Smells Like Monkeys In Here.

As I mentioned the other day, I was sick. I'm mostly better now (not factoring-in the residual mucus.. Sorry). I also mentioned something about hipster monkeys in that post too (I don't know... I think my brain was overheating or something).

No, wait! There was a point to the monkeys! The monkeys had meaning. They were a symbol to represent my writing (I submit my entire blogging history as "Exhibit A") or, at least, my return to writing. See? Makes more sense now, right?

Know what? Forget the monkeys! You can't expect to understand what's going on when there are monkeys in the room. That just never works out. What I mean by all this is, I think getting sick made me figure out why I haven't felt motivated to write these days.

You know when people say "life happened" and I couldn't keep up with this or that anymore? That's exactly right! And it's not always because you're so busy. That can happen but that wasn't the case for me. For me, I got stuck in a rut. Between bills, night school, boring office job, etc. I subconsciously began to wall myself off so as not to feel overwhelmed by what felt like the sheer meaningless in my existence. The problem with that was I made myself literally numb to everything going on around me. It's really hard to be creative when you go about your everyday routine just letting everything bounce off you and letting nothing stick. Know what I mean?

Now that I realized that, I think I can keep myself from falling into that trap again. Or not. I get distracted easily.

Speaking of distracted, I got my sense of smell back!

(Yeah, complete and abrupt change of topic. No warning. No clever segueing. Nothing! Blame the monkeys.)

While the cold helped me regain my sense of blogginess (I think), I lost my sense of smell. That was new. I've never had anything like that happen over a cold - or any other reason - before. At first, I was a little worried that it was going to be permanent (and possibly the lamest superhero origin story ever) but Dr. Google assured me it would be alright. Actually, it seemed this wasn't not all that uncommon when you got a cold so I just had to wait it out. Sure, everything I ate tasted bland without a functioning olfactory sense but, on the plus side, I kind of liked being able to walk through the city and not be suddenly have my nose bombarded with scent human waste (sorry again) - usually strategically scattered throughout the city by members of our homeless community.

That being said, I am now of the opinion that the tongue is woefully undeserving of its position as the representative of taste. All that guy can basically do is tell what's sweet, sour, bitter and salty. Without your olfactory sense, you might as well just give up on life enjoying your food.

At first, my sense of smell came back in bits and pieces. The first time I noticed anything had a scent was one day, when I was returning from lunch about two days into it. A coworker was waiting to get on the elevator and the scent of her coffee hit my olfactory senses hard. The best way I can describe it was like being colorblind and suddenly seeing a woman in a red dress move across the room. And the fact that it was coffee that ended up being the first thing I could smell in two days turned that woman in a red dress into a curvy bikini model in a skimpy, red two-piece.

Of course I meant a Japanese bikini model!

I really love coffee.

After that, it was gone again until something else got through. Fortunately, none of it was poop. After about five or six days, I'm happy to report that things are back to normal and coffee tastes great once again.

Social Interaction - Leave It To Me.

One of the my biggest issues when it comes to trusting people is I have this irrational fear that people are going to let me down. This fear is further compounded by the fact that people so often do let me down. Maybe it's not so irrational after all. Often, I am placed in situations where I have to get information or instructions or even training from someone else or, at other times, I have to wait on others to do something and do it properly before that something is passed to me so I can do my part. I take it for granted that the other person/people has at least some idea of what they're doing. I know I don't. I've said that more than enough times. So I depend on them to help me get/stay on the right track.

Unfortunately, more often than not, it's soon made painfully clear to me that they don't have it all together either. Often I wonder, if I don't know what I'm doing and they don't know what they're doing, then who does?

Who is hording all the information about how things get done and leaving the rest of us to grope around in the dark... looking for someone to whom we can comfortably delegate the responsibility and expect results?

But I digress. I can remember about six years ago when I was in banking and a newly appointed loans officer. The natural process was for me to sit-in with a senior officer and observe how he did things. Unfortunately, my senpai - as we anime nerds like to say - was so accustomed to "bending" the banks rules on lending policy that he forgot most of the actual rules and taught me all the stuff I shouldn't be doing. Luckily, I figured out what was what before too much damage was done.

This sort of thing happened in jobs I had before the bank and continued throughout every job that followed, including my current job with the government. After it became clear that my temporary transfer to another division turned out to be less temporary than they would have had me believe, I had to go sit with the person I was replacing so she could explain what I would be expected to do. She did a good enough job and seemed to know what she was doing (Finally!) but I soon learned that even she, who became accustomed to doing her own thing, wasn't getting it all right either. This resulted in me making a lot of mistakes and a lot of frustration on the part of the other sections with which I had to interact. In order to do things the way it suited them, I'd have to go to all these different sections, find out what they wanted and essentially relearn a lot of what she taught me.

I want to trust people. I do. Honest! If for no other reason than the fact that I want us all to be able to work together to get the job (whatever "job" it may be) done. Okay, that's a lie. I guess I don't really need to trust them. What I really want, above all else, is to not get blamed when things get screwed up. Shit has a nasty way of hitting the fan while it's being it passed to me (How's that for a mental image?). It doesn't matter who or how many other people screwed it up before, I always end up being the one left holding the bag... of shit.

I don't know why...

So, in an effort to minimize the damage to myself, I often feel obligated to try and handle everything myself. I do this because, obviously, no one but me can get things right. You see, when I was just a lower-case C (or "Mini-Vinny", if you will), I heard one or two villains in some of those Saturday morning cartoons exclaim, "If you want something done right, do it yourself!" and then proceed to take control of the situation and come within an inch of winning before failing only slightly less miserably than their pathetic minions who forced them to take things over in the first place.

Those words seemed to have had a profound impact. Right up until the point where the "hero" made his obligatory Hail Mary move that saved the day, it looked like things were going to go in the bad guy's favor. Didn't it? So, somewhere along the way I figured, without some meddler (in tights) around to throw a monkey-wrench in the works, I could totally get things handled... as long as I didn't give the idiots around me a chance to screw it up.

So, just so we're all clear, in my reality, I'm the evil mastermind and everyone else I have to work with, my inept minions. Got it? Good!

Now if only I could get the rest of them to realize that and get out of my way.

Oh! So *You're* Vinny C!

Have you ever felt like you were being watched? Like there are people... talking about you? I think we all feel that way. We wonder if people acknowledge our existence outside of direct interaction or having some specific need of us. In the workplace, I’m always wondering if my name comes up when my office superiors sit in their dimly-lit boardrooms, discussing top-level executive-type things (while someone is stroking a white cat). They probably mention me somewhere between discussing their plans for world domination and divisional budget strategies.

I guess it’s not uncommon for people to think their bosses talk about them. Of course, common sense will dictate that management has more important things to worry about (world domination can be a logistical nightmare after all) than one lowly office drone. It’s just as easy to convince oneself that those in the upper echelons don’t even know your name, much less set aside the time to actually talk about you. Just who do you think you are, anyway?!

Either way, unless you did something – good or bad – to get on their radar, odds are you probably won’t know whether they talk about you or not.

Until you know...

The other day, I was passing a coworker on the stairs. I’ve seen her around but she works in a different division and we’ve almost never spoken to each other before then. As we neared each other, she did the whole “glance at me casually, smile, nod and look away” routine, as is standard office etiquette when encountering a coworker with whom you didn’t have any particular dealings. I greeted her in kind and was prepared to continue on my way when she suddenly stopped.

Coworker: You’re Vinny, right?

Me: Uh... Yeah. Why?

Coworker: Oh, nothing. I just remember hearing some of the managers mentioning you.

Me: Huh?

If you’re anything like me, I'm sorry you probably would have thought the same thing I thought at that moment: “Oh crap! This is bad. Attention from the people on the top floor is never good. They’re on to me. They've figured out I have no idea what I’m doing and they’re discussing what should be done about me.”

It’s at this point I casually try to get some more info out of her...

Me: Not all bad, I hope? *nervous chuckle*

I know! Smooth, right?

Coworker: No-no. Nothing bad at all. (She pauses) I hear you’re very efficient.

Me: Oh... Thanks.

She nodded and the conversation basically tapered off there and we continued about our respective businesses.

You’d think hearing that I found favor with the people in charge would make me comfortable but, oddly enough, I wasn't. Not completely, anyway. I mean, it’s good in that I have a good chance of getting my contract renewed at the end of the year. So there’s that...

Maybe for those types who have ambition and want to climb the corporate ladder, getting positive attention from your employers is a good thing. But I’m not so much the ambitious type. Not anymore, that is. I know what climbing the ladder is like back when I was in banking. It’s work! A lot of work. And what you are you working for? More work! Higher paid positions come with a lot of responsibility... and pressure. Let’s not forget the pressure. It’s not like I don’t want to climb a step or two. But when words like “efficient” start getting thrown around people start getting high expectations and start thinking up other dangerous words like “potential” and “capable” Next thing  you know they’re “expanding your portfolio”.

I don’t know if I can handle that.

It’s okay to suspect you’re on the higher-ups’ radar. At least, then, you can dispel the thought and tell yourself you are being full of yourself. When you know they’re watching you, that’s something else. I did say this was one of my paranoid suspicions. Didn't I? What if they’re watching me? What if they really do have my phone bugged? At any point I could have left my cell unguarded and they could have gotten into it. I've seen Person of Interest! I know how easy it is to clone someone’s phone! Every text, tweet, status update and call I've ever made since I got here could be stored on one of the office servers (right next to the plans for the weather manipulation device). Hell! My last boss, the Big Man, had spyware on my office computer. And he’s a cheapskate! I work for the government now!!!

Aside from that, what if this is all a trick? What if they don’t actually think I’m efficient after all?

- Secret Paranoid Suspicion # 8: People don’t actually approve of me, they just pretend to and say nice things to make me believe there’s something about me they like.

I’m not quite sure what the reason behind this is yet but whatever it is, it can’t be good.

I need to find a way to become anonymous. I have to blend in! I’m normally pretty good at that. What am I doing wrong? Maybe I should start sleeping at my desk like so many of my coworkers. I bet I could blend in if I did like the group in the cube right next to mine and spent more than half the day carrying on loud conversations about every TV show/movie I watched (or book I read... or what I had for dinner... or where I went clubbing) the night before. Did I mention they were loud?

I need to nip this “efficiency” talk in the bud before something bad happens.

Social Interaction - Quiet Vinny.

I recently figured out one of my main problems. No, not that one! The other one of my main problems. Nooo... Not that either- Wait! I do that? Okay! Let's not get off track here. Just stop listing them for a sec and pay attention. I'm referring to the issue I have when it comes to talking to people.

Despite the amount of words I've put down here on the blog, I forever remain a crappy conversationalist. Fact is, if you met me and we had to have a face-to-face conversation it would probably be a painful experience for all involved. I like to think it's because I'm not a people person. I think I mentioned that a few times in the past. I'm awkward when it comes to communicating verbally. Not because I can't think of what to say but because, whenever someone talks to me, a million thoughts about possible responses swirl around in my head and I get confused. This leads to such gems as saying the wrong thing, not getting the words out properly and – my all-time specialty – talking too fast.

I've thought of ways to fix this but nothing has ever really worked. Friendly and polite have always been my “go-to” states. These, however, are not natural for me. Growing up, I had to work at it. I decided that the mannerisms of a friendly person were what people considered acceptable so I just went with it. (Because what else does an eight-year-old think about?)

After I left the bank, where being fake-friendly was an actual job requirement, I'd gotten my fill of it. I decided to let more of my cynical, dry wit out and it worked pretty well... That is, until the new super-religious supervisor at my next place of employment thought these traits were undesirable of someone working under her and set out to have me removed (I'll mention again that I was never cynical to her). I didn't want to be fake-nice but after that experience I was convinced my initial theory was correct. As a result of all this I'd resigned myself to my awkwardness.

Until recently, that is. See, recently it occurred to me that I was looking at the problem all wrong. I don't always have to have something friendly to say or even something witty. I don't need to improve my conversation skills. I need to do away with them altogether. Well, mostly.

Stay with me here.

You know those guys who keep to themselves, looking all serious and deep in thought and badass. They usually don't say much aside from the odd grunt or one-word response. That's me! I could totally do that! I mean, I already do it sometimes. What I need to do is step it up and be the quiet badass all the time. No one expects the quiet badass to say much. No one expects the quiet badass to smile and feign politeness. The badass does not need to try to be the life of the party.

Have you ever heard of Batman telling jokes during the Justice League weekend barbecues over at Superman's fortress? No! Batman is the one silently examining the pent-up alien beasts in Superman's zoo, figuring out at least eight different ways to subdue and recapture them should they ever escape. No one ever says, “Hey, Bats! Tell everyone about that time you...” No! They all take a vote as to who will approach him to ask if he wants a beer and pray he doesn't karate-chop the unlucky sap through a wall for sneaking up on him too quietly.

I could totally be Batman!

I wish I'd figured this out before! So many wasted years trying to be “social” and “friendly” and none of that was ever truly in my nature. Sure, I'm a nice guy and I'm not denying that, but that doesn't mean I want to talk to you. I honestly don't want to participate in a verbal discourse on how hot it is today. No, I do not care to elaborate on what I meant by “Meh,” when you asked me how my day was going.

Of course, it doesn't help that whenever I don't feel like communicating someone is always there to chime in with a, “Hey, Vinny. You okay? You seem quiet today.” I hate that! Thanks for the concern and all but I just don't feel like talking. That's all! That's it! I'm not upset, I don't need to open up and I don't have a problem I need to get off my chest. Yes, I am sure. I just want to be quiet. It's nice. I like it.

Jeez! It's like society is forcing me comply with their mass-produced standards of social interaction. But I ain't your robot, man! I'm totally not going to dance to your little tune while you pull the strings on my cheeks to make me smile so you can feel comfortable. And I sure as hell ain't going to conform to your fascist rules about mixing metaphors... Man!

Imagine the freedom. I'd never have to fumble for words again. Even better I won't have to pretend to be extra nice and smile just to make others more relaxed. I can finally be the badass I was meant to be!

Now all I need is to get people to stop bothering me. Karate-chopping someone through a wall might seem a bit extreme but I'm fairly certain it'll get the point across.

Dealing.

(EDITOR'S NOTE: I burn up my quota of swear words for the next few months in this one.)

DAMMIT! I HATE THIS!!! IHATEITIHATEITIHATEITIHATEIT!!!

GAAAAH!!!

That’s how I feel right now. Like some fucking spoiled brat, throwing a tantrum. A very foul-mouthed brat. Why? Because I get depressed sometimes, that’s why? And I hate it.

I mentioned it before, but some of you may not know/remember. I was in banking about four years ago. I was a loans officer and, mostly and I fucking hated it. Then I lost that job – mostly because of my own screw-ups – and had been bouncing around from one place to another, never able to hold down a job for more than six months. The economy was in a slump, banks weren't hiring and it took months to finally find a temporary clerical gig in a small office that paid less than half the income I was making before. That’s how the next three years would go for me. Brief stints of employment here and there, followed my months of unemployment.

As a result of this – maybe even before it (HELL! I don’t know!) – I realized I would go into these “funks” from time-to-time. The worst of it was right after I lost my job at the bank. Back then it was full-on, curl-in-the-fetal-position-under-the-covers-day-after-day depression.

Should I keep calling it that? I've never been officially diagnosed. "Real" therapy's expensive, you know. All I know is it was like a hole had opened up inside me. I felt like something was missing. Like there were things that should be there that just weren't. I remembered, even before things ended with the bank, I questioned whether the road I was on was really the one I should be taking.

As time went on I learned to deal. Or, at least, to look like I was dealing.

Eventually, I started blogging and that seemed to help a lot.

But that hole never went away. When problems started to pile up, there it was, shrouding me and swallowing me up again. True, it wasn't as bad as before. I’d lose interest in things and stop being productive to the point where every task felt burdensome. I literally have to force myself to “function”.

But things are different now. Right? I mean I've been employed since last February. First, with TinyCo – the company that seemed destined to fold at any minute but didn't – and now with the government. My income now isn't anywhere close to what I made in banking but it’s the best it’s been in years. There’s just no reason those old feelings of emptiness to be bother me anymore.

So where the hell did the last week of my life go?

That’s what I fucking hate the most about my “thing”. It’s a creeper. It's a bitch-assed, sneaky kind of gloominess and I never know when it's going to hit or even that I’m going through it. That is, until it comes to a head (or the shit hits the fan). I go into force-function mode and my sporadic bursts of energy during that time allow me to make it through each day with just enough effort to even fool myself and keep drifting along.

I don't know how I got to this state. Sure, life isn't perfect now that my job worries have eased up. I've still been taking a hit or two as a result of our finances going into disarray when I was unemployed. But... Shit, I don’t know!

I know what some of you are thinking. I should talk to someone. I think that's part of the problem. Aside from my wife, there aren't that many people I can talk to. I love her, but there are some things I'm not comfortable talking to her about. Let's not even get into family. I'm a Christian (maybe not the best example of one, but I am), as I may have mentioned and most of my family are as well. But if I have to deal with the cookie-cutter "Go deeper into prayer" answers, I may end up saying some very un-Christian things to them (Don't believe I can? Go back and read some of what I wrote in this post alone.)

The fog is lifting for now, though. I'm just really, REALLY pissed it happened again. Sorry to just spring this on you all. I just needed to vent and since I can't afford therapy and I'm too much of a loner to have "real life" friends to bitch to, the blog is the only place I can pour all this out.

I'l try to be funny next time.

END. RANT.

Social Interaction - Gimme Five!

On my list of many social interaction issues, physical contact is definitely in the top three. It would be right up there with talking to people and any form of interaction with random strangers or people I haven’t seen in a long time.

I’m not a hugger. I’ve said that many times. My wife gets away with hugging me, mostly because she lets me have sex with her (it seems like a fair trade). The same goes for kissing. Again, Mrs. C gets a pass (also because of the sex) but anyone else, not so much. I have aunts who always like to greet with a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, which is why I try to avoid them whenever possible.

What’s weird is I always seem to notice when someone makes deliberate, physical contact with me. Someone putting his/her hand on my shoulder, for example, immediately sets off all kinds of alarms in my head and I spend the rest of the interaction trying not to tense-up and acting like I don’t even notice. You know? Like any normal person is supposed to do.

However, much to my dismay, people are always trying to touch me. I think my overall unease with physical contact is belied by my seemingly approachable demeanor. (DAMN MY FRIENDLY FACE!!!) Just a few days ago, I was showing some students in one of my classes the video quality on my phone when the woman to my right put her arm around my back, while the one on the other side pressed her boobs into my shoulder so she could get in closer to see the screen. During all this, I was doing my best not to tense up.

It wasn’t pretty.

This is just one more reason I love Japan so much. In one of my classes I learned that a lot, like, A LOT of cultures employ handshakes and even kisses – to various degrees – as their greeting of choice. Not Japan, though. You stay at a safe distance from the person you’re meeting and bow. There’s no touching and personal boundaries are respected.

It’s perfect!

Hugging and kissing people is bad enough but what I find I have a lot of issues with is the whole act of “giving” someone “five”.

I know. I know.  It’s just a quick slap of someone else’s palm that lasts less than a second and, as such, should be the least invasive form of physical contact. Right? Well, have you ever thought of the mechanics involved with giving five to someone? I have. I overthink the process every time I placed in a position where a “five” must be bestowed.

Every. single. time.

When someone extends his/her palm towards me I immediately begin to second guess my actions My thoughts in the split-second before I act flow something like this:

Dammit! He just reached out his hand. Is he looking for a handshake? What were we just talking about? I made a joke and he thought it was funny and apparently well suited to the situation. A handshake is probably too formal for this scenario.

So it’s a five then?

Simple enough. Just a quick slap of his palm and that should seal the deal. A quick slap contact shouldn't be more than a second or else things could get weird.

How hard should slap his hand?

Hmm... I remember reading that guys often use these forms of social interaction amongst each other as an opportunity to display his physical strength. One good, hard slap should do.

But what if I hit his hand too hard? What if I focus too much on power and lose accuracy in the process? It would probably be awkward if I miss his hand altogether and swat at thin air.

Should I look at his hand when I give him the five? That will help with my aim. Do people look at each other’s hands when doing this?!

Okay, I won’t look at his hand. I’ll give a moderate slap so I can make sure my aim is good.

It can’t be too soft, though. That would be weird. Plus, he might form doubts about my masculinity.

I need to angle my wrist properly too. Otherwise, I’ll just end up hitting his hand wrong and not making the proper “slapping” sensation. I’m sure I’ll lose points if I connect with the heel of my palm or, even worse, karate-chop his hand.

Okay, this is taking long. I'll just do it and get it over with…

DAMMIT, I missed!

See? It’s not as easy as you may think. This is why I prefer a fistbump (of a “bounce”, as we call them here). Those are easy. You see someone extend a fist, all you have to do is touch that fist with your fist. The. end. About the only time things go off track is when the other person decides to add that sudden wide-spread palm while making an explosion sound-effect right after the bump.

I don’t like those people.

Fortunately, most tend to stay away from that maneuver.

Aside from that, all you have to worry about with a bounce is getting the aim right which, I must admit, I don’t always nail with 100% accuracy.

I don’t want to talk about it.

I Should Write Something.

You should write something...

But... I don’t have anything to write.

So? When has that ever stopped you? You’ve written lots of words about nothing before. That's a lame excuse! So, yeah, you should write something.

But what about that book I was reading? I should finish it. It’s been too long. How can I think about sitting down to write when I have a book just sitting there unread?

Still, You should write something.

Maybe after I catch up on some shows I missed out on last week. Then there are all those DVDs I got. There are still one or two I haven’t gotten to yet.

Then again, those shows aren’t really going anywhere? Are they? You can binge watch the entire season over the weekend. The movies can wait too. Instead, you should probably just write something...

Okay, maybe I should. But it’s been a hard week. Maybe some video games to help me unwind first. I can imagine the next boss fight is that annoying guy in IT.

Or... and this is just a thought here... You. Could. Write. Something!

But can I really focus on writing right now with so much stuff going on at work? The Divisional Director just asked me help out on a new project. A complicated project! And the deadline is in two days. Can I really focus on writing now?

Worry about work when you’re at work! Trust me, it’ll be there every morning, waiting for you. That being said, you should write something.

Sigh... I guess you’re right. I should write something...

Why Don't They Just Ask For It?

The other day Mrs. C and I came across this article on my Facebook timeline. The long and short of it is that it's a list of the 49 things men wished women knew about them. Why 49 and not 50? I don't know. I like round numbers, myself, but that's not the point of why I'm writing this.

Anyway, as we read it, Mrs. C occasionally asked me if this or that one was true and I saw more than a few things I could agree with as well as the one or two that didn't really matter to me. There was one item on the list, number 7, that stood out to me:

"If you want sex, just ask."

It seems simple. Doesn't it? But, apparently, it isn't. I noticed similar statements made in similar articles like this one so it stands to reason that more than a few guys have had to deal with women who refused to simply say, "Hey. I'm horny. Wanna do it?"

Why is this something guys have to continuously bring up? I myself don't have a wide variety of personal experiences from which I can draw conclusions, since I wasn't exactly playing the field before meeting Mrs. C seventeen years ago. Mostly, I observe how people behave and I listen (No 40 on the article does say that guys talk, after all). Maybe I draw wrong conclusions but it seems to me that there can be a number of reasons why there are women who don't ask for sex.

If you have to ask for sex, you give up the power.

"Make him beg for it."

"Reward him for his good behavior."

Sex has always been sold as being some kind of bargaining chip. It's something women are told they have to use to keep her man in check. He wants it, she has it and she controls access to it, so he has to get/remain in her good graces in order to earn it.

source

This is how the movies and women's magazines sell it anyway. There's always a scene where one woman is giving her friend advice about making her man beg. There's always that weight loss/workout/fashion article that promises to make women so irresistible that men will always be the one who wants to initiate coitus.

With all that pressure to be the object of desire, I just can't imagine it would be easy to turn around and ask for the very thing you're supposed to be offered constantly. Maybe it's just my simplistic logic, but it probably amounts to the IT guy in the office having to ask the office assistant to debug his hard drive (no innuendo intended). For a woman who's been told all her life that she is the one who controls if and when sex is had, there's probably a lot of pressure in having to ask him for it.

Women just don't have to ask.

The idea is that not only do men always want sex, but we're always trying to initiate it. I'll admit, it's true... for the most part. We do want sex a lot. I mean, like, A LOT a lot. Are we ALWAYS willing to initiate, though? Not really. It seems a lot of women tend to assume the guy will constantly try to get in her pants so she doesn't have to make the effort. All she has to do is just wait. If he tries and she's up for it, everybody wins. If she's not, then better luck next time, bucko.

source

One problem here is that men hate rejection as much as women do. Shut his advances down often enough and a man can get a little gun shy. Add to that the occasions when he genuinely isn't in the mood (those instances are extremely rare, but I guarantee you they exist). The end result, nights when he gives you a peck on the cheek and goes right off to sleep, leaving you lying there, ready and waiting... wondering what the hell he's waiting for.

First off, forget insecurities. It's not because he isn't attracted to you any more. If you gained 2 pounds this week, he more than likely did not even notice and it's more than likely he wouldn't be any less attracted to you even if he knew. The fire hasn't gone out in the relationship and there's nothing wrong (out of the ordinary) with him either. Fact is, he was probably in the mood too (we usually are, like I said). But maybe you were a little too quiet all evening and he assumed you were probably not in the best of moods about something (we won't ask because we're afraid you'll actually tell us). Maybe he said or did something to upset you. Maybe you said or did something to upset him. None of these might be enough to take you (or him) out of the mood for sex, but men are notoriously bad at judging just what gets women out of the mood. In those cases a man sometimes chooses to err on the side of caution and stay on his side of the bed rather than face the inevitable cold shoulder we're sure we earned for whatever offense we most likely committed at some point.

Even when genuinely tired, it usually won't take a lot of convincing to wake a guy up for sex. The level of exhaustion it would take for a man to turn down sex he knows he's going to get has to be equivalent to a near coma.

Only "those" kinds of women admit they want sex.

Another reason some women tend to not ask for sex is because they believe expressing their desire to get some makes them sluts. There's an old-school way of thinking that, despite going the way of eight-tracks and dial-up internet connections, is still perpetuated in small pockets of society, where only "dirty girls" acknowledge their desire for sex. Once a widespread practice, girls were once taught that, outside of satisfying those desires in her husband (for whom it is apparently acceptable to have) and baby making, if she expressed any interest in sex she might as well just strap on her thigh-high boots and faux-leather miniskirt (with matching jacket) and go stand on the nearest street corner to await whichever passing stranger would come along and satisfy her wanton desires. Okay maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but the way some women act shy in bed, that's the kind of impression men may get.

Needless to say, if she has this nagging sensation that sex as something to be ashamed of, odds are she isn't going to come out and say she wants it. Fortunately, as I said before, this way of thinking is becoming a thing of the past.

To any women who may even slightly harbor any such inhibitions about sex, relax. Most guys like their girls a little dirty.

Those are the ones I came up with. Maybe they're wrong. They are just my theories. What I do know that women don't need to be afraid of letting the guy know she's in the mood. Drop the subtle hints. As nice as it is for you to go through the extra effort, you don't need to plan something elaborate. Hell, you don't need to actually ask. Just point to the bed and say "strip!" Trust me. You won't need more than that. Honest.

Foreboding.

As I made my way to where the others were, I tried my best to find any thick patch of grass or tree root or anything I could use for footing. Any hope of dry ground was gone days ago. It had been raining for so long there was only a thick coating of mud. Even now it was raining pretty heavy and that mud was itself under up to an inch of water in most places.

Another reason I had to watch my step was because I had to be careful of traps. Though we hadn't seen the enemy in over a week, a lot of their nasty little presents were still scattered here and there and since I was good at spotting them, that soon became my role in the squad as we got deeper and deeper into enemy territory. The downside to this is that I usually ended up at point whenever we were on the move. I never felt comfortable being the first man to stick his neck out.

This is why I was glad when we found the cabin. It was obviously one of the enemy's, but for some reason they abandoned it. Recently too, by the looks of things. We couldn't figure out what had happened to them to make them run, but whatever it was, the signs were clear that they left in a hurry. Going out in all directions around the cabin were things they dropped along the way. Canned food, clothes and even money were littered here and there.

This is where we had decided to dig in. Sarge wasn't happy. None of us were, but it was better that being outside with the traps and the rain. Days passed. No one - friend or foe - came. We tried to radio for new instructions and new information but all we got was static. Sarge was getting antsy. Soon going out and patrolling started to seem pointless. Still, we went out. I guess he thought it would at least remind us that we weren't just sightseeing in this "jungle paradise". This was war.

This is why, despite being out in the pouring rain, three of us were now outside, exploring deeper into the trees. I met up with the others. Even Sarge looked like he was ready to pack it in for the day. I found three more traps - bear traps, this time - just a few feet from where they were. I also managed to spot a few scraps of paper. More money! At least, I thought, I got something out of the inevitable head cold that was coming my way.

"Let's head back." Sarge finally ordered.

We were only too happy to comply.

"ANYONE OUT THERE? HELLO? SOMEBODY?!"

It was the first time in almost two weeks we had heard a voice coming over the radio.

Sarge grabbed it, "Who is this?!" He barked.

"Oh, thank God!" the voice came back, ignoring Sarge's question, "I was starting to think everyone vanished off the face of the Earth or something."

The accent sounded American, one of our allies, but we couldn't trust that. The enemy could fake an accent. Whoever it was, he sounded genuinely relieved to hear another human voice, but even that could be a trick too.

"Come in! I repeat. Who is this?!" Sarge continued.

"Sorry," the voice came back, "Got carried away for a second. This-" then there was static.

"Come in! Come in!" Sarge waited a few seconds longer. There was no reply.

We told the others what had happened when we got back to the cabin. I didn't realize it until then, but most of us were starting to feel like that guy over the radio. With no contact from either the base or the enemy, it felt as if we were the last people on the planet.

"We're moving out in the morning." Sarge finally said later that night, "We're returning to base."

No one objected.

"*STATIC*...Hello? Come in! Anyone there?"

It was the same voice again.

Sarge grabbed the radio.

"This is ... My squad... if you can..."

The radio went dead after that. This time, though, there wasn't any static. In fact, there was no sound at all. That was when I noticed the noise outside had stopped as well. There was nothing. No rain, no insects or birds, everything just stopped.

That was when I started to feel this inexplicable feeling of dread. It was a fear like I never felt before. I couldn't explain it, but I knew...

Something was coming.

I looked around. In could see on their faces that everyone felt the same way. I couldn't understand it. One moment, we were all feeling relieved to be leaving. I know I wasn't the only one who felt even better hearing someone else's voice coming from somewhere out there. Now there was this feeling like we had to get away. To run as far as we could, as fast as we could before this thing we feared reached the cabin. Was this what happened to the enemy? Was this something they were doing to us? I didn't know. I"m sure none of us cared. We just knew we had to leave now.

"I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Please have mercy..."

I looked over to Sarge. Before I could ask him what he had done, I realized it wasn't us he was begging for forgiveness. His head was bowed, his eyes were closed. He was praying. He was a man who knew he was about to die.

That's when the others left. Everyone scattered in every direction. Some ran into different rooms. Some ran outside. They were so panicked, there was no thought or plan, just flight. I don't know why, but I decided to run to the door and try to lock it. As I did the last thing I thought I saw of the outside was the trees fading away, as if a huge shadow was swallowing up everything. The last thing I thought I heard was something resembling a growl. It sounded far away, but I just had this feeling that it was right on the edge of the darkness. The last thing I thought was, "When did this door become so flimsy? This won't keep it out."

I opened my eyes to pitch blackness. I was sweating. That was probably because my wife was lying mostly on top of me and that thick blanket she loves so much was mostly on top of her. Then again it was probably because my heart was racing. I looked at my phone. There was still a half an hour before the alarm was supposed to go off. Just as well. There was no way I was getting back to sleep anyway. Dreams like those are why I try not to sleep on my stomach.

Social Interaction - Trust Issues.

I have trust issues. I seldom let my guard down around most people I interact with, because I don't want to leave an opening they can exploit. I'm not exactly sure where they come from, but I know there have been a lot of times this mistrust has come in handy. In fact, more times than not, I've found that people will try to exploit an opening if you leave one, so it's safe to say I won't be letting my guard down anytime soon.

People are dicks!

One of the trust issues I've found is most prevalent within me is that I have a problem accepting help from others. It's not that I think I can always do it on my own or I think, if I let someone help me, they're most likely going to screw whatever it is up and I'll end up having to do everything myself anyway, or anything. Well... Maybe I do a little... Maybe more than a little...

Okay, I'll be honest, maybe all of those things do contribute to my problems accepting help from people, but none of them are the main reason for it. The reason I really have a problem with it is because I would feel obligated to them. I don't like owing people (odd, considering how severely in-debt I am). I feel like, should I accept an offer from someone to help me with something, then they'll need help with something themselves one day and I won't be able to turn them down.

Don't get me wrong! I help people. In fact, I've been known to go a lot out of my way to help others. This is most likely a symptom of my other problem of having trouble saying "no", but the fact is, I still help people. Let's not get overly caught up in unnecessary details. Okay?

Anyway, being indebted to someone just makes the whole saying no thing harder. It gives me just one more excuse to feel guilty about it, so I try to eliminate that guilt by not putting myself in a position to own anyone anything.

Makes sense, right?

That aside, I also worry that the favor I have to do in return will be some huge task that's going to put me out and is most likely hugely disproportionate to the favor that person did for me.

DON'T GIVE ME THAT LOOK! How could it be even remotely fair if I ask someone hold a door open for me, because my hands are full and in return, they expect me go on all the way to the other side of town to pick them up something or on some other kind of epic journey?

So... yeah. I'm a bit hesitant to owe people favors.

What's also weird is I don't remind people of when I do things for them (I know! I'm like a saint or something). I can't think of a single time I said to anyone, "Remember the time I helped you?" At least, not out loud anyway. I never said I don't remember when I helped someone out. Even if they pretend they don't.

Oddly enough, this reluctance to be indebted to others is a common trait held among the people of Japan (yet another reason for me to believe I'm slowly becoming one of them). This is something I only learned recently and I mention it in my post today on Sprocket Ink.

Imagine that...

In that post I talk about the great lengths one guy goes to so he can help the people who would rather say "no, thank you". All you have to do is click here (No, no! Sorry! Site gone away now!) and you can see for yourselves what I'm talking about.

I mean-! Only if you want to! It's not like I'm asking you for any favors, or anything. It's totally your call. I mean, I'd click a link if you guys asked me to, but this isn't about what I'd do for you and there are no strings attached. Nope, none whatsoever.

It's Quiet... Too... Quiet.

I know! I. know! This blog has remained post free for eleven days now. In my defense, there hasn't really been much going on that I would really consider "post-worthy". It's just been an endless cycle of work, to class, to home, to work...

You get the idea.

Since I've renewed my vow to not to fill my blog with endless complaints about work, that leaves me with little else to talk about and, as I mentioned before, since I'm encased in a small office, mostly by myself, that leaves little in the "coworker hijinks" (can you believe "hijinks" isn't in Blogger's dictionary?!) department worth talking about either.

In short, I'm bored, friends. So. very. very. bored. Truth is, had it not been for all your posts (and video games) to pass my free time I would have been bored out of my skull these last few days.

I mean, unless you count how I helped a supervisor (a total internet noob), who had to spend this week working out of the office, set up a Facebook account and how he then spent the following two days asking me to find every girl he'd ever dated or wanted to date EVER, so he could drool over their photos and send  them friend requests and personal messages about "how they look like movie stars" and "how he loved their smiles" as something worth writing about then, no, not a thing has been happening here.

I'm pretty sure his wife, who has been described as a "psycho bitch", would not be my new best pal right about now.

Anyway, multiple acts of digression aside, I'm here to inform you that I have an actual post written and waiting for your longing eyes at Sprocket Ink. Believe me, it's a whole lot less scattered and confused than what you just read here.

Mostly.

So, as usual, click this LINK (there was a link, but the site is gone now).

Just pick your poison, as they say. I'll be waiting for you on the other side.

NOPE... THAT DIDN'T COME ACROSS AS CREEPY AT... ALL...

My Brain Can't Ever Be Left Unsupervised.

Sunday morning I was lying in bed, trying to force myself to go back to sleep, I hate getting up too early on a weekend and since I had no intention of getting up before at least Monday I decided I’d just lie there until sleep came back.

That has to work sometimes right?

Anyway, I was lying there and I decided to let my brain go on ahead and do whatever it wanted without me in the hope that it would be too distracted to notice when sleep crept back in. I tried not to focus on any kind of actual thought so it would get all excited and start thinking. Brains are like that. They always want to think at inappropriate times like when you’re trying to go to sleep. But it was during this time of letting my brain get distracted with all kinds of random thoughts, that this thought in particular suddenly happened.

“I bet I could totally kill a chicken!”

Yeah...

With that, my brain had something to latch on to and all hopes of sleep were gone.

Before you start wondering, there was an actal train of thought that led me to this statement. It’s not like I lie awake, thinking of who or what I’d be able to kill.

Beat up, maybe, but not kill.

Of course, even I had to retrace my brain’s steps to figure out where this thought in particular came from, since I wasn’t really paying attention to what it was doing. When I was able to get to the original thought that set this train in motion, it all made perfect sense.

“It’s all the internet’s fault I don’t get enough sleep.”

See? That makes things a whole lot clearer now, doesn’t it? If you’re not following (and I don’t see how you couldn’t be) I’ll break it down for you. It’s like this:

To date, the internet as we all know, is one of the greatest advances in technology known to man. I dare say it ranks right up there with double-sided tape and the Japanese Butter Stick.

The internet is also the greatest distraction known to man. One of my lecturers even said that the internet is also guilty of diminishing the attention span of today’s society. At least, I think that’s what he said. The dude was going on and on and I was starting to get bored. He really needs to learn how to take his rants down to 140 characters or less.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah. Chickens!

See, with the internet being the distraction it is, I more often than not, find myself choosing stay awake just a little bit longer so I can keep up with all the fun distractions the worldwide web has to offer. When I end up exhausted as a result, I sometimes wonder what the world would be like, not just without it, but without all the other newfangled doodads we have and the entire way of life to which we’ve grown accustomed.

I'd imagine there was some kind of apocalyptic event which would basically send us all back to the stone-age, technology wise. There’d be no more smartphones, or television, or any other of the modern conveniences and we didn’t have a choice but to actually “go outside” and “do things”. Of course, there’d be no fast food restaurants or convenience stores either, so finding food would require actually finding your own food... and possibly killing it and cooking it all on your own too.

This is where the chickens would come in. I figured at least a few of them would probably survive the apocalypse and unless there was some kind of radioactive mutation issue and chickens became vicious, man-eating beasts, I think  those would be easy enough to take on.

Or not...

Of course, I went on to formulating the proper technique for getting the job done with minimal blood spatter and creepy headless panicked bird running around. Then I thought about what the best way would be to get all the feathers off. I wasn’t sure, but figure I’d better look that up before the apocalypse took Google away.

That's how I came to the conclusion that I totally could do if I had to. I just need the circumstances to be just right for me to rise to the occassion.