video games .. maybe something is "up" as the kids like to say nowadays.
Alas, this first time "minor" glimpse into the psyche of ol' Jesus seems to have gone severely off course and degenerated into a multi-paragraph whinefest. Perhaps I'm just a quiet dude who enjoys contemplation and has a speech impediment. Or maybe I, like the nerd mentioned so far above, have selective mutism.
Either way, fuck it, I'm tired. G'night people; may your dreams be of things to come and may things to come be of your dreams. And if not, blame Canada. Or the States. Whatever.