Chronically Single...?

As a sandwich shop employee, I find myself talking to a lot of people as I work.  Occasionally, one of the lovely ladies will catch my eye and, playa’ that I am, I just have to make a move.  The funny thing is it’s very easy for me to flirt, make her smile, try to upsell her some cookies (pregnant women have almost no resistance); it’s much harder to try to start any kind of relationship paradigm beyond that of employee/customer.  I’ve had my eye on this one girl for probably six months now, and have been very friendly (and flirtatious) the whole while, but have never managed to find a good opportunity to ask her out (much to my vexation).

A week ago Sunday, I decided I would ask her on a date the next time I saw her.  Little did I know she would come into the store the very next Tuesday.  I thought I might have a chance to talk to her privately (well, as much as possible, anyway), as there weren’t too many other people around, and nobody was behind her in line… for a few moments…  Several people entered just as I was about to move her sandwich down the line and finish it, which would have given me more time to talk to her.

Instead, I had to make sandwiches for the next few people, who were the last ones for several minutes.  Meanwhile, she moved down the line, someone else finished her sandwich, then she paid for her food, and went to fill her drink cup at the soda fountain.  I made the other sandwiches, cleaned up my station, and started to take off the plastic gloves while looking around for something else to do, and instead spotted her fighting with the cup lid (those things are horribly tricky).

I hesitated for a few moments as I reasoned to myself that I had already decided to ask her out the next time I saw her, and it was obviously "next time".  But there were quite a few people around, and what would she think if that guy who worked here randomly approached her with a dating proposition when she’s just trying to get some freaking lunch?  What would those other people think of the employee who pursues a customer into the lobby to ask her on a date?  What would my boss think when she figured out what was happening?  But, I had already made the decision two days ago that I would ask her out the next time I saw her, ergo, I was going to do it whether or not it seemed like a good idea at the time.  Besides which, opportunities like that are not found, but rather made.

When I had finally come to this conclusion, I noticed I had already walked around the counter and was approaching the girl.  This realisation made my head swim as though I was viewing the situation through someone else’s eyes, but with no actual control.

I walked up to her, put on my flirtatious negotiation face (yes, I have such a face), and asked, “This is kind of out of nowhere, but would you like to join me for dinner some time?”

She paused and seemed a trifle apologetic as she told me, “I actually just started seeing someone recently.”

I gave a groan that can be best described as like a guy who just lost a bet in front of his Bros, and now has to perform an embarrassing forfeit, complete with the playfully disappointed smile he would wear in the same situation.  She then added, “… Like, really recently…”  In retrospect, she made have been implying something about how if things don’t work out with Whatshisface, I might be on her mind.

Regardless, she and I began moving toward the door, as I was in her way, and it was also the only way back to the employee area.  It took only a few moments to rally my faculties and say, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised; after all, you’re much too cute,” fixing her with an inviting smile.  She laughed and placed a hand on my shoulder, saying, “You’re sweet…”, and then left.  Meanwhile, I returned to the “Employees Only” area, took a deep breath, and proceeded to tell my coworker roughly what had just happened (she knew my intentions already, and has actually been quite supportive), though my brain was still a bit hazy, and so may not have relayed details very well.

A number of questions and subsequent answers arise in my mind as I sit here in my man cave, typing on my laptop, and listening to the dulcet tones of Abba (don’t judge me).  Am I disappointed?  Yeah, you might say that.  Did I expect this outcome?  Well, it is my curse to be chronically single (I think that girl in high school was a witch).  Am I jealous of Whatshisface?  A little bit.  Would it bother me to see them together?  Probably.  But is it actually my business?  No, it’s not, but it is my problem, and kind of my fault, as I obviously waited too long.

Oh, well.  There is that other girl I’ve had my eye on for a while.  This wolf is still on the prowl.

Next time… next time…

"Naughtiness" in Film

I was recently talking with some friends about movies, both good and bad.  We all seemed to agree that the only movies that are really worth watching are the very good and the very bad.  This is because good movies are (obviously) good, and bad movies are often hilarious (such as the one we had just watched, entitled The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra).  But some movies are just plain garbage.  Much of this dreg comes from the specific content of the movie in question.

I concede that while certain “naughty” things can be necessary to a film, they are all too often over-used.  Most contemporary movies don’t exactly appeal to me, owing largely to the fact that the point of the movie seems to be promoting immoral, immature, and usually illegal behaviour.  Granted, I’m a Lawrence of Arabia and Fiddler on the Roof kind of guy, but those films only included what little language or violence was needed to make the point of the movie, rather than the entirety of the movie.

Exhibit A:  Profanity

Mark Twain once said, “Profanity is the means by which a small mind seeks to express itself profoundly.”  Nowhere is that more apparent to me than in contemporary film, and indeed pop culture at large.  The dialogue of so many  movies these days includes language that doesn’t help the plot or character development, but rather seems to be there for the sake of foul language.  For instance, I don’t think it necessary for two characters to great one another thusly:

“’Sup, n!gga?”

“Yo, mothaf*cka.  Whatchu been up to?”

Ironically, many people believe that Mark Twain's The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn needs to have the word “nigger” removed from it.  I say this is absolutely ridiculous.  In the time period depicted, it was OK to say “nigger”.  I feel it important to leave that in the book so middle and high school students who read it can see that and ask “why do they say that word?”  At that point, we can discuss that it used to be acceptable to say, and explain how our society has grown beyond that (with the exception of the rappers and “gangsta” movies out there).  We can show our children that people have improved in this country by leaving the scars of the dark past to remind us what we were and emphasize what we have become instead.

Exhibit B:  Violence

Violence can help bring about the dynamics of a character.  The title character in Lawrence of Arabia begins as a peaceful man in the British Army, and stationed in Egypt during WWI.  He is considered a genius of sorts, and is willing to do what he must in the line of duty.  But as the film progresses, he develops an air of haughtiness that the Arabs (who are fighting Ottoman Turks in the Middle East) observe as he commits acts of impetuous daring.  When there is a dispute about how exactly to punish an Arab who murdered someone from another tribe, the man must be killed, but if the opposing tribes does so, then his tribe will be forced to retaliate.  Lawrence, as their leader, declares that he will carry out the execution.  It is at that moment he finds that he gets a thrill from killing.  He continues this downward spiral, eventually being in the middle of a mêlée where he shoots Turks at point blank range and even slashes a few throats with a knife, all with a look of pure ecstasy on his face.  In this case, the violence (which is largely bloodless) is entirely necessary, as we see what a monster Lawrence becomes for a time, but then remembers his humanity by the end when the Army sends him back to England, at which point, we are reminded briefly of how the movie began.

Horror movies are the worst offenders for excessive violence.  They seem to be out to get as much gore on the screen as possible.  I understand that some of these have a really good story, but so often it gets lost in the mindless bloodbath of the presentation that I can’t justify watching the movie.  Many other movies that are not horror do this as well.  Another appropriate (though pushing it) use of violence is in Gladiator.  There is a good amount of red throughout the film; these scenes are not the main point, but rather a side-effect of the subject-matter.  After all, what else would you expect from the Coliseum of Rome?  But that can be edited out, and the film retains its excellence.

Exhibit C:  Sex

First off, let me say that I am most certainly a heterosexual, human male, and as such, fully understand what people may enjoy about that sort of thing.  However, there are hardly any instances where I think it would be meet to include such things in a movie.  I found it rather irritating when watching the Kenneth Branagh Othello, starring Lawrence Fishburne and Irene Jacob, in which is a scene after Othello and Desdemona have been married, and are readying themselves to (ahem) “get busy”.  They slowly remove clothing and give each other significant looks, and at one point Jacob is shown topless.  Nowhere in the play does it say this scene takes place (though we all know it does), but I don’t see the point in including it in the movie, as it fails to advance either character or story.

In old-time films, sex was definitely going on between characters, but they never showed it, nor did they tend to imply it.  It was simply a given that audiences were intelligent enough to comprehend on their own.  Whereas in today’s movies, our culture’s impatient, over-indulgent minds grope around (har) for only the easiest forms of entertainment instead of looking for something truly artistic, hence the popularity of the American Pie and National Lampoons types of movies.

As someone who tries to follow a moral code, I have observed that the film industry has been on the decline for the last thirty years or so.  Granted, we get truly masterful works every so often like Lord of the Rings and Les Misérables (the one with Liam Neeson and Geoffrey Rush), but they are rare gems that are almost always based on excellent (and all-too-often forgotten) literature, or even from history.  It occurs to me that it is a symptom of larger problems in society, but I will not get into them except in saying that increased exposure to any type of behaviour does not cause, but rather increases that behaviour in people, and garbage movies tend to exacerbate the problem.

Birthday

Those of my readers (all four of you) who know me (both of you) already know that sometime within the last week was my 25^th birthday.  Before you start the “Happy Birthday” nonsense, know that I care not a whit for my birthday.  Well, that’s not true; I like cake.  And cheddar.  I love cheddar…  Especially sharp cheddar…  I’ll eat it straight…

Anyway, it’s not just the usual guy thing of “I don’t care about my birthday”.  Rather, I have a personal disliking of it for one simple fact:  a biochemical reaction occurred within my brain on approximately the day I began the twenty first year of my Earthly mortality during which I was suffering from a presumed “loss” (as how it is possible to “lose” something that is technically not in one’s possession [i.e. the life of a family member] is rather beyond my comprehension) causing the association of those certain, negative emotions to coincide with and overlap those normally associated with our western style celebratory drivel known as a “birthday”.

So the day before I turned 20, I was awoken to be informed that my grandfather (with whom my family and I had been living for two years) had died in the night.  By the time I got up, the funeral home workers were already there and had him in the bag.  As the two middle-aged chaps were trying to haul him out, I noticed they were really struggling with it, and so grabbed one of the straps and helped them haul the bundle down two flights of stairs (it’s a split-level house) to the waiting gurney.  It was a fairly distressing day thereafter; even the dog was acting funny, although I was at one point comforted by one of the farm cats (the one that liked me exclusively).  In truth, she probably just wanted attention, and I happened to be there, but I’ll take it.

I went to work that evening looking as upset as I felt, on which my coworkers (we’ll call them Alyssa and Mandy) remarked.  After I told them what had happened, Alyssa expressed her sympathies, while Mandy remained quiet for a moment before finally asking, “How long have you had it?”

There was a loooonnnnggg pause as I attempted to comprehend this truly perplexing non-sequiter.  Finally seeing where there may have been a misunderstanding, I calmly asked, “You know I’m talking about my grandfather, right?”

I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a white Ho-Chunk, but she went as pale as I am with a light tan, her eyes went wide as she understood the situation, and tried to hide her face for a few awkward moments before whispering, “I thought you were talking about a rabbit…”

And thus was born the legend of my rabbit, which remains in the folklore of my workplace to this day, five years later.

Fortunately, I have a decent sense of humour, and was able to find the scene amusing enough to give a small chuckle.  The rest of the evening shift passed with a little more spirit than it may have if I had not laughed at all.  I was even able to joke a bit with customers.

The next day, however, was the day I turned 20, and I had to open the store and then work a 9 hour shift.  And people wonder why I’m so cynical…  Happy frikkin’ birthday…

But now, let’s go back to cake.  This year, my coworkers decided that my birthday was the on the first Saturday of the month.  One of them decided to get me a cheaply made, store bought, white cake with frosting made from concentrated diabetes.  You know the one I mean.  It actually wasn’t bad… once I scraped off the frosting…

Anyway, it has been always the custom in my family that Mom makes a cake of your choosing for your birthday, and every year growing up, I wanted a double layer chocolate cake with chocolate frosting.  This year, however, I threw things off and got a flat, yellow cake with chocolate frosting (hey, I gots tah get mah chocolate fix).  I suppose it’s just a sign that my taste is maturing that the super-sweet stuff doesn’t appeal to me any more.  When my sister called from the east coast Sunday evening (when we did the birthday thing; that’s not the right day…  Or is it…) she was shocked to hear about the yellow cake instead of the chocolate one.

Of course, when I asked for “yellow cake”, I meant highly enriched Uranium ²³⁵, but, you know, whatever…

Meh... close enough...

The Offensive, Hateful Post

This isn't a real post; I'm actually just trying to spread the words of a friend of mine.  We could all use a good long moment to think about the sorts of things he's saying in this, regardless of personal, religious, or political affiliations.

http://from-the-sidelines.blogspot.com/2012/08/a-prelude-to-hate.html