Odds and Ends, Private and Personal
Not that it's annoying in the Screech from Saved by the Bell sense. It's annoying because it's so tantalizingly close to being good without ever getting there. But it's not so bad that you can just give up on it.
So I'm stuck watching it, hoping that it'll take it to that next level and being disappointed week after week.
I don't really talk about myself all that much. Now, you might have read that last sentence in mid-sip and splattered coffee all over the monitor, thinking, "What is this jackass talking about? All he ever does is talk about himself."
If that's the case, then my super-secret strategery is working. In fact this strategery is so super-secret, I didn't even realize I was doing it until lately. It's one of Christopher Walken's "pantomimes" in True Romance, the Show-and-Tell. I'll show you everything, but I won't tell you anything.
It comes down to the difference between the "personal" and the "private", which are not the same thing. If a guy has a rash on his ass, that's private. If a guy visits a whorehouse in Tijuana, that's personal. There's obviously a lot of overlap between the two. For instance, if a guy has a rash on his ass that he picked up visiting a whorehouse in Tijuana, that's both personal and private.
Aside from the overlap between the two, the most basic similarity is that they're both lumped into the category of "stuff most people don't talk about". Most people don't usually talk about something wrong with their asses. And if sometimes, as they're drifting off to sleep, they're overcome with a heart-wrenching feeling of loneliness that causes them to trace with regret the chain of poor decisions they've made with their lives to put them in that state, most people don't usually talk about that either.
Obviously not everybody. Some people never freakin' shut up about their personal lives. But never mind that.
The point of all this is that because I end up talking as much as I do about my private life, it's not obvious that I never talk about my personal life. Not that I don't talk about it with some people, I don't really talk about it with anyone.
Anyway, it's apparent to me that there are glaring flaws with my personal life, and I'm never going to get them sorted out if I don't figure out what they are and then how to deal with them.
Oh, wait! I remembered another reason I don't usually talk about my private life. Because, unless the other person is clinically insane, I think other people's private lives are boring, and therefore I assume that other people would find mine boring, too. Despite the fact that I'm probably clinically insane.
So, I'll probably spare you all of that. Except for little nuggets, if I think they're interesting. The rest, I'll share with the dog, who'll be happy for the attention.
Here's something for starters. I mention this because it's important to me, and possibly lucrative for everyone.
Right now, I'm in the midst of a serious drought in the whole dating scene. The reasons for this are long and numerous. If you want the full story, ask Charlie the Dog, who's been privy to all the sordid details.
If I could sum it up in one phrase, I've lost the Eye of the Tiger. To extend the metaphor unnecessarily, I'm standing in front of a bronze statue of myself from a prouder, more successful time in my love life, and I've just hurled my motorcycle helmet at it in a fit of drunken rage. And alas, there's no Apollo Creed to take me to the mean streets of L.A. to show me how to mack again.
The closest I've had was, I was complaining about this to a friend. We'll call him Frank, to keep from incriminating him later in the story. He came upon one of those insights that was so simple, so obvious in retrospect, I couldn't believe it hadn't occurred to me.
FRANK: J, you know what you're problem is? You're too negative. You need to start giving off a positive mental attitude.
J: [considering for a second] Holy shit! You might be onto something.
FRANK: You're damn right I'm onto something.
J: You know what's ironic? I'm actually much happier than I let on. Most of the time, when I say I'm having a so-so day, I'm lying, and I'm really having a fantastic day.
FRANK: I know! You really have to knock that shit off. It's all about a positive mental attitude. And your attitude sucks.
J: Holy shit.
It should be pointed out that "Frank" was very high when I was talking to him. But that doesn't change the fact that he's right as rain.
Here's a typical interaction between me and some random person:
RANDOM PERSON: Hi, J! How you doing?
J: [he's actually doing superb, as usual, but he pretends to think about it for a second] Eh. I dunno. I guess I'm doing okay. I probably shouldn't complain too much.
**buzzer**
That's what I'm talking about. That's the shit I have to knock off. My life is awesome beyond belief. I've got it better than 99.9999% of people throughout history, and probably 97% of people worldwide today. So, why not start acting like it? Why not present that to the world?
And that's where you come in. You know the guy who decides to give up swearing, and when someone hears him swear, they call him on it, and he give them a dollar? That's what I'm doing.
So, if you should see me out and about, and I start going all negative on you, call me on it, and I'll give you a dollar. I'll even give you a dollar if I'm just not being very positive.
This isn't to say that I ought to be like a member of Up with People, or anything like that. Just, you know, positive.
It's funny, I remember saying approximately the same thing to you roughly 10 years ago. Somehow, if it's an actual member of the female species (who was relatively sober at the time) telling you how to get your mack back, you blow right by that, but once some guy who's high out of his gourd says it, it's gospel and life-changing. You still got a lot to learn, boy.