The Inverse Proportionality Relationship between Coffee and Social Awkwardness

Interesting title, what?
Well, prepare for a mildly interesting story.

I am Catholic.
I think you all know that, but I figured I'd just say it again.
I am Catholic.
Because of my Catholic-ness, I am involved with a church that is involved with the Knights of Coloumbus, I Catholic mens' organization. And every once in a while, they sponsor a fundraising event.
Very recently, a dear friend of mine brought it to my attention that there was going to be a fundraising event going on, and encouraged me to go. The basic concept of the event was Horse-Racing. We would bet money on wood horses, whose movement would be determined by the role of the dice.
Not wanting to pass up a chance at something fun (and also not wanting to pass up a chance to hang out with said friend, who is usually off at college), I decided to give it a go.

So, the day finally came. After coming home from the morning's college visit (which was absolutely fabulous), I retrieved my ticket to the fundraiser and left.
Now, when I got there, my friend, whose father is deeply involved in the Knights of Colombus, was busily writing down raffle-ticket numbers and names on a sheet of paper.
The line was long, and she was incredibly busy, so I decided I'd walk around a bit.
There's a downside to church functions in my state; the vast majority of people who attend are at least twenty years older than I am, as the vast majority of our parish youth won't touch anything involving the church with a 39.5 foot pole.
So, yeah, I talked to some of the people I knew for a while, and it was cool, but there's only so much you can talk about with people who are twenty years older than you are.
Things became awkward. Very quickly.
So, I found myself standing alone near the coffee table.

Let's visualize, for a brief moment. There's a large social gathering, everyone's drinking an alchoholic beverage, talking to someone, laughing, having a good time. And then, in the corner, near the coffee table, there's a kid who's twenty years younger than everyone else, just standing there, not talking to anyone.

If that's not awkward, I don't know what is.

I don't particularly like awkwardness, so I frantically searched my brain for a way to appear less awkward. I wasn't sure what to do until I realized I was near the coffee table. Now, for those of you who don't know me, there is nothing I hate more than coffee. Except maybe oatmeal. Or bigotry. Or senseless violence.

Boy, that escalated quickly....

Anyway, back to the story. I loathe coffee. But I suddenly realized.... Someone who is twenty years younger than everyone else in the room standing in the corner twiddling his thumbs is extremely awkward, but someone who is twenty years younger than everyone else in the room standing in the corner sipping on a beverage is substantially less awkward.
I didn't like that idea. But it didn't look like my friend would be done with the raffle tickets anytime soon. So I decided to give it a go.
I grabbed a white styrofoam cup and poured in the steaming puce-colored liquid.
I looked at it hesitantly. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps I would like it. Perhaps I should give coffee a second chance.
I took a sip. The bitter taste flooded my mouth as I realized that, no, I was definitely right with my initial appraisal of coffee. The stuff was disgusting.
But still. It was better than standing around awkwardly.
I took another sip.

But wait. What do people do with their coffee when it's too bitter? The realization hit me: I needed SUGAR. And cream. But I needed SUGAR.
I grabbed a packet and dumped it in.
The result was a deceptively sweet mixture with a bitter aftertaste.
Meh. It was still better than looking awkward.

Anyway, soon enough, my friend got finished with her work, and we enjoyed the rest of the night. I gambled away $24 and won $8, so I didn't really make a profit, but hey. It was for a good cause.
Besides, there was only a 16.66666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666.....% chance of actually winning something. Yes. I calculated. With long division. In my head, thank you very much.

But anyway.

I am currently half-asleep. I wanted to write this, and could have probably done a much better job if I wrote it while I was not half-asleep, but hey. Whatev.

School's almost over. I've almost graduated with an Associate's in Science. I'm experiencing the worst case of senioritis. And I'm not even a senior.

Oh well.

Goodnight everyone.

T-WAC

On giving a girl flowers

It has come to my attention that a widespread romantic custom for a man is to give flowers to the woman of his affection.
I will admit, it is a beautiful gesture, as flowers are [expletive] expensive these days.

It is also, however, a completely fatalistic gesture.

Ask me why.

Well, let's look at this scenario:
A guy shyly walks up to a girl's front door and rings the doorbell.
When she opens, he presents her with flowers, and, after elaborating on his feelings for her, he asks her out and she, brimming with joy, agrees.
Now let's look at the message that is actually being sent here:

"Hey, I wanted to tell you that I really love you, and, as a symbol of our love, I present you with this bouquet of flowers. Now, you'll take the bouquet in and put it in a vase of some kind, and then fill said vase with water, and you'll take care of the flowers, and you'll marvel at their beauty each day. Every morning, you'll fill the vase with new water to make sure the flowers will continue to flourish and bloom, and every night before you go to bed, you'll see them on your windowsill, and you'll smile. Unfortunately, however, the bouquet of flowers will inevitably begin to die, and despite your best attempts to nourish it, take care of it, and make it continue to flourish, it will slowly lose its color, bend, wither and finally decay. Just like our love."

You see my point now.
An alternative to this is plastic flowers.
But again, that bears another fatalistic message:

"Hey, I wanted to tell you that I really love you, and, as a symbol of our love, I present you with this plastic rose. This is nearly identical to a real one, and it will never die. You won't need to nourish it or keep it alive; you can set it in a vase on your dresser and see it whenever you please. You'll smile each time you'll see it, and your heart will warm a little, as you try to convince yourself that it really is beautiful, even though, deep within your heart, you know that it would only be truly beautiful if it were real. Just like our love."

I don't know how I think things like this up either.

I intend to give a girl a seed.
She'll probably ask why, and I'll elaborate that this is where we begin. We start with something simple and small, and if we decide it's worth working for, we'll nourish it together. If it goes farther, it'll grow into something large and something beautiful, and, eventually, will bear fruit. Winters may come, and the plant may lose its leaves, but, if we continue to nourish it, care for it, and treasure it, even when it doesn't look beautiful anymore, it will grow back with even greater beauty, and will bear even greater fruit.

Not something I'd give to someone I was just asking out, as the message goes a lot deeper than is appropriate for two people who don't know each other as well.

I think it's what I'll give my wife on her wedding day. If I am getting married, at least. Maybe I'll start growing a tree and I'll cut off one of its branches and weave it into a ring for her. Maybe that would mean more than just rocks and stones in metal. I wonder if there's a way to petrify wood, though, so it would never decay, and I'd be able to make her a permanent wedding ring....

I dunno. Food for thought, I guess.

G'night all.

T-WAC

New Hair!

So, because I obviously don't have a 7-page draft due on next Tuesday and am very much secure in my topic of research, I've decided to post on my blog.

He said, a rancidly dry tone in his voice.

I've decided to post about something new I did this year.

But first, remember, back on New Years in 2013, when I talked about how 2013 was gonna be a year of change, excitement?
Yeeeeaaaaaahhhhhh, no.
In any way, shape, or form.
2013 had a lot of crazy crap that went on, which ended with my parents both deciding to live in separate houses for an indefinite (and probably permanent) period of time.
Hooray.
But not really.
It totally sucks beyond belief.

But I digress.
2013 was a year of living with sucky circumstances. It was tough.
But 2014, on the other hand....
That's turning out quite well as the year of change. So what if it's a year late, right? I'm liking this.
One of the things to change is my hair.

That's right.
My hair.
Both head and beard.
Now, for those of you who know me well, or have known me for a long time, this comes as quite a shock. Since I was 11 or 12, I have grown my hair long. I have also had a long beard.
Well, as of now, the beard is trimmed and the hair is.... Well, very trimmed.
Here's a pic.

I look a lot different now. And y'know what? I like it.
In spite of the fact that I have the hair equivalent of phantom limb pain, and will impulsively reach up and feel the back of my head where my ponytail used to be and wonder why it's not there, and every night will reach up to take the elastic out of my hair and suddenly realize with shock and awe thinking "oh my gosh, where is it? It's... it's not there... it's gone."
This has been happening for a week now.
Moral of this story: don't have the same hair for eight years. It really messes with your mind.

In other news: I decided to come out of my shell and sing in front of people.
As a songwriter and singer, I need to be able to come out and show people my art.
And I was given that opportunity a few weeks ago.
I was going to audition with my college's music club for the talent show, and it was half an hour before and I thought, "man, I want to conquer my fear of singing in front of people, and here I am, I have an opportunity to do it. I'm going to regret not doing it, so what the heck? What's the worst they can do, tell me I suck?"
While I was waiting for my turn to audition, I briefly went over the chords to "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" by Tears For Fears, then, when I was called in, I sang it and accompanied myself on the piano. I shook violently the entire time, and I mean shook, I was barely able to remain standing on my feet, but I made it through.
A week later, I got a call, saying I'd made it in.
I'm psyched. I've arranged an entire piano accompaniment to it.
Well, took little bits of piano accompaniment that I learned from sheet music, and then put my own twist on it. I like it so far. It's very different, but I like it.

Anyway, remember that paper I don't have due on Tuesday?
Yeah, and that research I'm super secure in?
Yeah, gotta get back to that.
I'm liking the changes this year has brought, though, and there'll definitely be more on those.

Good to be back,
See you soon.

T-WAC
The upgraded, short-haired, goateed version. LOL

A Merry Christmas Story.....

So, the funniest thing happened the other day. As I was wondering the weary roads of life, I happened to stumble upon a mild case of chicken pox. Now, it had gone through my family, and since I was vaccinated when I was very young, I thought I was safe, but APPARENTLY NOT. I had to miss Christmas Eve mass because of it, which is by far the most special part of the Christmas season for me. But anyway, it was the night before Christmas Eve, and I had finally figured out what I wanted to get my dad. I was still contagious, and I didn't like the idea of going out in the state I was in, but then, it was either go out now or don't go out at all. I chose the former of these, and stayed as far away from everyone as possible.

Well, unfortunately, the store at the nearest mall didn't have what I was looking for. The sales associate told me that the nearest place that could have it was at another mall half an hour's drive away. It was already 8:30 at night. But, being the stubborn lunatic I am, I walked to my car without much thought on the matter, and drove half an hour to the other mall.

Now, when some people get chicken pox, they get open sores. I had one, but it was concealed by my hair. As I mentioned previously, my case was mild, and the pocks that I did get looked like aggravated pimples (in fact, I thought they were pimples caused by my ingestion of nearly half a 3.5 lb bag of Sour Patch Kids the night prior -- don't ask).

Anyway, back to my story. The mall was alive with the bustle of the season. Parents were out shopping, children in tow (why would you bring your kid Christmas shopping? Why?), and I saw several young couples walking hand in hand together (why would you go on a mall date the day before Christmas eve? Why?).

Suddenly, someone near one of the booths in the center of the mall made eye contact with me. "Hello there!" he said with a blatantly assertive voice as he walked towards me. Before I knew it, he was standing a mere six inches from my face. Typical salesman type. I didn't have time to respond before he began talking again, rather quickly. His accent made him somewhat difficult to understand, but what he said went a little something like this: "Hello there, my friend, are you tired of your problem? Do you have thirty dollars, yes or no?"
"No, what-"
"How old are you?"
"19."

"I can help you get rid of your problem, you should be able to walk confident and proud!"

He punctuated the last two adjectives by thrusting out his chest and standing up as tall as he could. An overly obvious and rather cheesy way to get one's point across, but hey, whatever works, right?

Anyway, I still didn't know what he meant. I wasn't aware of any problem that he may have been talking about.

Another thing that confused me was that I was walking in a confident manner before. I was having a good day, and even I had noticed that my posture was effortlessly good, which lifted my spirits even more. He must be stereotyping me, I decided.
"I help you get rid of this, all of it, within five days! Only five days!" the salesman continued excitedly. Suddenly, it hit me. He was looking at my pocks. He thought they were acne. He thought I was a gullible teenager with acne problems and self-esteem issues, and was trying to manipulate those traits to his advantage. I was laughing out loud in my head. But I could laugh later, now I had a present to buy, and let me tell you, it wasn't an overpriced bottle of acne cream. But he was still talking.

"Do you have thirty dollars, yes or no?"
"No."

"Do you have ten dollars, yes or no?"

"No."
"Do you have ten dollars?"

"No."
"Wait a minute, I can make it all go away, in five days!"

He turned back to his booth and grabbed a bottle of the acne cream and began rubbing some on a cotton ball. Oh great. He was going to try to put some on my face. The thought of an overly pushy paid-on-commission stranger touching my face was in absolutely no way appealing to me. Being brought up with very strict rules on manners, I was reluctant to break off this encounter by just walking away, but it was looking like there was no other option at this point. He wanted to make a sale.
Still, I did try.
"Um, it's a skin condition-"

"Five days, just wait a minute, five days!"

Nope. Wasn't going to work. At this point, I walked away, throwing a brief "Have a nice day" his way, to which he responded "You too, my friend."

At least he had sense enough to know when he'd lost a customer.

I didn't find what I was looking for that night, unfortunately. But the encounter I had with the salesman has not yet ceased to amuse me. He had been standing six inches from my face, and chances are, he would soon be waking up with a strange case of acne, and will realize within the next few days that the pox have claimed him too, for a time.

So I guess the moral of this story just might be "don't judge by appearance, you moron."
You never know.

That unconfident acne-ridden teenager in the corner?

He could just have an infectious case of chicken pocks.

And yeah, having your shoulders back and head up just screams low self-esteem.

T-WAC

In regards to the ending of the forever alone challenge....

First off, I want to make one thing clear: I am NOT working on my Engineering project right now. I am blogging. And despite the fact that I have google drive up in a separate window, I barely know what I'm talking about (the recent NIF breakthrough with nuclear fusion, for those of you who want to know), and the presentation is due on FRIDAY, here I am, blogging away like the not-ADD, slightly impulsive 19-year-old that I am (there's another thing I forgot to blog about: my birthday).

Anyway, the forever alone challenge ended on November 4th. I have to say, the past year has been fantastic. It was nice to make it away from the dating world a little. It was nice to take some time to develop myself as an individual, as well as focus on studies. But it was also nice to know that I don't need a girlfriend to be happy, despite what the world has been telling me (you know something's wrong with your culture when a woman in your sociology course looks you in the eye during a conversation about whether or not sex is a need and says loudly "YOU NEED IT, <INSERT REAL NAME HERE>!"

Dead serious. Direct quote.

Anyway, back on topic. That's something that's gonna end up going on my BFUO blog (which I haven't touched in months, maybe even over a year).

I would highly reccomend the forever alone challenge to anyone. It's really a great thing, a great time to help you refocus, find out what you want, set your standards, and realize that, dude, you don't need sex or romantic love to be happy. Sure, I missed the romantic part sometimes (and as for sex, I'm a virgin and remaining that way 'till I get married, if that happens), but it wasn't the end of the world. It was actually pretty cool. If anything, I feel like, by abstaining, I'm gonna have a greater appreciation for the little romantic things when I meet someone who's really worth it.
Honestly, for all of you people out there who are looking for love, my advice would be, save as much of yourself as possible for your soulmate/future spouse/whatever you wanna call "The One." Seriously, everyone else will come and go out of your life, and they don't deserve what you have. There's really only one person that deserves that.
Personally, I want to save all my kisses for my wife. That is a really hard thing to ask of myself (as kissing is by far the most ethereally wonderful thing I have experienced), but, hey. It'll make her feel like a helluva special person, right?

Anyway, I'm not really looking for anyone at the moment, and I don't really feel like changing that. I'm pretty much cool with whatever at this point.
My classes are taking up enough of my life as it is.
I mean, take a look:
Differential Equations
Linear Algebra
Sociology: The Family
Introduction to Materials Science
Statics
....enough said.

So. I hope to be back on soon. And I know that I have been saying that for the past seven or eight posts, but this time, I really mean it, I swear. Seriously. This will happen.
However, if I follow along the curve I have been following, I'll be seeing you all in March of 2014.

Happy... oh, I don't know... Happy-ing!

T-WAC