Talking With Strangers (Part 1 - Parenting)

...This may sound idealistic, and the sort of thing a non-parent might say, but:

1. I feel that being a parent is just about the most important job anyone can have, as it offers so many challenging opportunities for 'growth' and learning to the parent, and
   
2. I also feel that a fundamental reason for being is to procreate.
   

Bullseye! Charles

I was just reading this blog entry belonging to Charles Burke from sunny Japan (Charles writes with much more wisdom than me about all the things that fascinate me):

"The wise person has mastered many viewpoints and can select the most appropriate and beneficial ones for each situation. Wisdom is the ability to think from many viewpoints, rather than just one, and to move fluidly from one to the next, without resistance."

See what I mean.

Bullseye!

A great sex life is not rocket science. Neither is...

a great SEO life!

Both usually boil down to a few steps.

SEO (meaning search engine optimization)

1. Copywriting
2. Links and
3. Networking

SEX (meaning life engine optimization?)

1. 'Copywriting' (think marketing, or even copywriting (words) if you do the internet dating thing)
2. Listening
3. Responding

Heck, why stop at SEO or SEX when it comes to formulas to success?

Here's how to succeed in life:

1. Know where you are
2. Know where you want to go
3. Go there

(Apologies to David Taylor with that last list!)

Hey Mister! Would this work for you?

Well?

"Silky smooth legs and shapely ass await
local hero. Seduce me with your wit, and
it's all yours Georgous! "

Prince Charming theory #2

Two words: Clarke Kent.

Prince Charming Theory #1

One way to put my (now legendary?) Prince Charming Theory is via the following Q&A:

Question: How many Prince Charmings does it take to change a light bulb?

Answer: As many as it takes for her to see that the light bulb has been changed (and so the light can now be turned on) !

(Some people wake up in a horny morning mood; some wake up already wearied with the day; whilst I wake up with further ways to explain my Prince Charming Theory! Ta-da!)

Dilemma

The only time I am able to make blog entries, whether witty and interesting or not, is when I am not that busy living a witty and interesting life.

Care to comment on the lack of interesting posts recently?

Have I really been living it up, or have I just been distracted by one of life's usual distractions?

Tune in tomorrow, to find out...

Bad exchange!

I'm not that happy with my thoughts on exchanges!

It doesn't really explain the mojo (or bad mojo) that happens when communication communicates (or not).

Just let me add that, sometimes, there can be a lot of value gained from the vindication you get by communicating with a like-mind.

Conversely...

(Anyway, it's far too hot!)

The Art of the Faux Pas

This might make a good chapter in me book, methinks.

Because, let's face it, I'm not the only cursed one!

EXCHANGES

Exchanges?

In the last three years, I've been having these exchanges, usually by email or text message (and sometimes via Instant messenger), and usually with a woman.

The exchange often discusses in some detail feelings, love and all that razzmatazz jazz, but sometimes it's just about communication - what she means, what I mean.

It's the same pattern.

A 'problem' occurs.

I express myself, clearly and intelligently.

They express themselves similarly.

Problem over, and through simply 'being myself', the relationship strengthens a little, and the woman's opinion of me, her feelings for me, seems to steadily improve.

I wish I knew what I was doing exactly, because I would bottle 'it', wrap it in fine packaging and have a special sale of the 'product' at the usual times of crises: y'know valentine's day, wedding anniversaries, birthdays and -- cos 'it' would even resolve 'extreme' situations -- moments when forgiveness is seriously required for Messrs Stray Away.

The trouble is this communication process is a complete mystery to me.

Yes I am an emotionally intelligent lil' BJ boy. I empathise well. I'm sensitive etc. And my verbal and written communication skills are excellent (even if I say so myself!).

So, I express myself as clearly as possible and it 'works'.

And I feel a little smug, that I've been blessed with this 'skill'. A skill I rarely, if ever, take advantage of.

So where's the rub, then?

Well, if you hadn't already guessed, I can quite often repeat the process -- express myself as clearly and non-aggressively as possible -- and it badly backfires on me.

One minute I speak and 'she' listens appreciatively, and the next I get a verbal slap in the face for my crassness.

I feel I share Christopher's inability to tell the difference between a frown, a scowl, and a smirk -- he of Curious Incident fame -- where my inability seems to relate to written and verbal communication.

How can one well thought out 'explanation' be fully understood, and fully appreciated whilst another one is received like the proverbial red rag to the bull.

Ouch.

Over.

Finito.

Never to be seen again.

I have literally got my spade at the ready to dig myself out of the hole I am in, but the hole is not only getting bigger, it's almost cavernous in size when I've finished.

How'd that happen, everybody?

What's the difference?

I have some example emails I could show you.

I better not, though.

Instead, here's a message to anyone I've got 'right' then got 'wrong' five minutes later.

I'm not as good a 'good guy' as you think I am, but I'm also not the 'bad boy' either.

I'm just one of billions trying my hardest to rub along with whoever passes in my direction, before the eye has blinked its solitary blink.

Blinkin' hell, eh! Blinkin 'ell!

Seriously, if someone could tell me the difference between intelligent communication on the one hand, and potentially offensive, patronising and undermining communication on the other, I would be eternally grateful.

Perhaps we should all stop being quite so afraid of upsetting people.

If it's that easy to irk someone and for them to stay irked, then maybe they were never friends in the first place.

(Hey, where'd that wisdom come from then!?)

Now if only I'd concentrated a little on non-verbal communication skills when I was really a lil boy blue...

I didn't dream of you last night!

I wish I had, though.

Instead, I was some kind of daring fugitive, on the run for doing something wrong! (Probably complained too 'loudly' about the incompetent and corrupt BLiar government. Do you reckon he ever read George Orwell's Animal Farm?)

Anyway, the boys in blue were after me. Some kind of uniform, for sure.

And they easily caught me. Meant business, I seem to remember. I was to be summarily executed. Each and every one of the 'soldiers' was to take turns in emptying a few rounds into me.

They were pretty angry with me.

And I just accepted my fate. Walked with the first 'soldier' to my place of execution -- the man that was going to actually kill me -- and even agree remember agreeing to keep my hands in the air so that he would know if I was dead or not!

(How accommodating of me.)

Gun goes against the top of my head.

Bullet is fired.

And then another bullet.

Strange feeling, having a bullet pass through your head.

Don't remember being frightened or cross or anything. I don't think I was looking forward to the pain of the bullet passing through my not-so-thick skull, but that's all that came to mind (if you'll pardon the expression).

So two bullets pass through my head.

And then I seem to be floating, floating past my very own body a little while later.

I see only two bullet holes in my head. The other men had obviously not wanted to waste their bullets on my already dead body.

That was considerate of them.

And then...

As I woke from yet another marvellous BJ dream, I could hear the pigeons doing a merry dance on my rooftop. So loud, and repetitive was their banging around that I seriously thought someone was banging, albeit halfheartedly, on my front door.

I then had a short day-dream about putting spikes on my roof, and imagined the argument I'd be having with the pigeon owner when the first of 'em got spiked.

(Why can't I have sexy dreams like everyone else?)

(Why can't I dream of you?)

Most worry is a lie! (Apparently)

I can't help but worry about whether that is true.

Life is like a pack of playing cards...

Because...

"You got to know when to hold em, know when to fold em, Know when to walk away and know when to run."

The same goes for internet marketing.

As for boxes of chocolates or gambling, what've they gotten to do with the price of eggs? Sheesh!

Break Down! [AFTER]

[This is how we do it!...]

AFTER VERSION...

Text Message 1, sent Sunday afternoon.

"Cor! Nowt happens here except I have to tax me car then I discover the car's not got MOT, then the MOT costs 250 big ones, then me car breaks down (wheel nut not tightened properly after MOT), then I find I don't have breakdown cover THEN I find I don't have [car] insurance. I need a beer. Hope u ok x"

Text Message 2, sent Sunday evening.

"... And then it thundered and lightninged and my train back from Leeds was cancelled and I shoulda been in bed catching zzzs [by now] but still just leaving [Huddersfield] on t'bus. Buenas nochas x"

Break Down! [BEFORE]

[The following entry is before I got hold of my original, much more succinct, text message. It's wordy and not that funny, and -- quite frankly -- I wouldn't bother reading it if I were you! Instead read the [AFTER] version. And, as you do, ask yourself is text messaging really killing the skill of writing?]

BEFORE VERSION...

Recently, a series of travel-related events occurred to me. Now depending on whether you are a half-full or half-empty typa-guy you will think I am a) "lucky, lucky, lucky" or b) "if it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all"

Ok. Here goes. It all started when I went to renew my car's tax disc...

a) Wednesday, 14th June: I discover that my car's MOT has run out a week ago! (No the first time this has happened, alas. *The* first time, my car was 'not roadworthy' for a few months!)

b) Monday, 26th June: I leave my car with [Company Name Removed], after listening to my brother's recommendation. "It's going to cost you about £150," says the MOT Man, shaking his head and making that strange inhale of breath sound that only Mr Fixits like plumbers make.

c) Tuesday, 27th June: Leave the car to be fixed

d) Wednesday, 28th June: Collect the car the next day. The cost has gone up. £250. "There were complications."

e) 30 minutes later: Hear a worryingly loud noise in the back of the car - something's loose. (The casing that covers the 'wheel nut' that connects the wheel to the drive shaft. [Apologies if this description is technically incorrect. It is my understanding. Summat was loose, and it made a racket! End of.]

f) 5 more minutes: Casing returned, and no more noise is heard.

g) Sunday, 2nd July, 12.30PM: On my way to Saltaire on a glorioiusly hot afternoon. By car, obviously. Half-way there when I hear another noise in the front of the car. I ignore it for a few miles, but can feel it in the steering wheel, and can sense something's wrong!

h) 12:35PM: Ring my brother saying "HELP!"

j) breakdown not covered

i) 12:45PM: Decide Saltaire will have to wait and try and return home. The rattle is very loud now, and it seems like the car can no longer move!

j) [Boredom set in. This piece is not working. As is the case with most things in life, the AFTER looks much better than the BEFORE!]

3) Sunday, 2nd July
c) A few days later, I get my car tax disc using the new MOT and my proof of insurance


I actually sent a text message to a friend all about my travails. But -- yeah you guessed it! -- it too broke down (went invisible on me, got deleted).

So this text message follow-up is the only evidence I have of a strange travel day last Sunday:

"... And then it thundered and lightninged and my train back from leeds was cancelled and I shoulda been in bed catching zzzs [by now] but still just leaving [Huddersfield] on t'bus. Buenas nochas x"