Beauty: In Language and People

I went to bed at 11 pm last night; I wasn't asleep until sometime past 3am the next morning.
I woke up with 10 minutes to get ready; it took me 15.
I got to my editing lecture 10 minutes late.

But goddamn, I'm happy right now.

Editing class does that to me. If the language is drugs, grammar is my crack cocaine: pure and dangerous. I mean, it's the only class where I really know what I'm doing. It's not like I'm not learning anything—if anything, I learn more and more each week—but it's the only class where I sit down and know I'm gonna kick ass in at least some respect. Substantive editing (editing for tone, consistency, redundancies, point of view, etc.) isn't the easiest and I'm only just picking it up, but there's a real buzz out of picking up someone's work and ripping it to pieces, suggesting better ways to say things, questioning all the ambiguities—brings out the superiority complex in everyone :P  Line-by-line editing (accidental narcotics pun FTW :D), however, is my favourite: droppin' punctuation like a boss, correcting the typos even Word would miss... fucking fun ^_^

I somehow managed to get into a little discussion with the teacher on whether the word 'over' in the title One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest was a preposition. Without really realising it, I'd come to a stronger conclusion than she had, being correct in stating that it was indeed a preposition rather than an adverb (as had been contested). She then complimented me on my grammatical ability in general—to quote NintendoCapriSun: so happy! It's just good to know the work I've put in to my technical writing skills over the years has paid off. On one hand, it's probably a little ridiculous that such a small compliment can make me feel so proud; but I know when I've earned my keep, and this is one keep I have fucking earned. 1 smiley approved for display :)

On the other hand... don't call my grammar good when there's a woman I'm interested in sitting across from me! You trollin'? Don't fucking troll me now, not with this! I already have next to no chance—are you gonna rob a poor man? The only thing I like more than that class is her... and she's in that class... so, not only am I doing lines, but I've also got a needle sticking out my arm! It doesn't matter what she wears, how she does her hair, who she's with, her mood that day... she's beautiful. Every class with her sees my urge to talk to her grow—and that's seriously the only thing I wanna do with her right now! Well... not the only thing, but the first thing, most certainly! I keep saying to myself 'Goddamn it, seriously, I would kill people just to talk to her. I'd slaughter half the fucking room just to get so much as a five minute conversation! I'll go Virginia Tech level if I have to—I don't care!' ...what the fuck am I talking about? I'll commit academic genocide, but won't go up to a girl I'm interested in and say 'Hi!'? These drugs are fucking my sense of logic right up :P

What's unusual is that I don't want to look at her. I actively prevent myself from doing that. The urge to ogle was stronger today than it has been for the past few weeks... it's getting harder and harder to not look :P  It's that thing where you want to look at someone, so you do, and then they look at you perchance, and you instantaneously look away thinking you've gotten away with it... then you go right back to looking at the person, they look at you again perchance, and you look away again—as if that trick's gonna work twice :P  She makes me forget all the shortcomings I usually think of when dreaming of women in solitude. I'm not even in the picture—it's just her. I don't know if that's love, and the label doesn't matter to me: all that matters is that I'm happy when I see her. Maybe I'll talk to her, maybe not—I really want to—but for now, I just like seeing her. I'll take what happiness I can get right now: if seeing her makes me happy, so be it. They're not dirty thoughts, nor intrusive, confusing, ambiguous, hurtful: just beautiful. Like her innocent smile... and the eyes that pop out of her head... and her curly hair... and her skin...

Beautiful like her :)

Interest: Plummeting Faster than The Stock Market

What happened here? Suddenly, everybody needs to be motivated? 

It's a fairly simple thing: either you wanna do something or you don't.

George Carlin

Looks like I'm part of the latter group: even though I live a life of fiscal, recreational and organisational ease and luxury, it's harder than ever for me to bring myself out of bed, even if I have somewhere to be. I missed a whole day's worth of classes simply because I got up too late and couldn't be bothered going anywhere, the twenty minute walk being just too much for me to handle—first world's a bitch like that :P  It's ridiculous how one negative thought can manifest into ten or fifteen which then combine like the Power Rangers, using their incredible force to obliterate the evil that is my hopes and dreams :P  I used to actually have hopes and dreams… there aren't many left. Everyone around me seems to have concrete goals, or at least goals they can plan for and progress towards in a measurable manner. What are my goals? …don't be miserable… that's the only one I can say for sure. There's heaps of other stuff I'd like to do—that I'd love to do—but that for me doesn't automatically constitute a 'goal'. I've always been told a goal is supposed to be achievable, and that's the definition I take; once I deem such a thing unachievable, it stops being a goal and becomes a pipe dream. So I have lots of pipe dreams… meaning my life's going down the wrong tube.

The most prevalent dream, by law, must always be to do with a girl: whether it be in the traditional sense of 'I have a dream', or the contemporary sense of 'I had a dream last night', it's always a woman. University is a smorgasbord; and with classes as long as two hours, there's always time to ogle at the one I choose to in silence as she looks at her notes or the tutor. It's almost too easy—she sits on the other side of the room, for fuck's sake! Such pleasure in hypothetical futures quickly dissipates, however, when my brain deems this to be an illogical desire, at least when my personality and habitual flaws are brought to light. Any rational person clearly understands that there is no justification in chasing something this unlikely—surely, no woman would want to go out with anyone who looks, talks, eats or thinks like me. I'm ugly, picky, whiny and disgusting: what a catch :P  But, what am I supposed to do? Not look? Not want? Not dream? As much as I'd like to stop dreaming, it's not possible! I'm heterosexual: I'm going to like women whether I want to or not. Being the paradoxical little fuck it is, reason also states that this shit simply isn't reasonable: neither love, nor lust, nor attraction is controllable like that. I want it to be, but it isn't. That's what's really illogical: to expect me to ditch desires inherent in my nature as a human being.

I've had heaps of dreams lately (the kind you have at night fast asleep, even though I'm usually half awake when doing so; kind of like a daydream at night time) that portray me being close with a woman, beyond mere sexual contact. Images of all sorts fill me with warmth, such as me with my arms wrapped around her in bed; or cuddling her with my back against a wall; at a café together, her laughing as we converse; or at a dance of some form where her head rests on my upper chest (the dictionary doesn't really give me the impression that I have a 'bosom' for her head to be resting on :P), my hand slowly stroking the back of her head, fingers flowing through her hair, her eyes closed, using me as her pillow so to speak. The problem is, having not seen the particular girl I'm attracted to for about a month now (due to the break, classes being cancelled/missed, etc.), and only really scratching the surface on said attraction anyway, she's fading from memory; this leads to my brain going back and picking anyone it can to fill the gap. In this state, this limbo of allure, the woman's identity is far from static—sometimes it's an old face, sometimes a new face—but the actions remain fairly consistent.

I think it's clear, from what I infer, that I want a fulfilling relationship, something beyond what I've already had; but my self esteem puts me beneath all that, leading me to believe I cannot possibly achieve that for there is no woman on this Earth willing to put herself in the complimentary position, a position so many seem to have temporarily filled in my mind. Until I know more about the university girl's personality, she will not become a true fixation. To give you an idea of how little I'm running off here, I actually got kind of excited when I heard the word 'Magikarp' come out of her mouth—all because this might mean she likes Pokémon, which means she might like video games, which means we might have something in common beyond our subjects. Slim pickin's, huh—not to mention what a perfect image that is: I practically am Magikarp, splashin' around in a puddle and expecting it to do something other than make a noise :P  In a way, I like this mindset, at least in that it tells me that I want to go off what's on the inside rather than what's on the outside when it comes to true desire for a woman, but it also leaves me with this wayward romantic desire that won't go away.

I really do have to go out and meet people :P

Second to that, of course, come intellectual pursuits: a 'career' (a job'll do just fine, thank you :P) and the development of my mind in terms of culture and booksmarts. Every time I watch a comedy festival, or see some comic on stage in front of a big crowd, and seeing the reaction they get from what they do, I want to be just like them. I want to go in front of rooms full of people and speak my mind like I do here to make people think and to make myself feel like I'm worth something :P  Ever since I experienced the incredible minds of Carlin, Bruce, Hicks (just to name a few), I've wanted to challenge my own mind and that of others on stage just as they did; but once again, cracks in the path quickly form.

First is my great fear of food and travel: two things any performer on the road kinda needs to be fine with :P  Travelling in a car or a train isn't so bad—that I could deal with easy—but boats and planes fuck with me. I get seasick really, really easy; but even if I didn't, the plane is what will take me to different countries (this is 2012 for fuck's sake—why am I going on about boats in the first place :P). When it comes to air travel, both my fear of dying in a plane crash (quite a few of which I've read about recently—thanks, Wikipedia :P) and my discomfort with food (do they serve Doritos on aeroplanes?) both trample the dream. I know that unless I'm in the middle of nowhere in a non-Western nation, there will be a store that sells some bag or box of processed nourishment to keep me somewhat alive... or do I? Surely, if I did know that, I wouldn't be so scared... the level of quality in what my mind classifies as 'knowledge' has done nothing but skyrocketed lately (especially since taking Philosophy :P). Thankfully, I know that I can always think and write no matter where I am, so I take some comfort that I can still get my ideas out there, if only in written form.

The other problem for me has been coming up more and more, not only in watching other comics, but in attending university as well: everything's been said. Every fucking thing, goddamnit! It seems like everyday, I lose an original idea; I might have thought of the idea on my own, but someone else presented it before I did; so even though my idea was of my own conclusions, an audience won't see it that way. What is there to make fun of that hasn't been made fun of? What ground is there that people haven't explored already? What conventions could I challenge? Does anything offend anyone anymore? Does discomfort exist anymore? Or will everyone be perfectly OK with whatever comes out of my mouth? I've said controversial shit before, yeah, but the 'PG-tolerant' world of high school (in what they'd allow anyone to put on stage publicly, anyway) is gone: that was what made stuff I said to those people back then 'controversial' in any sense of the word. I could joke about anything to a pack of uni students and get into no trouble whatsoever, and in recently watching the 2011 Montreal Comedy Festival on TV, politics and social issues were certainly on the agenda (although in a nature far less confronting than that of Carlin, Hicks, etc. :P). I don't want to just say outlandish shit for the sake of attention; I want to provoke thought through the verbal comic instilment of discomfort in what we accept in society. It's not just a matter of saying 'fuck' anymore; it's a matter of stating why we're fucked, how we got fucked, and (perhaps) what we need to do to stop being fucked.

I suppose if I really wanted a challenge, I could always learn Arabic, go to Saudi Arabia to perform, and open with 'Man, what's the deal with fundamentalist Islam? Jeez, it'd be easier for a dog to get a driver's license over here than a woman, 'ey!'

If I truly want to start dabbling in comedy, there's a bar at the uni (named 'The UniBar'... sigh :P) that I could apply to perform at. Looking at their website, there's no 'comedy night' or 'resident comedian' or anything of the sort, so perhaps this'd be something new for them... which is exactly what I fucking want, isn't it? ...why haven't I applied yet... :P  This little opening keeps my comedy dreams alive, and it has done for over a year. I actually originally wanted to go there every week and perform, talking about whatever came to my mind, sometimes testing new bits, sometimes going on improvised rants (a la Williams, Noble or Izzard) about current events and whatnot. I'd love to be someone who could get on stage with nothing in terms of a script and then go on to perform an hour long show, but that takes practice (a lot of practice :P), and I'm just happy to get on stage and perform whenever I can, so it's good to have a place I can do that. My dreams of women, on the other hand, while prevalent, are taken to be ridiculous in nature, because there's nothing concrete there. There's just one girl I have my eye on (out of how many? Selective much? O.O) that I know nothing about—what can my mind do with that? Nothing productive, that's for sure :P

What's really mind boggling, however, is not that I'm thinking this way at the moment, but that I'm still thinking this way after doing so for a year. I wrote an article about a year back describing my self-esteem as a pendulum, swinging back and forth, where thinking of a woman seemed to bring the pendulum down and thinking of comedy (and a somewhat-certain girl interest) brought it back up: this is the exact same thing. The exact same thing. Verbatim. Identical. Different in no way, shape or form! ...how am I still back here!? Surely, I should have learned about this last time and moved on! But no, it's the same old shit, day after day, week after week: the wheels on the bus go round and round, but the bus is still bogged in snow, the same snow it has been for a very long time. Without action, there can be no progress, short of a burst of incredible luck, unreliable at best.

The fact of the matter is: I'm not willing to take risks anymore. I don't want to talk to this girl for fear of embarrassment and rejection; I don't want to ask anyone to let me perform comedy for fear of social contact and disturbing the status quo (in terms of scheduling: you have no idea how much I hate interrupting people—I don't even make phone calls on that basis :P); I don't want to drive a car for fear of a collision; I don't want to drink or consume any party drug for fear of loss of self awareness and control, possible arrest and almost certain bodily harm. I'm simply no longer in favour of putting myself in any position where there's anything substantial to lose anymore... compared to, say, when I was sixteen, telling a room of twenty people the name of the girl I'd liked for two years, or waiting outside the classroom she was in to ask her out; or pulling another girl aside months later to do the same thing, this time successfully, or perhaps kissing her without warning at the lighthouse; or getting on stage alone to tell jokes for the first time; or getting up on assembly without permission to bitch about the fence... what happened? Did the prescription on my balls run out? I mean, I loved the rush I got from doing all those things even though I didn't always get the outcome I wanted, yet I seem to have retracted further into my little shell, unwilling to chase that which I appear to revel in!

It seems that those are my two options: either stay spinning in this little emotional circle, within my shell, waiting for Lady Luck to see me in my self-indulgent peril, for her to be fooled into granting me everything I want; or actually make my own moves, knowing I'm going to fall down, but also knowing that I can get back up. It sounds fucking retarded and cheesy—believe me, I know :P—but that's the way it is. I'm not sure if and when my balls will regrow, but I do believe, rather strongly, that if there's something in my life that I truly want, whether it be to know if some girl is interested in me, or to try and can pull off comic shenanigans like those of my idols—if I truly want something—I'll persevere and go for it eventually. The aforementioned evidence is what leads me to believe this, as procrastinative as it may seem; that's where my faith lies. That said, however... I've almost certainly got shit to do :P

You know what they could do, though? How about reporting on some plane landings, huh? Plane landings: you know, what's supposed to happen when a plane gets to the airport! I think we might think of pilots as a bit more competent if we were actually told that they can do their jobs correctly every once in a while, don't you!?

Chatty: The Trait That Makes This Shit a Lot Fucking Easier

I'm not well known for getting shit done; I stall, overthink and procrastinate until all hours over those tasks I find daunting. Sometimes, however, time is stretched thin simply because of the situation at hand, and with only 1 more encounter between my fancy and I for me to look forward to, "stretched thin" is quite the understatement. The "make or break" moment draws ever closer, and although much has been made in the name of progress, a lot more needs to be made in the name of "hurry the fuck up!" Expletives aside though, I'm a lot closer than when all this madness started -- no contact details yet, no no no... but conversation? Yes yes yes :P

The first instance almost caught me off guard. It was one if those opportunities you don't see coming, but those are the most fun because you have no idea what's gonna happen; the adrenaline goes off the charts and you're bouncing off the wall. I find it hard to believe I try to avoid doing things that would make me feel this way, even though I love the feeling and sometimes even crave it. I arrived at the meet unable to see anyone else from the group, so I keep walking to see a lone, curvy figure... guess who :P "Where the hell is everyone else- WHO CARES? How come she's the only one here- NOT IMPORTANT! I wonder if anything's happened- STOP THINKING AND SAY HELLO!" When you boil down to it, sometimes being louder does make your point more valid; it does in my head at the very least :P So, off I go, balls to the wall and heartbeat to the max, and that all important celestial introduction makes it's way from my vocabulary to my vocal cords, promptly passing through my dry lips up to her receptors unawares... "...hi!"

Then the real fun starts :P

As the message makes it's way through her brain, there comes that smile one can't quite escape, and the reply is urgently anticipated. "Oh! Good morning!" she said, quick to realise that it was actually 5 in the friggin' afternoon :P -- I'd have pointed it out, but her quick and adorable "Oops! Good afternoon, I meant." relieved me of such pressure. She was using her phone (hopefully not texting her boyfriend! O.O) so I moved along and took a seat. She came up and took a seat nearby, proceeding to talk about the previous week's session. This is the great thing about this girl: she just talks! She talks and talks and talks! This trait might come back to bite me in the arse one day, but for now, it's a fucking Godsend. It's not like she is completely unable to shut up; she just naturally has more to say, irrespective of the subject at hand. There's never an awkward silence -- if I ain't sayin' somethin', she takes care of everything! It may make it hard for me to get a word in, but at this point, anything's better than nothing :P  After 3 to 4 minutes of bliss (felt like 3-4 seconds :P) others started to show, and attention was impossible to hold, but the way that conversation flowed was just... just... :D

The next episode of chit-chat came about through a second strike of lightning I wasn't expecting. In a previous entry, I mentioned walking right past the girl as I was on my way to the meet -- not even someone as mentally inept as me is dumb enough to fuck this up twice :P  Funnily enough, I spotted her from a hundred metres back, out of breath as I ran to try to see if I'd catch up -- and by golly I did! :D -- so I was out of breath, quietly begging myself to "slow down, motherfucker... slow down, motherfucker... slow down... mother... fucker..." It was kinda creepy walking just a tad faster than her, without her noticing me until I was by her side saying "hello!" It was like the sort of thing you'd see in a horror movie... I'd have blown my cover in a fit of laughter had the Jaws theme started playing on my iPod :P  Her reaction I'll never forget: "Oh my gosh! Hey! Oh my gosh!" she spieled as she took her earphones out to speak, as if she thought I'd been there for 30 seconds and was too engrossed in the music to realise; not to mention the fact that she seemed very excited to see me... see why I've been hanging on to this for so long? It's all the little things, and by God do they amount to something after such time :P It was the same situation -- me listening to her talking about the same things for the most part -- but once again, it's better than walking right past her in a puff of smoke :P

This is, however, drawing to a close however you look at it. At some point, I am going to have to get contact details (or use those I already found :P) to get something happening here. With only one more (hypothetically) guaranteed physical encounter, I am up shit creek without a paddle, and I don't know where you buy paddles from in this neighbourhood. What I've discussed here isn't even remotely courageous by any regular standard, so I'm going to have to do something actually ballsy if I want this to go anywhere: I'm either going to have to ask her for her email/number/MSN/Facebook (fuck that shit :P) to her face... or be a sneaky little devil and use the email I already have to slip in there and get a late start, hoping not to fuck with her head in the process :P

... I make this shit way harder than it  needs to be, huh :P

Perversion: The Drug That Keeps on Giving

Being the age I am, certain mindsets tend to take control at times. For a number of years now, I have been somewhat obsessed with the physical nature of women; no more obsessed than any other man, but still curious to such a degree that I find myself thinking about the feminine physique far too often. Of course, I’m not looking for an answer as much as I’m looking for more questions: “what does that part of her look/feel/taste like?” I’ve come to realise that sometimes I’m just one sick motherfucker :P In a monologue I wrote recently, I directly implied that my character wanted to suck the nipples of the girl he desired… where the fuck did that idea come from? My own fantasy!? I don’t remember fantasising about that! That’s messed up, man! What’s worse is that I then turned that joke in to the punch-line! I don’t think lust or sex (or anything else) is off limits to the word, written or spoken, but I have to question my inspiration for that particular set of lines :P I was pissing myself laughing at the possible effect those lines could have on an audience; call me arrogant, but if I don’t think the jokes are funny, who will? Confidence in one’s material is key for a comedian; for any writer or performer. But, at the same time, I was also perplexed by just what gave me that idea.

I’ve spent way more time liking girls than I’ve spent actually being with them. I’m not sure if that’s the case for most guys, but that’s the case for me. The thrill of the chase is half the fun, and half the time you’re chasing your own brain trying to get it to stop pondering the subject! “Does she like me back? Does she even like me at all? Does she even like guys? Does she even like people? What if she doesn’t like me back? What if she doesn’t like me at all? What if she doesn’t like guys? What if she doesn’t like people?” These answers won’t come about when all you’re doing is looking at her shapely figure! That’s all you’ve got to go off so far; you don’t have any useful information yet! Perhaps this is why there were (and certainly still are) men who see women as objects; they see a woman’s body as mere advertising, and their “duties” as their function. Is your woman misbehaving dysfunctional? Get a new one! We’re shallow people, us men. We go straight off what we see, but that’s the first thing we get a glimpse at: her body! I like to see it as just one of the ways to begin to discover someone, whilst understanding that there’s a fuckload more to a woman than her humps.

Having had a girlfriend, hence having at least some experience in this area of life, the first step with this new fancy of mine is determining whether there is any substance behind the attraction. Before I met my girlfriend, there was nothing but physical desire shaping my draw to girls; that’s puberty for you :P Been there, done that, and I ain’t going back, not even for fun in the sack. Upon meeting my girlfriend, however, and learning about whom she was and the things she liked, then going back and comparing them to the things I liked, it just clicked! There was now genuine backing behind the magnetism, and so it could be further explored for a substantial purpose rather than just for tail! Being back at square one (or square two, if finding a girl is the first step – the steps vary between geometrics :P) means that entire process must occur again. As much as I want to find out more about this girl so I can start to think about the next course of action, is it because I want to chew her brain, or eat her out? I suppose at this point, I want one thing to lead to another :P …shouldn’t have used that emoticon…

Having said that though, what do you do right after you see? You hear, of course! What a girl says is what provides you with the information necessary to make an informed decision as to whether or not the pursuit should continue. The problem is that normally, I see this girl each at a scriptwriting workshop I attend for only 2 hours, for which 0% of the time is spent socialising. I can only speak or listen to this girl before and after the session. Having heard this girl speak only a few times, she seems like a genuinely kind person, but I’ve also heard that she’s outgoing and a bit of a talker, so at this point I know that she’s somewhere between “naïve tenderfoot” and “total bitch;” I suppose I need more information, and in the absence of information, I over-analyse what little information I already have. For example, I missed a session due to my recent illness. When I went back the next week, she greeted me with a big smile on her face and asked me how I was, yet we don’t speak very often and she doesn’t know me that well. That kind of vague shit is exactly the kind of thing one can go nuts trying to figure out! “She said hello and asked me how I was… does that mean she likes me? Does that mean that she’s interested in me as a person, in my condition, in my status? Or was she just being polite? Surely, if she liked me, she would have continued conversation after she greeted me… or perhaps she’s feeling the same way and is too scared to do so! Maybe she’s just the type of person who says hello to everyone. Maybe she’s just an incredibly hot alien from out of space!” If left to my own devices, this can go on for weeks at a time.

After seeing her today though, I feel that all this has at least some potential to blossom. Rather than thinking of her lovely lady parts, this time I was drawn by the seemingly bottomless depths of beauty that are her eyes. My God, they are pretty! It must be something about the colour green blue (they look so similar, seriously :P) that fucks my head right up. It seems a bit ridiculous though; what the hell am I looking her eyes for anyway!? Do I want to give myself away? For fuck’s sake, even if she’s not looking at me, she can probably still see me looking straight at her out the corner of those same eyes I’m looking in to! I’d make a shitty covert-ops agent, man. Then again, my previous fancies have given me two and a half years of ogling skill- oh, there I go again. See? I can’t help myself. Having said that though, I now have expressions with even less clarity to deconstruct. Get this: she said my handwriting was “arty.” …what? My handwriting is what? My handwriting is messy and borderline illegible, not arty! Shit, I can barely read it at the best of times. How’s that for irony, huh? This is the sort of nonsense you spout when you’re… talking to someone you like! Take it from someone who knows: you say some crazy shit when your heart is racing and your mind is fleeting. I could be (and probably am :P) reading too far in to it, but it’s interesting to analyse nonetheless.

In spite of all this confusion (which I sincerely apologise for… seriously :P) the clincher for me is the how radiant I was for those few hours. In that room, I’d never felt more comfortable to speak; to be myself. I was making cracks left, right and centre, and people were laughing! That’s my natural style: to fuck around! And I was fucking around and around and around!  Once she was out of my sight, my face lit up. After two hours of holding it back, I’m walking the streets with this monstrous grin on my face, the kind you don’t need a mirror to check up on. I was happy! What I was saying before about depression works: just think about good shit, and the bad shit disappears! It’s the same feeling I had before I broke up, but now magnified due to its previous absence! There’s nothing like that unexplainable visceral sentiment that fills one’s system when they see who they think to be the greatest person in the world for reasons they can’t explain: the undisputed king of emotions, in my books. All you’re thinking about is her as she smiles and talks with you in hypothetical bliss.

Oh, and before I forget… can one of the more experienced readers tell me just what a vagina tastes like? I wanna know before I start making requests :P