Archive for May, 2007

Sensitive manI was in the breakroom yesterday when two girls walked in. The one seemed unusually distraught, and from what I can gather had had a major fallout with her boyfriend.
“He can be such an oaf. I wish he was more sensitive to my needs”, I heard her whine as they went about making coffee.
That was my cue to get out of there, just in case they expected me to say something on the subject. If there is one thing I am not an expert on, it is this whole “sensitive man” thing. I’ve had this conversation with my girlfriend before and even then I could not make heads or tails of it. God forbid someone else asks me for an unbiased opinion!
If a man ever stopped to ask his woman about the one thing she wants more of in their relationship, chances are it’s that he is more sensitive. It is a fact. Women are happy as long as their men are sensitive. Many women want the kind of man that can shed a tear (cringe) at the conclusion a romantic movie. Some women may actually find it downright sexy.
Fair enough, but how much blatant girliness/sensitivity can a man get away with before others start thinking of him as a prancing, show tune-singing nancy boy? If being nicer means and doing more of the little things make her happy, then by all means do so. But just how far should he take it? It’s human nature to always want more of a good thing, and in doing so, risk complete and utter saturation.
The real problem, as I see it, is not that men aren’t sensitive. We are. Our concept of sensitivity is just different to that of women. Men prefer to discuss the sensitive issues of the Rugby World Cup, the premier football league, work, cars, fishing, diy, money, and hot naked girls. We are sensitive in a lot of other places too, but that is not the point.
Women prefer men who care about women’s issues, who can cook, dance, discuss their feelings, cry, practice yoga, shop, and quote dialogue from the Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, etc?
When a woman says she has a head-ache and does not want to get naked with you, it may be a good thing to try and understand what she means by it. The secret to any healthy relationship (I think) is moving down the learning curve of discovery and new things that keeps it alive. Even when there is a chance what you discover, may not pleasant. Discovery is as important as remembering your anniversary and we all know how important that is.
Bear in mind that no matter how much your girlfriend may want you to open up and share your true emotions, the key is to tread lightly and with caution. Opening up and sharing too much may just cost you the girlfriend. No need to tell her that you like dressing up in her underwear when she is not around. No sirree!
As important as sensitivity may be to a women, she still wants a man who can take charge, take care of business and do so with authority. A decisive man gets things done, but he has to do so with a caring heart.
So how exactly does the modern man become more sensitive and apply just enough of it and still remain a man?
I don’t know. I play it by ear and normally just hope for the best. It is a jungle out there. I reckon that as long as you don’t stray too far and can still see the path, there is hope yet.
Be too sensitive and you may as well be the nice guy who is a friend” or a butch lesbian.


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Spiderman 3I don’t usually review movies on this blog, but since I am running low on inspiration I thought I may as well share my thoughts on Spiderman 3.
A mate and I went to see Spiderman 3 the night before my (un)fortunate gym accident. [S] couldn’t go because she had a major report to complete. I think she made it up because she did not want to see Spiderman 3. She says comic book heroes are for adolescent schoolboys. What she doesn’t know or perhaps she refuses to acknowledge is that all men essentially remain adolescent school boys. We only learn how to hide that side of our personalities better as the years go by.
Spiderman 3 is not memorable in that it’s not a movie that I’d want to watch again. I’m one of those people who thought that Spiderman 2 was a masterpiece. And perhaps because of that I expected Spiderman 3 to be a masterpiece too. It failed miserably.
It probably had to do with the introduction of more characters and the constant flipping between these characters, which did little to keep the story tight. There was a lot of dialogue and crying between Peter Parker (Tobey Maguire) and Mary Jane (Kirsten Dunst) which detracted attention somewhat from the action I had come to see. The action scenes were great nonetheless.
Another possible reason why this movie did not live up to my expectations is because the villains were portrayed so badly. Let’s face it, a superhero movie is only as good as its villains. The “badder” the villains, the cooler the hero and the more elaborate the stunts and the storyline. It is the same reason Superman Returns failed and why Batman 1 with Jack Nicholson as the lead villain was so good.
The best part of this movie was the introduction of the smoking hot Gwen Stacy (Bryce Dallas Howard). But that could just be the testosterone speaking.

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Pain dot com

Tablets of wisdomI am in a considerable amount of pain right now.
You see, I went to the gym last night and pulled a muscle in my thigh. It is the price you pay for not warming up well enough before attempting the super circuit.
Every muscle, nerve-ending, and fibre in my thigh is screaming bloody blue murder! I am trying to move around as little as possible as the mere effort of moving my leg and adjusting the position of my body is torturous.
Have you ever been so sore that if your clothes caught fire, you’d just sit there and hope it burned itself out? That’s how I feel right now. My co-workers are cautiously approaching, poking me with a stick, and will soon be leaning a plank against me as a take-off ramp.
Given the cold weather we are suffering, I should probably have stayed at home, hid under my blanket and not emerge for a week or so. Nevertheless, there are jobs to be done, deadlines to be met, appearances to uphold, co-workers to annoy and breast sizes to be estimated. Now that is dedication for you.
I’ll carry on until lunch time when I will go and see my doctor. I foresee that needles will be plunged into my butt, but that is a welcome thought for now. I also foresee lots and lots (with the emphasis on lots and lots) of pain killers like Vicodin™, Percodan™, and Duragesic™. If my thigh does not improve, at least my knowledge of the side–effects of painkillers will. And since I’ve got my heart set on suffering drug induced fantasies, I may as well tell you that I am also friends with Spiderman and Batman, and together we ride magical, flying ponies.
In the meantime I’m going to need a private secretary, a trained monkey helper, or Steven Hawking’s electronic speech synthesizer and his robot wheelchair.

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I am trying something new on my blog by posting a video from YouTube. It has been viewed 306,579 times.

Plot: An obnoxious young man refuses to let an old man (82-yrs old?) sit in an empty seat on a crowded Hong Kong bus, and uses it to stow his shopping bags instead.
It starts with a passenger asking the old man what is going on. He explains that he would like to sit in the empty seat; however the young man refuses to remove his shopping bags.
To the cheers of everyone on the bus, the bus driver eventually asks the young man to get off the bus. He is met by Hong Kong Police officers and cited for uncivilised behaviour.

All good and well I suppose. I do have a major problem with the other people on the bus. They all appear to be younger than the old man. Why didn’t any one of them stand up and offer the old man a seat?!
In my eyes, it makes them NO BETTER than the obnoxious young man. Cheer on? My arse!

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ADAM(Overheard at the office)
Guy1: Dude, thanks for saving my arse this morning. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t slipped me the latest brand share figures.

Guy 2: No worries, dude.

Guy 1: You are my saviour.

Guy 2: Yep, I’m your Jesus.

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Thinking man[Somewhat introspective post. Normal blogging will resume on Monday]
I rarely blog about my siblings (we are 4 children). It is not that I don’t want to. My reasons are purely selfish; I don’t need the competition. This is my blog dammit!
I will however make an exception in this case as a telephone call from my sister, seeking my advice on a serious personal matter, sparked off a whole internal debate. I need to put the words down in writing in order to gain some perspective (feedback?).
Hence the post. So bear with me if you will.
My sister is two years older than I am and she is notorious for worrying about what other people think of her. She is constantly trying to work out how other people will feel about a decision she has to make rather than considering her own point of view.
Over the years she has allowed “others” to control her life and she is caught up in a never-ending cycle of looking for approval or fearing the disapproval of others.
I suppose what she struggles with is not unique to her. In each of us there is a constant battle between the desire for approval and the fear of disapproval. Our friendships, business dealings, family interactions, sports, politics; everything is, if not completely driven by this tension, at the very least heavily influenced by it.
The promise of approval and the threat of disapproval are common tools that people use to get what they want from each other. People use disapproval as a tool to either inflate their sense of self or to control others, and they may use very subtle and sneaky ways of doing it. It’s fairly obvious when someone tells you “I don’t like what you are doing,” but less so when that person takes a disapproving glance at your clothes, or makes a backhanded critical remark about something you feel passionate about. In many cases these are almost like long-term subliminal negative advertising campaigns, where someone will make repeated but barely perceptible stabs at something you like and identify with.
Of course we all need to consider other people to be decent and sensitive. But if we care too much what other people think we live our lives by our imaginations of others thoughts!
When I told her to go with her own instincts and trust herself more, she pointed out that it is ok for me to say so. People expect me to be like that. (I am still trying to figure out whether that is a compliment or an insult). I wanted to tell her to be more like me, but realised that I would be doing the very thing I was trying to get her not to do. Live HER life according to MY rules.
It is my belief that one can only be truly independent and self-confident when you start being more self-directed. When you start to care less what others think you’ll start living your life and not a distorted reflection of what someone else thinks your life should be. Public opinion is notoriously unreliable anyway.
I have tried to reason with her by telling her that the only reason why she is afraid of other people’s disapproval is that she values their approval, and when she comes to see that their approval is of no value to her whatsoever, the promise of it will not work on her anymore and thus the threat of disapproval will cease to work as well.
“Yes, but what if I get it wrong?” she says.
“That is ok”, I said. “The mistakes you make will be entirely your own, and not because you decided to follow the herd. If you do get it wrong, you can take the necessary steps to fix it and learn from it”
I don’t think I got through to her. There is too much history and too many behavioural patterns to deal with. I guess that because she never had to, she is too afraid to take on the responsibility. In the end she still insisted on me telling her what she should do.
It is sad really, because I see a bright young woman who is so caught up in her own destructive game that she has completely forgotten about herself.
In the words of Wayne Dyer, “what you think of me is none of my business.” If only I can get my sister to see that.

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man under umbrellaToday I angered my boss… or perhaps he was just being himself. I can’t decide if there is a difference.
He said I appeared sullen and lazy. I wanted to tell him that this is, in fact, exactly how I felt, but I did not want to appear that way to him. I’m not saying that it’s good to “fake it”, just that it’s probably best not to be yourself when you are around your superiors.
In fact my “sullenness” began soon after I got up this morning. I was looking at myself in the bathroom mirror when I realised that I put too much shaving cream on my face. It looked like someone had hit me with an extra creamy meringue pie. I looked around suspiciously, expecting Larry, Curly and Mo to jump out from behind the shower door.
So I decided to add a bit more and sculpted myself a modest white beard. Hah hah… I am so creative when I am half-naked! Next I lathered shaving cream in my hair and made a unicorn horn (penis?) on the top of my head. I looked like some fucked up fairytale character from Pan’s Labyrinth.
If I had my way, I would have gladly stayed there for another hour or so, but then I realised that it would be too much of an effort to come up with a “why I am late” excuse. So I got back into the shower and rinsed it all off. What I can I say? I am easily amused when I am sullen.
The working day kicked off with an 8 o’clock meeting. It was like walking “The Terraces of Purgatory” in Dante’s Divine Comedy. It drained every ounce of reserve energy I had. Not that I had much energy to begin with.
While listening to the boss going on about how we are already tracking behind our quarterly sales targets, I thought about how brilliant it would be if I could get my hands on a game show buzzer. I would call it “the meeting buzzer”. (How’s that for having non sequiter thoughts?)
I could just sit around in meetings all day and buzz in and finish people’s thoughts and sentences. So when the boss said “our main objective for the latter part this quarter is…”, I would buzz in and loudly say, in an excited voice “Ooh, I know, I know… take a dump on the chairman’s desk!”
Or when someone says “this won’t take long” you could buzz in and say “that’s what you said to your girlfriend when you had sex”. When you overhear someone talking and they make a remark like, “I was thinking…”, you could walk up and buzz in enthusiastically with “that you wish you had bigger boobs?!”.
It would be like spray-painting graffiti on the side of a church, but without the guilt.

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