Gabriel's Journal

Narcissistic, arrogant, vainglorious bastardism!

2009-08-20T08:15:42Z

Okay, so it's 3:00 am and I just spent the evening talking food, cakes, kitchens, and beds with one of my culinary school friends. On my way to bed I checked my HotOrNot rating because I posted a new photo today. Oh, did someone order me an ego boost!? That was SO SWEET of you! It's not even my birthday!

9.9
My best rating yet. I know it's only going to drop from here, but I want to breath that in for a moment before the vinegar soaks in!

Goodnight!

Completely Exhausted

2009-07-28T05:37:47Z

So exhausted that I don't even know why I'm awake and typing this.

My school schedule is 6:30am - noon every weekday. In order to pass the class you really NEED to be there at least half an hour early to get your mis-en-place (all your tools and ingredients) set up. In order to do really well you need to show up at least an hour early. I'm the "needs to do really well" type, so I wake up every morning at 4:45 in order to be to my 102 class by 5:30. It's grand.

Now my program is "cooking" which is different from baking. I love to bake, however, and stayed after school one day and schmoozed one of the Baking and Patisserie chefs into allowing me to sit in on her class even though I'm not on the attendance sheet. Her class is from 5:30pm to 10:30pm. It's the most fun class ever. Tonight we started baking breads, and did a simple milk-bread which is OhMyGodDelicious.

I still work for CareTech, however, and they dropped my hours to 20 per week, that is perfect for that five-and-a-half hour span between when I get done with Culinary Arts at noon and start Baking and Patisserie at 5:30. That leaves me six hours and fifteen minutes between when I get done with school and when I start school again. In that time I need to fit everything else. Homework, exercise (I'm still trying to run 3 miles a day), cooking at home (I made delicious rock biscuits tonight), hygeine (it's amazing how hard it can be to find time for a shower sometimes, but I'm determined not to skip it!), and sleep, which is the most often neglected item.

Somebody remind me that I have three letters I need to write soon. And now, to bed!

Girls are (getting less) scary.

2009-06-27T05:42:12Z

1996
We hid out behind the church, skipping service to walk with each other, too shy to talk or hold hands. When it was time to go home and our parents were calling us, I finally worked up the courage to grab her hand and look her in the eye. I was too scared to talk, or even stammer. Her name was Jessica.
"Aren't you going to kiss me?" She asked?
My mouth dropped open, my head swam, I couldn't move. She grabbed my neck, pulled me down more than a foot and kissed me solidly on the mouth. My first kiss ever.
"I'll see you in September! Bye bye!" She chirped and pranced off to her parents van. She left the next day to spend the summer in Texas, but we dated for exactly three years from that day. Smooth, huh?

1999
I'd planned all week what I was going to say to her tonight, but the image of her hearing me out and then slapping me across the face, or even worse, throwing up, paralyzed me. I asked her to take a walk with me, intending on finding the courage to ask her out while we were walking. I didn't. We got back to her house and finally, just before it was time to go I choked out the words.
"D-d-d-do do you th-think you might like to b-be my g-girlfriend? I m-mean, if it's okay w-with you?"
She said yes. My second girlfriend and the first time I managed to ask a girl out directly. Actually, it's even worse than the deer-in-the-headlights reaction from three years earlier, but it was a huge step for me.

2002
Tabitha: "If you don't ask her out this weekend I'm going to twist off your balls and feed them to you."
I took her pretty seriously. I'd been telling Tabitha for weeks how in love with Alexis I was, and she'd finally gotten sick of hearing about it. She was butch enough that I don't think she'd have had even the slightest trouble following through with her threat. That weekend I took Alexis on an all-day walk through the February snow. We held hands, I stopped and kissed her twice. In the end I didn't really ask her.
"I'm really happy that you are my girlfriend now." She blushed, smiled, and we made out until we were late getting home. Despite the approach, I was on the edge of puking with nervousness that entire day.

2005
For three months Rebecca and I spent every minute of the day together, from when we both arrived at work, through lunch, and every minute after work until it was late enough we'd be exhausted at work the next day. She was waiting for me to man up enough to ask her out, but not giving me the surety I needed that she wouldn't reject me. Looking back I see it, but I couldn't do it. That lasted until Carri told me that I was her new boyfriend. No progress in those three years. :(

2006
After a holiday party at a friend's house, Melissa tripped over me where I slept on the floor. She fell beside me, I threw my arm over her and we snuggled until breakfast. I gave her a ride home and she said to me "I've never had a boyfriend before." Another where I didn't make the first move, although, in this case I was pretty much blindsided.

I've gotten a little bit better since then. I still have a lot of anxiety about it.

Today
Aeryn stopped me in the hall to chat. It was her last day at culinary school. We talked for a few minutes and when Willet jumped in to talk to me, she hung around expectantly, but then excused herself and wandered off. As I was walking out of the building with Willet it struck me... she was waiting for me to make some kind of a move. I just walked away from it! "Doh, you moron!" So I turned around and went back in. When I found her she was surrounded by classmates and her instructor, I had to shoulder my way through the crowd. This is my worst scenario, with everyone around to see and hear.
"Hey, Aeryn, what time do you get done today?"
"Um, three."
"Let me take you for ice cream after."
"I'd like that." She smiled beautifully. A few of her classmates looked at me funny.

That was particularly difficult for me, because I find black women to be generally intimidating.

Tonight
As I was pushing my shopping cart through the produce section a pretty lady tried to step out of my way as I pushed my cart out of her way, right into each other's way again. We laughed, passed each other and after I was into the pasta isle it struck me. God, she was incredibly cute! Luckily she passed me again just a moment later. I summoned her with a finger.
"You are just ridiculously cute. Do you have someone who tells you so regularly?"
"Omigod, that is so sweet! I do, but thank you so much!" She blushed bright red.
"Of course you do, I couldn't be so lucky as to find a woman who looked like you AND is also single!" I winked at her and offered my hand. "Hi, I'm Gabriel."

It gets easier. It's depressing that it took me 27 years to get to this point, I tend to think that a lot of guys have that at 18, but right now I'm just happy to be this far!

The Son of God vs the Father of Monsters

2009-06-18T18:15:12Z

A few days ago I said I would post another assignment from my English class. This assignment was to compare and contrast two celebrities. I just couldn't see myself writing about sports figures or ex presidents, so here is something slightly more entertaining.

The Son of God and the Father of Monsters: An Unlikely Set of Similarities

Gabriel Stevens

EN 1613

English Composition

Michael F. Carroll

June 12, 2009

The Son of God and the Father of Monsters: An Unlikely Set of Similarities

Established western religion has had a long standing dispute with the grotesque icons of the gothic tradition, starting with Pope Innocent III and his assimilation of local Chimera deities into the gargoyle waterspouts of the European Cathedrals of the early 1200’s. Purists then were unwilling to allow pagan monsters into their religion, and the tradition stands today even in disputes so paltry as the banning of Tolkien and Rowling from many public libraries and schools. Perhaps the father of contemporary monsters, the Modern Prometheus, Frankenstein, has a lot in common with the Son of the western faith, Jesus, the Christ. First, both were created by unnatural means, and by a “father” who considered himself God. Second, both were raised from the dead with tool bits stuck in their bodies. And finally, both are misunderstood monsters. Well, one is Jewish, but that can be seen as a synonym for “misunderstood monster”. Perhaps these are not genuine similarities, but if mimicry is the highest form of flattery, the Catholic tradition is being paid the highest honor by the figurehead of those they would sweep under the rug.

Both Frankenstein and Jesus are the product of a person who thinks that he is God. One of the creators actually IS God, but that is beside the point as the other is voluntarily admitting to being a work of fiction. The actual God (Jehovah) is the consummate scientist, creating the universe in a splendid array of logic that balances in the most delicate and intricate Rupe Goldberg machine ever conceived; Victor Frankenstein, the other creator, was the most accomplished natural philosopher of his time, the period’s equivalent of a scientist. Both Jehovah and Victor create life out of inert matter, and afterward are sorry they did so. Both attempt to destroy their creation of life, one through a cataclysmic flood, and the other lacking the ability to bring the ocean to his creation, chased his creation to the ocean. The godhood ideology of both creators sets a solid base for the comparison of similarities between the creations.

It must be remembered that both Jesus and the promethean share the experience of being raised from the dead and awakening in an unsavory cave, both with bits of tools stuck in their bodies nonetheless. Before this happened, however, both had full and rich lives. Jesus was the prince of all creation and awoke to the human experience having to learn human actions such as eating, dressing, and speaking all from scratch. Frankenstein’s monster was made from bits and pieces of several deceased lives and had a broad experience of existence before awakening to the same amnesiac horror. Now Jesus awoke twice, and his second awakening is more of interest here, because it was after a fairly brutal beating which left holes with hardware in his wrists, ankles, and ribcage, and his awakening was in a dark cave where he was covered by linen. He was locked in place by several tons of rock which he had to move aside before he could go anywhere. The promethean also awoke from dead after an even more brutal dismembering and re-stitching, and with jumper posts in his neck. His first rebreath was drawn under linen while he was chained to several tons of rock in a dark, cave like laboratory. Without looking deeply it is obvious that one of these birth experiences was deeply impacted by the other, and was a precedent worth following.

The final point of comparison is that while the promethean of Victor Frankenstein was a misunderstood monster, a gentle being looked on in horror by the outside world with no attempt to get to know him, Jesus was a Jew. If these do not strike an immediate chord of similarity it need only be pointed out that throughout history the Jews have been persecuted, hated, hunted, and their destruction attempted with little in the way of valid provocation. As far as being monstrous, Victor Frankenstein had hopes that his creation would be like himself, yet his creation failed to meet his expectations, and he couldn’t bear to look upon his promethean. Jehovah as well held high hopes and expectations for his chosen people, the Jews, and when they continually failed to meet his expectations he couldn’t look at them. Granted, Jehovah had more forgiveness than Victor, but after several tries even God had enough and turned his hopes to the Gentiles instead of the Jews. In the end, both the monster of Victors creation and God’s Jews fled their home in an attempt to simply find a place they could be left in peace.

When looking at the conflict between an established fatherly religion trying to maintain its purity and the rebellious child of a gothic subculture perhaps the similarities between the son of the first and the father of the second will demonstrate that the child is merely begging for acceptance, and the mimicry shows the highest tribute of respect. The father of monsters shares the same relationship with his creator that the Son of God shares with Father God. They both made an uncomfortable, lonely, and rejected entrance into this world. And both continued to be rejected, hated, and persecuted to teach a lesson about acceptance.

Photo landslide!

2009-06-17T22:39:07Z

So in 2007 my sister Anna asked me to escort her to a photo shoot. While she was changing the photographer asked me if he could take some shots of me. I said "sure" and loved how they turned out. I had a total of one shoot in 2007. In 2008 I had a total of two shoots. Now in 2009 I had one shoot in January, and three for this week! Two of these are my first PAID shoots. I'm really excited.

Last night I had the first of my three this week. It was a TFP shoot (Trade for Prints - neither I nor the photographer gets paid, we both just get prints to use in our portfolios), and the results were really good. Between 5:30 and 8:30 we took about 400 photos of me around the UT campus. Obviously I'm not going to use them all, but there were enough good ones that it is a hard choice to pick out my favorites.

I have one shoot coming up for a greeting card company, for their 2009 Halloween line. That was originally supposed to be tonight and / or Friday night, but the photographer asked me if we could do Sunday instead.

The other is for a hair salon. They are putting together a new coffee table book, so I get to spend the morning having their stylists play with my hair. When I was little I always wondered who the people in those photos were, and if their friends ever came into the salon and saw their pictures. Now I'll be the guy in those pictures. It's not the same as having my picture on a 40 foot long Tommy Hilfiger ad in a Paris subway station, but it's a start.

The crazy thing for me is that I never once considered that I was good enough looking to be a model. When I had my first shoot I didn't consider myself a model, I considered myself a guy who got lucky and modeled once. I certainly never considered that I would be paid for it. After the shoot last night, though, two things happened that kind of made my head spin a little bit. First, as we were walking from the campus to our cars, the photographer said to me, "Let me ask you a question, why do you still do TFP shoots? Normally models of your profile are pretty booked up with people who want to pay them." I told him the truth, basically what I just typed here about my experience. The second thing was that as I walked off the campus a girl who was walking with two guys walked straight out of her conversation to say hi to me. One of the guys with her was obviously pissed, and the other obviously amused. The second also said "hi" to me when they caught up with the girl. I just flashed the three of them my friendliest smile, said "Hey there!" and kept walking and talking to the photographer. I'm pretty much overwhelmed with my sudden popularity. I never expected it, didn't go looking for it, and really am not sure how to handle it.
But...
I've GOTTA start dressing up like that more often.

P.S. - Tomorrow I've got another English paper for you, hopefully just as entertaining as the first, but a little more thought provoking. In a nonsense kind of a way.

Zombie Hunt: An Apocalypse Survival Guide

2009-06-16T20:55:07Z

In my English class my professor assigned a "Process Paper" in which each student was to write a five paragraph essay describing how to do something. The suggested topic was "How to Host a Memorable Memorial Day Picnic". Blah. I hope you will find my process more entertaining.

Zombie Hunt: An Apocalypse Survival Guide
Gabriel Stevens
ENG 1613
English Composition
Michael F. Carroll
2009-06-09

Zombie Hunt: An Apocalypse Survival Guide

Planning, preparation, and presentation are the three “P’s” to surviving and even enjoying your zombie hunt. You will want to begin your planning phase with a trip to the public library, because to survive you will need to understand how to differentiate between the dangerously infected and the innocently uninfected. While you are there, remember that to enjoy your survival you should also have a solid understanding of how to permanently dispatch the infected whose paths you are sure to cross. With your research completed you can move on to the careful selection of your appropriate zombie massacring team, which is called a “party” in zombie hunting lingo. Don’t forget to take your party on a field trip to the local armory before you get started! Finally, a successfully survived and enjoyed zombie hunt is all about the presentation, meaning even if you aren’t pretty, you have to look awesome while returning the undead to their rest. Careful thought should go into clothing and fighting styles, remember, it doesn’t have to be realistic, it just has to look cool. If you follow these guidelines you are sure to have an exciting and memorable time during the zombie apocalypse and your retaliatory zombie hunt!

Planning for a zombie invasion can be time consuming and stressful, but if you brush up on the following three points you will survive long enough to figure out the rest in the field. First you need to be able to tell the undead from the not-yet-dead. The dead decay quiet slowly, but the undead decay at a very accelerated pace; so check all newcomers for rotting flesh, swarms of flies, an oddly rigamortis-esque gait, and the ever popular guttural moaning.[1] There are many types of undead, but “zombie” is a specific type which has been resurrected specifically through an airborne or bloodborne disease. Of the zombie there are three types which are descriptively labeled for your convenience; these types are walkers, runners, and brutes. Due to the nature of the disease which causes zombieism these undead will continue to hunt for live flesh far beyond the point where decay has destroyed the muscle tissue required to hunt. The only way to dispatch a zombie is to completely destroy the brain. There is a lot more to know about zombies, but remember that half the fun is learning from the experience.

Selecting your party and equipment is not a simple task, because there are roles that must be filled, and laws which like gravity or entropy cannot be broken and take a lot of effort to bend. A zombie hunting party requires at least three members, only two of which may survive, and for every three you add, one will always perish on the hunt. Our attention spans are best suited to a total number of 2 – 5 survivors, so if you assemble a larger party it will always be reduced to this size by the end. A proper core party will have an unlikely heroic male who is not too muscular but good looking, a gorgeous anti-heroine with an “I kick ass” attitude, and her former boyfriend or lover who is more muscular and better looking than the hero.[2] Appropriate extended party members may include an embittered but highly competent female fighter who will most likely die because too many females reduce sexual tension, a rescued survivor who is a child or has some other handicap, but earns your love anyway because of their pluck and sheer willpower, and finally your choice between a brute fighter or a meek scientist type. Once your party is selected it is time to visit the armory, don’t worry, one always shows up conveniently unlocked at this point, it is one of those rules mentioned earlier. Party members who live get small, lightweight, automatic weapons while party members who die heroically get bulky heavy firepower weapons, and party members who die in cowardice get revolvers or bludgeoning weapons. You should now feel quite prepared for your zombie hunt, but there is one more thing.

All the planning and preparation in the world will lead to an uninteresting and probably unnoticed demise if you do not have a good presentation. A zombie infestation can arise anywhere, and at any time. You want your party to be slightly outdated in comparison to the setting in order to add tension, for example, if your zombies are from a middle age setting your heroes should be peasants or under-armed, low-ranking nobles, if your zombies are in a modern metropolis your party should be mostly average joes, however, if you must have a party of trained soldiers with high-tech weaponry the zombies must be in a scientific research and development facility. The fighting style of your heroes needs to be flashy, not necessarily realistic. Keep in mind that villains in masses are generically trained in the Storm-Trooper School of Targeting[3] and are easy pickings, but villains in small numbers have superior skills and abilities. The final point of style and presentation is the most important, the sacrificial party member (or members) death. They can die a tragic hero or a vile coward, but it must be a surprise, it must be intense, and it must be sad. Use your creativity and remember that in a zombie hunt your presentation can make up for failures in planning and preparation!

A zombie hunt can be one of the rewarding activities in your life, showing you steel you didn’t know you had, bringing forth a heroism you most likely rarely think about, and reordering many of your priorities in life. It is, therefore, worth the time and energy to properly plan, prepare, and present this once in a lifetime experience. Keep these guidelines in mind and you will end with some strong memories, a beautiful girlfriend with years worth of trust developed in two hours time, and some amazing stories to tell your grandchildren about “back in your day”. Go forth, zombie killer, and hunt!

[1] Should you encounter a zombie descending from the heavens, surrounded by trumpeting angels, and proclaiming to be the returning “Son of Man”, do not attack him. This zombie is a special case.

[2] Try not to be the ex-lover because he also fills the role of sacrificial party member later on.

[3] The Storm Trooper School of Targeting is copywritten Lucasfilms 1977 and the reference here is in no way intended to demean the intentionally low skill level of disposable enemies.

My Life Today

2009-06-14T04:06:12Z

So...
Texas.
Cooking School.

I love being here, it's much warmer than Michigan and I'm totally cool with that. In fact, it FEELS hotter than Taipei felt even though I know it is not. I SWEAT here and that was a notable occurrance in Taiwan, it didn't happen every day. I've gotten sunburnt already, and I'm getting tanned. Sunburn is not a new experience for me, but not peeling off to be albino white sure is.

The school is pretty intense. I'm in class 36 hours every week. I'm not the top of my class either, that spot is held by an over-achieving asian. Two of them actually. They are really only over-achievers because they are beating me, and not in the good way. I'm learning loads of material, though. More than I actually knew there was to know about cooking.
I have learned to like onions. I think my mother and grandmother will both have heart attacks when they find out, so please don't tell them.
I have learned to like mushrooms. At this point my mother will be wondering who went to the trouble of replacing me with an actor but not taking the time to find out that I mortally despise mushrooms and onions.
I have learned to eat celery without cursing. I don't know what to tell you about this one. I still make funny faces, but I'm sure that will change soon enough.
My most recent class is Nutrition 101, in which I'm learning how to write proper diet plans, and what foods contain what nutrients, what nutrients actually do what for you, what problems you develop if you consume too much or too little of certain nutrients, and how to replace traditional ingredients with healthier choices. I'm having to memorize what percentages of food has to be grown in what scenarios for the label to say "Natural", "Pure", or "Organic" and how that changes if it has the USDA stamp on it. It's crazy, really. Did you know that the pesticide used for bananas in the US and most of central America is a derivitive of a nerve gas developed during WWI?

So with so much time going into school, I haven't been concentrating on work as much as I should. I've still been putting in a lot of hours, just not doing nearly my normal quality of work. I think this is really not about the hours I put in at school, though, I think I'm just lonely. I thought I'd be able to work from home just fine, and I think I would if I had someone I liked living with me, but I freaking miss going into an office and working with the people you know... AT WORK. It's pretty serious, I'm considering finding a job here, it will probably pay less than I'm making now, but I kinda feel like I'm not really giving my old job what it's worth, and I think it's totally because of the office / home situation.

Aside from school and work, I've picked up karate again, and I'm running now. Except for the past two weeks, in which I seem to have ticked off the SpiderGod for the second time. When I was in Taiwan I got bit by some giant spider that started eating away at the flesh on my stomach. I got a cream from a pharmacist there that fixed it, but it took a long time. Now about two weeks ago I walked through a spider nest and got more than 150 little bites on my stomach and sides. It itched like CRAZY, and I swole up a bit, and I just stopped going to karate and running during that time. I'm starting up again Monday, and going to be somebody's personal trainer! Woo! As a personal trainer I really want to make my students LOVE running, and I think the only way they will do that is to see visible progress. So... my plan is to have her run with me the first day until she is exhausted, and then I'll write a running schedule based on how long she can run before she has to start walking again, running three times a week and each week increasing the number of seconds run and decreasing the number walked. Hopefully in 8 weeks I'll be able to have her running three miles without stopping to walk. Yay for goals!

Finally, I'm still working on the rope-woven sofa that I promised to post photos of. I took the two weeks of spider-bite itchy pain off from weaving as well, but I'm back on it now. I've completely unwoven it and started over once already, so it may be a while before I have photos I'm willing to show. Well there you have it folks, I'm not dead and DO still post to LJ when someone reminds me to!

Upcoming Projects

2009-05-30T07:40:45Z

My current project is a sofa. I'm building the frame out of PVC and rope, and weaving the seating itself out of rope. I will probably wish I'd gone with wicker or cane and rush, but I'm lazy. I'll post pictures of that soon.

Next up, though... I want to do a ship in a bottle, but I want it to be the Millenneum Falcon from Star Wars or Serenity from Firefly. Anybody have any ideas on how to get that done?

Recent Projects

2009-05-30T07:36:47Z

So I was asked to post some more pictures of my recent projects, and since I don't want to smother my FaceBook in photos I'll probably never look at again, I'll do that here.

To start with I built a bed frame, since I have been sleeping on an inflatable mattress on my floor since I moved in here. It's not impressive, but it is easy to convert it between a standing frame and a hanging frame, which is why it has no headboard or footboard. I don't have any pictures of it hanging, as I'm in a rented apartment and not willing to risk that.

So that is the completed "frame" without a box spring on it. It is made of galvanized steel piping which I painted copper. It was a lot cheaper than buying actual copper piping, and I think more structurally sound.

For a closer view of the pipes:

And the complete bedroom:

After the bed frame came the USB flash drive mod. This was strictly for fun. I wanted to make it look like an old Edison light bulb, so I bought a cigar to get the glass tube. This was my initial product:

That was pretty large and clunky, actually too heavy for the weight of the USB drive to support it, so I bought a triangle file and shortened the tube, I also painted the cap copper and the bottom silver:

Much better. Almost perfect, actually, but the glass looks so clean and new! Since I have no idea how to make glass look aged, I took a guess and got out a sheet of sandpaper. Let's scuff it up! Unfortunately, I didn't realize the end of the tube is thinner than the sides, so I broke it. Starting new again gave me this one, which I'm fairly happy with.

I still want to hit up a neon sign repair shop and see if I can fill that sucker with glow-juice.

My next project was a toy gun, purely for the fun of it. I bought this at the dollar store for a dollar, and my friend Alexander has had loads of fun shooting me and Willet with it when he comes to visit.

It is really about pistol sized, so I may get a holster for it and use it as a pistol prop. I think I'll replace the scope with a laser pointer and put a curly cord on it.

Next came my vest, which I'm very happy with. I started with two bolts of fabric and a pattern, $20 at Jo Ann Fabrics.

Here are the pieces all cut out:

Here are those pieces all assembled:

And here it is, front and back, with the trim. It has one pocket only, which is specifically for a pocket watch. Sewing the button holes sucked, but I think I know how for next time, and overall I think this is a piece which fits my "Steampunk" theme very nicely. It looks like it could be a costume item in a Jules Verne story.

Hope you enjoyed it all. More comign soon!

You've REALLY messed up when...

2009-05-21T04:32:39Z

They were just serpentine boxes on a GPS screen when the red streak and the green streak collided, but in my head the impact of hundreds of tons of steel was deafening. You’d have thought a grenade had gone off beside me the way I dropped and covered. Slowly and tentatively I stood back up, checking myself for injury. I stared at the little screen in horror, and leaned in to find those red and green streaks. They were not moving.

Oh God! I had caused those trains to crash.

There is one road, with one lane, and it shouldn’t take a scientist to figure out that you can’t put two trains going opposite directions on that track, but this is exactly what I’d done.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. What do I do?

Well, I should have called my boss and tell him what happened. Instead I laid down covered my head with my blanket.

A minute passed, then five. Then the lights went out. Oh God! What did I do? This must really be serious! I leapt out of bed and sent my cell phone sailing in my mad scrambling for it.

Contact List. Karl. Dial.

I’m literally gasping for air.

“Due to a national emergency, all circuits are busy. Please do not panic, and tune in to your local television news channel for further instructions.”

Oh God! This is my fault! What was on those trains!? Where is my damn cargo manifest?

Redial! Go through, damn you! GO THROUGH!

“RING”

...

I snapped awake, my cell phone in my hand, and my boss’s name on the screen. I hadn’t pressed dial yet. I’m a computer tech writer. I cannot even guess what my boss would have thought if I’d called him so late at night, panicked because I crashed a train.

gabe_kai @ 2009-03-17T01:56:00

2009-03-17T07:15:52Z

For any who don't know, I have a new girlfriend. And I'm acting more stressed and insecure than I have been since Alexis. I'm a very physical kind of person, which is second only to how emotionally close I want to be to my lover. My new girlfriend, however, is more independent and stand-offish than any girl I've ever been close to, much less dated. There has been a huge learning curve for me. It's terribly uncomfortable, but I think I need to learn to be comfortable with a person who doesn't want to share their most intimate everything with me. I may choose in the end that I want someone with the same desire for intimacy I have, but I must get over my need for it.

It frustrates me a lot that she has made me promise to tell her before things get bad, if I am not feeling satisfied in the relationship, which I have done. This seems to stress her out and she confessed to feeling that I was trying to control her by asking her to share that part of herself with me. I backed off. I have been trying to stress to her that it is okay for her to want different things than I want, if I tell her I want something I would rather she say "no" and tell me she wants something different than for her to avoid the topic. For real, I'll just have to take her answer and get over it, which I can't do if I don't know that she isn't being up front with me.

Tonight she called me and unloaded some of her frustrations on me for the first time since we actually met in real life. It felt pretty wonderful to me. It was at least some kind of sharing, and I felt like it was a show of trust, that she was going to let me see the things that bothered her. I felt happy, honored, and privileged that she was letting me back in again. I don't even know what I did to lose that spot of her being able to talk to me, but I'm excited that it might be over, and I might be someone she talks to and unloads on again.

Anyway, what really kicked my insecurities back into gear was reading a post from one of her best friends on FaceBook saying that this friend was having guy problems and read that my girlfriend's relationship wasn't working out either. I SO want to ask her about that statement on her wall. Is she posting for her friends to read the frustrations that she asked me to talk to her about directly? For real, instead of talking to me about them? But then, I also DON'T want to ask her about it, because I'm worried that asking about it would tick her off, as in "what the hell am I doing looking into her business" kind of thing. And DAMN, if one of my friends posted this, I would SO tell him to get his head on straight and find someone who wanted the same things he wanted. I would say that from the one sided story I just read, she's not at all ready for what he's ready for. I would say that her independent and isolated nature, and deep need for privacy is only going to foster a climate that is hard for open and honest communications, which I feel are vital to a relationship.

For some reason though, I WANT this one to work out in a way I haven't wanted since I was dating Alexis. It is REALLY messing me up.

Oh, and on top of that I just randomly started spitting up blood, what the hell?

Gabe's past three years according to Amazon.com

2009-03-12T23:15:24Z

I love books. I have quite a few of them, and among them are a number of college text books (for classes which I never took) and “self-help” titles. Looking back at this collection shows the path of my interests.

A while after Alexis (my ex-wife) took off, and when my relationship with Carri was coming to an end, I started collecting pick-up books. These books had suggestions and methods for getting a girls attention, and getting her to like me. I certainly had no idea how to attract a woman at this time, so studying seemed like a good place to start.

Next there came a stack of self-esteem titles, mostly geared toward getting over being shy. I wasn’t shy in general; I had already forced myself over that issue by taking choir and theatre. I was, however, terribly shy when it came to meeting women. I discovered this particular brand of shyness was called “approach anxiety”, and could really be a phobia. You women have no idea just how scary your rejection can be!

After approach anxiety the next few titles were pick-up books again, this collection more geared toward getting a girl into bed with me. These titles were immediately followed by a few books on physiology and sexual technique.

At this point I took a hiatus from the reading to go put in some serious field time. I was somewhat successful, but definitely tended to lean toward emotional relationships more than purely sexual relationships. A lot of self-reflection (and reflection with other’s help) influenced my next set of books to be psychology books. These were both geared toward figuring out what the heck I want out of myself, and toward learning how to relate to other people by being caring and listening. Topics which I think a lot of people are absolutely convinced they are much better at than they really are

One of the most painful things I had to accept is that in general, women really do respond more attentively and work much harder to please a man who is a jerk to them than they will for a man who treats her well. I’ve tested this again and again and find it to be true nearly straight across the board. I hated it and didn’t like to think that I would have to be a jackass to keep a woman interested, so add a stack of books specifically about female psychology, and basically discover that male and female authors alike agree that I’m just going to have to learn to deal with it.

Well, that brings me to right now, when I realized my last few purchases were specifically about maintaining a relationship once it has been started, and keeping long-term relationships (marriages) from growing complacent. I never really did the playboy thing, and a small piece of me wants to. I had a rough couple of days figuring out and accepting that I’m gearing up toward marriage again. It’s not a bad thing, I knew in the back of my mind I would want to get there again, I just didn’t think my subconscious mind had built a step-plan for it.

Bitter and Ugly

2009-03-11T07:29:33Z

La déception tombe
comme la cendre de crematorium
empoisonnant mon âme

I’ve never been good at making the wise choice. If there is a hedonistic choice, more than likely it is the one I will choose. Sometimes, I don’t get to choose, though, and when wisdom, restraint, and clear thinking are forced on me, I get frustrated and angry.

I hate it when I know in my head that something is smart, but I can’t make my heart accept it. I get so bitter and ugly.

Photo Shoot

2009-01-26T21:45:12Z

I haven't had a photo shoot for a long time, but jumped back into it almost on a whim. Somebody told me "Hey, you should try being a model." And I though "Yeah, I did that once or twice, and it was fun. I should try it." So I did. I had one shoot this past Saturday and have another this coming Saturday.

I've also turned down a number of porn offers. Who'd have thought?

Of course, you can just go to my gallery site to see them directly, but here are a few of the highlights.

There were several karate photos.

Hoedown! There were a lot of cowboy themed shots.

Ass-whoopin' time! There were a lot (a lot) of punk themed shots.

Aww, I do have a pretty punk head! Or maybe that's a pretty poser head?

Of course, with my steampunk obsession I wouldn't get too far without some shots in this theme.

More steampunk. I might be obsessed, but I like it.

A logical inversion

2009-01-15T19:34:40Z

I don't know how many times I've had to explain this, but this time is just for my own entertainment. As a guy it really is not hard to avoid peeing on your hands. You simply don't have to do it unless you want to. I don't want to.

I get funny looks when I walk into a public restroom, wash my hands, dry them, and then pee. Sometimes people ask me if I don't have it backwards. I do not. My dick has been in my underwear since my morning shower. I haven't used it, it's still clean. My hands, however, have been touching everything since I washed them in the morning shower.

I know that I'm not going to pee on my hands. But jeez, I don't have it backwards, don't you want to wash your hands before you touch your genitals with them???

Boots of the Ninja: Stealth + 2

2009-01-15T19:24:13Z

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.

They ring out like little gunshots, echoing off the walls and down the halls and alley ways. I could never sneak up on anybody in these boots. I picked them up in Taipei, they were handmade and have no logo, no size, no anything to suggest who made them or where. And they are by far the coolest boots I've ever owned. I paid $85 US for them and I'd gladly pay that same price again. They look like what you would expect from a Jules Verne story. Gentlemen's riding boot's with a strange dose of cowboy, biker, and spaceman thrown in, the perfect Steampunk themed footware. AND they had wooden soles so they made this amazing "clacking" sound as I walked down any hard surfaced avenue. Everyone turned to look at me. Who is that guy who walks so loudly?

Unfortunately for me, that wooden sole with it's beautiful clacking sound was quick to wear down. While it was interesting to see where they wore down (I am REALLY duck-footed) it eventually damaged my balance. BUT... all was not lost! I randomly passed a sign that said "Shoe Repair" in NYC, while wearing this very pair of boots. I walked in and asked about a new sole, and the guy quoted me $18. Seriously? $18? Can you do it right now? Whoa, seriously, only 30 minutes? Sweet!

Now my boots look brand new, and I was happy as a clam in sauce (what a weird expression, right?). It took me 15 minutes to realize that my newly soled boots were soled by ninja. I could sneak up on myself in these. The new sole is rubber, hard rubber, but super silent. I have to admit, the boots are more comfortable than before, but... well... I'd rather have that clacking sound.

Shh. Shh. Shh. Shh.

Karma for something...

2009-01-15T08:32:43Z

So for the past two weeks I've known that I would be up all night tonight. Tomorrow is the go-live when we start running helpdesk services for a hospital here in NYC, and we've got a crapload of word to do tonight. Partway through a conference call I got a list of who wanted what to eat / drink, excused myself and made a run on the deli on the corner.

Energy drinks.

LOTS of energy drinks.

I got back and they had decided that I could go to bed. My body is ready to collapse and sleep, but... I really should have waited until I was back to pop that can of caffeine. I'm sure this is karmic retribution for something I did. It's the kind of thing I would do to me if I were God instead of me.

Hmmm...
Actually, it's a very good thing for the world that I'm not God. It's also a good thing I haven't got any super powers. Sad for me, but good for everyone else.

Goodnight.
P.S. -- Kate, I bought you a present. ;)

My Rose Tinted World

2009-01-13T06:10:31Z

This is possibly the coolest pair of spectacles I've ever purchased. I bought them at a Gothic Clothier for $5.49 after taxes. God bless New York City.
Click the picture once for a bigger size, then again for ridiculously large.

Who do they think I am?

2009-01-09T06:55:02Z

So it's 11pm and I'm surrounded by eight million of my closest friends, but I'm sitting by myself in my hotel room, lonely and bored. I keep trying to go outside and wander the city, but don't make it more than three blocks before the cold changes my mind. But I'm going to go crazy inside so I put my coat back on and make up my mind on a Greek diner only a block and a half down. I've been there once before, about six weeks ago, before cutting off twelve inches of my hair. I walk in and a pretty hostess smiles at me, "Go ahead and sit wherever you like, honey."

I pulled up a stool at the counter, thinking it will be a bit more social then taking a table. I wasn't there for more than a minute before an old man walked up, looking for all the world like he had the key to the city of New York in his pocket and the title and deed for the island of Crete in a safe at home.
"Wassa madda, dey kicka you outa Detroit? Whendi you come back?"
"Haha, yeah, Detroit doesn't like me anymore, I'll be here about two..."
"You beena hee-ah two weeks ana dis is da firs time you come back!? Shame all ova you! Do you rememba Aaron? Aaron, dis isa my good frien from Detroit. I don rememba you name, but I rememba yous from Detroit, what was it, Gabriel or someting? I hava great memory for da faces."

Well, no, I don't remember Aaron at all, actually, but heck...
"Yeah, it's Gabriel, you really do have a great memory, and you even recognized me after I cut my ponytail off, good job!
Hey Aaron, good to see you again!"
"Hey man, what's up? Here's a menu, what can I get you?"
"Oh, your boss makes an excellent salad dressing, but I can't remember what it is..."

Your boss is also skilled in the art of interruption, I thought that was an Italian trait, but I guess Greek in New York City has a share on that too.
"Ah, I rememba you tella me you like-ah that lasstime! DANNY! YOU MAKA MY MIXA GREEN SALA WID DA BALSAMICA FOR MY FRIEN HERE!"

Ooh, easy on the eardrums there, pal, Danny's only on the other side of that window, we can both see him from here.
"Heh, sounds great, I'll have the mixed green salad with balsamic, thanks Aaron, and if you could would you make it without..."

"Oh dassa right, you no like-ah da onions! Aaron, you tella Danny nodda put onions on it." And with that the old man grabbed his cellphone and ran to the back.

Wow, that was almost unreal. I was here for an hour, once, six weeks ago. He remembered me, remembered where I was from and my name, remembered my order, and remembered the no onions. The feelings "special" and "creeped out" both took a run at my mind.

When the old man came back he introduced me to the rest of his staff. Aaron was from Mexico and didn't understand English very well, except that his English was as perfect as mine, no hispanic flavor to it, he could have grown up in Detroit for all I heard. There was Saki, and if you guessed that he was from Japan you'd be right. And there was Andy who was probably 60 years old and stood almost seven feet tall. There was Victor who delivered telephone orders on bicycle, he was a short skinny guy with a ponytail and a voice like the Taco Bell Chihuahua, NOT from Mexico, born and raised in Manhattan. And finally there was Jenny, the pretty hostess. They all barraged me with their life stories while asking me questions about mine. I got out a LOT of "Well I'm..." before the same person or another launched in again. Normally that would bother me a lot, but this time it was really relaxing.

There were three or four other tables in while I was there, and three or four other people at the bar. None of them got that kind of attention. I really am completely clueless as to what brought it to me. As I left they all got up to shake my hand. They wished me well with culinary school, which I told them, but didn't really do more than mention. They wished me well with modeling, which I don't remember telling them about at all, and told me that I'm going to be great at anything I try to do.

After that surreal experience I have no idea what to say. If you ever go to Moonrock Diner on 57th and 9 in midtown Manhattan try the balsamic vinegar salad dressing. The old man (George) makes it himself and its delicious. Also buy a slice of carrot cake, it's the best I've ever tasted.

I think I'll be going back there again.

A Letter I Will Never Send

2008-12-18T06:35:21Z

Dear Dad,

I've always felt like I was a failure, like I wasn't really good enough. It made me so angry that you loved me anyway, and no matter how poorly I did it didn't disappoint you. I was begging you to justify my feelings. I was furious that you would not give me a real expectation that I could fall short of. If you had then I really would be a failure and it wouldn't just be a messed up thought in my head.

You are perfect at everything you do. You consistently make good choices. When you do something wrong you apologize and try to make it right even before it's sunk in that what you did could hurt. I can't live up to that. I mess up and so many of my choices are bad ones. When I get hurt I want to lash out and hurt someone else.

When I was young I felt like you weren't there for me. You were around but I couldn't connect to you. I watch you interact with my siblings now, and you work so hard to connect with me. I can see how you've changed even during my own life. There are so many things that I want to be angry at you for, but you've fixed them all, and mostly before I was able to figure out that I was angry about them. It doesn't take away my anger, though, just my outlet for it.

I see where you came from, I see how messed up your siblings lives and families are. I hate that you were strong enough to rise above that, because you gave me every advantage you didn't have and I'm still not strong enough to rise above it. I want to blame you because I'm so messed up, but you never give me anything to be angry at. I don't know what to do with it.

~~I love you,~~
~~I hate you,~~
You're my idol,
'Gabriel

It Is Not That Simple To Just Let Go

2008-12-17T08:45:34Z

I'm really frustrated with how hard it is to write, recently. No stories, no poetry. The poetry is especially painful to me. I've always been able to express what I'm feeling, but recently I haven't been able to. This is not writers block, it's more like having lost a limb. I can still feel the ghosts of the words I want to write, but once I've written them I hate them.

I've been infatuated with a woman who's been playing games with me for about a year now. It's time for me to get over her. My shoulder angels generally show up when I write these stories. I'm not happy with this one but it's the best I have for now.

“Once you promised yourself that you'd make a dominatrix beg for you. I was so proud when you made it happen.”

The young man sat uncomfortably upright, completely motionless except for his hands floating like the eye of a hurricane across his keyboard, the storm of the piano destroying the hall around him. He seemed not to notice the hands of the woman behind him stroking his bare chest and shoulders. Her auburn ringlets whipped around both their heads as she rubbed her lips across his cheek. Her voice was like a warm breeze in that calm center of the stage.

“And when she couldn't tempt you into cheating she asked you to leave your girlfriend for her. Do you remember what you did? You pulled her to you, one finger under her chin. Do you remember the hope in her eyes and how she trembled? She dropped her drink and didn't notice. Gabriel, do you remember what it felt like? You could feel her heart in her lips when yours touched hers. Your dominatrix was so vulnerable in front of you. I melted when you rejected her.”

The succubus' fingernail dragged across the thigh of the young mans blue jeans as she pulled the fingers of her other hand gently through his loose curls. Her breath left a mist in the air between them. Sheet music and old photographs swirled around the concert hall with the thunder as the storm took on a minor key.

Another young man who could have been a twin of the first stirred from where he was reclining atop the piano. He rolled onto his side, propping his head up with his hand. There was an embarrassed grace to his motions as he brushed imaginary lint from his trousers and straightened the collar on his shirt before looking at the pair in front of the keyboard.

“It was a hurtful thing to do. She was already damaged enough.”

“Mmmm, but she still wants you.”

Phedra was spun violently away from the man at the keyboard, as if grabbed by the storm. Her green and gossamer dress clung tightly to the curves of her hips and bosom as she stepped out of the maelstrom and pulled herself sinuously onto the piano beside Dominic.

“Why should this one be able to put you through such heartache with her games? You know what she's doing, Gabriel. You can win.”

The typhoon gave way to discordant twisters and the eye of tranquility gave ground to the assault of the winds. Dom pushed his long, black locks out of his face as he slid off the piano and walked around to the young man at the keyboard. He sat gently and the young man turned his face to his friend, their steel blue eyes meeting defiantly. The newcomer reached out and tucked his friend's hair in behind his ears and they both turned their faces back to the music. The page had not been turned in a while and the song was a long way from where it was supposed to be.

Lower notes joined the tempest, strong and solid, adding a grounded anchor that lent power to the wind while taking away some of it's thunder.

“You don't want her, Gabriel.” The young man in the open button-down and trousers spoke gently to his unshirted companion. “You care to much to try and win this, it will only hurt you both.”

Phedra slipped off the piano and rain began to pelt the trio angrily as the curly red haired woman sat and began adding her seductive umbrage to the keyboard. “She's already hurt you with her games. You can at least get something out of it. She's expecting you to make a move, wondering if you are too scared to make it, but knowing that if you do she'll have you under her control. All you have to do is not fall in love with her.”

“Inside she is just a little girl. She is hurt and looking for something true and real, the same as your dominatrix was. The same as you are. You could be that for her, but you would have to be true and real, and you truly don't want her. Be true and real anyway, and step outside of these games. Fay is right, she hurt you. Don't let it get worse.”

The young man sighed and the winds died as the music drifted back towards the inky smears on the parchment before them. The score was almost impossible to read, but they all knew the song. Three sets of ringlets pulled straight clung to necks and torsos, heavy and dripping with the melancholy rain. Five hands played a well practiced song while one reached out and flipped the page.

Relax and Be Yourself

2008-12-08T04:40:20Z

After interactions with some women, I ask them what their impression of me was. I get a wide range of answers. But they almost all offer the exact same advice. Dude, just relax and be yourself, stop thinking about it and just do it. Apparently women can feel it when a man is not being himself. But here's the catch, I sometimes, even most of the time, cannot feel it when I am not being myself.

One of the women I asked said that after she met my eyes for the first time she felt immediately that I was nice, kind, open, genuine, and someone she wanted to know, and then after just a few moments of seeing me interact with other women in the same place she changed her feelings to think that I was creepy and gross.

Another of the women I asked said that I came across as pushy.

Another said that I over analyze everything and that makes me disgusting.

Another said that my eyes are too intense and I'm intimidating.

Another said I seem really uncomfortable and awkward in my body.

I can go on and on with this list, but the one recurring thing that every single one of them has said, it's the same fix for every problem, is that I need to just relax and be myself.
It makes me want to scream sometimes.

But, since I find it impossible for me to "simply" relax and be myself, I don't even know where to start, I did what I DO know how to do... think about it and analyze it.

I and many (most) guys I know who have this problem do not feel that they are not being themselves. We do not feel that we are not relaxed in general, and when we do know we are not relaxed, telling us to relax is simply not helpful. We can't "just relax" any easier than anybody else can simply stop feeling one thing and decide to feel another. There is a reason that feeling is there, and the trigger needs to change before the feeling changes.

We have trained ourselves since childhood to suppress what we really want.

Do I find women beautiful and sexually attractive? Yes. Is it okay to find women beautiful and sexually attractive? Yes. Oh wait, but when I was a child it was definitely NOT okay to look through the Victoria's Secret catalog, that was for women to look through, because it showed parts off the body that were not okay for men to look at. Yes it is okay to find women beautiful and sexually attractive, but no it is not okay to acknowledge it. So we develop problems admitting it.

Do I want to talk to, compliment, and give gifts to total strangers? Such as inviting someone I don't know to share my table in a restaurant and help themselves to my mozzarella sticks? Absolutely. Is that okay? Perfectly. Except that as a child I was told not to talk to random strangers so much. It's not okay to take food (candy) from a stranger. And of course since life is fair if it's not okay for them it's not okay for me.

When a guy is awkward, tense, nervous, fidgety, aggressive, angry, etc... those things are not things he is deciding to do consciously. And women point those things out and say "be yourself, let go of that", which makes sense, but is frustratingly hard to do. It's doubly frustrating when the advice is paired with instructions not to think about it.

I personally am afraid of looking silly and being embarrassed in front of strangers. I act as something other than my natural self because I have experiences going way back of being my natural self and having people laugh at me and reject me for it.

I can't simply relearn to be my natural self. It's more a process of unlearning to be my shielded self. I have no idea how to do that without analyzing where my shield comes from, because most of the time I don't know. I have to think about how to get rid of it, because it's not obvious. And I have to practice teaching my body how to carry itself without all the extra baggage, because it's been a LONG time since it's not carried it, and it doesn't know how. That is awkward.

If anybody knows how to "just be yourself" without thinking about it, and more importantly can explain it, I would love to hear about it

Lunch Time Intimacies

2008-12-03T17:53:59Z

When I went for breakfast today it was almost noon. I was the only person in the cafe at first, but shortly after my orange juice was delivered I watched the hostess seat an older lady on the other side of the restaurant. She apparently didn't like that seat (too cold, she said) and asked to be moved. She ended up selecting the table right next to mine. Before the hostess left a much older lady toddled up to the table and asked if there was room for two. The first lady appeared a little surprised, and the hostess looked to her for confirmation.

"Well, I guess. Sure, sit down." She said in her Jersey accent.
"Thank you." Responded the older lady, her accent unplacable to me.

I listened as they introduced themselves. The younger lady was in fact from New Jersey, and worked as an OR Manager on the New York side. The older lady was a housewife, from Jamaica, but her parents were from Great Britain and India, placing that odd accent. It was really interesting for me to watch two strangers meet like that, they quickly fell into a conversation about raising children, about how they both felt sad that their children seemed to have inherited all their bad habits, and how they both felt overwhelmed by the task of helping them. They were both grandmothers, and it dawned on me that even grandparents can feel responsible for their children, as if the childrens poor choices are the parents fault.

Before five minutes had been up these two old ladies had shared with each other the kind of personal information that I imagine people only tell their spouce or their therapist. I listened very carefully and there was no lead in to it, they both said "Hello", told a tiny bit about where they were from, and launched right into the intimate details of their lives and insecurities. Maybe it's a New York thing, but I doubt it. Anyway, it was rather eye-opening for me to see that. I certainly don't have it in me (yet) to walk up to a table with one lady at it and ask if I can join her.

Change of goals

2008-12-03T07:18:37Z

When I first started posting about my intentions to become skillful at getting women's attention my goal was to be able to get women to want to have sex with me. I'm not really the model alpha-male that women just naturaly fall for. Since I've started studying my goal has completely changed. I thought that what I needed was a new skill set. Do this, do that, act this way and I'll be able to bring home beautiful women on a regular basis. What I discovered is that there is something fundamentally broken in my personality. I don't lack a basic skill set for picking up women, I am afraid to "act like myself" to the point that I don't really know who that "self" is. I am so terrified of being rejected that I would rather avoid the risk of rejection than allow myself into even the lowest risk situations.

It is really a confusing situation for me. I had extremely supportive parents, they always told me and showed me how valuable I was, how worthy I was. I can't think of any particularly negative experience I had to give me such a powerful aversion. Yet it is there. It has become far more important for me to get over this fear and insecurity than for me to pick up women. I remember smiling at a woman recently and having her shake her head "no" violently, then walk past very quickly. It is a rare rejection, but I actually felt better for having taken the risk of smiling at her than I felt upset by the rejection. I want to feel good for trying, I know I will feel good when I do try, regardless of the outcome, but the trying is still really hard for me.

Today while wandering aroud the city I tried to make myself approach a few women to ask for directions. I couldn't make myself do it. I did make myself ask two guys for directions, and I still felt some anxiety about that, but they both responded very well, and afterward I felt foolish for having been afraid. I went into a music store and chickened out three times, finally I did greet one woman who was browsing nearby to me, she responded but I didn't push it any farther than that.

When I was a child I thought I was ugly. Maybe all kids think that, I don't know. I kept thinking that I was ugly until about two or three years ago (I'm 26). I started to actively change my look, and once in a while now I'll look into a mirror and think "Damn, I wish I looked like him." I realize that I look good, I really think I'm pretty hot now. I catch women looking at me sometimes, and once in a while when I catch her she'll blush. Tonight on the subway I sat across from possibly one of the cutest women I've ever seen in my life. Not model hot, but the kind of cute that sticks in your head. She caught me looking at her this time, and when she did I said "Hello". She said "Hello" back to me and blushed. That is as much of an opening as a man can ask for, I knew in my head that she was totally receptive to me starting a conversation, but I didn't. I blanked out.

Something really is broken there. Oh my God, how could I handle it if she's interested and then finds out there is nothing to me? This is not just a simple fear of rejection from women, this is some kind of deeply embedded fear of failure and inadequacy on a much deeper level.

Approach Anxiety

2008-12-03T05:56:21Z

Have you ever gone out on a limb, taken some risk that felt painful at the time, but had it turn out remarkably well? How often does this need to happen before you start thinking the good result is the normal result and not the fluke? For me, apparently lots of times. I struggle with the fear of being rejected when I approach somebody new. I've had very few rejections over my entire life, and I can't even remember most of them. For some reason I'm still terrified to approach strangers.

I went to Taiwan for three months recently. One of the reasons I went was to help me get over my social anxiety. I wanted to practice looking people in the eye and holding contact until they looked away, because I always look away first. I wanted to practice looking away by moving my eyes to the side or up instead of looking down, as though I were hanging my head in submission. I wanted to practice saying “hello” to people as I passed them on the streets. I wanted to say “hello” to so many people on the street that I became comfortable just stopping any person I passed to have a short chat with them. I wanted to approach a random hot woman, compliment her on her boots or her scarf and start a conversation. I wanted to approach a random hot woman, look her right in the eye, and with a steady voice tell her how attractive she is. I wanted to try these things away from home so when I had an embarrassing failure I wouldn't be likely to see that person again.

I'm sorry to say, however, that my trip overseas was in that way a failure. I did some of those things, but not nearly as often as I wanted to. I can come up with lots of excuses, but they are just excuses. I chickened out.

While I was there I did have a load of great results.

In the airport on the way to Taiwan I was sitting at our gate across from two very attractive young ladies. I locked eyes with one of them and held it until she smiled and looked down, blushing. I FORCED myself to get up and go sit next to her, which almost caused me a heart attack. We chatted for almost five minutes before I ran out of material. That was a wonderful positive experience for me. Not rejected.

I was invited to go clubbing. At the club I made the first approach of the night on the first women to enter the club, ended up dancing with them and kissing one. I asked for three numbers and got three numbers. Not rejected.

I met a few people who gave me a name but didn't seem into me enough to risk asking for a phone number. I looked one up on Facebook. I ended up going on a date with her the next day, taking her home that night, and getting into a fairly serious relationship with her. Not rejected.

While on the subway one day I saw a very pretty woman. I complimented her on her scarf and we ended up lovers. When contemplating what to say to her I could not have seen that ending. Not rejected.

At a coffee shop with my friends a pretty young woman got in line behind me. I complimented her glasses frames. We had a short conversation, and both went to our respective tables. She didn't even glance at me the rest of the night until she was leaving with her boyfriend, when she came to shake my hand and subtly slipped me her phone number. Not rejected.

Why then does my throat turn to sawdust and my tongue dry out when I think about walking up to a random pretty woman and saying “hello”?