Tag Archives: wasting time

Here I am in a crowd of people. Well not just a random crowd, more a gathering of people with a common goal and a common thread. Professional colleagues with common interests and common threads of history. Rubbing shoulders in a discussion of the foibles of technology, and planning. and bureaucracy.

In other words a conference.

Sessions and discussions and mingling. Not my first time here. Certainly not my last time here. I will be back again and again. Here I am as a speaker and panelist sharing my knowledge, and to learn from others.

And I have not had a full conversation for three days now. Rather surprising really. The worst part of being with a group is the silence and being on the outside. I follow the crowd from room to room and event to event. Seeing familiar faces that pause to say hello before moving on to some other destination.

Nice to see you they say, and before I can engage, respond, speak they are gone. I am not sure if they have really spoken to me, or to the person beside or behind me. I feel invisible. Translucent. An observer of what is happening.

This is very odd really and I am not sure why. At times it feels as if there is a secret that everyone else knows and I have missed out on. Perhaps I have a sign on my forehead, or my back?

At the social event I sat at a table with somewhat familiar faces. Pleasant exchanges of noises. The “hey hello how are you…” and then back to regular programming as I faded into the chair. I a slight breeze rustling through their words, and then I am silence.

I am fading away somehow, becoming less and less. My voice simply background noises. How do I stop this – stop myself from  becoming another invisible man? A passing thought pondered for a second and then gone forever.

In syntax, a transitive verb is a verb that requires one or more objects. The term is used to contrast intransitive verbs, which do not have objects.

You reshaped me world
into transitive moments
of action and longing
acting on all that is
around me
in me
of me
I gave you my (object)
and gained freedom in return

Or at least that is what
you would call this nothing
that fills the space where
my (object) once was…

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Perfection is an elusive thing. And apparently a rather obsessive thing. North American culture is rather obsessed with perfection, or at least the appearance of perfection. No doubt this is why Photoshop is now a household word.

I find it ironic that in this culture of ‘instant’ and  ’I want it now’, that we will take so much time time and energy over our public displays. Social networking is slipping more and more towards the visual world, and part of that is the thousand different visual enhancement tools out there. Digital photos cleaned and preened and filtered and shifted and phased to just present that perfect look to capture that surreal moment of living.

Look at me doing this wonderful thing in such a perfect way. Are you jealous yet?

I being the single, plain, ordinary, regular, chubby, old dude have been obsessing over my online dating profile. Yes tired of the exciting evening and weekend single life of dish washing, laundry and dinner for one I have ventured into the online love fest.

This is not easy – even when one is a svelte catlike example of prime manhood like myself. Well maybe I am not catlike, or svelte. Or prime. But I am an example of manhood on the prowl. Well maybe no prowling either. More of an ambling shuffle really.

So do I stick with honesty in my profile? Early morning wake-up snapshot of my best face in the mirror? Or late evening rumbled look of a well-lived life and evening stubble? Do I go “don’t give a damn”, or “hey I love myself as I am – so take me as I am.” Honesty or facade?

This seems like fishing. Perhaps this is why one dating site is called Plenty of Fish. Work out the lure, the bait, set the hook, and OH MY! Whoa would you look at the fillet on that one! Except, if it is anything like real fishing I somehow end up with the snags and bottom feeders, and no game fish at all.

And so back to the photo. Do I go realism or fantasy? I am a computer guy so I can digitally enhance my assets with no problem at all – a little nip and tuck here. A stretch there. A layer there. And look at that lovely package all wrapped up as the gift that keeps on giving.

So anyway several months later and this is my success rate:  Out of all contact attempts. ZERO replies. Chirp. Chirp. Hmmm. I apparently ain’t got it. It rather sucks on the old ego to get the big old goose egg of LOVE. Now I understand the tennis use of the word…

I was careful with my wording no “experienced man of the world seeks active energetic companion for wild adventures in exploring the physical and intellectual world…” opening tagline. I went more sublime and zen-like to capture my thoughtful caring nature. Apparently, that approach has no cache.

Now I know nothing about online dating and I can guess that women that are online – especially the ones that have posted reasonably lovely pictures of themselves are flooded with messages. Men clamoring “pick me, pick me, and I will rock your world!” In all that din I have no chance. The reality is I won’t rock anyone’s world. Never have and never will. I will never change anyone’s world – and I have no desire to do so. I’m looking for an adult relationship of mutual respect and understanding. The sad reality of being human is I have no god-like powers of any kind to make anybody happy. We each decide to be happy, or mad, or sad as suits the moment and our inner dialogue.

This is perhaps the danger of being more mature and trying to date. The accumulated wisdom of time has mellowed passion to a constant flow – neither too much or too little. I won’t thrill you with obsessive compulsive devotion, and I won’t bore you with ongoing distracted inner melodrama.

Really, I am looking for someone to exchange words with – thoughtful conversation and ideas and feelings. Some one to nestle with on the couch and review the day behind, and the dreams ahead. Unfortunately, there is no drama in any of that wanting desire. It is simply the human  connect to with another.

Maybe I just need to accept that from here on forward my life is solo. My bed will remain empty. My heart will grow cold. No more lovers for my arms. Only my memories of youthful desire and hunger, reminisced now in blogs and over that occasional coffee out with friends.

Conversations that begin “Remember when…” and trail off into lingering inner silence, and the nodding of heads.

Ahhh Perfection indeed – I have been in perfections fleeting embrace. And then had to slip from bed and take part in the less perfect moments of living an ordinary life. Always thinking that perfection would be back that night with a smile, soft words and a gentle touch.

Apparently, perfection simply has other plans.

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There is that phrase again hiding as a title. Yesterday it was the other-way around Always an Option, Never a Priority. Sometimes I hear things, read things, find things and they rattle around inside my head and I have no idea where they come from. How they appeared. It is like there is another thought stream going on that likes to throw words my way to see if I can catch them.

This morning first thing that pops into me head is Always an Option…Always an Option…Always an…

You get that idea – pretty OCD at that as well. And I am thinking WTF (yes I had been thinking that since Wednesday, Thursday Friday) and now it is WTFS!!! Time to track down this insanity via Google. What did we do before Google was an option? And I do mean before Alta Vista…

Turns out my little stuck phrase is from the wit and wisdom of Mark Twain. Always an Option, Never a Priority is actually his brilliant advice of  “Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option.” That is excellent advice Mr. Twain. If I could be half as brilliant as Mr. Twain I would be half a Mark! And that is the gospel truth of the matter.

That line also captures my entire life history. Good advice indeed, and it is the good advice I just can’t take. Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think? To follow that advice I would actually have had to have been someone’s priority at some point. How does one actually get to be someone else’s priority?  First you would have to make them your priority? Isn’t that the way it works? So is it just straight up: “Hey there I’d like to be your priority?”

Some how that just seems stalkerish and creepozoid…or consider the softer: “I’d like to make you my priority – would you reciprocate?” Nope not much better. Maybe even worse. Too Mr. Spock on that one. Don’t get me wrong I like Mr. Spock and all his logical focus – just never creates a real connection.

So back to the chant in the my brain lately – I am always an option. Don’t get me wrong people like me well enough when I am around them. We converse and laugh and joke. And then when I am out of sight I am clearly out of mind. I walk off-stage and like good Fifth Business I am gone. Did my part to advance the plot, set the stage, move ahead the scene. Now exit stage left.

I exist on Facebook and many other social networks online. I converse and exchange funny thoughts, and get my likes connected and inter-connected  with a thousand acquaintances, connected to another thousand acquaintances. Online social networks are always surface interactions. The name of the primary social network says it all. Facebook. A place to display a face, a facet of ourselves in careful preened and selected layers of vanity. Look at me! See my face! Pose, snap, pose…

Which in the end always leaves me as an option. The third wheel looking for a purpose.  Or perhaps that common fifth wheel called a spare tire waiting for my moment of need so I can be used to the satisfaction of all involved. Then back into my trunk until a blow-out calls me forth again. “Hey there I have a problem…”

Yeah me too.

Related articles

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The world is a funny place. Mostly. Except when it isn’t a funny place at all – which  really is actually quite often. So probably the world isn’t a funny place at all, just that it really really would be a funny place if it wasn’t for the tragedy. Other than that tragic flaw of the world – it truly is mostly a funny place.  Okay now that I have messed up my opening line and absolutely mind-boggled the logic circuits from your brain cells – where exactly was I headed?

Don’t you hate that when you walk out of one room and into the next and suddenly realize that the dazzling sun-catchers have bedazzled you into forgetting why you so purposefully were just striding into the room. “Oh look I am here to complete my great quest to…” and OH LOOK pretty sparkly lights. Look how they shine and dance in a flicker-flacker fairy spray of delight. And then  you stand there realizing you have no real idea why you are now in the kitchen admiring sparkles.

So then you back-track to the previous room and see what made you hurry into the kitchen – or wherever –  and you do the face-palm of DOH! Marching promptly back to complete your quest only to have the cat perform a spastic-catastic moment of cat cuteness forcing your brain to derail into another moment of ogling joy. WHY AM I HERE? Your inner voice speaks at last breaking the cat spell.

You realize that you are now in a causality loop and the only way to break free is to NOT go back to the room that started this vicious circle. And since you are in the kitchen why not have a snack? You open the fridge and rummage for home grown fast-food Ala left-over surprise. Oh the possibilities are surprisingly endless! You brain notes that you have not had chicken within the last week or month – yet oddly there seems to be large quantities of left-over chicken. Or perhaps it is an evolved egg that was left in the fridge too long and has now gone through a full processed chicken life cycle within your fridge! Which may also explain some of the foul smelling drippings in the lower portions of the fridge. Hmmm possibly time to clean the fridge!

You begin piling the mysteries of your fridge along the counter, and then you realize that even CSI: Hells Kitchen would fail to identify any of these items. Very likely opening any of the sealed containers would cause an environmental incident involving government agencies and hazmat suits. Likely, just to be safe a 10-block area of your neighbourhood should be evacuated. As you ponder the implications you notice the containers that have been out the longest, that have begun warming in the hot afternoon sun dancing off the sun-catcher, are moving. They are hopping up and down in a surprising rhythmic dance as the furry muppet-like content jiggles and bubbles. Acting with surprising speed you pop the items back into the cold confines of your fridge, and breath a sigh of relief. You now remember why you eat out so often. And why left-overs enter your fridge but never ever leave. Perhaps you have discovered an alien life-form? Yes! You have UFOs in your fridge!

Quickly you rush out of the room and hop on the internet to see how you can report this earth-shattering galactic discovery. Out of the kitchen and back into causality! There is a reason you are not on your computer before this moment and you can see the reason you rushed into the kitchen the first, second and penultimate other times. Heavy sigh descends and the loop resumes where it had left off.

Oh the title you ask? I have no idea really. Just popped into my head. Reminded me of something – but then I started to write and well I kinda forget why. Huh.

In the end it seems the world apparently is a funny place. DOH. Tragically we’ve already been down this thought path. Might be best if I just leave it to you to decide the funny factor.

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Hi there. Well this is awkward. Look you don’t know me. Heck I am not even sure you have noticed me before. I live in this small town in a rather insignificant part of North America. It actually doesn’t even show up as anything more than a speck on the surface of the world. On the land surface that is. And considering like the world is mostly water, a smudge on the dry part isn’t really much of anything at all.

So anyway, I just wanted to say I have noticed you, and well ahh you are rather appealing. I find you so fascinating and intriguing. Yeah, yeah, I know awkward. And forward. I am bad in that way. No social graces really. I don’t just walk up in this way and start blathering. Well not often. Usually I am too busy scripting my imaginary approach – which usually means I talk myself out of the approach long before it actually might possibly happen. Honesty is my strength and downfall.

I know – I am definitely not your usual type. You like those extroverted bubbly make you laugh until your sides hurt, and now you wish you had worn some Depends. Conversation for one thing is not my strong-point. Small-talk really is beyond my grasp. Usually my version of small-talk goes like this: You say “Nice weather we are having.” and I respond: “Yep.” Somehow that never goes anywhere else – opportunity stymied. At that point the awkward stare and foot shuffle and the much clearing of throats occurs. Splat. Well that was fun.

I am common at best. Ordinary human in every measurable way. The usual B student. Handwriting scrawled yet still legible. Average North American weight and height. Which makes me slightly short and slightly fat by the standards of the world. Average North America age – which means I am on the downhill side of life and picking up speed fast.  Middle class. Which sadly means I am economically better than most – and still unable to get ahead.

University degree in the liberal arts. Yet somehow ended up a knowledge worker with a flair for technological geekiness. I have written entire corporate applications. I know COBOL. That I guess is something. Sorta. Well not really.

Farm boy by childhood. I have raised chickens and hogs, and slaughtered them for the dinner table. Made sausage. Eaten freshly warm chicken livers fried in freshly rendered chicken fat. That is a heavenly treat beyond words. Shot and killed marauding predators that stalked our livestock. Fought skunks and porcupines in close-combat porch situations – not sure who actually won.  They ending up a corpse and I left standing either quilled or stenched.

Anyway I ramble. Minutiae of an ordinary past, from an ordinary childhood, and an ordinary lifestyle still lived in countless places around the world. A long spew to say I have been bloodied, and I have been bloody. But all in an ordinary living life kinda way.

I have been paid to be a carpenter and a painter. Ran wires through walls and ceilings for electricity and data. Climbed ladders, fallen off ladders. Split my head open on physical and mental walls.  AH. Your eyes glaze over at my listing of lists. See more minutiae… I ramble when I am nervous. Blather on and on about insignificant details from an insignificant life lived.

I have probably taken up more of your time than you thought I would. I am grateful for you listening so patiently for me to get to my point. If I have a point. I think I do – at least it is a point for me. Might be pointless for you. Even a mere nonpoint, delivered in a self-important pointed way…

World – well I just wanted to say: I am an admirer. You are full of life and energy and change. There are times – well actually it is most of the time, that I am beneath your notice.  Actually, one might even say always. Yet you have also still always been there for me. I depend on you to be there when I wake up. To hold me up even when I am down.

So here is to you World! Thanks for being there. You have no idea how important that is to all us ordinary folks that wander across your surface trying to leave our mark in passing. My life has been nothing special – no great successes and also no great tragedies. But you know what – this is my nothing special, and well that makes it rather unique from my viewpoint.

Thanks. Be seeing ya around.

respectfully

MerlinSpielen