Wow...I'd say I had hit a lull in my blogging. I guess I got in the mindset of it becoming another item on my task list so, of course, I started putting it off. But I think I am ready to write again.
This last month and a half has been a stressful one. I've been so consistently worried about tests, homeworks, and lab shortfalls that I've been dwelling less on girls. I suppose that's good because I earlier aspirations with my latest pursuit are dying away feebly. I no longer expect things to upswing so disappointment loses its sting when you know it's coming. Approaching this realization draws me to reflect and continue with my Chronicles.
In 10th grade I turned 16, got my license, and usurped my sister's truck. I had so many options now available to me, one exciting one being the ability to go on real dates. I still liked Rose but was never going to anything about it. I was very distracted with school and marching band so was content in my bachelorhood.
Spring semester, however, things changed. In Mr. Caren's Algebra 2 class, I would always do my best to sit next to Rose and be pissed of when some fiery ginger was in my seat. Normally, however, I prevailed. In February, I was mentioned how no girl would want to be my girlfriend with the false humility that begs for rebuttal. Mr. Caren didn't simply offer up an "Oh, that's not true." He followed up with a question to the class at large, "Who would be Vinny's Valentine date?!"
My mortification rose to excitement when the only girl who said " Yea-sure-why-not?" was Rose. Mr. Caren gave me the opportunity I wasn't brave enough to secure myself. I had only a few days to prepare.
Having just learned to knit beanies two months prior, I stayed up all night before V-Day knitting us coordinated beanies. I folded her beanie into the likeness of a heart and set it at her seat in 1st period chemistry while I wore mine. This marks the first lame, corny act in a sea of many to come in my life with girls; I wish shit like that actually worked.
I picked her up that evening. We ate at Chili's. I dropped her off because I had diarrhea. I took Imodium, called her and picked her back up. We went to Toys'R'Us. I took her back home. Those are all the highlights of our date...I had a blast somehow. I knew I'd have to ask her out now.
I guess it's really hard to have a great date. Everyone wants a date that they plan to be worthy of a RomCom script but I don't think I'll ever have a date that perfect. But it doesn't really matter as long as the both people are crushing on each other; they're just happy to get the face time. I think the best planned, romantic date in the world will still fail if the girl isn't into you though.
God, save us from women
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
The Ninth Gate
I have been experiencing quite the upswing with my attempts at swooning a girl these last 2 weeks. I just erased the jumbled summary of everything we did this week because recounting them brings me more joy than it would for you. All I'm trying to express is that I have a positive outlook now because things are going well.
This leads to the logical assumption that I have a negative outlook when things are not going well. This is sadly, most-often true. I often joke about how high school turned into Hell for me in my 10th grade year. There are a lot of potential reasons for this. I had a lot of people wish me ill fortune, I had a lot of bad luck, and I wasn't firmly believing in God, Jesus, or anything spiritual. Despite all these things that no doubt contributed to the misery I felt on and off over the next few years, there is a recurring character woven throughout all of this.
This girl's effect on my story will not be impossible to sum up in a single entry, so I will bestow upon her the alias, Rose. Rose will resurface several more times in my Chronicles but this is her introduction.
First, let's rewind to 8th grade. I had a history class taught by a short, pudgy, bearded man. He was funny and I think this was around the time I was starting to feel like a funny kid. I must have been, because I started being able to make everyone laugh. This class was probably my best audience, though, since it wasn't through the gifted program. My jokes were so funny, in fact, that several girls developed crushes on me. I'm sure my bleached highlights, hemp necklaces, and AE wardrobe may have helped. Rose was one of these girls at the time as it turns out.
I wasn't really interested in any of these girls in return. I didn't even know who Rose was until she beat me in our period's finals for the school-wide Most Influential Person in History debate, where I did no research and called her person (JFK) a rapist. When I did know who she was and found out she liked me I thought to myself, "She has that big mole on the side of her face. I don't wanna date her." Therefore, I never let on that I knew she liked me and hoped in would just fade away.
When I started high school, Rose and I were both in International Baccalaureate (IB) together and had Spanish together. Over the course of the year, I realized she was much prettier than I thought in junior high school and realized that I now had a little bit of a crush on her. I remember writing her a speech in the spring of 9th grade, asking her out. I was going to give it to her sitting on the couch that our Spanish teacher found necessary to have in a portable of horny ninth graders for some reason. Fate intervened. I overheard her say to a friend at lunch earlier that day that another boy in IB asked her out that day and now they were dating. I had missed my chance. This was my punishment for being snobby the year before.
Apparently, Rose still crushed on me through all of 9th grade, summer, and a good part of 10th grade. We had had some good pre-date hangouts/incidents throughout this time. She was part of a group movie trip to Scooby Doo 2. I also lent her my Spanish book or something I remember. I bided my time/got distracted though. It wasn't til right before Valentine's Day, 2005 that this story really begins. This is all a light-hearted background. Rose and I have a lot of moments that will make interesting blogs but they'll have to wait.
This leads to the logical assumption that I have a negative outlook when things are not going well. This is sadly, most-often true. I often joke about how high school turned into Hell for me in my 10th grade year. There are a lot of potential reasons for this. I had a lot of people wish me ill fortune, I had a lot of bad luck, and I wasn't firmly believing in God, Jesus, or anything spiritual. Despite all these things that no doubt contributed to the misery I felt on and off over the next few years, there is a recurring character woven throughout all of this.
This girl's effect on my story will not be impossible to sum up in a single entry, so I will bestow upon her the alias, Rose. Rose will resurface several more times in my Chronicles but this is her introduction.
First, let's rewind to 8th grade. I had a history class taught by a short, pudgy, bearded man. He was funny and I think this was around the time I was starting to feel like a funny kid. I must have been, because I started being able to make everyone laugh. This class was probably my best audience, though, since it wasn't through the gifted program. My jokes were so funny, in fact, that several girls developed crushes on me. I'm sure my bleached highlights, hemp necklaces, and AE wardrobe may have helped. Rose was one of these girls at the time as it turns out.
I wasn't really interested in any of these girls in return. I didn't even know who Rose was until she beat me in our period's finals for the school-wide Most Influential Person in History debate, where I did no research and called her person (JFK) a rapist. When I did know who she was and found out she liked me I thought to myself, "She has that big mole on the side of her face. I don't wanna date her." Therefore, I never let on that I knew she liked me and hoped in would just fade away.
When I started high school, Rose and I were both in International Baccalaureate (IB) together and had Spanish together. Over the course of the year, I realized she was much prettier than I thought in junior high school and realized that I now had a little bit of a crush on her. I remember writing her a speech in the spring of 9th grade, asking her out. I was going to give it to her sitting on the couch that our Spanish teacher found necessary to have in a portable of horny ninth graders for some reason. Fate intervened. I overheard her say to a friend at lunch earlier that day that another boy in IB asked her out that day and now they were dating. I had missed my chance. This was my punishment for being snobby the year before.
Apparently, Rose still crushed on me through all of 9th grade, summer, and a good part of 10th grade. We had had some good pre-date hangouts/incidents throughout this time. She was part of a group movie trip to Scooby Doo 2. I also lent her my Spanish book or something I remember. I bided my time/got distracted though. It wasn't til right before Valentine's Day, 2005 that this story really begins. This is all a light-hearted background. Rose and I have a lot of moments that will make interesting blogs but they'll have to wait.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Fleeting Fancies
I'm sitting in my laboratory. I know that sounds either cooler or more maniacal than it really is. I'm unable to move forward with my experiment because the lab is too crowded. To put these in perpective, it is now 10PM on a Thursday night and my lab is too crowded? I maintain these awful off-hour schedules in the lab in an attempt to avoid this during the day and yet it still happens. I will be here until my morning class or til I screw something up and cannot complete the experiment.
But at least this down time gives me time to think. I think, therefore I blog. I think it's funny that the author of a book sitting next to me is Heavens. I wonder if a book titled Optical Properties of Thin Films could really come from Heaven? I must have close to a million of these fleeting, irrelevant thoughts per day. Thoughts that I seldom dwell on for more than seconds and will likely never think again.
I believe I'm trying to draw a correlation to this behavior and a very common attitude I have towards girls. We have all had a few big crushes, or at least I hope so for the sake of this argument. By contrast to those thought-consuming, emotional hurricanes of the heart, we have also all probably had passing affections for a girl that come and go with no real foothold. I am now proposing that there is a compromise of the two conditions of the mind and heart.
At the end of my 8th grade year and nearing the beginning of my 9th grade year, I have distinct memories of liking a girl now and then. My feelings were never strong enough to motivate me into action but I thought about it repeatedly in an on-again-off-again manner. She was a very pretty girl, perhaps the prettiest I'd ever liked until college. I think that's why I never fell hard for her though. I could never get past how pretty she was in order to find out anything else about her. I was not even sure she knew my name for a long time. I knew hers though. She had a name like a season and I remember my sister Casey asking me about my "this season" one day and I freaked out in embarrassment, mistaking her question to be a prodding one over the girl I liked. However, despite liking her for her beauty for over two years. I never thought seriously of dating her. So therefore, the end of 8th, the entirety of 9th, and the first half of 10th grade were without any pursuits and hence without much drama.
I think it's odd how many times I liked a girl without ever wanting to pursue anything. Or at least I didn't want it enough to risk rejection. But what's the point? Why did I waste my time if I knew all along nothing would happen. It's no different than a celebrity crush, I guess. You may really admire someone like a fan, but if you are never going to do anything about it then it is really just a distraction. This collection of hours and hours of fleeting daydreams about girls I've never really known makes me feel unaccomplished and empty.
I've given something called a "Need" talk in Young Life and this entry is starting to share some characteristics with one of those types of talks. When I occupy my thoughts with fanciful imaginings of me and nonexistent dream girls I feel strangely let down in the end. When I devote my thoughts to Jesus, I don't always come out of them feeling warm and fuzzy but at least I know they mean something. It just goes to show, even as a Christian struggling to be in constant worship of Jesus Christ, I preoccupy myself too much on things that just don't matter...like girls.
But at least this down time gives me time to think. I think, therefore I blog. I think it's funny that the author of a book sitting next to me is Heavens. I wonder if a book titled Optical Properties of Thin Films could really come from Heaven? I must have close to a million of these fleeting, irrelevant thoughts per day. Thoughts that I seldom dwell on for more than seconds and will likely never think again.
I believe I'm trying to draw a correlation to this behavior and a very common attitude I have towards girls. We have all had a few big crushes, or at least I hope so for the sake of this argument. By contrast to those thought-consuming, emotional hurricanes of the heart, we have also all probably had passing affections for a girl that come and go with no real foothold. I am now proposing that there is a compromise of the two conditions of the mind and heart.
Disclaimer: the account I am about to share technically occurs after an unmentioned relationship. I technically had a second girlfriend in 8th grade that I always forget about. In fact I think it's okay to discount her. The synopsis is brief and uninteresting. Some other kid wrote her a note, pretending to be me and asking her out. She said yes but I was unaware I was now allegedly dating her. In any case, we "broke up" shortly after but it feels necessary to mention it at least once in my epic Chronicles of Romance.
At the end of my 8th grade year and nearing the beginning of my 9th grade year, I have distinct memories of liking a girl now and then. My feelings were never strong enough to motivate me into action but I thought about it repeatedly in an on-again-off-again manner. She was a very pretty girl, perhaps the prettiest I'd ever liked until college. I think that's why I never fell hard for her though. I could never get past how pretty she was in order to find out anything else about her. I was not even sure she knew my name for a long time. I knew hers though. She had a name like a season and I remember my sister Casey asking me about my "this season" one day and I freaked out in embarrassment, mistaking her question to be a prodding one over the girl I liked. However, despite liking her for her beauty for over two years. I never thought seriously of dating her. So therefore, the end of 8th, the entirety of 9th, and the first half of 10th grade were without any pursuits and hence without much drama.
I think it's odd how many times I liked a girl without ever wanting to pursue anything. Or at least I didn't want it enough to risk rejection. But what's the point? Why did I waste my time if I knew all along nothing would happen. It's no different than a celebrity crush, I guess. You may really admire someone like a fan, but if you are never going to do anything about it then it is really just a distraction. This collection of hours and hours of fleeting daydreams about girls I've never really known makes me feel unaccomplished and empty.
I've given something called a "Need" talk in Young Life and this entry is starting to share some characteristics with one of those types of talks. When I occupy my thoughts with fanciful imaginings of me and nonexistent dream girls I feel strangely let down in the end. When I devote my thoughts to Jesus, I don't always come out of them feeling warm and fuzzy but at least I know they mean something. It just goes to show, even as a Christian struggling to be in constant worship of Jesus Christ, I preoccupy myself too much on things that just don't matter...like girls.
Guilt & Trap
I finally quit my job at RecSports. I've been joking about quitting almost since I started but I today I emailed my shift supervisors to let them know I would not be coming in anymore. I feel bad about not honoring the 2 week notice policy but I doubt I would have ever needed a recommendation from this minimum wage waste of time. Nevertheless, I feel guilty about leaving everyone "high and dry." The hardest part about quitting was knowing that my I'd be hated by everyone who now has to work harder due to my absence. But I'm happy to be free.
In many failed marriages, the discontent party often expresses how he/she felt trapped. This is a terrible feeling but how do we find ourselves in these predicaments? Why are we signing up for things if we don't want them or, more commonly, we don't know what we our getting ourselves into?
My first "girlfriend" post-elementary school was in 8th grade. The day we became boyfriend-girlfriend is a little foggy, not unlike the confusion felt after a hard blow to the head. I cannot with certainty recall what was going through my head but I consider that under the circumstances I didn't have time to make a thought out decision.
At this particular cross-section of eighth grade, I hit a local minimum in my time-harmonic attitude towards dating. In other words, I was not really interested in dating anybody at that time. Unfortunately, when you are segregated within a small gifted program, there is always a chance that you may attract the affections of a peer, through sheer overexposure. One day, in my English class, a group of girls surrounded me before the late bell rang and began the siege. "You know (NAME) likes you, right?! Right?! So are you gonna go out with her?? Huh? Huh?!" I couldn't think. I was a dear in headlights. All I could manage was an "Um, sure" with an uncertainty in my voice that should have been a giveaway of my true feelings. Amidst this dialogue, sits the girl in question, freaking out in the corner of the classroom over the embarrassment. "Did you hear that?!" the lead girl shouted, "He said 'YES!'"
My first girlfriend? Really?? I immediately was hit with the oh-crap-how-am-I-going-to-get-out-of-this feeling. But I said yes. I couldn't just recant immediately. Then how would I look? So I was going to have to suck it up for a few days before letting her know it would not work.
In the mean time, we went on with business as usual. We continued playing 4Square during PE like usual. We were still both in band together. We both competed admirably with the Math Team and Academic Team. Yet, I can sympathize with the hurt that I must have been causing her. If I were in a relationship with someone, and they were around me all the time but never wanted to be near me or express any sort of affection, then I would feel alone, unloved, and helpless. That is how things remained though. I felt trapped and afraid of the guilt I would have in breaking up with a girl I never even liked and I'm sure she felt trapped by her helplessness to change our dynamic to the one she imagined it would be when the boy she liked said "yes."
After the last home Academic Team match of the season, we were walking down to the parking lot and she said optimistically, "I can't believe it's already our three month anniversary?!" The news hit me hard. I had to recount the weeks to see if she could be right. "It's been that long?" I asked, "we need to talk..." I then proceeded to awkwardly attempt my first dumping. It was not good. I felt like crap. But by the time I got in the backseat of my mom's car, I was relieved to be free and knew that it was better to hurt her now than to hurt her more over time out of guilt.
I have since been on both sides of the guilt-ridden break-up. I've actually been on each side more than once, but this was my first of either. I'd rather the lesson I see in this experience now had been more obvious to me then. Maybe then I wouldn't have found myself repeating the mistake when the naivety of pubescence was no longer an excuse.
As I've said before though: I jump the gun with girls. I find myself trying to move things along way too fast and I seem to try to trap them into a relationship with me. I need to learn better. I need to learn patience and to respect God's timing rather than unsuccessfully trying to force my own agenda. Otherwise, I will inevitably be left when they get over the guilt and get out of the trap.
In many failed marriages, the discontent party often expresses how he/she felt trapped. This is a terrible feeling but how do we find ourselves in these predicaments? Why are we signing up for things if we don't want them or, more commonly, we don't know what we our getting ourselves into?
My first "girlfriend" post-elementary school was in 8th grade. The day we became boyfriend-girlfriend is a little foggy, not unlike the confusion felt after a hard blow to the head. I cannot with certainty recall what was going through my head but I consider that under the circumstances I didn't have time to make a thought out decision.
At this particular cross-section of eighth grade, I hit a local minimum in my time-harmonic attitude towards dating. In other words, I was not really interested in dating anybody at that time. Unfortunately, when you are segregated within a small gifted program, there is always a chance that you may attract the affections of a peer, through sheer overexposure. One day, in my English class, a group of girls surrounded me before the late bell rang and began the siege. "You know (NAME) likes you, right?! Right?! So are you gonna go out with her?? Huh? Huh?!" I couldn't think. I was a dear in headlights. All I could manage was an "Um, sure" with an uncertainty in my voice that should have been a giveaway of my true feelings. Amidst this dialogue, sits the girl in question, freaking out in the corner of the classroom over the embarrassment. "Did you hear that?!" the lead girl shouted, "He said 'YES!'"
My first girlfriend? Really?? I immediately was hit with the oh-crap-how-am-I-going-to-get-out-of-this feeling. But I said yes. I couldn't just recant immediately. Then how would I look? So I was going to have to suck it up for a few days before letting her know it would not work.
In the mean time, we went on with business as usual. We continued playing 4Square during PE like usual. We were still both in band together. We both competed admirably with the Math Team and Academic Team. Yet, I can sympathize with the hurt that I must have been causing her. If I were in a relationship with someone, and they were around me all the time but never wanted to be near me or express any sort of affection, then I would feel alone, unloved, and helpless. That is how things remained though. I felt trapped and afraid of the guilt I would have in breaking up with a girl I never even liked and I'm sure she felt trapped by her helplessness to change our dynamic to the one she imagined it would be when the boy she liked said "yes."
After the last home Academic Team match of the season, we were walking down to the parking lot and she said optimistically, "I can't believe it's already our three month anniversary?!" The news hit me hard. I had to recount the weeks to see if she could be right. "It's been that long?" I asked, "we need to talk..." I then proceeded to awkwardly attempt my first dumping. It was not good. I felt like crap. But by the time I got in the backseat of my mom's car, I was relieved to be free and knew that it was better to hurt her now than to hurt her more over time out of guilt.
I have since been on both sides of the guilt-ridden break-up. I've actually been on each side more than once, but this was my first of either. I'd rather the lesson I see in this experience now had been more obvious to me then. Maybe then I wouldn't have found myself repeating the mistake when the naivety of pubescence was no longer an excuse.
As I've said before though: I jump the gun with girls. I find myself trying to move things along way too fast and I seem to try to trap them into a relationship with me. I need to learn better. I need to learn patience and to respect God's timing rather than unsuccessfully trying to force my own agenda. Otherwise, I will inevitably be left when they get over the guilt and get out of the trap.
Monday, September 13, 2010
FIghting with Friends
A short reprieve from female relationships.
So I have been writhing with pent up emotions and letting them erupt violently through outlets that most people would disapprove. By this, I'm referring to this past Saturday night. My friend Arin and I were sitting in Shady Oaks, along with more than ten other friends including 418 (our antithesis). Anyways, as we were sitting there, watching college football, Arin suggested, "You know what you need, Vinny? You need to get in a fight!" I agreed and 16 seconds later, we were out in the side yard with our shirts off. I threw the first punch and it was on!
We had a few good body blows but then Arin threw a punch to my mouth and my bottom, right canine went 80% through my bottom lip. I fell down in the dirt and he helped me up laughing. I was laughing. I spit blood and told him that I needed that. It was one of the best experiences of my life despite my profuse bleeding and swelling.
Fighting with friends seems intrinsically like a bad thing but I'm not sure it is. I don't want to find myself being punched in the face by someone who actually wishes me harm. Friends are people who you can fight with and know they still want to protect you. I'm speaking about more than punching now.
Every Sunday night at 10PM, Shady Oaks has roommate hangout but more than just roommates partake. Ex-roommates and honorary roommates are a regular fixture on Sunday nights. Arin, Alex, and I began a discussion about proper Christian behavior and things got heated. This felt more like a brewing fight than Saturday night punch-fest. However, even though we were challenging each other, we still cared about each other. By defending our beliefs, we are strengthened in them. If we cannot even form our defense to those who wish us no harm, how will we fare against the Enemy? I do not wish to be dramatic, but there are times when we are each challenged to defend what we believe as Christians, and if we haven't practiced with friends then we will sputter when facing anyone else.
So I encourage us as Christians to spar with each other. Not bicker. Not backbite. But friendly discussion isn't something we should avoid to prevent awkwardness. We should seek to better understand our friends and ourselves through "fighting" with friends.
I'm sorry that this entry was not part of my series on embarrassing failed relationships but I think this will keep my blog interesting.
So I have been writhing with pent up emotions and letting them erupt violently through outlets that most people would disapprove. By this, I'm referring to this past Saturday night. My friend Arin and I were sitting in Shady Oaks, along with more than ten other friends including 418 (our antithesis). Anyways, as we were sitting there, watching college football, Arin suggested, "You know what you need, Vinny? You need to get in a fight!" I agreed and 16 seconds later, we were out in the side yard with our shirts off. I threw the first punch and it was on!
We had a few good body blows but then Arin threw a punch to my mouth and my bottom, right canine went 80% through my bottom lip. I fell down in the dirt and he helped me up laughing. I was laughing. I spit blood and told him that I needed that. It was one of the best experiences of my life despite my profuse bleeding and swelling.
Fighting with friends seems intrinsically like a bad thing but I'm not sure it is. I don't want to find myself being punched in the face by someone who actually wishes me harm. Friends are people who you can fight with and know they still want to protect you. I'm speaking about more than punching now.
Every Sunday night at 10PM, Shady Oaks has roommate hangout but more than just roommates partake. Ex-roommates and honorary roommates are a regular fixture on Sunday nights. Arin, Alex, and I began a discussion about proper Christian behavior and things got heated. This felt more like a brewing fight than Saturday night punch-fest. However, even though we were challenging each other, we still cared about each other. By defending our beliefs, we are strengthened in them. If we cannot even form our defense to those who wish us no harm, how will we fare against the Enemy? I do not wish to be dramatic, but there are times when we are each challenged to defend what we believe as Christians, and if we haven't practiced with friends then we will sputter when facing anyone else.
So I encourage us as Christians to spar with each other. Not bicker. Not backbite. But friendly discussion isn't something we should avoid to prevent awkwardness. We should seek to better understand our friends and ourselves through "fighting" with friends.
I'm sorry that this entry was not part of my series on embarrassing failed relationships but I think this will keep my blog interesting.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Total Internal Reflection (Optics Joke)
First blog post. I think I've always been a blogger at heart but I'm late to the party. I've arrived now but no one really notices because the party is in full swing and everybody is wasted. I'm still glad I came though. Anyways, let's move past my analogy and into some hardcore blogging.
I am what many people would agree is a spiritual man despite my arrogant teenage years. However, I like to express my struggles in written word. I recognize one of my biggest stumbling blocks is one that has flared up in recent days. My biggest distraction from Christian spirituality is seeking human companionship in pretty girls. Not sex, I'm not that easily satiated. I just idealize the prospect of having someone to share your life with. The idea of a "soul mate" is one of the most enticing concepts to me. This leads me to jump the gun with every girl who I think I have a chance with, alienating God and creeping out the girl who finds herself in my crosshairs.
Many Christian writers address the issue of seeking Christ in secular relationships (bad) and the foundations of healthy Christ-seeking companionship (good) but still, here I am. So I'm going to reflect on my past history and the decisions I've made and the decisions I make by the soft white glow of my Dell notebook.
One memory I have of my first largely embarrassing, emotional crush on a girl happened in 7th grade. To be honest, before this time I hadn't really wanted to be in a relationship with anybody. In fact, the prospect was terrifying. But as my body went through those hallmark changes that most middle schoolers can relate to, my feelings also began to change. But whenever you do anything for the first time, you're going to be nervous. I had no idea how to go about choosing the right girl, who had all the proper balances of qualities and characteristics, but I was 13 going on 30 and just had to pick somebody, anybody.
I was in the gifted program at my junior high because I had been in gifted in elementary school. My views on gifted programs will not be addressed in this entry. However, being gifted was very important to me at the time, so naturally the first place I started looking for possible wives was in the gifted program. So now I've already set myself up for failure but I was determined to find the fabled smart, pretty, funny girl. Despite my aspirations, I settled on to this one candidate and began building her up in my head, so high, that in a matter of days, there had never been a more perfect girl (an irrational and hormonal fallacy that I would conjure up several more times in life).
So that was that. I had an object of desire to pursue but the barrier of potential humiliation lay between me and realizing the joy of dating the "perfect girl." Then my sister Kelly said something that motivated me tremendously one night when I was talking about my crush coupled with my fear-induced paralysis. She said in response, "Ok, if you wanna miss out on some sweet make out sessions..." The crude honesty resonated in me. I immediately floated away in daydream to Patient 0 and I, in a bathroom for some reason, attempting what my 13 year old self envisioned making out to be. I had no choice anymore, I'd have to ask her out.
Over the span of about 3 months, leading up to Christmas break, I let my feelings known to everyone but her. This only strengthened my obligation to finally do something about it, but what?!? I had simultaneously been getting drawn into music that reflected my angsty disposition. A band called Dashboard Confessional had written the anthem to my situation as a song entitled, "Hands Down." I sat, listening to the song repeatedly on my sister's Napster, until she would yell at me for making her sick of it. Then it hit me. I knew how to ask Bomb.com to be my girlfriend!
It's the last day of school before winter break begins and all my classes are pretty slack. I had picked this day as D-Day but I had been dreading storming the shore. I had printed out the lyrics to "Hands Down" with a small "Will you go out with me??" post script. Time was running out as each period ended, but how would I gain the courage to pull off the romantic "here!" thrust at her? Well, I didn't. I passed of that job to a sympathetic classmate, who always called me Vinmeister. I never actually got the closure of rejection but I'm sure all her friends heard about what a creep I was.
Anticlimactic? Well middle school relationships are always awkward. I can't really remember how dealing with the shame and embarrassment affect my walk with God, but that's because I was in junior high and Pokemon occupied my thoughts three hundred and forty seven times more than Jesus. Future failures did lead to blows with God but that will unfold in later entries
I am what many people would agree is a spiritual man despite my arrogant teenage years. However, I like to express my struggles in written word. I recognize one of my biggest stumbling blocks is one that has flared up in recent days. My biggest distraction from Christian spirituality is seeking human companionship in pretty girls. Not sex, I'm not that easily satiated. I just idealize the prospect of having someone to share your life with. The idea of a "soul mate" is one of the most enticing concepts to me. This leads me to jump the gun with every girl who I think I have a chance with, alienating God and creeping out the girl who finds herself in my crosshairs.
Many Christian writers address the issue of seeking Christ in secular relationships (bad) and the foundations of healthy Christ-seeking companionship (good) but still, here I am. So I'm going to reflect on my past history and the decisions I've made and the decisions I make by the soft white glow of my Dell notebook.
One memory I have of my first largely embarrassing, emotional crush on a girl happened in 7th grade. To be honest, before this time I hadn't really wanted to be in a relationship with anybody. In fact, the prospect was terrifying. But as my body went through those hallmark changes that most middle schoolers can relate to, my feelings also began to change. But whenever you do anything for the first time, you're going to be nervous. I had no idea how to go about choosing the right girl, who had all the proper balances of qualities and characteristics, but I was 13 going on 30 and just had to pick somebody, anybody.
I was in the gifted program at my junior high because I had been in gifted in elementary school. My views on gifted programs will not be addressed in this entry. However, being gifted was very important to me at the time, so naturally the first place I started looking for possible wives was in the gifted program. So now I've already set myself up for failure but I was determined to find the fabled smart, pretty, funny girl. Despite my aspirations, I settled on to this one candidate and began building her up in my head, so high, that in a matter of days, there had never been a more perfect girl (an irrational and hormonal fallacy that I would conjure up several more times in life).
So that was that. I had an object of desire to pursue but the barrier of potential humiliation lay between me and realizing the joy of dating the "perfect girl." Then my sister Kelly said something that motivated me tremendously one night when I was talking about my crush coupled with my fear-induced paralysis. She said in response, "Ok, if you wanna miss out on some sweet make out sessions..." The crude honesty resonated in me. I immediately floated away in daydream to Patient 0 and I, in a bathroom for some reason, attempting what my 13 year old self envisioned making out to be. I had no choice anymore, I'd have to ask her out.
Over the span of about 3 months, leading up to Christmas break, I let my feelings known to everyone but her. This only strengthened my obligation to finally do something about it, but what?!? I had simultaneously been getting drawn into music that reflected my angsty disposition. A band called Dashboard Confessional had written the anthem to my situation as a song entitled, "Hands Down." I sat, listening to the song repeatedly on my sister's Napster, until she would yell at me for making her sick of it. Then it hit me. I knew how to ask Bomb.com to be my girlfriend!
It's the last day of school before winter break begins and all my classes are pretty slack. I had picked this day as D-Day but I had been dreading storming the shore. I had printed out the lyrics to "Hands Down" with a small "Will you go out with me??" post script. Time was running out as each period ended, but how would I gain the courage to pull off the romantic "here!" thrust at her? Well, I didn't. I passed of that job to a sympathetic classmate, who always called me Vinmeister. I never actually got the closure of rejection but I'm sure all her friends heard about what a creep I was.
Anticlimactic? Well middle school relationships are always awkward. I can't really remember how dealing with the shame and embarrassment affect my walk with God, but that's because I was in junior high and Pokemon occupied my thoughts three hundred and forty seven times more than Jesus. Future failures did lead to blows with God but that will unfold in later entries
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)