Wednesday goes by without fanfare, and finds me again on the couch… typing. It’s a seemingly extra chilly night, so we flipped the switch on our state–mandated environmentally-friendly gas fireplace. It sucks. I mean, it puts out a lot of heat, but it’s so fake. Fake logs, fake ash, fake fake fake. Really… isn’t there something going on tonight? Am I really still sitting here at 9pm? Crap.
Guys, no… for real guys… check this out… Here are some of what I consider to be the best “search engine referrals” to my blog. I track this kinda crap, these are actual search terms/phrases people have typed into Google or Yahoo or MSN that have somehow led them to my page. They are a comedy goldmine:
removal of caked deodorant
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Home remedies for treating bumpy toenails
pictures of black hairy clits of women
pictures of Jennifer anniston’s hair
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data structures stacks rearranging railroad cars
Alchemic Transmutations using cheap materials
The sounds I should make when masturbating
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sounds that a giraffe makes
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What’s with the guy obsessed with hairy clits? And worse, how the hell is he getting to my site by searching for them? It’s not an all-inclusive list, but I liked the spread of topics. Nice to know that people may be led to my writing by searches on alchemy, music, rare diseases, and porn. And the number one search string that led users to my site? That honor goes to “poop sounds,” a phrase which has somehow referred searchers to my pages over ten times in the last couple months. I don’t remember talking about poop sounds. Let’s change subjects, shall we?
I interface with people much easier in writing than I do in person. Not to say I’m not personable, as in a social setting – but within the confines of a business environment I feel I can communicate much better in writing than in person. I don’t clam up, or stammer or stutter when I have to talk to someone, I just feel so much more comfortable handling things over e-mail or IM. I think it’s the physical detachment factor, and the underlying escape clause it provides. If I don’t want to deal with something, I can write on it later. Reply later, think about it later. Luxuries you’re not afforded in real-time face-to-face communication. I’m a big proponent of informed communication. I don’t like to go into a business conversation without a decent amount of knowledge on possible subjects.
I think it comes down to a basic confidence issue. In writing, I have the entire world as my backup knowledge. Between two sentences in an e-mail, I could’ve done three hours of research. Like I said, I like the optional “safety net” that written communication provides. The chance to resituate my testes while considering an answer, should I so desire. The wall of distance separating myself and the party whom I’m “conversing” with. Taking the idea one step further, I could generalize like this: to me, written communication offers one particularly attractive option over in-person communication – the option to run. Something I’ve known for a long time: in the right situations, I’m a runner. Now, I don’t really like the term “runner,” but I think that’s the term most would relate to. I like to think of it as more of a “pragmatic” approach to things.
Whatever you call it, the symptoms are the same: Occasionally, when things get to a certain point – I cash in and take off. Simply put, it’s giving up; quitting. When things get too uncomfortable, too un-fun, too hard – simply do an about-face and leave the whole mess in your wake. Sounds terrible right? In some ways, it is. You can equate it to being a chicken, soft, milquetoast, a pushover, whatever. On The Rifleman, they’d call it “yeller,” and any cowboy worth his whiskey knows it’s better to be dead than be yeller. That’s the level of shame we’re talking about here.
Surprisingly though, when these rarish situations come about, I manage to feel minimal shame. Probably from years of honing the skill of folding. It’s an interesting two-sided coin though. In some ways, I consider “running” to be both one of my most shameful traits, but also one I’m kinda proud of. On one hand, there’s that aspect of self-preservation, looking out for #1. The great selfishness that most of us possess, but usually try not to acknowledge. In some cases, the shame associated with taking an easy out may be bearable when compared to the pain of the easily-outed activity. Sometimes, I can live with that balance. On the other hand, there’s this whole you-joined-the-little-league-team-and-you’d-be-letting-them-all-down sense of honor that we’re instilled with from a young age. Bailing out, taking the “cowards road,” flies in the face of that notion. That concept of honor is so well ingrained in people, that often it’s the thought of other peoples’ projected shame that can be enough to make me stick to something.
I’ve run away from jobs, from people, from social engagements, from obligations, from responsibilities, from just about everything at some point. Looking back, I am indeed ashamed of the more rash of these choices… but I also look back on them with with something not unlike a sly sense of pride. I did it, and it made it easier, and it’s done, and I don’t have to deal with it, think about it, talk to it, go with it, etc. I escaped. I overcame the shame and did something that made me happier in the long run.
I know, from the outside, where we’re all great human beings – that those paragraphs may lay me bare as a self-centered asshole. I don’t mind. I’m actually done with this topic, but, as often happens with introspective topics, I feel I didn’t do it justice. Whatever. I don’t even care.
Well what do you know. Tonight didn’t remain on the couch, despite starting and ending there. Here are the images from this evening, as part of the “week in pictures” project. Check out the fun, courtesy of “pint night” at the local brewpub. Highlights include: Ben through a pint glass, me finishing off one of the same, Erik in situ, and some artsy attempts at capturing the group, as well as the ride home. Enjoy.
And we’re done. Sharaun’s asleep on the couch, I’m writing with the laptop on one knee, and all is right with the world. Goodnight all, Dave out.