On Danke

I enjoyed visiting extended family at Thanksgiving today. For a while. I'm well into the age for which I'm on the same level as the adults and parents in the house, catching up, updating statuses, and swapping experiences. But I just didn't do that much today. I got asked a little bit about my transition from school to the new job, but that's about it.

I actually really want to have legitimate, real conversations with some of my relatives, but that just wasn't allowed today. So much conversation centers on the most pointless and the repetitive. Yes, talk about how the dog finds the tennis ball in the yard every time. Tell it again for the new people, too. No, I don't give a flying fuck about who wins the football game Saturday. But yeah, chide me for going to the rival school. Haha, that's funny, as I scream quietly in my head.

I suppose it's the group dynamic. I couldn't approach some of these people already in conversations I couldn't relate to and ask about what's going on in their lives. I'm too distant and the barriers to entry are too high. But I genuinely want to be connected to them, learn about them and from their experiences. ...Especially since some of them are just a few steps ahead of where I am in life.

But all holiday events in my family end with a single, infuriating tradition. Well, they don't end, I guess. What I mean is that my parents are in control of when they, me, and my siblings leave the gathering. And we consistently stay the longest of anyone, not overstaying our welcome, but certainly outlasting my patience. One parent or another says we should be getting going, but we stay. We stay we stay we stay. They continue the aforementioned conversations that I have no part in, and I wait around, keeping composure. Not once do I remember ever having to leave before I wanted to; it has always been the opposite. And well into the opposite.

Still, if I distance myself from these annoyances, my appreciation for seeing my extended family is there, certainly. Even in the mundane I see the character of my cousins, uncles, and their children. I retroactively understand their changes through our yearly meetings, see glimpses of their lives through conversations past me. I do have a sense of belonging there, even though I am quite different from so many of them.

When I get thankful, I often get to the real, basic privileges I have in life that create the fortunate place I'm in. I don't feel like those are covered quite enough. I'm thankful for my family, for all my parents have provided me that has put me on this course to being successful. I'm thankful for my country, which is a stable one that allows me to speak and live freely, unlike so many other places in the world. I'm thankful for the history of women and men working, fighting, thinking, creating, and dying for the greater good, so that we might have the world as we know it today. I'm thankful for the grand cosmic coincidence of the universe that permits us to exist in spite of its own hostile nature. We're fragile little people on a fragile little rock, and we have to take care of each other and it to survive. If we're only going to remember that once a year, I'm sure as hell going to make sure we do.

This year, more than usual, I'm thankful for friends, old and especially new, as well, for them opening me up to new perspectives and experiences, for making me feel worth something, and for allowing me to perhaps make their lives a little better, too. Which is always my goal.

This song was just too good for me when I was ten and playing THPS1. You can take it as a love song, sure, but in this case I'd look at it as a plea for an appreciation of just what brought us to be where we are, here and now.

On TILFs

Came a little bit close to trouble today on the way to Turkey Fry.

I was driving down, listening to the Planet Money podcast on Lance Armstrong's doping scandal. I forget how it related to economics. Maybe because it was run like a business? Anyway, they get to describing exactly what Lance and his team did to win in graphic detail. I decided to write an email to the people who make the show. Some friends convinced me it was a good idea to send it after some edits...

I love Planet Money. I love the interesting topics, the approach, and the quality. I've emailed you several times before and am overjoyed when I get responses. And this still is the case, despite what I feel I should mention that happened to me today.

This most recent podcast about Lance Armstrong, in which you vividly describe the lengths he went to keep his team on top, specifically blood transfusions, almost made me pass out while driving my car on the highway. I pulled over as my vision got blurry, waited for 10 minutes to recompose, and continued on just fine.

I should have stopped the episode much earlier, but I pressed on, thinking I could handle it. Turns out that wasn't the case. I'm not sure if this is a phobia, much less what of exactly, but if there's a chance that other people had this reaction, I felt it important to at least say so. If others did, perhaps this was a topic that deserved a warning of some kind.

Again, I love your show. And I don't want to stifle branching out into less directly-economic-focused topics. It's my fault that I didn't stop it when I knew it would be going into bad territory for me. I'm not demanding action or anything. I just felt it important, if this problem is more than just my own, to put my voice out there. And to offer my usual praise despite it.

I also really, really hope this isn't severely out of line. I debated for a while about sending this.

 - Ross Llewallyn

I honestly used to roll my eyes at the disclaimers before radio programs or television shows. But I so obviously understand part of their purpose so much better now. Shouldn't be so quick to judge.

Turkey Fry itself was awesome as usual. I'm amazing at how little it actually takes for me to totally recharge my self-esteem and outlook on life. Just being with people who enjoy having me around and helping out to make things run smoothly gives me this immense sense of belonging that I seem to lose at times. It's totally true that you only value something when you don't have it, and that support structure is so obvious to me now. People who laugh at my jokes, people who are fun, people who are easy to talk to. People with whom I have a history. That's something to hang on to. Closely. Dearly.

Saturday was fun, as well. I went with a friend to our first Atlanta Skeptics meet-up, where I watched a presentation about Martin Gardner. They were a delightful group, and the presentation was very interesting. I even got a free book, and lots of stuff to give out at our next Campus Freethinkers meeting. Yay!

Oh, and the Rainbow Pages, which was a surprisingly fun piece of extended conversation. Hope Guam hangs onto it.

Man, what do I do now? I ended on a reasonably positive note. What could possibly capture that emotion in song? How about something I bought recently:

Now, Ross, let's not get crazy with the positivity. The ups and downs all seem so fleeting, and who knows where you'll be next weekend? But I do love this song.

On Being Drawn and Eighthed

And... release.

Ways I could have reacted:

1. Request earnestly that she reconsider, that she realize I'm the one for her and would love her to death. Make promises and plan a future together, by myself.

2. Stew, angrily, maybe showing it, maybe not, at what a horrible cunt she clearly is for leading me on to thinking she would be with me.

3. Walk away, quietly sobbing to myself, though quickly glancing to see her reaction. Perhaps hoping that she would realize the damage she has done and express sympathies and apologies and compassion.

They are all so tempting. And I've done some of them before. They all dominate my thinking in rapid succession, bubbling up and fighting each other to be the one acted upon. Fits of rage interspersed with sorrow and longing... which one do I choose?

The answer, of course, is None of the Above. The real answer was to listen. Make my case and see the response for what it was. In this situation, she gave me a look through the keyhole at her perspective. It was oceans away from me, even the polar opposite, but in that glance, that understanding, I knew I had reached the right answer.

I am still lonely. I have yet for someone to care about me in the same way that I deeply care about them. My heart brims with compassion that I desperately want to share, but it has to be with someone willing. And something like that cannot be rushed simply because I'm overflowing. Begging, yelling, crying, or waiting at a closed door also does nothing. I have a lot more questions I want answers to. And maybe I won't get them all, just like I won't get the girl. It's certainly not my right, no matter my expectation.

My want to be appreciated, cared about, or loved clouds my vision. I allow myself to mentally, preoccupyingly conjure visions of the subject appreciating what I do for them, wanting to be around me, or simply valuing knowing me. So much of it is completely within the purview of friendship, I must realize. I may well be extremely happy with friends, if I simply cherished them. But I'm only now truly attempting to value friendship as it is.

It's hopelessly ironic that I, self-described feminist, would have difficulty viewing female friends of mine as forever only friends. It's not like I'm seeing them as sexual objects, but still. The reason these never came into conflict was because my actions were always extremely measured and careful. I never, ever wanted to make someone else unhappy or uncomfortable if I could help it. (I still don't.) And I don't like having elephants in the room to avoid. So for a long time I didn't ask people out on dates or show affection in any overt way. I eagerly awaited anyone showing me any kind of affection, which never happened (with one exception I can recall). Guess I kept the elephants to myself?

I must learn to mentally parse the difference between pursuing friendship and an intimate relationship. This is the remaining pitfall that I cannot allow myself to slip into:

4. Go along with the premise of being a friend with intentions of slowly, surely winning her over in time.

When comforting someone, I have to do so out of pure compassion, not with the idea in the back of my head that they might consider me more than a friend later. I need to be able to have conversations where my responses aren't tinged by leading remarks or questions. I must respect myself and friends enough to not question their actions or inaction as indicators of disrespect or apathy.

Thems big words and a tall order. Regaining self-respect isn't a light switch. I barely even know how to change my mentality the way I need to. And I'll probably have more to say on this in the future. This can be a turning point where I join everyone else that I thought I was so separate from, for better or for worse.

It might actually feel better now being honest about it. The hesitation and the mental preoccupation and the unsaid undertones are simply unhealthy and just can't lead to anything good. And would I actually feel satisfied if I did win someone over like that? I'm hopeful that when I do find someone to share everything with, to be my partner, that my perspective will change. Just like she did for me on another, more carnal aspect.

If I can go without doing #4, if I can develop the ability to view females as friends, even very close ones, and stop there, I might just be the mature person I wish to be. Now, I'll finish with a song I love... dearly.

And no, it's not about anyone in particular. Not yet.

On Heterogeneous Mixtures

I was looking through my Facebook profile, in my usual narcissistic and extremely self-conscious way. Well, actually, I was adding this site to my profile so that people who actually care enough to look into what I do will reasonably be able to find it. But I noticed the "About You" section, which used to be more centrally located, and the collection of random ideas and references within. It reads, as of right now, as follows:

That's Ross the Boss to you.

BLACK TIE

Gibson EB-0, 1961 model

The Golden Winged Ship

"Nursery rhymes to a generation"

01189998819991197253

POTATO BACON BOMBS

Turbo encabulator master

...I prefer "eccentric".

And I thought that for once I'd dive into what each of these lines means...

---

That's Ross the Boss to you.

Not meant to be arrogant at all. Just to be funny and introduce the idea that a lot of people know my quasi-nickname. While they won't often address me as such, it's a phrase that comes up occasionally, and it helps when introducing myself to offer up a cheeky little rhyming phrase.

BLACK TIE

A line from the ZZ Top song "Sharp Dressed Man". The specific line is this extremely low baritone repetition by what I assume was Dusty Hill. I was more intimately introduced to the song in Guitar Hero, where I grew to really love it. And that line just stuck out to me and still does. I suppose it's my Southern redneck masculinity calling.

Gibson EB-0, 1961 model

An actual guitar, but also a line from an episode of FLCL that I just find funny. And I do really like FLCL. There are a lot of silly random objects, themes, and ideas from that show that I enjoy referencing.

The Golden Winged Ship

Part of a line from the song "Castles Made of Sand" by Jimi Hendrix. The song is fairly clear in meaning. The last verse, though, has a more positive message, where a certain object stops someone from suicide. And on less heavy terms, I really want to be that for people. Not some shining, radiant naval vessel, but someone that at least improves other people's lives, makes them feel better about themselves, experience something new, or think in a different way.

"Nursery rhymes to a generation"

A line Edgar Wright used to his message to Nintendo to allow him to use Zelda music in Scott Pilgrim. I like it a lot, because it's extremely true. Chiptune as a genre exists almost entirely because of our collective affection for old games with limited sound-making capabilities.

01189998819991197253

A humorous sketch from the show The IT Crowd. I like British humor, and I believe this encapsulates it perfectly, including being hilarious.

POTATO BACON BOMBS

A specific line from a Patton Oswalt routine about the ferocious advertising that Black Angus started adopting. The idea of terrifying or challenging someone into eating at your establishment is way too funny. And Patton is one of my very favorite comedians. That video is not his best delivery of the bit, however.

Turbo encabulator master

The profession of expertise on the subject of a satirical video involving a metric fuckton of engineering terms. Sometimes I feel like I'm right in the middle of it all in my career. I'm never too sure of myself that I'm competent enough to be where I am. Also, hell, good science and engineering humor is hard to come by.

...I prefer "eccentric".

Something I thought up when I was making profiles a decade ago online. I had and still have quirks, and that was my way of pre-countering people who would call them out. I would at times do this to my detriment around antagonistic individuals, self-deprecating to the point of insignificance. Now I just find it a little funny.

---

I've probably spent more time constructing my Facebook profile and online presence than most do. I'm probably far too preoccupied with how others perceive me than I need to be. But I don't get much intimate contact, in whatever form you might imagine that phrase to mean. So I put (most) everything about myself out there for people to see, always only if they wanted to. It's a quiet fantasy of mine that someone would look at my meticulously-constructed online identity, preferences, and output and think me interesting.

I'm not always so insecure and without self-esteem. It seems to wax and wane with what's going on around me. I feel that if I produced something creatively or just did something positive outside of work, it might make me feel a lot better. At least, if people cared about what I did. I can easily be proud of something I've created. But others liking it definitely helps!

On Giving Three Steps: Two Forward, One Back

Sunday I started a blog post called "On the Best Week Ever", in which I was fully prepared to regale all who peruse this black backwater blog with several positive experiences in a row. There were some negative undertones and uncertainty throughout, but overall it felt great at the time:

• On Saturday, October 27, I dealt with a tipsy and depressed friend. At first I was a little bothered, but that quickly turned to feeling very good and important trying to make a connection with her and make her realize that she should not be so sad.
• Sunday I met with three former (and most excellent) roommates to see Cloud Atlas and have lunch. Awesome movie, awesome people to be around. I was very happy to actually do something on a weekend after a long while.
• Monday, I had dinner with two friends, which was really just 5 hours of supremely enjoyable company. It's nice to just have that without some pretense or distraction, with the right people, of course.
• Tuesday was trivia in which I alone knew what the group The Kids in the Hall was.
• Wednesday was Halloween, a holiday for which I didn't do much but wear a cape to work. People appreciated it.
• Thursday was Campus FreeThinkers movie night with Dr. Horrible. Afterward, I felt a little inspired, and when I got home, I told my sister that she was a great person and enjoyable to be around. I am so glad I did that, because that kind of sentiment just isn't expressed very often in our family.
• Friday, I went to see Argo with two of the same roommates, and we had dinner with the third, as well.
• On Saturday, November 3, the week was easily topped off by driving three hours to visit a friend for the weekend. Turns out I left something there, though I was hoping to do so.
• By Sunday, I would have said a quiet prayer for George V. Hudson, if I had remembered his name, for giving me an extra hour to be closer to any other person than I had previously.

I left quite happy with myself, eating an Insomnia Cookie and singing the entirety of Appetite for Destruction on the drive back.

---

But since then it's been quite tumultuous in my head. I've spent this whole week trying to piece together how I feel, but it changes day to day. I've got lots of sticky notes in my wallet that I write when I have to get a thought or sentiment out in a restricted space. Hopefully this post will be a tempered and reasoned summary of all this processing.

I realize now that what really happened was that my assessment of the relationship was askew from hers. And the longer this goes on, the more imbalanced it becomes. I've done it before, and I'm doing it again. During the very few times I've fancied someone and have actually been given a chance to do something about it, my mind goes wild thinking of the person, reading, rereading, and remembered the meager words and attention they've given me. I could be rightly called obsessing, if I'm so frank.

Why do I do this? Well, I've never had a connection so deep, personal, and rich that was actually requited. Even the person I thought my best friend turns out to not think too highly of me. So when I get a glimpse of a chance that someone might care about me as much as I do them, I get very excited and apparently very ahead of myself.

So she told me she was nervous about a date she was going on with another guy the same day that I woke up holding on to her. She asked for advice on these cute red boots to her friends. Then I saw this today:

Guise [name] said he likes me :3

^_^

Aww, adorable.

We were in public for the first time around people we both know and it wasn't awkward and there was even a little bit of affection in public and aghhhhhh

Eeeeeeeeeeee

You're going to become one of those obnoxiously adorable but kind of actually obnoxious couples, aren't you :P

I mean

I am super obnoxious by myself.

;)

When I saw this, I sent it in an email to myself for later, titled "I hate myself". I feel this is relevant because in none of this do I blame her. She has done wonderful things for me, and I really hope she would say I've done something for her. And it would be ridiculous to be angry at her for being happy around someone else. I hate that my jealousy rages. But to reach such emotional heights around her only makes the collapse worse. It would make me unbelievably happy to learn that someone privately confessed anything of this sort about me.

When do I get a turn?

...Ugh, that's so stupid. I know the universe doesn't work that way.

On the bright side, at least I can listen to more than the first seconds of this song. And as I posted on Facebook, on the drive home today, I figured out that at least one cure for my sadness is listening to rednecks talk about numbers of steps, marsh melodies, or places they're not from but still call Sweet Home. Let's wrap up with some o' that:

Maybe I'll show her this after she gets back from an enjoyable weekend that I don't want to distract from.