Triple Accomplishment Super Thursday!

Today worked out great. I accomplished something today that's been nagging me for what seems like years, and possibly has been. The fact that I managed to circumvent my usual tedious thought process that invariably results in me chickening out and pouting about how much of a coward I am and instead do the un... well not really the un-thinkable, 'cause I've thought about it, but that's more or less the point. The fact is I actually did it rather than just think about it. This is an amazing feat of super greatness that goes beyond my normal capabilities. If I can continue down this path it will change who I am as a person for the better, and make all of the trials to come that much easier. It's a stunning example of my newfound perseverance and tenacity.

But first I rescued a dog.

It was a round little chihuahua by name of Gizmo. It was wandering around claiming the neighborhood as his own and I made him nervous enough with my menacing countenance that he eventually ambled home. Then he ambled through the bushes and around his home. I eventually managed to cut off his escape route and deliver him to his girl across the fence. Just another day in the life of an Evil Overlord.

Next up I went to work on my animation, 'cause I'm an animator and that's what animators do: they work. I'm about ready to edit and hopefully fix as many mistakes as I can so I don't have to re-animate everything by hand. It's always reassuring listening to DVD commentary and hearing producers complain about how bad the animation was on certain episodes they got shipped back from Korea, and how they managed to fix everything in the edit. Which reminds me: I need a Korean workforce. Maybe I can find one on Craig's List.

I couldn't edit today for technical reasons (I'm an ill-prepared idiot) and decided to proceed to Cover To Cover Books where I was to face off against the beatnik hippie open mic poetry readers of DOOM when something unexpected happened. (I'm a pretty simple-minded person. Gravity is unexpected.)

Something happens when I see certain strangers. They stand out, like there's an eerie glow about them. It's kind of like how in the animated series Batman Beyond (Ironically intended for a younger audience than the original Batman: TAS, but is way more mature in my opinion... despite the laser guns) all of the background characters are painted in the same color scheme so that the main characters pop out more by contrast. Some people don't blend in like other people do, and it's not because of the way they're dressed. Something in the back of my mind urges me to talk to these people, but I never do. I get shy and self-conscious, so I walk away. Then there's the guilt and shame over how I don't take an active role in pursuing my happiness and blah blah blah angst. Today wasn't much different, with the exception that I was awesome. By "awesome," I mean fatalistically sarcastic with myself.

Whatever happens is the only thing that could possibly happen, and I have no control over it, so why panic? What's the worst that could happen?

"What's the worst that could happen?" is a favorite game of mine, and one that should only be played in good humor. Usually when I play it goes something like, "If I do this, then tornadoes will come down and send giant turtles hurtling though the air like comets, cracking the planet in half and causing gravity to pull the fragments inside out. So, basically I have nothing to be embarrassed about, 'cause if that were to happen I wouldn't be around long enough to feel embarrassed." It's not the most logical conclusion, but it gets the job done. It manages to break the will-I-won't-I cycle that involves me pacing back and forth, growing courageous, turning around and wussing out, telling myself not to be a coward, telling myself it's too scary, and just giving up. This time I managed to actually talk to the glowing person. I was slightly more articulate than a drunk with a mouth full of wasabi. Only slightly.

I used this line to initiate the conversation: "Hello, I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm trying some exposure therapy. I'm not used to talking to people, and I thought I'd try talking to you."

I shit you not, good sir. I am the smoothest cat in the 'couve. Next I'm gonna walk into a bar, find a hot girl at the counter and say, "Hey, do you drink glow-sticks... 'cause you're really pretty," in my best mouth-breather stalker voice.

Regardless of how stupid I must have sounded they were very nice to me. I'd like to thank them for putting up with my social awkwardness, but I never got their name. Thanks anyway. It meant a lot to me. Maybe now it'll be easier to talk to strangers with "the glow." I just need a much better way to begin a conversation. It's hard, 'cause most people are perfectly content in their day-to-day lives. They have their circles of friends and family. They don't need me. The only way I can meet people is if I actively try to engage their attention. What better way than to say, "Hey, we're going to have a conversation now," you know? Subtle suggestion that I would like to talk doesn't seem to work on people.

I have to keep reminding myself that this is supposed to be the optimistic blog and I'm not allowed to badmouth my ineptitude. I just need experience. Then maybe I'll learn that all I need to do to hold a conversation is ask small-talky meaningless questions and hope they don't think I'm creepy and nosy. (I can't win.)

I still had three hours to kill before the open mic started. The website said it began after closing. I didn't read where it said an hour after closing. I walked to the library, wasted time, whatever. When the doors opened up I came in and sat around. Actually, I started writing about my experience out of boredom since I had already been sitting around doing nothing for long enough Dad's giant saguaro cactus might have blossomed. Feel free to skip this crap. It's only here 'cause I feel like wasting more time.

"So, I'm here. Sitting in the most uncomfortable chair I can find. The room is empty. No reason I should sit here. Maybe I won't. It's funny how my thoughts finish seconds before I write them. Can't do anything 'til I write everything down, even find a more comfortable chair. Maybe if I moved to a more comfortable chair I wouldn't have gone back to writing about the uncomfortable chair. Perhaps I would have. We'll never know. I now sit in the second most comfortable chair. How would I know that? I've only sat in one other chair. There's a chair that looks like it could possibly be more comfortable. It's sitting in the back row right in the center of the aisle. I'd be too embarrassed to sit in the middle of the room. Not sure why. The room is empty. The vacancies would mock me. I'll never know. There are people in the room. They've been there for about seven sentences. Funny how that works. Writing about emptiness as the vacuum is filling. I write too slow. My hands are cold. I've been outside since 4:30. I talked to a stranger. Go me. Then there was the library and here I am. So... here I am. I'm still here. Why was I here so early? My firewire, or lack thereof. Can't work without a firewire. I also thought the mic opened at six. How did I come across that assumption? Lack of observation. I thought the website said after closing, and I assumed that meant right after closing. I have a habit of doing that. I think so. I can't think of when I've made that mistake before. That means either I've never made that mistake before or I have no memory of it. However, if I've never made that mistake that would also explain why I have no memory of it. It doesn't necessarily mean I have a poor memory. So, here I am. Head count: 18 heads. There are more. Some heads are hidden behind others. Some are behind the wall. I see no heads lost and rolling on the floor. That would be unfortunate. Ah, here we are. It begins."

There was some good stuff. There was a song I really liked. When the musician kept forgetting the words it actually improved the quality of the song. No, I mean it. Not in a bad way like his singing was crap, but I mean, with the whole, I dunno, subject, I guess, it, um... worked. The guest reader had an awesome two-minute speed poem too. I'd like a copy of that. Over all it probably would have been a better experience if I wasn't all brain-dead and tired.

Speaking of which, it's stupid late. I gotta get me some beauty sleep. Maybe I could take a more passive approach to meeting people if I were prettier.