From bad things come good things. Every action has a reaction.
I was pondering the idea of mantras recently. I wondered what mine was. I gave it some thought, and a recurring, similar thought I seem to have when things don't go my way seems to be "Good things always come from bad things." So I suppose that's my mantra.
Is "good things always come from bad things" a logical statement though? It would seem so. If you cut your head falling off a bike without a helmet, you learn to wear a helmet next time. That's good. If your relationship failed due to a problem, you can go into the next relationship stronger and wiser. That's good. Hell, even a terrorist attack brings a community closer together.
I wonder if you could say that good and bad are equal and opposite. It would imply that bad things come from good things, too. Is there a bad reaction if a man and a woman nearly perfect for one another get married and live happily-ever-after?
Who knows.

Why bars and night clubs are terrible places to socialise

A lot of individuals' social lives revolve around partying– specifically at night. "Social butterflies" will be seen thriving in these areas. Introverts, or shy people will look at them, and mistakenly make a connection. This is that these individuals' social success at work, or in every day life, may have to do with the practice they get by clubbing.
The introverts may believe visiting night clubs regularly may help them come out of their shells, and get more comfortable talking to strangers, or flirting. This is not the case at all.
The social scene in a night club doesn't really have anything in common with any healthy, real-life situations. Dim rooms, flashing lights, and booming music are not going to be encountered at work. Nor will they be found anywhere else. There is also a unique social structure at a night club. Everyone is relaxed, looking for fun, and usually intoxicated to some degree. Once again, this state of mind is not going to be encountered in the real world.
Associating with this infinitesimal aspect of life in fact, will more likely harm one's socializing ability, as well as reputation in the sober majority of life. Night clubs breed negative personality traits that employers and prospective partners do not look for: foolish risk-taking, unreliability, self-destructive behavior (drinking, smoking), a non-serious attitude towards life... Not to mention any socializing techniques one may learn in the night scene are seldom, if at all, applicable to life.
For example, chatting a woman up in the dark, with a lot of surrounding noise is very different from doing it under calmer conditions with bright lighting. The distractions and darkness of the former scene provide a cover for individuals, almost like a mask, that will not be there anywhere else.

A healthy alternative, and much preferred method for developing social skills is to join clubs (such as book clubs, running clubs, or academic clubs), visit places with lots of conversation starters, and research about how to be less shy.
What are the basics to becoming less shy?
First, mannerisms must be addressed. The basics that enable you to practice socializing must be learned. These include body language and guidelines for conversation.

Body language to remember:

Make eye contact.
Be careful not to stare them down. If it is uncomfortable to look into their eyes, it often helps to move in a discreet way while doing it. Wriggling one's toes in their shoes (discreetly, of course) makes eye contact less awkward, since redirecting some of the intensity to a slight movement helps a lot.

Actively listen.
Active listening is basically giving the speaker constant feedback, so they know that they are being understood, and that you are interested. It isn't entirely verbal. It is comprised of making eye contact, nodding the head, or asking follow-up questions for clarification. The idea is to not only look interested in the speaker, but to be interested.

Face the speaker.
Facing away from somebody subconsciously tells them you are not interested. A conversation won't last as long if one party believes the other to be disengaged. Simply having your whole body facing whoever is talking let's them know you are interested, and that they are your main focus.

Uncross the arms.
Crossed arms make people seem distant, and uninterested, or even slightly hostile. We subconsciously do it when we don't like who we're talking to, or when we feel offended. Unfortunately we also do it when we're shy. Simply being conscious of this, and making sure not to cross arms during a conversation will help a lot. It's easy to put hands into pockets, or let them rest at side, as a substitute.

These are very basic things to remember that will aid social skills. Watching them, as well as other body languages in other individuals will be beneficial, too. Seeing how they are used in others will help one be able to use them for themselves.


Next, comes places you can practice these basics.

Join a tour
Go on a tour. Tours have other people, and there's always a subject. You can make a comment to someone next to you, and that can jump-start a conversation.

Activity club
It makes sense that doing an activity you enjoy with other people who enjoy it. There would be lots of opportunities for conversation. And the best conversations are when both parties enjoy the subject. It's also a great way to find friends.

Classes
Taking classes at a local college would be great. It is the same idea as activity clubs.

Why I don't have male friends.

I don't have male friends. At all. Every male friendship I've ever had has gone to shit. Either I freaked him out, or started getting paranoid about him, or I simply disconnected with him, because I felt we had no need to be friends any longer.

Only one guy has ever told me he loved me. That was one of the worst experiences of my life. Not long after, we never spoke again. He didn't find me desirable in the slightest, and he was a terrible match for me. Although you could hardly call anything about it a "match", because I was not an option in his mind.

Am I too serious? Too blunt? Too funny? Not hot enough? Embarrassing? What is it? I'm not intimidating. Guy's don't talk about me at all. There is no drama associated with me, whatsoever. Could it be that? I'm simply unremarkable. And yet people think I'm a "difficult person to forget"...
That doesn't sound very comforting, either now, does it? Perhaps I'm just too weird. Maybe dating me would make the guy feel slightly uncomfortable.

Sometimes It's almost tempting to just say I'm a fricken lesbian. That would be a lot easier than trying to get guys. And I wouldn't have to be embarrassed when I have no stories about guys to share. The only story I have is a pathetic one about some internet "thing". It's not really a guy story.

I have had tonnes of feelings for guys: all unrequited. They are so beautiful. I check them out constantly. Maybe that's my problem. I'm a creep.

I'm taking a course in programming.

That's right. It is actually going to be pretty interesting. I've always been fascinated by programming, but never thought I'd have a chance to do it.

Basically in class, we are starting off by learning HTML, so I've been practicing on this blog. Eventually I would love to be able to design a website or something– or make a flash movie.

Why I find the English wimpy.

The Earth loves to tease the Brits for being wimpy. Notions of their scattering soldiers at the cock of a gun abound.
Mean Earth. They should not tease. It's an unfair reputation that our friends be subject to such unfunny banter.

But is it really unfair?

I wondered this myself. I was left to ponder it for a good while, when the memory of a certain lad hit me.
Back, in the good old days, I knew a friend who had a friend. This mate of his was half-English. Peculiar lad with curly hair, blond-blue eyes, and a stern brow. He spoke in a posh-meets-cali sort of way.
I would take pleasure in sneaking up behind him, cradling a hair from his head, and then I would deftly pluck it from its root. The boy screamed every time. Those stern brows furrowed, and he would indignantly tell me off. I remember scoffing at his sensitivity. The poor boy, he is naive. I would then remember another thought; he is English.
I suppose at one point in time, these two thoughts merged. And thus my stereotype was born.
I didn't hear it from my friends– it was first-hand experience! Can you disregard such? Not easily.

I do feel sorry for the kid, now I have developed a sense of empathy. Every once in a short often, he would endure as I unabashedly tore his nogginpelt apart, hair-by-hair. Not a nice surprise. I would not be surprised, actually, if he developed an idea that Americans are crass and primitive.
But that's the way it is. That's why the English are wimpy.

A bit about Eric.

Hey, my name is Eric, and I would like to share a love story with you guys.
When I first fell in love, her name was Emma. She was the most beautiful girl I ever knew. The minute I saw her, I knew we were meant to be.
She had wavy, sandy blond hair, and green eyes with the longest lashes, and she had the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen.

Emma and I spent 3 years dating, 3 blissful young years, and I thought I couldn't want more.
But then I did realise I wanted more, and it seemed she did too.
We got married, and we had 2 boys. I loved them so much, they were so talented and beautiful, and Emma was a part of them.

Life was complete. Everything was perfect, and as it should be.
One thing I loved so much, was making love to her. I've never been very verbose, and never was good at expressing myself, so that was the one time I could show her how much she meant to me. It was true love, completely refined, and pure love.
I'm not exactly asexual...At all, so for an extremely sexual person such as myself, that was the most I could give her– my body.

But then things started downhill. It was not the same. It was painful every day, and I really don't want to get into details, because it hurts me so much, just to think of it. So I will move on to the end.

Emma left me.

She left me because she told me she was asexual, and had been for a very long time. She didn't want to admit it at first, because she liked me as a person, and didn't want to disappoint me. She dated me because her parents thought she was a lesbian, and she wanted that to stop.
She opened up to me. And my blissful marriage had not been the same for her.
I found out she hated making love to me. She didn't want our kids, but liked them after they came. Still...
Everything I had believed mutual, was one sided. My deepest expression of caring for her was deemed "disgusting" by her. She didn't say those exact words, but she made it evident.
One thing, was Emma was such an intelligent woman. She was great when it came to people– a real people person. She could make you believe anything.

Emma left me, because she was tired of living a lie. She didn't want our life, because it wasn't the life she wanted. She waited until I had become so in love with her, I felt I would simply cease to exist without my wife– my one true love.
And she got full custody of Peter and Sam.
___


Clearly, I did not cease to exist without my wife.

Yet… I still feel I would cease to exist without my true love.
I realise now– that true love was not Emma. No mere woman– nor any human– can bring one love so powerful it can be a reason for existence. No human can bring "true love".

In suffering, people come to their senses. I know I did.
Stripped of any superficial happiness– I was left desperate. Funny I would call my wife and children superficial, but it comes down to that.
I love Emerson's Self Reliance. So eloquently put, so emotionally engendering. Comforting and convincing.

And yet, the comforts I feel from it are, in fact, superficial. They leave me dissatisfied and compromising. I cannot just trust myself.
I was given a conscience. I was given a will. And I was given a mind. But they were not enough. They stumble along the lit path– often deviating from it.
My being told me Emma was all to me; I would never be content without her; I needed no sources outside myself; it told me the tragedy I experienced was unfair; I was a good man. Never immoral.

And yet many a night I got drunk during my days spent alone.
After hard, rational struggles, I came to realise my self was often– and had been– wrong.

Did my self not prove unreliable?

The emotions I experience from Self Reliance leave me saddened– Emerson was a wise man, with the wrong information.
You can be a genius, and miss some points. Or even think backwards.

If only Emerson had known a version entitled God Reliance.

When you remove obstructions from your mind– such as tendencies towards a desire for absolute self reliance– you can come to realise that we need more.
To open, humbled eyes, the order of the universe parades a creator. Furthermore, the modest mind is able to see that humans cannot survive alone.
And, this conscience, this self-drive, that Emerson believed as the end all, is in fact a pointer to something enormous.
Our God.

Down the mountain face was the cold, silent sea, ebbing and flowing so beautifully.

Take my hand, and we’ll jump into the sea,
We’ll dive deep, where the light is dim.
Don’t breathe in, just look at me,
Holding each other in the cold, silent sea.




And then I will wrap my necktie around your throat as we dance under the surface, hook you to a dolphin, and watch you disappear into the depths to a watery demise.

Canon 7d

I got it. It's beautiful. I will have to post pictures soon.

Eric has feelings. DAMNIT.

e

Why do I always fuck up conversation?

Here is an actual dialogue from my life:

*setting is with a lot of people, at a dance*

"Hey, why don't you like dancing?"
"I dance weird."
That's the best kind!"
"No... It's one of those things best done in the privacy of one's own home."
"Um..."

*awkward silence*


I always unintentionally make things seem sexual, or like I'm coming onto someone.
That or I completely act uninterested, or say something that sounds like an insult.
Or it's just bloody weird sounding.

And the worst thing? I'm not trying to be funny. It always comes out sounding serious and awkward.

I'm sure that's why my marriage failed.