I Need To Get A Life!

Previously, those of you who were here may remember how I mentioned that I wanted to restart my blog. While those words were said with utmost sincerity, I could help but feel a fair amount of apprehension in typing them.

It’s not that I don’t enjoy writing anymore or that blogging out my thoughts and experiences has stopped being a being a way for me to sort things out in my head. Even spending hours on end drawing up stick-people cartoons (though I can't promise a return to that anytime soon) and just being silly, in general, could bring a smile to my face (and, hopefully, some of you, as well).

My hesitation comes from the fact that my life, as it is now, has become overwhelmingly uneventful. In the past, I wrote about my crappy jobs, funny situations and people related those jobs (crappy and otherwise), my adventures in studying after work, awkward interactions and, most prominently, things related to my marriage. Only, now, none of those things are really a thing anymore.

I said a long time ago, I’d stop complaining about work on my blog so that ended. I finished school and got my degree just a few months before the world went on that pandemic timeout. Then, of course, the marriage thing is over and done with as well.

Life, for me, has become an endlessly repeating cycle of go to work, hit the gym, go home, kill time, prepare for the next day, go to sleep, weekends (YAY!), lather, rinse and repeat.

And that’s it.

This wasn’t the plan, naturally. After becoming a singular C, I entertained the idea of picking up new hobbies, getting out more and doing a lot more. Unfortunately, when the salary you earn is just enough to survive to the next one, adventuring tends to get put on hold. And, while having a bachelor’s degree makes for a nice achievement unlock, it doesn’t do much when either: a. nobody’s hiring or b. even entry-level positions in your chosen field have an age of twenty-five with thirty-year’s experience, two masters and letters of recommendation from the Pope and the President requirement.

I may have exaggerated that part a tiny bit.

Just a little.

I have gotten more serious about my fitness so I guess I could post about my “weight-loss journey” but unless it involves joining a band of heroic misfits and travelling to some distant land to slay some ultimate evil… something, I’m really not any type of “journey” blogger. I’ll say this much on that: losing fat, gaining muscle, going great. That’s pretty much all I can say about it.

Clearly, I need to change things up. Not having money to do stuff is a drag, for sure, but I’m pretty sure I’m just letting become an excuse to hide away in my cave and just exist, instead of live. Not only for having material for blogging’s sake but for the sake of opening the door to making this existence of mine matter in some way, I should probably do as the kids say nowadays and go touch some grass.

That’s why I’ve decided I’m going to end off this year with some intense brainstorming on things I can be doing with my life (definitely not procrastinating). I could try finding those new hobbies, rediscovering some old ones I may have cast aside unintentionally, going out, seeing things and doing things. Even if they’re not huge steps at first, I think just getting out there can be enough to open some doors to bigger things, right?

Of course, I'm not totally ruling out the possibility that there actually is a heroic band of misfits on their way to save the world with an opening for a witty writer to chronicle our adventures (and can probably hold his own a fight or two). If you're out there, feel free to give me a shout. I’m always down.

So, yeah, all this is to say is that, starting next year, I’m going to give this "getting a life" thing a try. I mean it! I don’t really do New Year’s resolutions and since it’s only mid-November anyway, I’m of the opinion this doesn’t count as one. Anyone who wants to hold me accountable to my words is free to do so since I’m publishing this for all to see.

On the plus side, though, this is actually a second post that I’ve posted here within the same year, so that’s something, I guess.

New Beginnings.

I mentioned a while back about a big change that was coming in my life that was not only life-altering but also adding to my feelings of being overwhelmed and stuck-in-place. Well, I won't bury the lede anymore. The thing is... I'm getting divorced.

Yeah...

After almost 25 years of being a "we" we're each going back to being first-person singular, at least when it comes to each other. I won't go into too much detail about how it went down, other than saying it wasn't any one, big thing that caused it. It was just the culmination of a lot of little things (and maybe a few medium-sized ones) being experienced by both sides that reached the point where it finally couldn't be ignored anymore and almost two years ago, Mrs C (or, as it stands the Soon-to-be-Ex-Mrs C) decided she had had enough and I had to fact the grim reality that I couldn't find a reason to disagree.

Why two years? Well, here, in Trinidad & Tobago, you don't just decide you don't want to be married anymore, run down to your nearest divorce attorney, sign some papers and - BAM - your marriage has ended (I'm assuming it works like that in some parts of the world but I could be wrong). Here, the law requires a two-year wait between deciding you want a divorce and actually being able to file for it so the nice lawyer lady still has to wait another two months to take the paperwork to the courts. Another few months after that (they still give you time to change your mind) it becomes official... and then I guess I can remove that awkward "soon-to-be" prefix.

Even after almost two years our minds are made up. Still, knowing for so long that it's coming, this isn't easy to talk about. I only just started telling some people about it at the beginning of this year, after we went to the lawyer to start preparing the process.

If anyone remembers, the soon-to-be was a source of a lot of my posts. We haven't talked about it but I took the decision to remove those posts - the ones where she had most of the focus, anyway - and after this post I more-than-likely won't be telling any stories about our interactions anytime in the foreseeable future (definitely not without her okay, anyway).We're amicable, for the most part, but I'm not taking any chances.

I titled this post "New Beginnings" because while the divorce signifies the a very sad end of a quarter-century history, it also signifies a new start for the both of us and maybe a chance to find the futures we couldn't find with each other. That's what I'm choosing to focus on instead of what-could-have-been.

Let's Just Stop & Think About This!

I'm not sure when or how but I've become... an over-thinker.

The level of worry I invest into every little decision is astounding. Whenever I have a choice to make, nowadays, it feels like I can't move without weighing ALL the options and choosing only the best possible one. Even when I do decide I still don't make a move because I get hung up second-guessing that decision until the last minute.

This is proving especially troublesome where my schoolwork is concerned. Right now I have three courses left until I graduate and they're all filled with "choose your own topic" or "you decide on the angle of approach" (or both) types of assignments. It's safe to say I'm a little stressed right now.

In fact, I'm not proud to admit that I'm writing this post instead of doing one of those assignments because I just don't want to face it.

How did this happen? I mean, I guess there were always signs of this being a problem in the past but  always did a good job keeping it in check.... I think... While, I've always been a planner and hella methodical when it mattered, at other times I considered myself an easy-going kind of guy. The kind who'd just go with the flow and make decisions on the fly. It's not to say I used to be reckless or anything. Quite the opposite. Now, though, it's like I traded all that for paralyzing indecision and self-doubt.

It's not fun..

I'll stop boring you any further this right here. As much as I'd like to delve deeper into this, I don't have the time right now. That aforementioned assignment isn't going to write itself after all.

Player Ready?

MISSION: Friday
MISSION TYPE: Survival
OBJECTIVE: Withstand workday assault
DIFFICULTY LEVEL: High! - Player begins mission with reduced Stamina and Morale.
DURATION: 8 hours
MISSION REWARDS: [WEEKEND] - Includes “End-of-Workday” Mission Rewards: [Rest] and [Relaxation].
[WEEKEND] grants player bonus points to [Rest] and [Relaxation].
[Weekend] also grants player increased chance of earning high-level rewards:  [Alcohol] and [Doing Something Fun].
[Weekend] also grants player the chance to receive Rare-Classed loot: [Sleep].

Begin?

In Case You Were Wondering...

I'm not dead. I haven't been abducted by aliens, kidnapped by ninjas, or sucked into a parallel universe, or anything like that. I'm not suffering from a case of writer's block either (most surprising of all). Nope. This blog is still alive and well. Well... as alive and well as blogs that don’t get posted to regularly go, I guess.

Some of you will have noticed a sudden lack of commenting from me as well. Okay, most of you probably wouldn’t have noticed but either way. I’ve been MIA. Sure I took a day and looked some of you up but that was basically a fluke. Not that I don’t want to come hang out with you all. I do. I’ve just had stuff going on.

...And things...

"ENOUGH WITH THE "STUFF 'N THANGS" ALREADY!!!"

The reason I've been away from the old blog here - and basically the internet in general - is because I’m stuck trying to figure out a tough assignment for my current class and I’m devoting  all of my focus towards it.

Simple as that. Actually, sort of anticlimactic, to be honest.

I have to write an interview piece which involves getting perspectives from various experts in the field of... sports... Soccer (or football, as we know it here), to be specific.

I know next to nothing about sports. If I've never mentioned it before, I’m not a “sports” kind of guy. I don’t have to a favorite team. I don’t have a favorite event. Well... maybe I'll watch a women's beach volleyball game or two but I have... reasons.

I know barely enough to fake my way through a conversation about any type of sport so I usually just try to avoid interaction with sporting aficionados altogether. This means I have to do a lot of research on the game just to figure out what I’m supposed to ask.

Then again I generally try to avoid interaction with most types of people so I guess no one would really notice anyway.

So, basically, until I get this assignment over and done with, I expect I’m going to be AWOL for a bit longer. Until then, you guys just keep doing what you’re doing and I’ll catch up as soon as I’m done.

Word Vomit.

I've been trying to figure out why I've been avoiding writing lately. It isn't that I don't have anything to say, or that I've lost interest, or anything like that. I still want to write and I have tons of stuff going on. There’s the new house, the new puppy, stuff at work, etc. Tons of stuff! It’s just, every time I think about dropping a few lines (HOLLA!!!) I just... can't. I've started composing posts in my head more than a few times and, as soon as I sit down to write... nothing.

Like I said, I got stuff going on.. and thangs... s-stuff 'n thangs.

Why is it that, as bloggers who basically chronicle even the smallest and most inane (okay, maybe I'm just referring to myself with that one) aspects of our lives, the things that should provide us with excellent material for our posts end up actually keeping us from posting. I'm talking about all the really big things. We always talk about life getting in the way.

At the end of the day, though, these big things aren't as blog-worthy as you'd think. Take my stuff... and things... for example:

NEW HOME:  You'd think becoming a homeowner for the first time would be a big enough of a deal that you'd get tons of blog fodder from the experience. Right? But, after you say, “Hey, guys, I'm buying a house,” there really isn't much more you can add to the story and still keep it interesting:

- got approved for house.

- went and saw the house.

- signed all the legal documents.

- frantically trying to scrape up the down payment because they called us earlier than expected to do the closing.

That's it. Sure, it's mostly good news but  BOR-ING!

MARRIAGE: All good! Mrs C and I had our eleventh wedding anniversary on Sunday. We didn't make a big deal about it (we had pizza and wine as our celebratory meal - 'cause that's how we roll) so there isn't really much to tell there.

WORK: I started my new contract three weeks ago and will be gainfully employed for another two years (YAY!)...

They left me at the same desk they put me on while I was on loan to help with the - now stalled -White Paper project. Essentially, no one bothered to think about moving be back to my old desk or to anywhere else where I could be more productive so I'm just sitting around most days trying to keep myself busy (BOO!) It seems like a big deal on the surface but what else is there for me to say about that situation that would be worth mentioning (and not just end up becoming a swear-laden rant)?

SCHOOL: At the end of this semester, I'll have my Associate's degree and be at the halfway point to earning my Bachelor's degree. Sure it's more like two-thirds the way since it took me twice as long as it should have to get this far when I changed majors. But I made it. It's great... huge, actually, but I'm particularly inclined to do a practice valedictorian speech (I'm not giving any at school either, thankfully) about it.

PUPPY: Still there, still cute, eats her poop, thinks shoes are chew toys. Nothing new to report.

"I think my cuteness deserves a little more mentioning than that."

The more I think about it, the more I realize it really is the little things that matter. I think I've been stressing so much about writing about each of these big things and giving them their proper place of importance with grand, well worded posts, filled with humor and excitement that I forgot that inane is what I do best. Maybe now that I've listed all these and got them out of the way I'll be able to get back to business as usual.

We'll see.

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.

I Have No Idea What I'm Doing - The Return.

I’m afraid I'm going to gripe a little bit so bear with me. Remember a few months ago I told you all about my employers deciding to exploit make use of my past experience as a reporter and putting me on a special assignment to write a white paper? Sure you do! This, as I mentioned, resulted in my being unceremoniously pulled from my desk, my duties and even the building and being shipped off to the Central Office where I and the other three members of the team would spend our days toiling away on the deserted top floor.

Then, of course, the HR girls were taken away too. I never mentioned this but, at my old desk, I was surrounded by the pretty girls from HR (Seriously, it’s like baring a resemblance to a porcelain doll is one of the hiring criteria for that section). I wasn't in HR, mind you. That was just where they had room to seat me that was closest to my department.

I'll admit I didn't mind this too much.

Still, aside from all that and me having to spend four times as much in transportation costs (No, I wasn't being compensated for this), it actually wasn't so bad. The team got along and, while progress was slow, we were actually starting to get the thing going. The whole point of us being transferred was to prevent us from being distracted by anything else. We were supposed to focus on the white paper and the white paper alone and get it done as quickly as possible.

For two months we battled traffic, parking issues (the other three drove) and the lack of decent lunchtime dining options (there are places you can get food but they’re all very far away). The people on the ground floor didn't like us very much, even though we all worked for the same government ministry (related to aforementioned parking issues) and sometimes the air conditioning on that floor broke but we persevered.

Now, we’re back. As of two weeks ago our long trips to Central came to an end and we were called back to base. You’d think I’d be happy now. Right? Now that it’s all over I get to return to my desk, resume my work and patiently endure the HR girls’ cooing over how much they love each other’s hair/shoes/outfit/etc. I would have been happy, if that were the case. See, the project isn't finished... I think. In fact, things are getting more and more confusing.

Let me explain.

Recently there has been some reshuffling of senior positions at the Head Office which forced our team leader, a Divisional Director, to have to return to base to assume some new responsibilities. With him being called back it made no sense to leave the rest of us there so they brought us in as well. The project isn't over. We’re just continuing it at Head Office... in the middle of all the distractions they wanted us to stay away from...

This, in itself, is annoying but the real problem is that the entire project has become an afterthought to the great big heads upstairs and no one is really taking it seriously. The team leader is too busy with his new responsibilities and they've separated all the members of the team as far away from each other as they could. However, since it hasn't officially been declared dead, I’m stuck here, one floor below where my real desk is, plugging away at it, wondering if there’s even a point. Added to that, they’re slowly starting to squeeze other tasks that have nothing to do with the project into my portfolio.

Then I saw an email from someone in the division wondering when I was planning to meet with her and officially assume the duties of my desk...

I don’t mind being given something to do. Don’t get me wrong. What I do mind is being taken from a division where, at least, I had some experience (and something nice to look at when I got bored) and being put in one where I had almost zero usable skills. While it is true I felt a little overwhelmed from time to time, at least I knew enough to fake it when I had to.

Helping write the white paper was an exception. This division I've been dropped into now deals with things like creating policy and a whole host of things I have never dealt with or have never been trained for.

Still, everything’s up in the air at this point. Just as I have been receiving little-to-no information on what’s going on, I think it’s safe to assume I’m not the only one and a lot of them don't really knows I’m only here on loan. In the end, I may end up being left alone to finish what I was sent here to do and go back to my “home”, surrounded by the pretty HR girls just one floor above.

I hope...

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.

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.

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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.

The Six Month Curse.

I used to be pretty steady when it came to holding down a job. I was in banking for a little over five years, before that I was a customs clerk for ten years.  Seven with one company and three with another one (the place where I met Mrs. C) before that.

When I left the bank, though, it was right after the global economic downturn hit and since then I've been experiencing what I call the six month curse. I call it that because after the bank, the longest I could hold down a job for was six months before being unemployed again.

It happened with Soul Suck International - A division of the Ninth Circle. This is where I worked when I first joined the blogosphere. To be honest, I was actually there for more than six months. In total. But it was broken up into bite-sized portions. First I temped there for three months, was unemployed for two and was hired for the same position I temped for the first time after the original employee I filled in for left.

After a few months more of unemployment came The Paper. I was actually a reporter. My dream job!

There were some issues, but I can safely say I loved that job. I was going out on assignments, seeing places I might never have visited if not for that job. I even sent to the beach to ogle bikini-clad women interview the after Carnival crowd. Plus, I also got to interview people all walks of life from suspected criminals, corporate heads, to politicians (actually, maybe those "walks" aren't so different). Sadly, they weren't ready to commit to an unseasoned reporter and sent me packing soon after my six-month probation was up.

This time, unemployment lasted longer. A whole lot longer! I was home for nine months and was feeling pretty low. Not as bad as when the bank let me go, but close enough. Then came my current employer... TinyCo. The company I had to swear not to complain about on my blog so I end up posting countless obscenity-laced rants at least twice-no-three times daily.

Now, just six and a half months after getting employed with TinyCo it appears my six-month streak is still going strong. On Friday I found out my time there was coming to an end. Oddly, it isn't because the company crumbled like the house of cards that it is (the fact that it hasn't already really surprises me). No, this time it was from something totally different than any other reason I'd left those other jobs.

I... I...

I got a better job...

HAPPY DANCE TIME!!!

source: ME! I made this!

Oh yeah!

A while back I mentioned some good news on the horizon and this is it. To be honest I had actually almost given up since I interviewed for this job about two months ago. Sometimes horizons are further away than you think. Still there was hope. I had signs I made it successfully past the interview, but nothing solid.

Just so you know, it's a nice, comfy, boring, clerical gig in a government office. It doesn't pay as well as banking, but it's a higher salary than any of the other places I've worked since leaving the bank. Best of all, I start with a one-year, renewable contract (renewable as long as I don't screw up royally). No more of that six month bullshit!

Coincidentally, would you believe two days before I got the call that I was confirmed, my wife ran into the head of HR at The Paper and he told her they'd considering taking me back?

Life is funny sometimes.

All I had to do was call him and set a up meeting. I was hesitant, but with things going the way they were, I did end up calling the next day. After two failed attempts (both times he was too busy to talk to me), I was starting to feel like things hadn't changed there as much as he had hinted to Mrs. C when they initially spoke.

I actually planned to give it one more try the day after that, but before I got a chance, I got a call. The call! Needless to say, I didn't bother trying him back. As much as I love journalism, I'm willing to wait a bit longer. My GPA took a hard hit because of the demands of the job, so I'll finish school first, then try again.

So, this is where things have come to an end with us, TinyCo. We were doomed from the start and we both knew it. As for my ex-employer, The Paper, sorry, but it looks like we won't be rekindling the flame after all. At least not right now.

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...

No! And I Mean It... Okay?

One of the questions I've always hated having to answer during job interviews is for me to say what I consider to be my biggest flaw. Not because I don't know the answer, but because I don't like the answer. Well, that and because of the fact that it's a generic bullshit question employers throw out because it's printed on an interview questionnaire some downloaded. But as I was saying, my main reason is because I don't like admitting the answer. Which is that I have a real problem saying "no" to people.

If only it were so simple...
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It's one of those things about myself I can't stand, but have a really hard time dealing with. Like most people with this problem, I think maybe people will like me less or be upset with me if I assert myself and say no to their requests. In my case, I think it's because I'm an introvert, with slightly above average intelligence, who, as a result, grew up misunderstood and under-appreciated (and a constant target of bullies). As such, I constantly craved attention and acceptance for fear of being alone and developed an overly accommodating personality.

Or something like that, I guess. I'm basically pulling all that of my ass.

Anyway, what I really hate about this is that, as an adult, I know deep down that I don't have that same desire for acceptance I once did. Back then, it was a coping mechanism in response to fulfilling what everyone else considered "normal", which meant having lots of friends and being popular. That's not me. I like being left alone. I'm not a people person and I'm okay with that. To be honest most of the time, people annoy me.

Maybe that's why some think I come off as unfriendly.

I'm not, by the way. Unfriendly, I mean. I try to be a nice guy, which I think is part of the problem. I think things would be a lot easier if I was more of an asshole. Assholes have it easy, in that regard. They don't worry about who likes them or who they disappoint. Assholes don't give a shit! I imagine myself being an asshole sometimes. What it might be like. Saying "no" with reckless abandon, rocking back in my chair with my hands clasped behind my head as the poor loser whose request I just declined dejectedly lumbers off to find someone else to do whatever he or she was asking (didn't really catch what he/she was asking me for, to be honest. I wasn't paying attention). I imagine smiling at that point, knowing whatever his or her problem was, I prevented it from also becoming my problem.

Yeah... Assholes have it so easy.

But not me, though. Noooo!!! I have to be Mr. Nice Guy. So every time someone asks me for something, those old habits kick in and I start thinking about what a disappointment I'll end up being to that person if I say no. Instead, I try to make excuses why I can't help out. Things like, I'm swamped with my own stuff, or I don't know how to do what the person asked are the usual fallbacks, but these excuses are paper thin and with a little arguing, they know I'll be swayed.

It's not there have never been times when I said no, though. The problem there is standing my ground after I do. Often, if the person making the request is determined enough, they won't accept no for an answer. I know, right? You'd think after you faced your fear and rose to the challenge they'd accept defeat, right? But, no, there's no, "You've won this round, Vinny. Congratulations on thwarting my scheme. Until next we meet, I salute thee."

No! They still try to make me work for it. They can see that I'm weak. They know, after battling the urge to cave in and take on whatever responsibility they're trying to shovel on hand me, that I'm spent and I don't have the resolve to stand my ground. So they persist and, in the end, I cave. I always cave.

It's something I have to work on (the saying "no" thing, not the trying to be an asshole thing, so we're clear). Maybe I'll start reading up on it and trying to learn new techniques, that will help me say " no" to people in a more effective and guilt-free manner. Maybe I'll practice saying it in the mirror or with Mrs. C...

Or maybe just in the mirror for now. Baby steps, Vinny. Baby steps...