I'm in a dilemma. You know those things where whatever you do something is going to go wrong? Yup. That one.
I have been variously accused of being intelligent, not too bad looking and generally even in temper. Some people like that. However I cannot really say I'm even in temper. I'm just able to hide it more. People thus find it easy to be with me and, because of my rather eccentric ways, fun to be with. But I do lose it. And bad.
So where is the dilemma you may ask?
What do I do when I really feel something. It is not in my usual nature to show it. It is also not in my usual nature to confront people. However this can fester into an ugly wound, creating one sided tension and making me feel like I'd want to take off somewhere alone, or simply avoid some people. Not a good thing since they do not know about this.
If they'd know I might lose a nice relationship, and if they don't I might also lose a nice relationship. I need the service, the client supplier relationship and the pseudo friendship that tends to be made around these relationships. And yet I'll rather not.
So do I, or do I?
Friday, August 22, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Of inches, feet, yards and miles
I got this from one of my old writings...
Anybody who's read my blog knows I'm fascinated by that measure of male inadequacy called the inch. Especially since I seem to see it all the time. 2.54cm right? Right. And wrong.
As a symbol of male inadequacy it is somewhere between 0.1cm to 6cm depending on whether its said by a male, a satisfied female, a disappointed man (for those who are that way) or a frustrated female. A 6" pride of manhood would be anywhere from 3cm to 36cm depending on whom you are listening to, while a twelve inch battering ram would be anywhere from 1cm to 72. Apparently the bigger the ram the smaller it gets.
Interestingly enough I also discovered there are other measures based upon the inch like Foot, Yards and Mile. 12" = 1'. 3 feet = 1 Yard. 1760 Yards = 1 Mile. Somewhere within there are also hands, chains, palms, furlongs, fathoms, and rods which are poles which are also strangely enough perches. Sounds like a guy with a serious fetish problem.
It doesn't even stop there. Apparently people can inch past something. If you creep you are inching. Like inch out of the wardrobe past the sleeping husband of his l'amour. Apparently chameleons inch too. So its not only wife f***ing men.
What I didn't see is why not go right ahead and use the foots, yards and miles in the same way - like...
' They heard a knock on the door. "Shit", she exclaims, "that must be my husband. Yard into the wardrobe and do not make a sound. You can inch out later when he is asleep and mile to your place" '
You could have rockets mileing into the stratosphere, cars yarding along on the freeway, while horse drawn carts foot leisurely by the Grandfather who is inching his way home
Interesting language English, isn't it?
Anybody who's read my blog knows I'm fascinated by that measure of male inadequacy called the inch. Especially since I seem to see it all the time. 2.54cm right? Right. And wrong.
As a symbol of male inadequacy it is somewhere between 0.1cm to 6cm depending on whether its said by a male, a satisfied female, a disappointed man (for those who are that way) or a frustrated female. A 6" pride of manhood would be anywhere from 3cm to 36cm depending on whom you are listening to, while a twelve inch battering ram would be anywhere from 1cm to 72. Apparently the bigger the ram the smaller it gets.
Interestingly enough I also discovered there are other measures based upon the inch like Foot, Yards and Mile. 12" = 1'. 3 feet = 1 Yard. 1760 Yards = 1 Mile. Somewhere within there are also hands, chains, palms, furlongs, fathoms, and rods which are poles which are also strangely enough perches. Sounds like a guy with a serious fetish problem.
It doesn't even stop there. Apparently people can inch past something. If you creep you are inching. Like inch out of the wardrobe past the sleeping husband of his l'amour. Apparently chameleons inch too. So its not only wife f***ing men.
What I didn't see is why not go right ahead and use the foots, yards and miles in the same way - like...
' They heard a knock on the door. "Shit", she exclaims, "that must be my husband. Yard into the wardrobe and do not make a sound. You can inch out later when he is asleep and mile to your place" '
You could have rockets mileing into the stratosphere, cars yarding along on the freeway, while horse drawn carts foot leisurely by the Grandfather who is inching his way home
Interesting language English, isn't it?
I'm in love. Very much in love. And it's not a she, or a he (in case you thought I was bent that way).
When I first came into my majority, I was, as most boys my then age were, sort of disoriented, perplexed and felt that finally I'd been given the key to the world. Here was I, 21 years of age, in college, doing what I had no idea I'd end up as and thinking there has never been an handsome lad as I. My parents were coughing out prodigious amounts of money to keep me studying in hopes that I'd finally make something of myself, and I was spending prodigious amounts of that money swallowing what was later to become my favourite drink. Naturally I'd not thought beyond the immediate, and if you'd asked that was all that mattered.
Then came this day that I graduated. Suddenly I was adrift with no "income". No one to tell I needed books to buy, college trips to go for, meals to pay for and transport to use. All suggestions as to financial help elicited a blank stare usually followed by 'I thought you were looking for a job'. This, I think, is when I really came into my majority. I had discovered the first rule of adulthood. 'You make your own bread'
Years later I've finally learnt to make my own bread, live my life and have an idea of what I really want to do. I've also learn to spend prodigious amounts of money imbibing my favourite drink without any feelings of guilt, or remorse. In the process all the euphoria that adulthood brought has evaporated.
And so you may ask, "What has this got to do with being in love?"
Nothing. Nothing at all.
When I first came into my majority, I was, as most boys my then age were, sort of disoriented, perplexed and felt that finally I'd been given the key to the world. Here was I, 21 years of age, in college, doing what I had no idea I'd end up as and thinking there has never been an handsome lad as I. My parents were coughing out prodigious amounts of money to keep me studying in hopes that I'd finally make something of myself, and I was spending prodigious amounts of that money swallowing what was later to become my favourite drink. Naturally I'd not thought beyond the immediate, and if you'd asked that was all that mattered.
Then came this day that I graduated. Suddenly I was adrift with no "income". No one to tell I needed books to buy, college trips to go for, meals to pay for and transport to use. All suggestions as to financial help elicited a blank stare usually followed by 'I thought you were looking for a job'. This, I think, is when I really came into my majority. I had discovered the first rule of adulthood. 'You make your own bread'
Years later I've finally learnt to make my own bread, live my life and have an idea of what I really want to do. I've also learn to spend prodigious amounts of money imbibing my favourite drink without any feelings of guilt, or remorse. In the process all the euphoria that adulthood brought has evaporated.
And so you may ask, "What has this got to do with being in love?"
Nothing. Nothing at all.
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