On Thursday

I struggled with a few topics I wanted to write about this week for “Confession Wednesday” and like usual I talked in circles and jumbled the topics. I struggle with the line: how personal is too personal…for me? I chose to wait this week out.

A previous post pulled in more comments (and emails) than I have seen and a few comments got me talking a little more. I felt that one comment deserved the respect of a post response, rather than a comment. It falls right in line with “Confession Wednesday” and it got me to say what I wanted earlier in the week. Why would I choose the word “respect”? I felt Jane‘s comment was well put and questioned me -as well as others. It wasn’t an attack; at least I didn’t see it that way. Any well put point or question I always felt deserved the returned respect the questioner gave.

First: good, bad, indifferent…no matter what your opinion or view: thank you for stopping by (that’s for everyone). I’m not Walt Whitman, but I like to write. I’m not Gandhi, but I admire his candor; I can’t control my temper (sometimes when I should). While my words seem wise at times, I’m not Plato…and unfortunately I give better advice to others than I give to myself. :)

I use my eyes to judge women; I’ll openly admit that. However, I could give you a handful of my male friend testimonials to the fact that once the girl talks, if she’s not up to snuff on some level: I’m out. Is this always the case? Nope. I’ve made some terrible decisions and thought with no brain (or the wrong one). Any relationship or dating experience I have had has hit a sour point when I realize I fell prey to poor decisions. I learn from my mistakes, but that’s not to say I didn’t make those mistakes more than once to remind myself of a lesson. One of the best pieces of advice I learned about relationships was told to me in middle school (I believe it was 6th grade and I was between 12-13 years old). We had one of those school assemblies where they talk about science, or drugs…but this one was about sex. The speaker said [paraphrase]

“…you think sex is fun and someone is beautiful when they are all dressed up for school or you go out in a group. Do you think they look good first thing in the morning? Not usually! Most people are ugly! [kids laughing] You think it’s funny, but men come down unshaven, bad breathe and in their underwear. Women come down with their hair in curlers, no make up…maybe one of those green masks! That is the most important part of the relationship: at the breakfast table. If you can’t talk to the person you are with in the morning, the relationship isn’t going to last and the sex isn’t worth it…”

Personally: I crave the conversation. I have had girls tell me I talk too much. I have some girl friends (friends that are girls, no fooling around!) that just like the fact we can talk forever and it’s just that…talking. My happy medium is with someone I am attracted to that I can talk to. Hopefully we can talk on all levels, even the dorky ones. I know that’s not easy to find. However, I also know that a good personality can make someone that’s no so attractive become the most beautiful person in your eyes. I also know that someone gorgeous can become very ugly if they have a poor personality.

Throughout my school life, up until my senior year of high school and even some time during that year; I never had a girlfriend, never went to a dance…was never kissed. Many people dorks, jocks, whoever…all have that same story. I could talk about the girls I thought were cute that would cry in class when no one asked them to the next dance; all the while I sat there at looked at the girl thinking “little does she know I would love to go with her!” To this day I still remember that particular girl’s name, the class we were in and what dance it was. Too funny. I idolized a few girls on the cheerleading squad like most teenage boys; but my first mature (high school) crush was on a girl that was also a dork. We became casual friends; I was new at school and didn’t know her or her boyfriend. However, her boyfriend was dorky too so I knew I might have a chance if things didn’t work out (haha). Her boyfriend was a great guy and they dated for a long time; but I had a crush on her for 2 years…and when they split up I asked her to a dance. I’m leaving out details here, but she couldn’t go and I missed the dance. Later I met my first girlfriend, a band dork; and we dated for 5 years…after I had left high school and gone to college. While we split up, we remained close friends. At her wedding this past summer her and her sister still teased me about how I was such a huge dork in high school…my floods…glasses…braces, always the same 5 or 6 sweatshirts. As she put it: who would have thought years later I would shed my outer shell for my own style of clothes and appearance; but still be a huge dork on the inside.

How am I a dork? I went to summer camp for three summers when I was 8,9 and 10 years old…the camp was like school. I took astronomy, self-esteem, chemistry, pottery, wilderness survival and an earth science class (maybe a few more too) during the day while my other friends played outside. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to be there and I still got plenty of time to play. I helped teach a computer based drafting class in high school because I knew the CAD [Computer Aided Drafting] software better than my teacher. During my second and third year of high school my mom or dad would take me at night to youth engineering groups at the local automotive plant. Other nights when I was still 3-5 years younger than my club-mates, my mom and dad would take me to a local tech/engineering university for math club. I didn’t understand the math, but I like the topics and I had a teacher in high school that told my parents and I that it would interest me: it did. I would ask for math books that I wouldn’t learn how to read until I was in college and finally got to revisit them. I worked as a draftsman when I was 16 and I designed parts for an engineering company when I was 17 and almost earned a patient (company opted not to patient the new part that is still in production today). I started getting more interested in computers and I would take home Unix manuals that would otherwise be good for starting fires…instead I learned. I never became an expert in computers; but I made it my new hobby. Up until a few months ago I had 12 computers…in my bedroom. I now have 7.

I hated reading books and opted to be educated by teachers through lecture and conversation. Whenever I had the chance I would spend time with my professors asking more detailed questions. My passion was learning concepts. Almost two years ago I decided it was time to change my reading habits…I began to read the books in the collection I had amassed over the years. I have hardly stopped to take a breath since that day. Cryptography theory, patterns, chaos, biographies of leaders, Asian strategy and Eastern Philosophy have been my focus…and my favorites for a long time. Business and social ethics get tossed in along with some decent non-fiction along the way.

So what?

[the point: the real confession]
My soul is in constant turmoil. I have more inner battles between good and evil that I debate with myself to the point I ought to be schizophrenic; but I’m not. What am I talking about? The big thoughts, the big questions: life, its meaning, purpose, idea…God’s thoughts. Things on that order. I question my own ethics, morals and motivation so much I talk myself out of little things that are ethical and moral while I left the obvious unethical or unmoral things happen. What am I searching for deep down inside? Honor.

From the time I first knew about knights, I wanted to be one. When I grew older I admired Samurai, the Asian equivalent. When I read about Zen [Buddhism]; I thought of Gandhi and his words “Become the change you wish to see in the world. I have spent my life learning not to lose my passion, nor imagination and to build a giant encyclopedia in my head of concepts from various subject all with an end goal to understand as much about people, life, religion and the known Universe as possible for something I always knew I wanted; but never grasped.

Last week my professor asked the class a random question designed to make you think deep about yourself. He asked us to look deep inside and think abut what really means a lot to us; what do you want to be remembered for? That is: what would you want on your headstone? My inner dork, geek and dweeb converge on the very thought, not of being knighted, but of being remembered just by those that know me personally as being honorable. In the utmost hope that in my memory they will also find some honor (if they are not already)…and pass that trait on. I don’t want my name etched in stone; I want the feeling in my heart etched on others hearts.

In many situations as possible I try to do my best to find the most honorable answer to every decision I make. I make many wrong decisions and I forgot my focus too often. I still drink beer. I still sleep in late for work. I still cuss in the presence of children. I still lie. I still hide when I make a mistake. Yes, I would still go after Carmen Electra (if she wasn’t married).

Nobody is perfect and I know I try…but mostly I sleep well at night knowing that I am willing to try harder.

cheers,
bd