Someone tried to convince me that that picture is Photoshopped.
Don’t give me that nonsense.
Imagine having a passion. In my case, I have plenty – but no other compares to the elation that dancing on stage provides for me. …Imagine, for many years, being continuously told to be ‘the best [they’ve] ever seen’ at this passion. Number ‘one’ at your talent… That you’re sure to experience immense success by everyone who has ever seen it, even by the most discerning.
Then, imagine being told to be so good at what you do, and who you are, to be requested to perform for a taping for a popular program to be aired on national television in front of millions of people.
…On your birthday.
This is what happened to me. It was possibly the most immense opportunity of my entire life, and I botched it. Now, my impending humiliation (and possibly, doom) will be aired for all to see in the future.
Even as an entertainer, I am a shy person. Deathly shy. I’ve always been a shy person. This was actually part of the main premise of my acceptance on the show. I/They had intended to show that even as I am normally perceived to be the, ‘quiet, soft-spoken, nerdy’-type, and although I don’t normally fit the ‘stereotype’ of an entertainer, I can be, and am, a stellar, energetic entertainer when I hit the stage. Many took notice of my ‘Nerd-to-Belly Dancer,’ routine, and had urged me to ‘play-it-up’ for the show. It was to be an act – one that went horribly wrong.
…And at the worst, possible moment, my overwhelming trepidation manifested itself in the worst way possible. I clammed up. I got into ‘automatic protective shell’-mode at the last minute, became defensive, feigned confidence, and ended up making myself to look utterly foolish.
Everything I had intended to say went unsaid. I was confused. I was ill-prepared, due to being requested a week and a half prior. I did not follow instructions. I did nearly everything wrong, save for the actual performance, perhaps…but that didn’t matter, because my actions prior could have saved me a great deal of embarrassment had I actually stuck to my original plan and offerred an explanation beforehand.
I cannot help but bombard myself with a series of niggling, ‘What-if?’s. What if I had explained that I was not doing ‘Belly Dancing,’ but my Chutney-Fusion Belly Dancing, for example? What if I had my props and had performed my sword-dancing…or black light show, instead? I had a set plan of action in mind, but I did not even follow that to completion.
It really does seem as though, considering the majority populace’s linear way of thinking, no one truly comprehends the idiosyncratic dichotomy of the ‘Shy Entertainer,’ the “Indian-descent Jamaican,’ or even the, ‘Belly Dancing Virgin.’ I was hoping to quell a lot of misconceptions with my appearance. I was hoping to make many proud. I disappointed myself, yes, but to see the disappointment in those who believed in me much more than even I did….kills me inexplicably.
This all occurred on my birthday. It will be the most unforgettable birthday to be sure.
I don’t promote this blog. I’ve only shown it to a handful of people. Tending to have a preference for rationalism, I am not particularly adept at expressing my innermost feelings, and for the most part, attempt to refrain from doing so. But I certainly wish I could use this post to express how sorry I am to have disappointed them.
I could have done so much better with the once-in-a lifetime opportunity that was in the palm of my hand.
Court is in session for the trial of Miles Edgeworth, accused of Third-Degree INTJ behaviour.
There seems to be a bit of debate between MBTI aficionados of the personality type of Miles Edgeworth. Although there is almost a unanimous agreement in most places that Miles is an INTJ, there are those who hold dear to the thought that he is an ISTJ. I’d like to examine facets of his behavior to prove that Miles Edgeworth is indeed an INTJ.
“Gee, have you nothing better to do than to write extensive analysis of the MBTI types of fictional beings?” you may ask.
…And the answer to that right now is a resounding ‘No.’ It is midnight, and rendering High Definition video in After Effects tends to mercilessly rape your system resources for hours on end resulting in Notepad being the only thing you can effectively use without wanting to kick puppies.
That being said, the Prosecution is ready, Your Honor.
WITNESS TESTIMONY #1:
Who is Miles Edgeworth?
Miles Edgeworth is the anti-hero of the Ace Attorney series – a prim, proper, perfectionist prosecutor of utmost faggatory proportions. A famed dillywag from Los Japangeles (No, seriously, Capcom, who are you trying to kid?), and once the main antagonist, he was as such considered the ‘Demon Prosecutor,’ being described as ‘cold,’ ‘ruthless,’ and vying to do anything for a guilty verdict to sustain his perfect record.
Miles exhibits numerous classic INTJ characteristics. Now, I am confident that I am not biased considering the fact that I am an INTJ and a massive fan of Miles Edgeworth, thus perhaps leading others to think that I would want him in my sphere of existence, but just about every aspect of his personality points him to being the archetypal INTJ. Hell, I would not be surprised if it were revealed that the character of Miles Edgeworth was constructed upon the INTJ profile.
WITNESS TESTIMONY #2:
Let us look at some classic quotes of his.
“Say something, Wright. I am not good at small talk.” (Disdain for small talk = Typical INTJ characteristic.)
To Wright: “First last year’s trial and now this one. It seems all you do is worry about me.
…To be honest, you’re getting on my nerves.”
Gumshoe: Well, everyone knows that you are quite popular with the ladies, sir… Maybe she’s an old girlfriend that you sent to Dumpsville when you were younger.
Edgeworth: D-Detective! Where did you hear such nonsense from!?
Gumshoe: I didn’t hear it from anyone. It’s just sorta how I imagine you to be… sir.
Edgeworth: (…D-Do I really inspire this sort of frothing desire from the female masses?)
It goes without saying that many INTJs tend to not be very interested in romantic matters. A relationship-obsessed INTJ is an oxymoron. I am not going to sit here and overgeneralize the romantic matters of the INTJ, as there tend to be great variations therein (I’ve seen those who spurn the idea of romance and sexual matters – such as I, I suppose – due to not giving a crap, and I’ve met others who enjoy casual sexual encounters… due to not giving a crap.) But one thing is almost certain across the board – we treat mate-selection as a science. We know almost exactly what we like and can quickly gauge the other person’s capabilities based on our set standards (which tend to be so impossibly high that perhaps not even we can reach them) and when they are not met, they’re irrevocably played on Platonic Mode and thereby B& from our romantic userbase. No flirting. No fun. No frolic (or, very minimal, anyway). If someone doesn’t meet the standards, we’re not interested. No ifs, ands, or buts. They can just GTFO.
Not only does Miles not explicitly express interest in the bajillions of lady-leeches who want nothing more than to suck his …blood, he seems oblivious of their affections and intent, as indicated above. Now, I don’t see how that’s possible. When a crap-ton of suitors are overwhelming you with romantic attention all at once, it’s really difficult to be oblivious of it. In any case, I can easily see Miles as a demisexual. That’s my personal opinion, though. Meaning, it appears that Miles only wishes to be closely associated with those who he hold to high regard – which are not very many. A demisexual is not generally interested in romantic/sexual affairs unless there is the rare occasion in which someone really, truly stands out in their eyes. And although
I love me some Feenie/Edgey many wish to speculate otherwise, I can see that theory holding the most water for Edgeworth.
Forgive me as a digress a little. It brings me to another point.
Phoenix Wright claims to know the true Edgeworth more than anyone, suggesting that Edgeworth regularly employs a facade in order to secure his repute. Phoenix’s aspiration of becoming a defense attorney was attributed to him hoping to once again reunite with Edgeworth in order to save him, and he claims that he is the only one to know how. So, Phoenix, in his fit of Spurned Girlfriend Syndrome, becomes a defense attorney and finally encounters Edgeworth 15 years later. Extreme much, Phoenix?
(To which based on this, Phoenix can most definitely be classified as an ‘F’-type.)
Edgeworth is known to backlash defensively concerning perceived attacks to his competence, displaying an air of confidence that can more-or-less be perceived as arrogance. Okay, perhaps he is arrogant. But that’s okay, because he can be. On more than one occasion, prior to Phoenix saying anything, Edgeworth immediately and accusatorily badgers Wright to ‘Laugh at [him]. Go ahead, laugh at the fallen attorney. Why aren’t you laughing?!’ And on at least two occasions, Phoenix alludes to the possibility of Edgeworth going off to cry. He keeps his undying love for the Steel Samurai (and possibly other things) in the closet to prevent risking defamation. You see, INTJs are not devoid of sentiment as we are stereotypically portrayed to be…we are just very, very good at concealing it. That, and we do commonly possess less feelings than the average person. So, anyway. It goes to show that whenever it comes to his reputation and attacks on his competence and intellect, Edgeworth can become exceedingly and irrationally defensive.
Edgeworth: (in custody) So…you’ve come to laugh at the fallen attorney. Well? Why aren’t you laughing?
Maya: Nick…should we be laughing?
Phoenix: Nah. It’s a trick. Laugh and he’ll get mad…or burst into tears. Edgeworth…we don’t have so much free time we can spend it coming down here to laugh at you.
Edgeworth: …Yes you do.
Phoenix: (Actually, he’s right)
He once said, “I am a man of Science,” expressing his disdain for the illogical and intangible. It is no secret that Miles has a preference of rationality and truth above all. Miles does not easily buy into metaphysical claptrap that his defense counterparts regularly indulge in. While Phoenix can look into the deceptive hearts of others with his glowy-magatama-thing, and Apollo can detect unease in liars with his supernatural gaycelet, Miles Edgeworth’s special power is ‘logic.’ Logic! His special power is using his brain for crying out loud. And his weapon is a chessboard. A ‘Strategist’ if I ever saw one.
WITNESS TESTIMONY #3:
Why Miles Edgeworth is NOT an _ _ _ _.
Somewhere I read someone describing Miles as an ENTJ.
Others have likened Miles to being an ISTJ. Being only one letter off, of course he will exhibit many of the characteristics of an ISTJ. But there are some contradictions in this analysis, Your Honor. Let us start by comparing the fundamental basics of each personality type.
The NT temperament is referred to as the ‘Intellectual’ temperament.
“INTJs are natural leaders, although they usually choose to remain in the background until they see a real need to take over the lead.”
The SJ temperament is referred to as the ‘Protector’ temperament.
Now here is a situation in which the red flags were flying long before I decided to put it on the shelf – simply because I wanted to experience it long enough to share and gather information for myself.
So, in my search for talent agencies one day, I came across a heavily promoted website (and by this, I mean heavily promoted by themselves. The website shows as one of the top, promoted links on Google.) referred simply as the, ‘One Source Talent’ agency. It stuck out like a sore thumb. Here is where the first red flag came in – unlike most agencies where they’re very selective about submissions and would never deign to have open submissions on to mitigate the flow, OneSource practically had a submission form on the splash page on their website.
So, for the heck of it, I put it a bit of basic information, including a picture. That occurred in the morning. By that very evening, I received a call back. This, needless to say, was the second red flag.
The man on the other end of the line was nice enough. His name was
I am going to call you back in. Immediately after came an e-mail with all the pertinent information. It was a detailed e-mail – giving directions, assigning me an ‘invitation number,’ and a few ‘industry points,’ which seemed to make quite a bit of sense, really.
So, I got there a half-hour early (and if you know me, that’s tardy), and was met at the lift by a tall, lanky South-Asian fellow who appeared to be going my way. Upon reaching, I was given a clipboard from the receptionist after being asked for my ‘invitation number,’ with a form requesting my basic information. I was told to go into a large waiting room with many rows of chairs inhabited by a fraction of the people. In the front of the room was a television displaying, “The Devil Wears Prada.”
In due time, I completed my form, submitted it to the receptionist, and was once again requested to wait in the waiting area along with the growing number of people. Then, close to a half-hour later, a young man appeared, called names one-by-one, lined us up, and led us into a hallway in which each person was individually led into a room, had their paper confiscated, and their mugshots snapped. We were led back into the waiting room.
After another 15-or-so minutes of waiting, a young woman appeared. Her name escapes me, and apparently, so did some other relevant information. This is foreshadowing for later, I assure you. She introduced herself and prompted us to drop all and lend her all ears for the following presentation. She went on for about ten minutes about OneSource Talent being one of the leading agencies and that they’ve casted for major companies such as NBC, etc, etc. She spoke incredibly fast.
I was simply asked a couple of shallow questions, such as, “What brought you here today?” “What are your goals?” “Does your family support you doing this?” “Do you have any questions?” and was almost immediately sent on my way with a ‘ticket’ to return the following Monday at 12:00 pm. Wait. That’s it? That was it? I was expecting a long conversation, a major evaluation of my character…something. Not only that, the gal was noticeably rushing through the process and did not care to hear about my extraneous skills.
Oh, man. So many red flags, it’s socialist.
Therein lies the ego-boosting tactic. They tell you that if you are selected, they will let you know. If not, you are more than welcome to call back and ask why. With the shallow line of questioning, anyone would be a shoe-in.
So, Monday morning, I arrived over an hour early, and regardless of the fact that I was scheduled to be there at 12:00 pm, was received almost an hour early, as well. I was brought back to the same room – my ‘personal representative,’ a curly-haired young woman with a face of shape memory alloy set to permanent scowl. She was generally unsmiling and pretty unpleasant to be around.
She presented me with a similar line of shallow questioning, then a small commercial script to practice. It had something to do with allergy medication of some sort. She then left the room for a good while for me to have time to practice the lines. She returned, I dictated.
“What did you think about it?”
“Well, I could do better.” I always say this. I’m the perfectionist-type. There’s always room for improvement in my eyes. She then disappeared for another few minutes, and returned.
“I talked it over with my boss and we are happy to say that you have great potential and we think you would be a great asset to our company.” She handed me an additional sheet of paper in which she prompted me to look over and sign. It was basically a checkbox of requirements. One of which included an agreement to pay the initial $495 start-up fee, along with the additional $39.95 per month.
Ah, so it’s one of those. I see it now. I was waiting for this to happen.
“She did mention it in the
“Did you need to make a phone call? You can ask someone else, and they can provide their information. Perhaps you have a family member that would be willing to help you out?”
“Hm. Can I take this home and think about it?”
“No, this is a one-time offer and it can only be done today.”
I expressed the desire to phone someone and she left me at my devices. That was, of course, a lie, as I had no intention to solicit scam money on my behalf from anyone. I believe I just sat there, pretending to make calls when she returned.
“Well, I am sorry, I cannot seem to reach anyone. The person I was hoping would help has their phone off, ad I promised them that I’d let them know prior to signing something.” I was gauging her for a response.
“It’s your career. If you needed someone else’s permission, they should have come with you. They should be sitting in that chair right beside you.”
“That would be rather difficult, considering that person is in Florida right now,” I retorted.
“I was under the impression that you said your family was okay with this. You are an adult and you shouldn’t have to base your decisions on other people.”
“I am sorry. I just cannot come to such a staunch decision in one day.”
“If you were truly dedicated, it would not be a problem for you.”
“Obviously, I am dedicated. I am just not currently financially able to throw down $500 on a single decision.”
“We are only looking for people who are driven and excited to take their career to a new level,” she bullshitted.
So yes, they are trying to imply that a lack of finances = lack of true ambition. Indeed.
“Look, it’s up to you. You have no resume. This is why we help people with little-to-no experience. If you really don’t want to do that, just tell me. I’ll just wish you luck on your endeavors and you’ll be free to go.”
This is when I became quite annoyed. Excuse me? I have no resume? How did you arrive to that conclusion? Last time I checked myself, I was a professional entertainer with a pretty extensive resume, thank you very much.
So, once again, I confirmed my decline.
“Alright, good luck then, and you can’t audition with us again until another year.”
Pffft. Fine with me. Until then, I’ll be out getting more experience for my nonexistent resume.
As of two mornings ago, my slumber was perturbed by a call from an odd number: 866.611.8672.
On the other end of the line was a man who with a distinct ‘I-am-Indian-but-not-really’ accent. As a Jamaican, I am at least Indian enough to pick up when an Indian’s trying to conceal their accent. I know I am going to raise some eyebrows with that one.
Anyway, he started with, “My name is Brdfkj3e(??), and I am from ExploreTalent.com.” There was an audible bustling about in the background. It didn’t take me but two µs to recognize that as a call centre.
He then proceeded to let me know that some mysterious casting director with no apparent name happened upon my profile, was deeply impressed, and wanted to cast me in his upcoming movie. The movie was sure to be a huge production, he said. In turn, he would ‘create a profile’ in which would be used to be sent to other casting directors(?)
“Are you looking to do modeling or acting?” Gee, shouldn’t all the relevant information be on my ‘profile?’
In truth, I had no recollection of ever signing up with ExploreTalent.com. Apparently, I must have, however, which goes to show that such a profile was archaic and severely outdated. “Okay, it says right here – you are living in Elmont, you are 19 years old, and you have a picture of you in an Indian outfit…” Strangely enough, even though I had relocated to Orlando since the past few years, I just, by some odd coincidence, happened to be in Elmont at that very moment. For the first time in years.
Were they fucking watching me?!
The part about being 19 years old was at least correct – 3 years ago, anyway. Goodness knows why I would have selected ‘Elmont’ in my profile, considering that not even at 19 years of age was I residing in Elmont. Hell, the last time I lived in Elmont was when I was in the 9th grade. I must have had some quirky rationalization as to why I claimed residence in Elmont at the time.
Anyway, I agreed with him, quietly deciding to not point out the discrepancies in his description to see how things would go along.
“What is your name again?”
“Bruce Dickinson.” I did not expect that. It was obvious to me that this guy was Indian. I almost had it in mind to ask which part of Bharat he was from and maybe bust out in Hindi.
“Can you please spell that?”
And he did, to which he added his call-back number, his extension, and informed me that he would be the one responsible for mediating between myself and potential casting opportunities. He would act as my go-to person for just about everything.
He told me that I’d have to post more pictures on my profile, but I cannot access my information right now until they ‘activate’ for me. Or some crap. And because I was ‘specially selected’ by the casting director, or some nonsense, it’s absolutely ‘free.’ Ah, that’s interesting. Free. Can’t argue with that. I’d also be getting 100 business cards. Rather unnecessary, I thought, as I already am quite content with my own. I merely stayed with the conversation on the basis of observation.
A well thought-out presentation, I thought. One that makes absolutely no sense.
The way he spoke was rushed, uninviting of doubt and questioning, and leaving little room for interjection. The hastiness of his tone was a dead give-away that whatever he was telling me was scripted. So, I decided to screw with him a bit.
“Well, could you send me an e-mail regarding this matter so that I can look it over and confirm for myself?”
“Your account is not yet activated.”
“Ooooookay. So send me an e-mail.”
“First, you have to give us your address so that we can go ahead and send you your 100 business cards.”
“Can you not send me one now?”
“No, ma’am, I can only send you one later once your account is activated.”
“And how do I activate it?”
“First you just have to give an address and your credit card number for the activation fee-”
“Oh. Silly me, I thought you said it was free.”
“It is only a one-time activation fee. Once you pay it, you will be subscribed to the service and you will receive 100 business cards to take with you to auditions. You don’t have to pay anything after that.”
I started to ask more questions. “Can you, perhaps, show me this profile of mine that you are gathering this information from?”
“You can go to ExploreTalent.com – blah, blah, bitchwhinecheese.”
I did as I was told, and oddly enough, I received no response whatsoever with the website. I was flipping through tabs otherwise, so I knew that there was nothing wrong with the internet connection itself.
“I don’t know why you’re not seeing it. It opened for me – no problem.”
“Well, nothing is happening on my end at all. I am not seeing anything.”
“Something must be wrong with your computer, because it’s working fine here.”
Shut your whore mouth and never insult my baby like that. “I assure you, nothing is wrong with my computer. I can access other websites just fine. I am only met with a blank screen when I attempt to access exploretalent.com.”
Now, I should have quelled my curiosity sooner and ended the call, but I didn’t. Sprint unknowingly did it for me. It came to pass that eventually, as we were talking, I could hear him, but he could no longer hear me. After several seconds of, “Hello? Hello? Helllooo?” soon enough, I could hear him utter quietly, “This talent is mad,” on the other end of the line before he hung up.
Less than a minute later, he called back. And of course, curiosity took over and I picked up again. He promptly returned to beseeching me to pay the hefty fee.
“No,” I responded sternly, “I am sorry. There is just no way I have that amount of money.”
Well, he attempted, there were other payment options. I could go with the $150 for a six-month payment plan, or the $70 for three months. At least, that is along the lines of what I can recall.
I was not having it. And he could tell, because he was starting to sound just a tad irate. When I expressed my caution to giving out my address to a possibly irreputable company over the phone, he made it obvious that he was beginning to get a little peeved.
“Look, just tell me if you are going to do it, if not, I will hang up, and you will lose this opportunity.”
“No, I am not.”
…And without any sort of greeting whatsoever, he hung up.
From what I can almost tell – ExploreTalent.com is NOT the scam. But I cannot be too sure. I do believe that the call was a result of people perusing these talent profiles and making a business of contacting these hopeful talents claiming they are from the website, and scamming the life out of them.
Lesson for the day, kids: If in any situation you are villianized for wanting to protect yourself, walk away. It’s your right to ask questions and to employ caution, and if anyone’s going to throw a hissyfit simply because you are trying to watch your own back, it’s not worth it. A reputable opportunity will understand and have no qualms in wanting to verify their authenticity. Secondly, it will always be much, more work to gain the favour of an actual agency, seeing as though they always have what they need and they are consistently overwhelmed with prospective clients.
So, that was my report of Fail for the day. Hope it helps.
Perhaps I should call this, ‘Ten Random Apologies’, or ‘Top Ten Misunderstood Characteristics’, as some are character traits that have served as main sources for many a misunderstanding and awkward situation in social situations. Some may be a bit contentious, but if you can (and have done so for as long as you’ve known me) oversee these little quirks, you’re one darn awesome friend. ILU. =)
(1) I Love You More Than You’ll Ever Know. Aaand…that’s a damn problem. It has come to my attention that I sincerely have difficulties in showing how much I care sometimes. I think about, and highly revere many of you much more than I ever tend to show. I’m not sure if I care to write more about this topic, but I’d like to assure you that I indeed thought about it.
(2) Please, No Linger-Fingers =(. I have never been a very affectionate person, and if so, to very few. Therefore, I generally do not like being touched. I may engage someone in a hug out of a feeling of social obligation, but more than likely, I would rather not have anyone put their arm around me, grind on me, kiss my face (or anywhere else for that matter), etc. You’d think that people out there would be respectful enough so that wouldn’t be a problem. Then again, I have a naïve tendency to overestimate the goodness of most people. On such an event, I will
shoot politely ask anyone to refrain from the act.
(3) The ‘Small’ Talk.
Someone: “So, how are ya?”
Me: “Uhm. Good…”
I find ‘Small Talk’ and content-less speech to be incredibly awkward. Approach me with nothing in particular to talk about and I will ADD away like no other. For similar reasons, I rarely enjoy talking on the phone, unless it’s of great importance.
Many a time I have been texted/called/messaged with small talk, I glaze over it, promise myself I’ll answer later, and ultimately forget to do so.
I know you’re trying to be nice. I’m sorry. I just suck at it.
(4) (Blunt) Honesty. I am not necessarily attaching a positive, nor a negative connotation to this. I do not believe in lying about oneself to appease others, and therefore…If you don’t want my honest opinion, do not ask for it. I can be diplomatic, but I will not spare the truth or my honest opinions simply in the interest of salvaging sentiments. I’d rather hear something directly from the source than from elsewhere, and I am sure one would like the same from me.
(5) Don’t Buy Me Flowers (Unless I Can Eat Them.) I tend to favour the more practical and logical rather than the emotional or aesthetic. There are very few exceptions. I can’t tell expensive ‘Name-Brand’ clothing from $5 knock-offs. And I don’t give a butterfly’s fart.
Which can cause a Tornado in Kansas according to the Chaos Effect. Books? Puzzles? Jewelry that serves a double-function as USB storage devices? Thumbs up.
Not to say that I don’t appreciate such other baubles as perfumes, flowers, clothes, cosmetics and such…as they make my Christmas shopping endeavors a Hell of a lot cheaper.
(6) “Patience, Grasshopper.” “..But… I’m a Hummingbird D:” I have very limited patience, regardless of my outward temperament. If you are repetitive in your speech or chatter incessantly about trite inanities, my mind will vacate the premises. It doesn’t help that I generally have the attention span of a puppy.
(7) Thank You For Your Concern, But Not. Right. Now. No, seriously. Thank you, thank you, thank you…I really, really, REALLY appreciate your love and concern. Just at certain times. Particularly (and oddly for most people) when I am NOT upset. It’s hard to explain.
My Ninja Info Cards. The times when I am most upset are those in which I do not wish to be overwhelmed with compassion. I don’t like to ‘talk about it’. I just wish to be left alone to think. Going into obscurity is my way of healing myself. I’ve kept many adversities from even my closest friends to avoid burdening them with my personal problems, and I want to mitigate the frequency of spreading potential negativity (In other words, I kinda don’t wanna seem like an emo kid). I talk about it when I’m better. This is one trait that I’ve been told that I need to seek psychiatric help for, and I flatly disagree. It’s just the way I deal with things.
(8) Never-Ending Pursuit of Knowledge. When I was 11 years of age, I devised a motto that I stand by to this day – ‘The Never-Ending Pursuit of Knowledge and Honing my Talents and Skill,” or variations thereof. I’ve always possessed a voracious appetite for learning. I value knowledge/intelligence/wit/skills and a good nature above good looks/fashionable/similar qualities. Therefore, I apologize if you want to call my attention to the ‘Cute guy’ over there, because I didn’t notice him. And when you do, I’ll more than likely ask, “That’s nice. But what can he do?”
(9) Just Because I’m Friendly, Doesn’t Mean I Want To Jump Your Bones. Cut off a finger or two from one hand and the remainder of fingers would be indicative of the amount of times I’ve truly ‘liked’ another person. And I loathed the feeling. Other times, I don’t care/am not interested. Dating and ephemeral relationships are of
absolutely no extremely minimal importance to me. I’ve hardly ever been interested in it, and I’m in no hurry to start. I can’t explain why. Maybe it has something to do with fact #2. It’ll happen one day. Just not now. No one has changed my mind. Yet. I’m not gay.
(10) “Where Did She Go?” I am a genuine introvert, and even though I’ve changed immensely in that which I can swivel around some social situations quite easily, I still retain my innate, reticent qualities. I do not generally like partying, clubbing, and other taxing social situations. Place me in a room with strangers and I’ll probably have an anxiety attack and cower in the corner. I can’t be around many people for too long, even those closest to me, otherwise I’d go positively insane. I’m quite sure that many of you may recall me ‘disappearing’ from the scene for moments on end if the situation does not involve me. Needless to say, I prefer small gatherings than large crowds. If I agree to engage in activities that I do not particularly enjoy (such as clubbing), it is because I want to hang with you. And if
you’re not paying attention to me I cannot be around you, I will shake the scene in order to prevent myself from melting into a primordial goo of the utter sheepishness that I’m made of. I don’t mean to be rude when I do so, trust me. I just need alone time to charge my batteries.
But I swear to the Invisible Entity in The Sky of Questionable Existence that I am trying my darndest to work on some of these little oddities of character and become less of a social disaster. No, rly. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating the severity of it a little. Maybe I’m a lot better that I used to be. I’ve at least adapted enough to feel absolutely fabulous *limp wrist* on stage, though that doesn’t require coming into direct contact with others, either.
…At least about half a century ago, were a young, unmarried woman in her early twenties be questioned of her virginity, there would be no question of it. If she wasn’t, she would be considered a woman of loose morals. In those times, the efforts of a young virgin to remain abstinent would have been lauded. Now, virginity appears to be more a burden, one of which people vie to slough.
I am greatly perturbed by the difficulty that one seems to have to face in this day and age simply by being a virgin. On top of that, I am actually quite a bit perturbed at myself considering that I’ve been bothered to the breaking point of dedicating time to write about it (Since, usually, if it comes to such that I simply cannot stop mulling something over, the only cure for me is to sit down and record my thoughts).
Virgin? So? What’s the big deal? My ‘moral values’ are not bound by the constraints of religion or such, otherwise, I would be a virgin by restraint. I am one…simply because it is my current state of being, and by choice that implements a variety of factors. I am neither particularly ashamed nor proud of it. Even though the usual word-of-mouth is that I am asexual (yes, people like that DO exist http://www.asexuality.org), I do experience desire sometimes, and I do have ephemeral crushes, and therefore, I am capable and not truly asexual. However, people find it hard to believe that it is lack of desire, not restraint. You would not want to have sex with someone you were not attracted to, would you? And attraction is something that comes rarely for me. Imagine that there was a particular vegetable (or in my case, fruit), that you’ve always despised. For example, my good friend, the tomato. If you were constantly offered tomatoes, would your refusal of them be considered, ‘restraint’? No. Therefore, it is not a question of restraint, I am simply not attracted to the opportunities presented to me…On the contrary, I am, most of the time, repulsed. Because of this, I DEFINITELY do not claim to be a highly moral person, considering the relativity of the concept, anyway.
Furthermore, I have lived the past couple of decades under the staunch impression that people on average began their sexual lives in their twenties. Up until I was about 19-20 years of age, I honestly, and regrettably, attached a stigma on someone who was not a virgin under, say…at least early twenties. One may think this is funny, but imagine my shock when I learned that the average age of virginity loss is at about 16? I would have never dreamed about doing that at that age. Up until relatively recently, I pretty much thought of non-virgin teenagers (or even early 20-somethings) as all delinquents with nothing better to do than to pursue the gratification of their senses. It was not until I was around 19-20 when it started to dawn on me that virginity was not as commonplace as I thought.
…And it ANNOYS me when people assume otherwise, and say such things as, ‘But you’re so beautiful/hot/talented/etc/etc…I am SURE plenty of guys go after you.’ YES, but are you implying that I have no free will? I have even gotten remarks along the lines of, “Boy, what a waste!” So, wait. If I was… well in use, would I be lauded for being an easy catch? Absolutely not. So, damned if I don’t, damned if I do.
Honestly, and thankfully, being a recipient to such disbelief is not as common as it could be. Initially, perhaps… but I am always able to articulate very clearly the numerous reasons as to my ‘flowered’ state of being. However, when I do, my reasons then tends to be translated into being overly prudish, or better yet, a ‘bitch’. Somehow, I am a bitch because I am apparently ‘not giving them a chance’. I don’t understand. Do you expect me to want them to test drive me like a vehicle?
What is so shocking about virgins past their teenaged years? I know PLENTY of virgins in their twenties who are intelligent, beautiful and talented. Unfortunately, since sex is doled out so willingly and easily like Free Trial AOL CDs, not many people are willing to wait for a worthy relationship before the sex, it seems. When I am hit on, once it dawns on the aggressor that they have no chance of having a physical relationship with me, they have no further interest in interacting with me at all.
As most people who know me well enough know, it is very rare for someone to catch my attention. The pursuit of love tends to be perhaps one of the furthest things from my mind, and I only tend to view such things as petty distractions. Perhaps I’ve focused my energies into my art, my dancing, my music and beat-making, my writing, etc…that I have not had time to invest in, or worry about, that sort of thing. And I am perfectly content with that.For me to fall in love, I have to be impressed. Maybe this is the part in which I may come across as a bit of a bitch, but I am rarely ever that impressed by any man anymore. …I want a vivacious someone that can challenge my intellect, relate to and rival me in (some of) my skills and talents, complement me otherwise, be of a good-hearted nature and make me laugh. Is that too much to ask?
It all boils down to: I simply have not met the person I want to share the experience with. Otherwise, I barely have any interest at all. It is such a simple concept, yet it appears to be so confusing to others. Why?
Is it really that strange? Am I really an odd one out in this respect?
Sorry if this is a little TL;DR.