I was feeling all inspired to write something today, but then a friend of mine sent me this Wikipedia article. It's way more interesting than my normal rambling so I decided to post it instead.
Wikipedia Entry
Kancho
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Kancho (?????, kancho?) is a game or trick often played in Japan by young school-aged children; it is performed by clasping the hands together so the index fingers are pointing out and attempting to insert them into someone's anal region when the victim is not looking. It is similar in spirit to the wedgie or a goosing in North America.
It has been popular in Japan for years but has recently become popularised in other countries by the anime Naruto, where it has been called the Thousand Years of Pain/Death technique. It is also known in South Korea as "ttong chim", "ddong chim" or "dong chim" (?? in Hangul) and in the Philippines as "tumbong", the Filipino word for rectum. In Japan, there is a gameshow where a celebrity routinely kanchos random people.
In certain countries, the act of kancho may be illegal and considered sexual harassment, or even sexual assault, although children are given more leniency. In the USA a child at school performing the act would probably receive counselling, detention, suspension, and/or a parent-teacher conference; for an adult the act would likely result in an arrest. While the practice is known in South Korea, there have been cases where adults performing it have been arrested. However, in Japan it is considered a childish prank rather than a criminal act.
The word is sometimes used by English speakers in Japan who have some knowledge of Japanese language in a prank as a light form of hazing aimed at people who have recently come to Japan. When asking for the bill at a resturant in Japan (one way of asking for the bill in Japanese is "kanjo kudasai" or "Please give me the bill") the victim is told to say, "Kancho kudasai!" or "Please give me a kancho!" which usually results in hysterical laughter by the waiter.
Kancho is also the name of a brand of chocolate-filled biscuits produced by Lotte Confectionaries.
[edit]
Etymology
The word is a slang adoption of the Japanese word for an enema (??, kancho?). In accordance with widespread practice, the word is generally written in katakana when used in its slang sense, and in kanji when used of enemas in the medical sense.
To me, the most wonderful aspect of this is the game show angle. How awesome must a culture be to have a game show that features two handed anal attacks? It's mind boggling. Between this and the video game Boong-Ga Boong-Ga (here and here) it's looking like digital-rectal probing makes up a large portion of the entertainment interests in Japan and Korea.
Pretty soon, I'm going to have the option of creating my own Hyung (i.e. Kata/Form/Pattern) for Tae Kwon Do. I wonder if there's a way to integrate the devestating "Thousand Years of Pain technique" into that form. Nah, it would never work of course. It would be much better to have the element of surprise.
I'll have to use it during a sparring match instead.
I have to wonder what it would take to get these sorts of gameshows in the U.S. Maybe something with a similar format to Candid Camera or Punk'd. There could even be crossover potential. For example, a well timed kancho would be a huge rating booster during the season finale of American Idol.
I urge anybody who reads this to write to their local television stations begging for a kancho related television show. Since I'm pretty sure I only have one reader, I'll need that reader to write hundreds of times using different colored pens and different names on each letter. It would probably help to drive around and mail them from different zip codes too.
Thank you for your support.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Friday, March 24, 2006
Stinky soap and hippies
I recently had to stop wearing deodorant on a regular basis. My current brand seems to have the unfortunate side effect of making my armpits itch mercilessly. Unfortunately, I bought it at a warehouse club, so I have two more rather large sticks of it under the sink, and, as of yet, I've been unable to mount the courage necessary to buy a different brand until I've used up the stockpile that I currently possess.
I'm hoping that the stuff will evaporate on its own, thereby relieving me of the momentous decision of wasting a perfectly useful stick of deodorant.
But I digress. My deodorant woes let me to make a few important discoveries.
For one, I have a terrible BO problem. I'd never noticed it before, thanks to the fine folks at Mennen, but I really do. A couple of days after I stopped wearing deodorant, I woke up one morning to a horrible stench. It was a Saturday, and both of my children had already joined Shnoogs and me in bed. They enjoy watching cartoons in our room in the mornings. "Good morning Daddy!" Munchee said as he came over to give me a hug. As he drew near though, he crinkled up his little nose and said "You smell bad. Why do you smell so bad?"
There was no denying it though, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why I smelled. I am usually the type who takes two showers every day. I like to take on in the morning before work, and then I take one after working out at night.
I decided not to dwell on it though. I simply took a shower.
Unfortunately, this was the beginning of a pattern. Every day, I would wake up funky. I was beginning to think that something was seriously wrong with me. I was showering regularly and everything, but to no avail.
Then, one day, I figured it out.
One night, I ran out of soap in the shower, so I opted to use the kids' bath soap instead. I pilfered Shnoogs' mesh ball shower thingy and proceeded to give myself a good scrubbing.
The next morning, when I woke up, I smelled great. It was one of the happiest mornings of my life. I went downstairs and offered an armpit to Shnoogs. "Smell this" I said. She refused of course, but I was persistent. Eventually, even she agreed that I didn't small "that bad".
Being a methodically scientific person that I am, I had to verify the results of course. I kept using the baby soap, and much to my delight, I kept smelling great.
This got me to thinking; maybe the hippies have been right all along. It stands to reason that the baby soap is less powerful that the bar soap I had been using, and yet I smelled better. Perhaps, if I stopped using soap entirely, I would eventually smell so great that I would be able to hypnotize people like Dracula. It made sense in a way. Most people practically never wash their backs, but when was the last time you noticed somebody's back odor?
So for the week or so, I didn't use any soap at all in the shower (with the exception of one or two body parts which I won't mention).
Turns out, the hippies were wrong. I definitely had started to develop an odor by the end of the week. I mentioned this to a few of my hippier friends, and they informed me that, while cutting back on my personal hygiene was a great thing, and that it would bring me closer to nature, the brainwashed society we live in today wasn't ready to accept atypical bathing habits.
Also, for good measure, I should douse myself regularly in patchouli oil so that nobody could tell how natural I smelled.
In retrospect, none of this should have come as a surprise. I remember various hippies that my parents knew when I was growing up, and while none of them smelled good enough to hypnotize anybody, there certainly was a strong patchouli odor most of the time.
Still, I'm fascinated by the idea that washing regularly with bar soap (which in my case, was also 1/4 moisturizer) can actually make a person smell worse. Maybe your body compensates for the lack of dirt by secreting more oil?
I guess it makes sense from an evolutionary standpoint. When God created Adam and Eve, there is no mention in the Bible of him also hooking them up them with a lifetime supply of Lever 2000. For thousands of years, people pretty much only got clean when it either rained or they found a river to splash around in. (I wonder if ancient people used a lot of patchouli oil.)
Of course, other than the French, nobody would dream of doing that today, but I guess there is such a thing as too much washing. All things in moderation, right?
I'm hoping that the stuff will evaporate on its own, thereby relieving me of the momentous decision of wasting a perfectly useful stick of deodorant.
But I digress. My deodorant woes let me to make a few important discoveries.
For one, I have a terrible BO problem. I'd never noticed it before, thanks to the fine folks at Mennen, but I really do. A couple of days after I stopped wearing deodorant, I woke up one morning to a horrible stench. It was a Saturday, and both of my children had already joined Shnoogs and me in bed. They enjoy watching cartoons in our room in the mornings. "Good morning Daddy!" Munchee said as he came over to give me a hug. As he drew near though, he crinkled up his little nose and said "You smell bad. Why do you smell so bad?"
There was no denying it though, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why I smelled. I am usually the type who takes two showers every day. I like to take on in the morning before work, and then I take one after working out at night.
I decided not to dwell on it though. I simply took a shower.
Unfortunately, this was the beginning of a pattern. Every day, I would wake up funky. I was beginning to think that something was seriously wrong with me. I was showering regularly and everything, but to no avail.
Then, one day, I figured it out.
One night, I ran out of soap in the shower, so I opted to use the kids' bath soap instead. I pilfered Shnoogs' mesh ball shower thingy and proceeded to give myself a good scrubbing.
The next morning, when I woke up, I smelled great. It was one of the happiest mornings of my life. I went downstairs and offered an armpit to Shnoogs. "Smell this" I said. She refused of course, but I was persistent. Eventually, even she agreed that I didn't small "that bad".
Being a methodically scientific person that I am, I had to verify the results of course. I kept using the baby soap, and much to my delight, I kept smelling great.
This got me to thinking; maybe the hippies have been right all along. It stands to reason that the baby soap is less powerful that the bar soap I had been using, and yet I smelled better. Perhaps, if I stopped using soap entirely, I would eventually smell so great that I would be able to hypnotize people like Dracula. It made sense in a way. Most people practically never wash their backs, but when was the last time you noticed somebody's back odor?
So for the week or so, I didn't use any soap at all in the shower (with the exception of one or two body parts which I won't mention).
Turns out, the hippies were wrong. I definitely had started to develop an odor by the end of the week. I mentioned this to a few of my hippier friends, and they informed me that, while cutting back on my personal hygiene was a great thing, and that it would bring me closer to nature, the brainwashed society we live in today wasn't ready to accept atypical bathing habits.
Also, for good measure, I should douse myself regularly in patchouli oil so that nobody could tell how natural I smelled.
In retrospect, none of this should have come as a surprise. I remember various hippies that my parents knew when I was growing up, and while none of them smelled good enough to hypnotize anybody, there certainly was a strong patchouli odor most of the time.
Still, I'm fascinated by the idea that washing regularly with bar soap (which in my case, was also 1/4 moisturizer) can actually make a person smell worse. Maybe your body compensates for the lack of dirt by secreting more oil?
I guess it makes sense from an evolutionary standpoint. When God created Adam and Eve, there is no mention in the Bible of him also hooking them up them with a lifetime supply of Lever 2000. For thousands of years, people pretty much only got clean when it either rained or they found a river to splash around in. (I wonder if ancient people used a lot of patchouli oil.)
Of course, other than the French, nobody would dream of doing that today, but I guess there is such a thing as too much washing. All things in moderation, right?
Monday, March 20, 2006
Dilbert is a documentary, not a comic
Scott Adams is a genius. I've been a corporate cubicle jockey for six years now, and every year I could swear that he works for the same company I do. His comics just hit so close to home it's amazing.
Or maybe there's a flip side. Maybe, the cubicle life is so inherently ridiculous that the jokes just write themselves. It seems like, no matter which former place of employment I think about, no matter which manager, no matter which project, there's a plethora of Dilbert jokes sitting there writing themselves.
For example, let's look, say, three days back...
Background
First, I need to set the stage. My job is that of the mighty Quality Assurance Analyst. In a nutshell, I review the programs that computer programmers create, and I tell them where they've messed up. It's a delicate job that involves stroking egos the size of Buicks while pointing out the shortcomings of others. Then, once I've found all the mistakes, and they've been fixed, I ship the program off to our customers who lavish us with praise and money.
(At least, on paper, that's what I do. The actual job is much less glamorous, but I'll save that for another time.)
The particular piece of software I'm currently testing is, in effect, a specialized search engine. Our customer gives us the data to search on, and we provide the software that actually does the searching.
Thursday
Right, so now that you have the background, I can get on with it.
I got to work on Thursday feeling pretty good about life. The sun was shining, birds were singing, it was like I was living in a Disney movie except that my parents had not been horribly killed.
I got to work, and checked my email only to discover that the customer had logged 35 bugs against the software we had released to them on Monday. "Crap!" I thought to myself. Then I added "This sucks" just for good measure. Attached to the list of defects was a scathing letter accusing us of not even testing our software before sending it out. This had all been forwarded to me via email by my boss who had also added a comment or two of her own asking me how I missed so many bugs.
With my ego in tatters, I started the process of logging each of these bugs into our internal bug-tracking system so that the developers could start fixing them. In my mind, I started trying to figure out what could have gone so horribly wrong.
I opened the first ticket. They noticed a really obvious error that I somehow missed. I mentally flogged myself as I logged it. One down, 34 to go. This was gonna be a long morning.
I opened the second one. "Wait a minute! This isn't my defect." This defect involves a misspelling in the data that they sent us. They made this mistake, not me. (whoohoo) "At least I don't have to type this up." I thought to myself.
I opened the third one, another misspelling in their data. Fourth, fifth, sixth, theirs, theirs, theirs. To make a long story short, thirty four of the thirty five defects were not my fault. Testing their data is the job of their staff, not me.
So my company lost a half-day of my productivity while I went through these, and no doubt, somebody on my client's side lost three days finding and logging them in the first place, but none of that matters because, for the most part, none of it was my fault.
It made for a good chuckle, and I thoroughly enjoyed being able to go back to my boss and point out that the customer is logging defects against themselves.
The most difficult part was writing a diplomatic email back to the customer explaining that, while they have every right to be annoyed, they should redirect that annoyance internally. Fortunately, that job didn't fall on me.
Or maybe there's a flip side. Maybe, the cubicle life is so inherently ridiculous that the jokes just write themselves. It seems like, no matter which former place of employment I think about, no matter which manager, no matter which project, there's a plethora of Dilbert jokes sitting there writing themselves.
For example, let's look, say, three days back...
Background
First, I need to set the stage. My job is that of the mighty Quality Assurance Analyst. In a nutshell, I review the programs that computer programmers create, and I tell them where they've messed up. It's a delicate job that involves stroking egos the size of Buicks while pointing out the shortcomings of others. Then, once I've found all the mistakes, and they've been fixed, I ship the program off to our customers who lavish us with praise and money.
(At least, on paper, that's what I do. The actual job is much less glamorous, but I'll save that for another time.)
The particular piece of software I'm currently testing is, in effect, a specialized search engine. Our customer gives us the data to search on, and we provide the software that actually does the searching.
Thursday
Right, so now that you have the background, I can get on with it.
I got to work on Thursday feeling pretty good about life. The sun was shining, birds were singing, it was like I was living in a Disney movie except that my parents had not been horribly killed.
I got to work, and checked my email only to discover that the customer had logged 35 bugs against the software we had released to them on Monday. "Crap!" I thought to myself. Then I added "This sucks" just for good measure. Attached to the list of defects was a scathing letter accusing us of not even testing our software before sending it out. This had all been forwarded to me via email by my boss who had also added a comment or two of her own asking me how I missed so many bugs.
With my ego in tatters, I started the process of logging each of these bugs into our internal bug-tracking system so that the developers could start fixing them. In my mind, I started trying to figure out what could have gone so horribly wrong.
I opened the first ticket. They noticed a really obvious error that I somehow missed. I mentally flogged myself as I logged it. One down, 34 to go. This was gonna be a long morning.
I opened the second one. "Wait a minute! This isn't my defect." This defect involves a misspelling in the data that they sent us. They made this mistake, not me. (whoohoo) "At least I don't have to type this up." I thought to myself.
I opened the third one, another misspelling in their data. Fourth, fifth, sixth, theirs, theirs, theirs. To make a long story short, thirty four of the thirty five defects were not my fault. Testing their data is the job of their staff, not me.
So my company lost a half-day of my productivity while I went through these, and no doubt, somebody on my client's side lost three days finding and logging them in the first place, but none of that matters because, for the most part, none of it was my fault.
It made for a good chuckle, and I thoroughly enjoyed being able to go back to my boss and point out that the customer is logging defects against themselves.
The most difficult part was writing a diplomatic email back to the customer explaining that, while they have every right to be annoyed, they should redirect that annoyance internally. Fortunately, that job didn't fall on me.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Mature wisdom
(Wow, my first blog entry ever. I don't expect anybody to read this of course, but today I feel like getting stuff of my chest, and it's easier to talk to a computer than a person.)
I was not a good student
I'm one of those people that has a small number of extremely intense interests, obsessions really, and for the most part, I've had the same obsessions since I was a small child. This isn't a bad thing, in my opinion, but it put me firmly at odds with the indoctrination style wisdom as recited by my teachers and counselors growing up.
Children are supposed to be outgoing, well rounded, and obedient (I wish). I on the other hand, was anti-social, narrowly focused, and inherently suspicious of every authority figure.
Of course, it was made clear to me that something was wrong with me, and I must conform to the way right-thinking-people think and feel.
(I suspect that every child deviates from the norm in some way and is told to knock it off by the powers that be)
Antisocial?
I'm not actually antisocial; I just like to have time to think quietly to myself now and then (to play out my thoughts to some sort of conclusion). My mind is constantly thinking about exactly two things. One of those things, of course, is the world around me. I'm thinking thoughts such as, "stop at this red light" or "the neighbor's dog crapped in my lawn again".
The other part of my mind is given to daydreaming. I can almost never seem to stop daydreaming. I find a lot of comfort in daydreaming though. Sometimes I'm just making up stories or putting myself in outlandish scenarios. It probably sounds cheesy, but I'm a grown man who likes to fantasize about fighting off packs of ninjas or piloting an intergalactic spaceship. Sometimes it's a sexual fantasy. Sometimes, it's just reliving past experiences. Either way, it's an endless source of entertainment, and frustration.
The thing is, when I tune out and start day dreaming, I really really tune out. You could stand next to me jumping up and down and calling my name, and I may not hear you for a few minutes.
Here's the catch. I can often put the part of my mind that is keeping track of my immediate surroundings on autopilot, a trance-like-state if you will. Especially the thing going on at the moment is a routine part of my life. It's common for me to drive to work (a 90 minute drive on most days), and not remember anything at all about the drive between the driveway and the parking lot.
I can vividly recall every detail of the 7th episode of the Star Wars trilogy that I made up in my head during the drive though.
(Ok I'm rambling here, good thing nobody is reading this.)
The point is that I was labeled anti-social as a kid because I enjoy spending some of my time alone with my thoughts. In fact, sometimes I have to spend time alone with my thoughts or I become unpleasant. As long as my life has a lot of routine in it, I'm ok. I can put the routine stuff on autopilot, and indulge my imagination. As a kid, that was easy, after all, what's more routine than public school?
As a student, this caused me to either ace, or almost flunk every class depending on whether or not it was a subject I was interested in. If it was a boring topic, I didn't make it two minutes before I was off in la-la land. This can be particularly embarrassing in business meetings when somebody asks me a question only to realize I haven't heard a word anybody said in two hours. (Autopilot was engaged though so I've been nodding along and occasionally even making a comment or two. I just didn't realize it.)
Aside: The autopilot gets me into a lot of trouble at home. I've been known to have a twenty minute conversation with the wife and/or kids that the active part of my brain didn't pay attention to a word of. Unfortunately, I never realize this has happened until it's too late and Shnoogs is annoyed. Who knows what sort of things I've agreed to?
As an adult, it's not so easy. I've got two kids, and a wife. I have a job that doesn't involve the exact same routine every day. All in all, it provides very little time to turn inward.
I'm not sure why, but I have noticed that if I don't get time alone, or life doesn't have enough routine to it, I quickly start feeling overwhelmed and frustrated. This can then be expressed as irritability, anger, or I just whine a lot. Either way, I'm really annoying.
Loophole
There is a way to stifle the daydreams though. Like I mentioned earlier, I have a small number of very intense interests. I have four, in fact: Video games, athletic competition, reading, and breaking stuff. Whenever I am involved in any of these activities, I'm focused like a laser beam. All other thoughts stop. There is nothing else going on in the world other than me and the task at hand. I reach a meditative like peace. A trance, if you will.
My job involves my breaking stuff fetish. (I'm trying to be clever here, but failing. By breaking stuff, I actually mean "taking stuff apart to see how it works"). I test software for a living, and when I'm really busy, it's not uncommon for me to look at the clock and realize I've been going for 6 or 7 hours straight. "Dang! Its 3:00, and I thought it was still 10:00 or so. I should probably walk around or eat lunch or something" I tell myself, then, I dismiss those thoughts and get back to work. I sure hope my boss never finds out I'm having fun.
(Wow, look how smoothly I went from the anti-social aspect to the narrowly focused aspect of my personality flaws.)
Anyway, taking stuff apart really is fun. I always feel like, by figuring out how it works, I'm delving into the mind(s) of the designer(s) of whatever it is I'm breaking. I'm fascinated at some of the amazingly innovative ideas some people have. Creative people are simply incredible, and I want to learn as much as possible about how their minds work.
Athletic competition is fun for a similar reason. When you are competing against somebody, you can study them in an environment that's different from any other. People are primal when they're competing in a sport. They have to act and react, no time for second guessing. It's the closest people ever come to being completely themselves.
Wait a minute; I'm noticing a theme here. I read books for the same reason, to learn about the creativity of the author, to get into their head, and to admire their genius.
Hmmmm, now that I think about it, I actually only have two interests. I enjoy video games and studying people.
I went back and read the opening paragraph or two of this entry, and I realized that I've been constructing this like a term paper in high school. I had a thesis statement with three main points, and I've, so far, proceeded to discuss two of those points (anti-social, narrowly focused). I guess I should move onto my distrust of authority figures, and then wrap this up with some sort of conclusion.
Authority
It's actually not that I have a problem with authority. Authority is a necessary element to society. Without it, we have anarchy. I just don't recognize the authorities that I'm supposed to. To me, to be considered a legitimate authority, you have to prove yourself to be a more capable person than me. Also, I don't see any person as an all-in-one authority. (God is not a person, duh!)
Being a teacher, manager, police officer, politician, etc... doesn't put you on a higher level than anybody else unless you earn the respect that has been appointed to you.
For example, my wife is not, by conventional standards, and authority figure over anybody except our children. However, I consider her an authority figure anyway. She has earned my respect by, among other things, proving that she has an extremely sharp mind that can cut through any spin you want to throw at her. You can take an idea and put as much of your personal opinion into it as you want, and she'll see right through you. There's no fooling that woman. She'll observe the relevant facts, discount the rest, and present you with a mind-bogglingly rational and well thought out conclusion.
She's also one of the most creative people I know. On an average day, she'll come up with three or four business ideas that could make a person wealthy. People wrack their brains for years to come up with a good-creative-never-been-done-before idea, and she insults them by flinging them out without a second thought. If you want to be successful, take a drive through the city with Shnoogs sometime, and just write down what she says. The woman is brilliant.
I can think of a lot more things that I respect about her, but I'll save that for later.
Suffice to say that, in the areas of character, strength, creativity, self sacrifice, raw intelligence, Shnoogs is more of an authority figure than any societally appointed authority I've ever known. Similar things could be said about quite a few other people I know. There are plenty of people that are an authority of some sort in my eyes who I am happy to have to set an example for me.
Of course, this is what also causes me to be a lousy student and a troublesome employee. Currently, I have a boss who knows my job and our business leaps and bounds better than me. This convenience allows things to run smoothly. I respect her.
The vast majority of my educators didn't fall into this category though. I'm sorry, but blindly following some lesson plan and reciting a text book is not worthy of respect. If I read the same text book, and experience the same lesson plan, then doesn't that make us equals? Occasionally, you come across a teacher who is much more than that. Having a math teacher who is actually a brilliant mathematician or a history teacher who has a real grasp of the intricate interworkings of history can be an experience you remember for the rest of your life. It's easy to tell the difference too, just ask a question that isn't covered in the text book. You can even ask outside of class so you don't come across as a trouble maker.
The Grand Conclusion
In conclusion, this was a way for me to let off steam. I'm rambling, somewhat pointlessly, and will likely delete this instead of posting it. I'm a bit embarrassed at how long it's gotten.
I've basically decided to have a go at organizing my thoughts via written word instead of via sitting home alone thinking them. I haven't had a chance to sit home alone in a pretty long time, and I don't want to become unpleasant, so let's see if this works. On the positive side, it allows me to think my thoughts even while being distracted from time to time. On the negative side, typing is sooooo slow. I can't type as fast as I can think, so my thoughts keep getting lost in the shuffle. I suspect this is just a big long ramble.
CUT!
The Grand Conclusion
(take 2)
ACTION!
The thing that inspired all this is a struggle that I've been dealing with. I think it's the same struggle everybody deals with at some point. As an adolescent, I truly believed that something was wrong with me. If I could only be more social, have more popular interests, etc... then I would be ok. I would trick myself into being like I was told I was supposed to be. In short, I was a miserable insecure fraud.
Once I entered the "real world", those sorts of influences largely went away. Suddenly I started having radical thoughts about being myself. Maybe it isn't so bad to be an introvert.
IBM changed my life
As I mentioned, before, I like to take stuff apart and see how it works. Well, what could be more fun to take apart than the most complex machine we have, the computer. So, that's what I do, I dissect computer software for a living. This isn't all that noteworthy except that it put me right into the middle of an entire industry run by introverted, narrowly focused people who have problems with authority and enjoy escapism.
Holy Crap! There are thousands, of people just like me.
I'm not a freak after all. I can be myself, pursue my interests, and make a pretty good living off of it. More importantly, I can stop second guessing myself, and confidently say that those people who told me to change as a kid were idiots. They meant well, but they couldn't see outside of their own little philosophy.
Ah, but it's more complicated than that. What about my kids? How can I teach them that they can be themselves? I have to admit that, pretending to be socially acceptable as a child did get me out of quite a few confrontations with bullies once I learned how to play the game. There were a lot of kids who didn't play the game so well and spent their entire childhoods as a target.
Well, as it turns out, I've developed a plan for that too.
I was not a good student
I'm one of those people that has a small number of extremely intense interests, obsessions really, and for the most part, I've had the same obsessions since I was a small child. This isn't a bad thing, in my opinion, but it put me firmly at odds with the indoctrination style wisdom as recited by my teachers and counselors growing up.
Children are supposed to be outgoing, well rounded, and obedient (I wish). I on the other hand, was anti-social, narrowly focused, and inherently suspicious of every authority figure.
Of course, it was made clear to me that something was wrong with me, and I must conform to the way right-thinking-people think and feel.
(I suspect that every child deviates from the norm in some way and is told to knock it off by the powers that be)
Antisocial?
I'm not actually antisocial; I just like to have time to think quietly to myself now and then (to play out my thoughts to some sort of conclusion). My mind is constantly thinking about exactly two things. One of those things, of course, is the world around me. I'm thinking thoughts such as, "stop at this red light" or "the neighbor's dog crapped in my lawn again".
The other part of my mind is given to daydreaming. I can almost never seem to stop daydreaming. I find a lot of comfort in daydreaming though. Sometimes I'm just making up stories or putting myself in outlandish scenarios. It probably sounds cheesy, but I'm a grown man who likes to fantasize about fighting off packs of ninjas or piloting an intergalactic spaceship. Sometimes it's a sexual fantasy. Sometimes, it's just reliving past experiences. Either way, it's an endless source of entertainment, and frustration.
The thing is, when I tune out and start day dreaming, I really really tune out. You could stand next to me jumping up and down and calling my name, and I may not hear you for a few minutes.
Here's the catch. I can often put the part of my mind that is keeping track of my immediate surroundings on autopilot, a trance-like-state if you will. Especially the thing going on at the moment is a routine part of my life. It's common for me to drive to work (a 90 minute drive on most days), and not remember anything at all about the drive between the driveway and the parking lot.
I can vividly recall every detail of the 7th episode of the Star Wars trilogy that I made up in my head during the drive though.
(Ok I'm rambling here, good thing nobody is reading this.)
The point is that I was labeled anti-social as a kid because I enjoy spending some of my time alone with my thoughts. In fact, sometimes I have to spend time alone with my thoughts or I become unpleasant. As long as my life has a lot of routine in it, I'm ok. I can put the routine stuff on autopilot, and indulge my imagination. As a kid, that was easy, after all, what's more routine than public school?
As a student, this caused me to either ace, or almost flunk every class depending on whether or not it was a subject I was interested in. If it was a boring topic, I didn't make it two minutes before I was off in la-la land. This can be particularly embarrassing in business meetings when somebody asks me a question only to realize I haven't heard a word anybody said in two hours. (Autopilot was engaged though so I've been nodding along and occasionally even making a comment or two. I just didn't realize it.)
Aside: The autopilot gets me into a lot of trouble at home. I've been known to have a twenty minute conversation with the wife and/or kids that the active part of my brain didn't pay attention to a word of. Unfortunately, I never realize this has happened until it's too late and Shnoogs is annoyed. Who knows what sort of things I've agreed to?
As an adult, it's not so easy. I've got two kids, and a wife. I have a job that doesn't involve the exact same routine every day. All in all, it provides very little time to turn inward.
I'm not sure why, but I have noticed that if I don't get time alone, or life doesn't have enough routine to it, I quickly start feeling overwhelmed and frustrated. This can then be expressed as irritability, anger, or I just whine a lot. Either way, I'm really annoying.
Loophole
There is a way to stifle the daydreams though. Like I mentioned earlier, I have a small number of very intense interests. I have four, in fact: Video games, athletic competition, reading, and breaking stuff. Whenever I am involved in any of these activities, I'm focused like a laser beam. All other thoughts stop. There is nothing else going on in the world other than me and the task at hand. I reach a meditative like peace. A trance, if you will.
My job involves my breaking stuff fetish. (I'm trying to be clever here, but failing. By breaking stuff, I actually mean "taking stuff apart to see how it works"). I test software for a living, and when I'm really busy, it's not uncommon for me to look at the clock and realize I've been going for 6 or 7 hours straight. "Dang! Its 3:00, and I thought it was still 10:00 or so. I should probably walk around or eat lunch or something" I tell myself, then, I dismiss those thoughts and get back to work. I sure hope my boss never finds out I'm having fun.
(Wow, look how smoothly I went from the anti-social aspect to the narrowly focused aspect of my personality flaws.)
Anyway, taking stuff apart really is fun. I always feel like, by figuring out how it works, I'm delving into the mind(s) of the designer(s) of whatever it is I'm breaking. I'm fascinated at some of the amazingly innovative ideas some people have. Creative people are simply incredible, and I want to learn as much as possible about how their minds work.
Athletic competition is fun for a similar reason. When you are competing against somebody, you can study them in an environment that's different from any other. People are primal when they're competing in a sport. They have to act and react, no time for second guessing. It's the closest people ever come to being completely themselves.
Wait a minute; I'm noticing a theme here. I read books for the same reason, to learn about the creativity of the author, to get into their head, and to admire their genius.
Hmmmm, now that I think about it, I actually only have two interests. I enjoy video games and studying people.
I went back and read the opening paragraph or two of this entry, and I realized that I've been constructing this like a term paper in high school. I had a thesis statement with three main points, and I've, so far, proceeded to discuss two of those points (anti-social, narrowly focused). I guess I should move onto my distrust of authority figures, and then wrap this up with some sort of conclusion.
Authority
It's actually not that I have a problem with authority. Authority is a necessary element to society. Without it, we have anarchy. I just don't recognize the authorities that I'm supposed to. To me, to be considered a legitimate authority, you have to prove yourself to be a more capable person than me. Also, I don't see any person as an all-in-one authority. (God is not a person, duh!)
Being a teacher, manager, police officer, politician, etc... doesn't put you on a higher level than anybody else unless you earn the respect that has been appointed to you.
For example, my wife is not, by conventional standards, and authority figure over anybody except our children. However, I consider her an authority figure anyway. She has earned my respect by, among other things, proving that she has an extremely sharp mind that can cut through any spin you want to throw at her. You can take an idea and put as much of your personal opinion into it as you want, and she'll see right through you. There's no fooling that woman. She'll observe the relevant facts, discount the rest, and present you with a mind-bogglingly rational and well thought out conclusion.
She's also one of the most creative people I know. On an average day, she'll come up with three or four business ideas that could make a person wealthy. People wrack their brains for years to come up with a good-creative-never-been-done-before idea, and she insults them by flinging them out without a second thought. If you want to be successful, take a drive through the city with Shnoogs sometime, and just write down what she says. The woman is brilliant.
I can think of a lot more things that I respect about her, but I'll save that for later.
Suffice to say that, in the areas of character, strength, creativity, self sacrifice, raw intelligence, Shnoogs is more of an authority figure than any societally appointed authority I've ever known. Similar things could be said about quite a few other people I know. There are plenty of people that are an authority of some sort in my eyes who I am happy to have to set an example for me.
Of course, this is what also causes me to be a lousy student and a troublesome employee. Currently, I have a boss who knows my job and our business leaps and bounds better than me. This convenience allows things to run smoothly. I respect her.
The vast majority of my educators didn't fall into this category though. I'm sorry, but blindly following some lesson plan and reciting a text book is not worthy of respect. If I read the same text book, and experience the same lesson plan, then doesn't that make us equals? Occasionally, you come across a teacher who is much more than that. Having a math teacher who is actually a brilliant mathematician or a history teacher who has a real grasp of the intricate interworkings of history can be an experience you remember for the rest of your life. It's easy to tell the difference too, just ask a question that isn't covered in the text book. You can even ask outside of class so you don't come across as a trouble maker.
The Grand Conclusion
In conclusion, this was a way for me to let off steam. I'm rambling, somewhat pointlessly, and will likely delete this instead of posting it. I'm a bit embarrassed at how long it's gotten.
I've basically decided to have a go at organizing my thoughts via written word instead of via sitting home alone thinking them. I haven't had a chance to sit home alone in a pretty long time, and I don't want to become unpleasant, so let's see if this works. On the positive side, it allows me to think my thoughts even while being distracted from time to time. On the negative side, typing is sooooo slow. I can't type as fast as I can think, so my thoughts keep getting lost in the shuffle. I suspect this is just a big long ramble.
CUT!
The Grand Conclusion
(take 2)
ACTION!
The thing that inspired all this is a struggle that I've been dealing with. I think it's the same struggle everybody deals with at some point. As an adolescent, I truly believed that something was wrong with me. If I could only be more social, have more popular interests, etc... then I would be ok. I would trick myself into being like I was told I was supposed to be. In short, I was a miserable insecure fraud.
Once I entered the "real world", those sorts of influences largely went away. Suddenly I started having radical thoughts about being myself. Maybe it isn't so bad to be an introvert.
IBM changed my life
As I mentioned, before, I like to take stuff apart and see how it works. Well, what could be more fun to take apart than the most complex machine we have, the computer. So, that's what I do, I dissect computer software for a living. This isn't all that noteworthy except that it put me right into the middle of an entire industry run by introverted, narrowly focused people who have problems with authority and enjoy escapism.
Holy Crap! There are thousands, of people just like me.
I'm not a freak after all. I can be myself, pursue my interests, and make a pretty good living off of it. More importantly, I can stop second guessing myself, and confidently say that those people who told me to change as a kid were idiots. They meant well, but they couldn't see outside of their own little philosophy.
Ah, but it's more complicated than that. What about my kids? How can I teach them that they can be themselves? I have to admit that, pretending to be socially acceptable as a child did get me out of quite a few confrontations with bullies once I learned how to play the game. There were a lot of kids who didn't play the game so well and spent their entire childhoods as a target.
Well, as it turns out, I've developed a plan for that too.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
