A CT.com/Intrepid Media Article:
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So I’ve been writing rather feverishly the last couple of days, on a self-help book of all things! Actually, at the most you’d call it a pseudo-self help book. It’s really just a funny bit of insight into myself and other women I’ve met with similar natures. I’ve already written 7 chapters, and have headings for 5 more ready to go. I can’t believe how much fun I’m having doing this. And I think it’ll be both cathartic and an interesting read.
I’ve been reluctant to share anything of it, until it was a little more formed. But it’s coming along very well now, and I’m ready to show you a little bit. So read below, an excerpt from “The Way into a Stubborn Bitch’s Heart.” And feel free to throw out any comments. I’d like to hear impressions.
Related PostsChapter 3: I Even Tried Complimenting Her On Her Shoes!
Yes, I have heard a man say that before. It took some effort not to shake him like the hysterical chick in Airplane. Now don’t get me wrong. I am not going to pretend that some women don’t love their shoes. HBO did an entire TV show that proved it. But there are two glaring problems with this statement.
- If you’ve never heard a woman talk about shoes, odds are good she’s not too concerned with your impression of hers.
- Compliments are a mine field for both the stubborn bitch and her pursuer.
The stubborn bitch loves compliments, she really does. On the surface, she appears to loathe them, and she might even make you feel like a sissy kiss ass when you offer them. But in reality, what the stubborn bitch hates is bullshit. She doesn’t want you to tell her about how cute her shoes are, unless you are a shoe designer or have a foot fetish, because you couldn’t give a rat’s ass about her shoes. A disingenuous compliment will lose you more points than you could ever hope to gain.
Now here’s a shoe compliment that could yield you something rare and special to receive from a stubborn bitch; curiosity.
I like your new shoes. They look more comfortable than the ones you usually wear. I always wondered if the other ones hurt your feet.
What’s this? Did this guy just express concern about my general comfort level on a day to day basis? Hmm, interesting.
Now, you might say that wasn’t much of a compliment, but if it’s a valid statement about her shoe wearing habits (and if it isn’t please don’t use it because you’ll look like an idiot), it doesn’t really matter. The point of a compliment should be to make the other person feel like you noticed something about them and wanted to make them feel noticed. This is a compliment that’s genuine. It comes from a place of consideration. And if you get her a foot massaging pillow for her birthday, you might just earn a smile of recognition (see Chapter 4), something else that’s key to the success of winning a stubborn bitch over.
UPDATE: I have created a new survey to gather some data from visitors on the different types of Agnosia people experience and how the types might be related. Go here to take the survey. It shouldn’t take more than 15 minutes.
As I’ve mentioned in earlier writing, I am unable to see pictures in my head. By that, I mean, whether I am awake or asleep, I am completely incapable of clearly picturing anyone or anything. And if you think zombie dreams are scary when you can clearly see the zombies, and the sidewalk you’re running on, and the door you’re going to hide behind… imagine if all that was just a series of blurry blobs? That’s some night terror.
While this has been my state as long as I can remember, it truly never occurred to me that there was any other way to be. In retrospect, it’s actually slightly silly. For years I’ve heard people say, “Visualize that in your mind.” Why I never thought on the fact that I am incapable of performing the task, I’ll never know. I guess, like a poster of a new forum I found, I just assumed they meant it metaphorically.
There were other things too, that should’ve brought me to really examine this deficiency in my mind. For instance, I cannot draw. I don’t mean I just can’t draw well, I mean I am truly crap at it. I hated art classes in high school, because I couldn’t create anything visually motivated; painting, sculpture, even collages were fairly pointless. Later in life I got decent at doing some graphic work on computers, but even that is usually manipulating other things I’ve seen into a form I like better. Photography is the only kind of visual medium I don’t suck at. I guess it’s because I don’t have to hold an image in my mind to create it. The camera does the heavy lifting.
My turning point, when I fully realized just what I’m missing, happened about a year ago. For a single moment my brain actually worked as (in my opinion) it should. Fiction has commented before on that magical time between awake and asleep. That’s when it happened. Suddenly, there was a flash in my mind, and it was just there; a perfect purple stormy sunset, over an ocean side cliff. I could see the cliff line in sharp relief, the fluffy yet ominous clouds and the light filtering through them to splash colors across the sky. It wasn’t even a memory. I’m fairly certain I’ve never seen that gorgeous vista before in my life, but it was truly breathtaking. Maybe a second or two later, it was gone, and I was asleep.
I wish I’d been awake enough to fully appreciate it, though I wonder if it could’ve even happened while I was more conscious. Sadly, while I recall what elements were in this glorious image, thanks to my defective brain, I cannot recreate even that picture in my mind. But the next morning, as I thought of this vision, I was fully cognizant of just what I have been missing all my life. And I will admit a certain resentment over the facts. My brain has an inability to create visual imagery. Despite the fact that I’ve been told I have a certain talent for writing visual imagery, I can’t actually see it.
It is in moments like these, I really feel a small sense of satisfaction in who I am. Despite this impairment, I learned to create pictures in the minds of others. Even with my attention and memory problems (which I suspect are closely tied to this deficiency), I’ve learned to be an effective technical writer and a manager of a fairly large department. I will never claim that I’ve come close to overcoming these problems, but I can at least admit to myself that I’ve adapted fairly well. I am not a completely non-productive and unimaginative person.
But still… to see that sunset again.
So through a little research, and some self reflection (and we all know how I love to do that), I’ve pieced together this much. For one thing, there is a real condition called prosopagnosia (visit prosopagnosia.com to learn more), but more commonly referred to as “face blindness.” This is why I felt like a schmuck when an old high school acquaintance approached me recently, and it took several moments for me to remember that I’d known her at all. Without the ability to see faces in your mind, it’s fairly difficult to recall them later for recognition purposes. It also means I would be rubbish at describing a criminal to a sketch artist. Let’s hope I never witness a crime. But clearly my issue goes beyond that.
I also found an article, where a german university did a study on people to see how many suffered from prosopagnosia. Of the 689 tested, they found 17 cases. Of those 17, 14 of them had at least one close family member who also had the condition. My sister, as I believe I mentioned earlier, also has the same visualization problems I do (her former roommate does not have this problem, and she is an incredibly talented artist). My mother, like most other people who aren’t afflicted, almost seems to think I’m just imagining the issue. She can’t conceptualize how I see things in my head. Since dad passed when I was 6, no way to know if he suffered. And since my sis and I were over 30 when we came to this realization, he might not even have known himself.
But the article also presented another odd wrinkle. People with prosopagnosia often have a hard time following movies, and can’t recognize actors in other films, because it’s hard for them to follow who is who. Now that is something I’ve never had any problem with. They’ll occasionally be two or three actors I mix up a lot at first (like Thomas Jane, Aaron Eckhart & Josh Lucas), but eventually I get them sorted in my head. But then again, I watch A LOT of movies. My sister does as well, but she does have a harder time remembering actors.
Additionally, the faces are only a part of the problem for me. I cannot see anything, in my mind, with any definition or clarity. So what is that called? Hell if I can find out. I’ve been hunting, and so far I can’t even find evidence anyone has even studied this phenomenon. But I’m not alone. I found a forum where a handful of people were discussing this very topic. I’ve joined, and hope to use their input and my own experiences to research more on this.
Here’s what I’ve learned about dreams and visual imagery in my head. I don’t see anything at all. What my mind conjures are vague blobs of color and substance that my brain can explain as something I want to interact with. What I genuinely experience is my sensory and/or emotional response to said object/person. When I dream, I’m experiencing every emotion involved in a scenario, and it drives the narrative, but because there’s nothing concrete to work with, it jumps around haphazardly. As a result, even when I’m completely aware I’m dreaming, I can’t ever go lucid. It’s simply impossible to interact with nothingness.
Something else I’ve noticed. There are a some faces I can almost see pieces of in my mind. It’s not fully there, but every so often I’ll catch an eye line or an accurate move of the lips. But it’s not my family. It’s actors. Actors who are among the most emotionally expressive can win over my brain… Christian Kane, Jensen Ackles, Michael Weatherly, Zachary Levi… Ok they aren’t all cute guys around my age.
Also, Sally Field, Richard Dreyfuss, Alyson Hannigan, Tim Roth, Meg Ryan. There are others, but you get the gist. It’s only certain scenes, in certain films, and certain emotions, but it’s there. I can picture the scene and occasional get a glimpse of a piece of a face, that truly drives my emotional response to their work.
So once again I’m back to the theory that whatever part of my brain is not function the way I’d like, is not entirely broken. That there are brief moments of clarity must indicate that it’s somewhat functional.
I am also aghast at just how little I’m able to find on this condition. This phenomenon would have huge impact on education. One individual on the forum above had serious difficulties with math, as a result of the condition. I was actually fairly good at algebra, but atrocious at geometry. And I do use his trick of figuring out simple multiplication problems, in my head, by using the 5 times table and adding/subtracting from there. And imagine how this affects the ability to learn geography (a class I abhorred almost as much as art). People should be studying this, treatments should be investigated, it needs attention. It may only be a small part of the population, but that also applies to dyslexia. We still realized that we had to adjust our educational model for those individuals. I can’t even find good statistics on how many people suffer from prosopagnosia, much less this more pronounced version that seems to have no definition. If anyone can find more information, please pass it along.
I will continue to do my own research on this problem, and will pass along any insights I can gleam. I’d also love if some of the other afflicted would pass their own stories along. Comparisons to different forms or levels of ability could be useful. And finally, I’d like to offer myself up as a guinea pig. If you are in a position to study this condition, and/or study any possible treatments, I am game. There are several things that I know I could do, if I could only address this short circuit. I am willing to be poked, prodded, MRI’d and electroded. Anything to advance this topic into, at the least, something that the world recognizes and understands. Got a lab? I’m your rat.
Related Posts(originallly posted on my AFF blog)
So a question was put forth, by the mod of another site I chat on (sorry Adult FriendFinder, your chat sux). And the question got me going, in the way many of you are all too familiar with.
The question was, at it’s root; does the environment you grew up affect your sexuality? Many had stories to tell, about mothers who had a coronary if you showed any cleavage and deranged catholic school history. It got me thinking about my own situation, and I think I’ve shed new light again. Don’t you all just love when I get introspective? Oh yes you do, don’t even try it, I know you love it.
So, my story involves no nuns, no raps against my knuckles, and no screaming from my mother about sin. But oddly, it seems to produce similar results to women in those situations.
I grew up in a house where my mother didn’t pay much attention to what I watched on television, had no puritanical attitudes, and never dated any man after my father died when I was 6. She told me, years later, that there were a few one nighters in her late 20s, and even an abortion. For those few of you who do know me in IRL, if you should accidentally run into me and my mother sometime, please forget you know this. I probably shouldn’t be so frank with her life, but these facts are relevant to the discussion, thus I share. Plus, what are the odds?
You would think, hey, my life was the opposite side of the coin. I must not have issues, or have the complete opposite ones from the catholic escapees. But since you all know me, you know that’s dead wrong. Sure, sex wasn’t a taboo subject in my house. But more importantly, it wasn’t a subject at all. I got my first period at 8, and my sister (who was 6) and I got that talk. That’s the last talk I ever had with my mother about anything to do with sexuality, at least until I was almost 30. We’ve had brief conversations that have touched on it since then, but history breeds repetitive behavior, and as such, I’m not comfortable discussing sex with my mother.
I grew up watching Skinemax (thank you for my early sex education) when mom was asleep, sneaking her cigs, and having a neck massager that I wish I didn’t know my mother and sister knew what it was really for. Sadly, I’m fairly certain they do know. Yes, it was my first ‘toy’, and it was a great one too, wish they still made it. It was a long blue foam rubber tube that was made to wrap around your neck, with a small motor in the very center of it. That is a toy I miss. ![]()
But because sex wasn’t discussed, I had to work my ass off to get comfortable discussing it later. And based on what I remember of those days, I’d say I might’ve had some physical issues too. Perhaps I was more hormonal than other girls that age, because I was WAY too curious about sex. I’m not even going to tell you lot some of the crazy thoughts and actions that plagued my preteen-teen life. Seriously, even I can’t entirely handle that truth yet. ![]()
So growing up knowing jack about sex and what the hell it was really about, did quite a number on me. I truly believe I’m finally growing out of that neurosis, but it still rears it’s head at really inopportune moments. I try to be open and frank, even outside the lovely safety of the internet, but there are moments when I’m that preteen girl again, wondering wtf is happening to me.
I know, I’m a broken record, but I have to say it. I still blame the story… “When a man and a woman love each other very much…yadda yadda yadda… they make a baby”. That’s the problem. We tell them it has to be about love from the beginning, and for the rest of their lives, if they’re getting laid, and it has to do with lust and not love (even if it’s with someone you are in love with), a little piece of our brain says it’s wrong. You are doing something wrong, because you’re not sharing a moment of the forever with your partner for life, the father/mother of your child/child-to-be, you’re giving into your baser needs. You’re doing something wrong because all you’re reacting to is how that person’s touch feels, not how much you want to further bond your life to them. You’re just doing something wrong!
I will fight to the bitter end to kill that feeling, and some fucking day I will accomplish it. In the meantime, I’ll keep it tucked away, where it can make as little a fuss as possible. I’ll feed it sappy movies, like Titanic, every so often, to keep it quietly appeased. ![]()
Love and kisses, my gents and misses…
Related Posts(originallly posted on my AFF blog)
I believe that one gift I have, is that I am able to see multiple points of view more readily than other people. Is it something I acquired, or is it something I was born with? I don’t know the answer to that. I didn’t even entirely understand it before, but recently it was brought to light. Again, one of the things I learned since I became a manager. And again, it’s not such a great thing to learn.
That probably sounds strange. It’s a gift, right? Well like any gift, I think there’s a bit of curse attached. You see, it sometimes makes it difficult to find how I feel in it all. You’d be amazed how difficult it is, to sort out your own opinion, when you see so much in all sides of the argument. I have to weight things quite carefully sometimes. And I honestly wonder, if that isn’t something else important I’ve learned about myself. I would never be so crass as to refer to my ability as a learning disability, but I hope no one will take offense at developmental impediment. And the development that was impeded? I honestly don’t know that I have good language for this, so forgive me if I walk around it a bit. Lack of understanding of oneself, lack of ability to communicate oratorically (no, I didn’t say orally, get your heads out of the gutter), difficulty in finding a long standing social circle, and lack of accepting of the value of one’s own opinion.
Ok, that sounds really sad, and more than a bit pathetic. Don’t be alarmed. It was just bits and pieces of each, that I realized are developing more slowly than one might expect. But here’s the really interesting bit, I see more and more people, every day, who seem to share a similar affliction. It seems more and more do I pass similarly forming faces. Grown men and women who just can’t quite figure out what they’re doing yet, but they know it’s on the top of their tongue. I see them, and I have hope, that someone is going to finally say or do something, that is going to make us understand our place in this world, and we won’t feel so bad, that it took us so long, to realize how important we will be to the future. Grandiose? Probably sounds like it, but if you see them too, or you are one of them, you know what I mean, don’t you? There are just so many of us, and you know it’s only going to take one little thing, and things will change quite drastically. Of course, the wrong thing could lead to disaster. If you’ve seen The Mist, you know what I mean.
And please, don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking the folks who already got it together. But don’t mistake who those people are. The fanatical anythings, as I like to call them, are just more lost than us, not more found than the truly remarkable folks. Who are the remarkable folks? They have included, but were not limited to; George Carlin, Robin williams, Richard Feynman, Lenny Bruce, Martin Luther King Jr., Susan Sarandon, Solon (look him up), Penn Gillette and Teller (no, he does not have a first name anymore
), Kim Gandy, Bill Gates (hate him I might, but he’s got his shit together), John Lennon, Leon Lederman, Lorna Brett Howard, and the entirety of Monty Python.
You might be surprised I didn’t mention Sam Kinison, or Andy Coffman. These are people I believe were on the precipice. I believe these are examples of people who were truly waking up, and didn’t make it through before the passed on. Bobcat Goldwaith made it, but he got the shit kicked out of him before he was through. Donald Trump is, incidentally, one of the remarkable. However, he has chosen to use his knowledge for evil, instead of good. For my geek friends, he’s somewhere between a G’oald and a Ori. While Kevin Smith is somewhere between an Tok’ra and an Alteran. Kevin doesn’t think he’s one of the remarkable people. He thinks he’s as lost the rest of us. Something tells me the illusion is wearing off quickly.
So what’s my point? Damn, I forgot. Just kidding. ![]()
Does it sound passive to say I feel like my ability to understand different points of view affects my ability to be as fully formed as these remarkable people? No, I don’t believe that, and here’s why. All my life I’ve absorbed as much information as I can and so many subjects it would make most of your heads spin. Because of my ability, I have a deep-seated need to learn more and gather as many opinions as I can. I even took the time to watch the Scientology video of Tom Cruise, to try to learn more about it, so perhaps I can understand why their people subscribe to it. Ok, admittedly, bad call. I understood even less then. Honestly, wtf was all that crap about only a Scientologist being able to help at the scene of an accident? What is that boy smoking? And that just goes to show you, if I can’t see any sense in their point of view… I’m just saying. ![]()
I think that my ability makes me strive to be one of the remarkable. And I think that alone makes it ok that it’s taking me longer than some to find the piece of information that will finally remove the haze from in front of my eyes. So, I’ll keep looking. And to prevent onset of Liberal Fatigue (see the onion.com), I’ll watch some more Penn & Teller: Bullshit. It’s educational and fun!
Night friends.
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