The Jolie

So I’ve had an obsession with Ms. Jolie, for quite a while, ever since I heard her speak about her experience in Cambodia on the Tonite Show. I remember my first reaction to the third-world—it took me four years to digest and recover from the shock. She was the first person I had ever really heard put the whole thing in such quotidian terms. I knew exactly where she came from and I could sense the troubled-ness in her voice—the perturbed words that betrays the conscience of a first-worlder who has palpably encountered the reality of the other 95%. Despite this nuance in her speech, her intensity in speaking of modes of helping also gave me hope—that there was a way to reconcile these divergent truths. That standing and transcending two worlds was possible without going nuts… at least totally ;)

Plus, she comes from a fucked up family that many, at first glance, might have erroneously envied. She’s beautiful—but somewhat unconventional. Her look can be—pretty, innocent, intense, and erotic, often simultaneously. When I see her, I can’t just be enraptured by the elegance of her features. She’s just got too much going on there.

And of course, she’s nastee-ay. Whether she’s wearing her little Princess of Peace headdresses, or sporting barely anything in a print spread, she’s out there—being her dialectical self. She survived the ride, and now enjoys the thrills of reconciling herself to herself.

Here are some of my favorite sayings attributed to her.

“You call this a life? Taking daddy's money. Buying your dollies & your nick nacks. And eating his fucking chicken. Fattening up like a prize fucking heifer. You changed the scenery, but not the fucking situation. And the warden makes house calls. AND everybody knows -- *EVERYBODY* knows --that he fucks you. What they DON'T know is that you like it.”

à This scenario could have been the situation of my career.

“There is just too many buttons in the world just begging to be pressed, just begging to be pressed, and it makes me wonder, you know; it makes me fucking wonder, why doesn't any one press mine, why am I so neglected, why doesn't any one reach in and rip out the truth and tell me, that I am a fucking whore or that my parents wished that I were dead!!!”

à I call it a desire for reality / truth. Those who don’t have this—I just don’t get.

“Razors pain you, rivers are damp, acid stains you, drugs cause cramps, guns

aren’t lawful, nooses give, gas smells awful, you might as well live!”

à been there

“And barefoot or first thing in the morning, I feel beautiful. Because I feel like me. I didn't always feel that way, but I feel that way now. When somebody just loves you, and when you make somebody happy, when your presence seems to make them happy, you suddenly feel like the most beautiful person in the world.”

à I think I've come close to this. But then I shit a brick. I get scared to believe it.

“I felt beautiful when I was in Cambodia [for Tomb Raider]. I was sweaty, and my hair was matted and all over the place. And I was happy and hot and accomplishing a lot and running around, and I could feel my heart beating, and I felt beautiful.”

à this is me in the morning, doing laps up a steep hill in the dark.

“I'm extremely honest, and I pride myself on it. I don't try to be shocking. I'm playful, and I know when something I'm saying is maybe shocking, but it's just the truth, I never wanted to be scary to people or upsetting to people. I simply want to live the way I need to live.”

à I’ve tried before and gotten it wrong… I not only shocked but traumatized some folks this way. I'm trying out a new style…

“Honestly, I like everything, boyish girls, girlish boys, the heavy and the skinny. Which is a problem when I'm walking down the street.”

à aah the mystery of bi-ness

“I always play women I would date.”

à I try to adopt the image of men & women I would date.

“I am odd-looking. I sometimes think I look like a funny Muppet.”

à not exactly a muppet, but often I don’t get what others see.

“I like someone who is a little crazy but coming from a good place. I think scars are sexy because it means you made a mistake that led to a mess.”

à I'm not here yet, b/c I still hide my scars. Unfortunately, they may comprise a significant part of me. I think Jesus would agree with this one too, because he kept his scars.

“I like to hide behind the characters I play. Despite the public perception, I am a very private person who has a hard time with the fame thing.”

à I hide behind the image I put forth.

“I need more sex, OK? Before I die I wanna taste everyone in the world.”

à J

“I never like being touched, ever. People used to say I held my breath when they were hugging me. I still do.”

à one of the few dudes I ever dated got so freaked out the first time we were in bed because of this reaction.

“I seem to be getting a lot of things pushed my way that are strong women. It's like people see Hackers and they send me offers to play tough women with guns, the kind who wear no bra and a little tank top. I'd like to play strong women who are also very feminine.”

à People don’t get my gender.

“If I didn't have my films as an outlet for all the different sides of me, I would probably be locked up.”

à I like to think of it as being Multidimensional… lol.

“If I make a fool of myself, who cares? I'm not frightened by anyone's perception of me.”

à I’m just afraid of my own shadow.

“If I think more about death than some other people, it is probably because I love life more than they do.”

à My old fag hag and I used to joke about sunning at a cemetery—in black of course.

“If you have enough people sitting around telling you you're wonderful, then you start believing you're fabulous, then someone tells you you stink and you believe that too!”

“Oh, God, I struggle with low self-esteem all the time! I think everyone does. I have so much wrong with me, it's unbelievable!”

“There's something about death that is comforting. The thought that you could die tomorrow frees you to appreciate your life now.”

“Without pain, there would be no suffering, without suffering we would never learn from our mistakes. To make it right, pain and suffering is the key to all windows, without it, there is no way of life.”

à M. Teresa said, “Suffering is a gift from God.” I’m totally on board with that one. The dude I first loved also was on board with this one. He told me about this quote.

“We come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly... Only after we have lost everything, are we free to do anything... Throw things out there and not be perfect and not have answers to anything and see if people understand”

“You're young, you're drunk, you're in bed, you have knives; shit happens!”

“What nourishes me also destroys me.”

à don't get this one yet, but it makes sense somewhere inside of me... something has to keep the cycle moving.

“I make it a point not to buy certain magazines, not because I am against tabloids or things like that, but I want to fill my mind with valid issues in the world. I'd like there to be less refugees. I'd like all girls to go to school. That's what we need to be thinking about, and working on making our own families good and strong and our own kids happy. Not to cloud our minds with things that don’t matter.”

Today show interview, June 8, 2005

à now a days, I realize I can create my own reality. If I choose what to hear, see, and do, it works out… for the most part.

"In countries where people have to flee their homes because of persecution and violence, political solutions must be found, peace and tolerance restored, so that refugees can return home. In my experience, going home is the deepest wish of most refugees."

BBC News interview, Apr. 8, 2004

à About a third of my family is comprised of refugees… I feel the weight of that history around them. Every other is every other. American individualism is often a fallacy. De Tocqueville—wrote a lot about this issue.

Work

Its so different from school. Duh, but I just had to write about it at some point. I got the job I wanted. I got lucky coming out of school. In retrospect, school was a joke—getting your bills paid to learn??? That IS funny.

I interviewed for two different positions at the same firm. Apparently they liked me so much that they had a little debate over me for a while. They settled on what sounded like the impossible—splitting me up. Unfortunately, I’ve had to go through double the training for both positions as if I were holding each of them down alone.

Its funny that in one part of my job—its mostly females—and for the other—its mostly males. I guess I’m bi in more ways than one. I essentially bridge two parts of market research. The touchy feely side that deals with more of the qualitative shit and the quant shit stuff.

The fuzzy stuff was cool. The techy stuff has been amazing. During my first week I had to give a presentation to an audience of three PhD’s. Hearing them speak makes science fiction jargon sound retarded. They use calc-based statistics and when they talk, I truly get an understanding of the term “think-tank”.

I was a little overwhelmed as I sort of got hired for a position that usually requires added education or experience. Thus far, I’ve learned that:

1—any and nearly all information is out there in the world. You just have to look for it. There is research on every topic. It is just usually never seen or published for everyone’s eyes. If you extend this principle beyond the private sphere, the whole situation gets rather daunting.

2—selling is beyond a science or an art. The information out there can be used for anything and everything. With the right analysis, you can pinpoint where a group of people are and where they will be in the future. You can profile them extraordinarily well and tailor stuff accordingly. Its mind boggling.

On the upside, this information can largely be used for upstanding purposes. In fact, with proper institutional incentives—it can make public stuff work a thousand times better. It is sort of a conundrum then why at times such a transfer of information does not occur.

Kitty Kat Faces and Puffy Lips

I have a penchant for disproportionately large lips. I think they make the world go round. Fun piece of information--lips are not fat; they are a muscles. Hehe.

Glasses! Part 2

Holy shit—the glasses worked!

I just finished my first meeting with the hens (older domineering women)—and it went great!

The glasses totally did the trick. I didn’t get a single problematic look. Yea—so one of them still gave me the funny grin and smile as she just stared at my face—but there was no fear in it. It was fantastic.

I went out of my way too to look for a pair that were large and that made me look not just intellectual but also innocent. I wasn’t going for the whole sexy angular look. I was looking for something that blared—socially awkward.

Even one of my female coworkers acted different—less aggressive and more sensitive. Shit—glasses make people be nice.

In addition, they changed how I acted. My smile went from confident to self-effacing and demure. I didn’t put my elbows up on the table. I moved my shoulders forward to avoid my chest sticking out. And it even seemed like people cared less that I was taller than they.

They were so fucken cheap too—about 20 bones.

I’d thought about glasses before but I just can’t believe it took a serious job situation to make me go out and buy them—I may even fucken wear them to the gym!

Love This

Star Fucker

"Temptation is a mother
Our lust for one another
We barely know each other

His moves were so erotic
His gaze was so hypnotic
I begged this guy to stop it

You've got, you've got, you got,
what it takes to make me leave my man

It's hard to control myself
It's hard to control myself

You've got, you've got, you got
What it takes to make this boy be bad

You've got, you've got, you got,
What it takes to make me leave my man

Zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz"

"Control Myself" LJ Cool & Jennifer Lopez

Glasses!

I’m so fucken excited—tomorrow morning I’m getting my first ever set of glasses! I don’t need them for the sake of my vision, but for other equally compelling reasons.

Tomorrow I start work on a job assignment that will take up about 25% of my time. Though it will only last for two-three months, I will have to work closely with a bunch of women—usually equal or greater than me in rank.

Most of them will be unattractive, a bit disgruntled, and pride themselves on their intellectuality. This situation of course spells trouble as it has in the past. Athletic, attractive, and god-forbid intelligent men are known for being assholes—especially to this subset of the demographic.

Now, I wouldn’t have a problem if these women could figure out somehow that I was gay and not a threat. However, I have to act professional—aka, straight—and often many women cannot seem to tell that I veer left anyways.

None of this course would be a problem if more women were in powerful positions in society. Women would be more accustomed to dealing with such men in inferior positions. However, society generally deals the contrary hand. As such, when women are in charge of men like me, if I were to so much as sneeze and perceive that I look down on them in any way—I’m in for it. Likely, because I’m new, they will quickly also know where I went to school—which will cast me as the annoying typical spoiled brat who’s always gotten their way.

Its happened in the past and its not been a pretty sight. So tomorrow I’m going Dork, Geek, REJECT! I get my glasses tomorrow morning. I’m disheveling my hair and wearing the least clingy over-sized business shirt I could dig up, unflattering trousers, and Ronald McDonald-like shoes. To top it all off, I’m adding the large, clunky, obfuscating, bottle-bottom glasses.

When I open my mouth and at some point involuntarily give away my verbal acuity, it will no longer come from some annoying ass—but instead from some geeky dork who has probably undergone rejection in his life as well.

See, it’s sort of hard to cover things up without glasses because few things speak of the opposite of the stereotype like glasses do. Business attire makes it hard to cover up an athletic body. Shirts have to be tucked in and unless I want to look like a guy who cannot properly fit his clothes—generally, business clothes means that when the suit comes off—they know what you like.

Likewise, hair can also only dissimulate so much. Yes—there are two ways to shaggify. If one has soft features, general dishevelment will do. In the case of pronounced features, you may not be able to fully mask the underlying facial symmetry, but you can effectively limit its immediate effect, i.e. comb the hair asymmetrically along one of the important lines on the face-head such as the cheekbone to temple line or the eye-to cheek-bone line, and with longer hair along the sides, even the jaw to temple line. The key is LOPSIDEDNESS. This is harder to pull off in professional settings—hence the glasses.

Of course, the alternative way to shaggify is the tossled look that makes you look fly, does not refrain the intrusive effect of striking features, and if you’re not in the right social context, just blares—“I know what I’m doing.”

I’m excited. A friend said to me that I don’t need glasses if I can just learn to make people feel respected. I said that generally for some people that’s an uphill battle. While some people struggle to gain respect, others struggle to not be overly intimidating or threatening. It’s reality. I just have to work with it.

Zeus

I would call him Hercules except that he is buff among the buff. In writing about humility, I used him as an example—the guy who adjusted the cable machine for me. So I’ll refer to him as Zeus—the king of the gods.

He is that really really ridiculously big guy that every gym seems to have. He is that one who stands out because he is just by far the largest guy—by like a lot. He is impossible to miss because he is not just hugely broad, but also very tall. Until recently, I just dismissed the dude completely. I thought he was stuck up because he moved about the gym with particular decisiveness, rarely acknowledging anyone else. Ironically, that also describes me.

However, my attitude eventually changed after a few interesting encounters. The first was when he wore a very skimpy tank top, which at certain points during his work out would easily ride up exposing his stomach. Most guys his size are defined at best. Many are on the verge of being powerlifter types—with all their muscle submerged in blubber. However, when this guy wore this top, I realized that he did nto fit this stereotype in the least.

HOLY SHIT—this dude was quite literally ripped to the bone. He didn’t have a 6 pac, but an 8pac and very likely a 10pac complete with deeply chiseled obloquies. I was floored by what I saw. The dude is at least fifty pounds heavier than me, and also more ripped than me. Whatever he was doing, he was doing it right. He had my respect in that department.

The second encounter is sort of odd. As might be typical, this guy often talks and works in with the other largest guys in the gym. However, he does hang out with one interesting girl. This girl caught my attention first because she’s really really hot. She’s on the track team, has a very curvy body, and she’s deaf. She can read lips so she does not need people to sign for her, however, her speech of course sounds differently.

Watching the two is for some reason endearing because the big guy loses his grimace that he wears when he’s heaving the weights and might at times almost smile. He does smile of course and laughs with his buddies. But when he’s with her, he appears more sensitive. I have always thought these two were an item. However, I started to notice that they did not affectionately touch each other, bringing into question my assumption.

The third encounter was interesting because this guy often walks around in a scowl. He did so to such a degree that 1—seldom could his facial features be actually assessed and 2—seldom would I even have the thought to actually look at his face directly for fear that I would be discovered in the act of “checking him out” and pulverized into the ground. The guy’s voice is also a low bellow. In short, he is completely unapproachable and for a gay dude like me—a major danger.

This one time however, we were passing each other and although I never wanted to be caught randomly looking at the guy, I also did not want to demonstrate fear at looking at him when the occasion might call for it. I didn’t look away. We looked at each other and nodded. Again, I was surprised by what I saw. The guy had a hot face. His eyes were pretty. Deeply set behind naturally arched eyebrows, his almond-shaped orbs were a light mocha color.

I was like whoa—the dude is very genetically blessed.

Still of course I just dismissed him. I thought about one day just telling him that he was quite an athlete, but I figured he would see right through that, and take it as a come on, and then pulverize me. So I just continued the usual ordeal.

Another event that changed my perspective was one time when I lost my cell phone. He was at the gym and as is rare for him, actually sitting down and still for a second. I was rather worried about my phone and cast aside any shyness and simply asked him if he had seen it. He was at first gruff but then he sort of got this scared look on his face and said that if he did see it, he would make sure to tell me and that he hoped that I found it soon. I found the sudden turn in his expression curious.

I was however genuinely touched by his secondary response and so I just let the smile within me surface and I said thanks. I did not expect that reaction from him. I realize—I might have just been falling for the dude and reading waaaay too much into it. That very likely might be the case.

The next event that changed my perspective was the whole cable incident. He not only seemed humble in doing so—but dare I say he seemed almost eager to do a nice favor. The humility part struck me as awesomely cool—but the near-eagerness—that didn’t fit with humility so much. I got the feeling that something might be beneath that.

The next event that changed my outlook was me getting the feeling one day at the gym that he was watching me from afar. I—and most others—at the gym look into the distance as a way to move about casually without inadvertently looking we’re hitting on the people immediately around us. I can let my eyes wander safely as long as the points of vision are far enough into the distance to allay any sexual fears. He was doing the same. However, I still got the feeling that he was watching me.

I have figured out how to tell when someone is staring discretely at me from a far. Usually, they scan the room in various ways with one consistency—I am always at the mid-point of their scan. So, I changed my pattern of “staring off into the distance” to sort of watch him too. I seemed to find him looking in my direction often. Still, this too could also be a coincidence.

I have been known to be rude at the gym because when people say hi to me, I will either ignore them or acknowledge them only that one time and then never again. However, I figured that since he was nice enough to acknowledge me more than once, I should introduce myself.

So, today he was there and I got the same feeling about being watched by him. Usually, if I pace I will do it in a predictable and uniform way after each set—so that again, no one gets the wrong idea. Interestingly enough—he was within a few minutes in my path. So as I started to my pacing, I looked like I was approaching him.

At first, I was like—oh shit. But then I saw that he reach for his earphones and removed them. I realized he was giving me the go-ahead. So instead of just pacing—I broke with my pattern and began to walk right up to him. His attention went from being directed in my general vicinity to suddenly locking right into my eyes. I didn’t break from looking at him. For a moment, I could tell he also thought—oh shit—but it was only for an instant. Finally, I smiled and immediately he did too. Our smiles were far too broad for a first casual encounter. The knowledge of the added dimension to our greeting was palpably obvious.

I cordially extended my hand and he reached out, shook it, but squeezed way too hard. My grip collapsed instantly and the pain was immediately on my face. But before my whole body would begin to bend, he loosened his grip and looked at my hand with confusion but then quickly looked up at me with an innocent grin. He was giddy, nervous, and flirty—all at the same time. It was not hard to read what was on his mind.

I said, “Hi…” and then my name. He reciprocated in the same way. We smiled knowingly at each other and then I moved on. I didn’t have anything to talk about. But he didn’t seem to disturbed by my brusque ending. I gather he wasn’t feeling all that eloquent either.

I’m deathly scared that I will fuck this up. The dude seems to be quite a package—hot and with a personality that seems to match his body—in all likelihood better than me on both counts. I don’t want to fucken scare him away like I did cute boy. I’m scared that I am going to fuck this up because I AM INSECURE. I need to really put my previous lessons into practice.