Defining Characteristics of a Douchebag

I don't generally write or talk about something negative (at least not seriously), but some friends and I were discussing the topic a few weeks ago, and, after last Friday, I thought it to be blog worthy. But let me preface this by saying it's a pretty asshole thing to do to label, call names, and judge my fellow man. Yet here we go...

Friday was X-Bar night at Krobar. The general idea is to hire a bunch of hot girls to get half naked or body painted and have them dance, sell shots, or participate in other random activities (I felt bad for the one they made stay in two inches of pink water selling jello-shots). Advertising this inevitably attracts a lot of guys who, by just looking at them, you kind of think to yourself.... douchebag. And it reminded me of my friends' and mine conversation.

Two characteristics define a douchebag. The first is a general blindness toward reality. Rather than consciously choosing to disregard how others might feel, he seems oblivious to it entirely. The second characteristic is an overinflated sense of self-worth and/or entitlement. He goes after what he feels he deserves despite obvious personal flaws or attention to the environment. If not for the flaw of the first characteristic, this would be a great trait to have. But, with the first, his drive seems misdirected and scattered towards illusions and superficialities.

As such, he could follow fashion but have no style. He might have the haircut that looks like he puts his face in front of a leaf blower every morning (think My New Haircut Guy). He might be the one wearing a polo shirt and shorts, both of which aren't the right size for him. He could also have an assortment of tatoos, piercings, jewelry, or physical fitness but only to blindly follow a trend, not carefully chosen out of some sense of style. All of this, though, seems to be used as though he thinks it alone will interest and attract a girl. It defines who he is to himself.

The funniest of it on Friday was to watch them go up to the shot girls and dancers in groups to hit on them. The girl is paid to be nice to them (and they're good at pretending), which the guys mistake for actual interest, and they almost seemed like they were going to gang rape her right there. Then, later, one will walk up behind her with a grin on his face and grab her ass thinking it's a good thing. He doesn't seem to have the balls to do it when she might actually enjoy it. So, in that respect, the girl standing in the tub actually had some protection. haha.

Ultimately, though, in even acknowledging any of this, spending my time to write about it, I'm no better than any of those guys. To say anything different is to conjure some sense of identity that makes me feel superior to them, and it would be just as artificial of an attachment to "Who I am" as an Affliction t-shirt or the feigning interest a shot girl gives.

Who those guys really are lies beneath all their bullshit even if they can't see it themselves, who those girls are lies beneath their looks, lingerie, and some well timed giggles, just as who I am is something other than my third person analysis of some set of bullshit.

If we only pay attention to the surface, we really miss what's important; we put up barriers where we could be making a connection.

Social Drinking

For a long time, I wondered where drinking started in society and why. Of any activity to do when hanging out with friends... why did mankind pick drinking?

...because it's fun. ...done. ..ha.

There are a lot of fun activities, though. Many activities feel just as good. My question was always that, of all of those activities, we picked drinking?

It's definitely not new or confined our culture. Alcohol's been here since the beginning. The Egyptians first brewed beer. The Greeks loved wine so much that they devoted a God to it. Since the advent of our modern mind, we've been finding ways to alter it.

And therein lies the answer. Our minds are bullshit! haha. We can't stand them. Most of the time, we don't notice that the voice in our heads is talking, let alone what it's actually saying or emoting. We think that this voice is who we are, but really it's the mind trying to keep the attention of some other part of us... implying there's something to a person beyond his or her mind...(consider that)

Alcohol suppresses our thinking. It shuts up that voice in our heads. We stop analyzing the situation, comparing it to past events, and generating emotions to motivate our actions for continued survival (the subconscious is busy). Fear and anger fade... we stop worrying... and we're left with the present moment, whatever part of us is outside our thoughts, and the people we have around. ...And a certain joy comes out of that.

It's that joy we're really after. We think it comes from the alcohol, but really it's always in us. It just needs to be let out. And I've come to realize that we don't need drinking to do that. That voice can stop on its own (with practice), and what's left feels like a really good conversation or a hard set at the gym.

Vow: Day 40

I never said that I would end this at 40 days; so I'm going to keep going inasmuch as it won't end on my own accord. While I won't feel bad if it ends from this point on, I'm committed to continuing.

So, I'm now accepting applications for the ender, by which of course I mean..... bring.... it... on!! Break my will power if you can. No one has got me thus far.

Vow: Day 33

I've had a bit of a breakthrough; though, I may not be completely able to credit this. It came mostly from reading The Power of NOW by Eckhart Tolle. It's difficult to describe, but imagine the voice in your head; pay attention to it. The fact that you are able to "hear" that voice implies there is something speaking in your head and something listening... two separate entities. The speaker is your mind trying to control you, the listener is actually you.

The realization then followed that I am not my mind. I am, instead, the passive observer of my mind, of the constant stream of thoughts it sends my way, most of which is bullshit I don't need to think or feel. And I suddenly became aware of something behind it. It happens for moments at a time, but I witness I deep, flowing sense of calm. I can't describe it.

I now have a wider perspective on my internal state... when I can focus on it. For any amount of it that my mind now throws at me, desire, thoughts, emotions, and energy can just flow out into an ocean of... nothingness.

Crazy. I know.

But profound.

Vow: Day 29

Sentences are tough...

Vow: Day 20

A Discovery

A small professional victory today has floored me. I conquered an aspect of my work world, and now I desire to conquer a girl. I've read about the relationship between the two but am just now feeling a magnified effect of it. The goal is now channel this surge of energy into my next endeavor.

I ask, though, why I need the external event to trigger this. I would much rather desire the self-control beyond any external stimulus or situation. And more than that, I feel I should be in this state all the time regardless of my external situation. This drive and determination should be we with me always, and this is all about achieving that...

Vow: Day 12

I may be losing my self-control. Not in any major way (yet), but in a more subtle manner. Every visual stimulus, even mediocre a one like Rachel Ray on the TV in front of my bike at the gym this morning, elicits a massive surge in energy in me and all its subsequent responses before my consciousness really knows what's going on. I imagine I'm giving off that sexually frustrated, average-guy vibe now.

So be it.

Vow: Day 8

The incense isle at Whole Foods hit me by surprise today. I know now why girls love that stuff.

It's a perceivable energy that arises every so often... more and more often... and then subsides. Napolean Hill of Think and Grow Rich and Tantra teach to channel the energy: the former towards life goals and the latter towards spiritual enlightenment. It's difficult to do either.

I need a good night's sleep.

Integrity

I've been thinking about this a lot recently: what it means to have integrity. It's commonly considered to be a desirable quality in a man, but it's not... by itself. It doesn't exist in a vacuum.

Implied with the trait is a set of values or principals. A man must decide upon, consciously or unconsciously, a set of beliefs, a perspective, a view of the world that his mind will ultimately determine to be reality and then place him, or rather his concept of identity, in it. In other words, his mind builds a model based on his belief system of how the outside world is, something like The Sims. A belief can be anything from the mundane, like "on my next step, the pavement will not crack one into a bottomless abyss" (largely an unconscious belief), to the profound, like "the highest form of all human activity is the creation of a connection between two people."

For the purposes of my note, it really doesn't matter what beliefs and values the man has as long as he has them. They differ greatly from man to man, and many men walk around with contradicting beliefs. There are some that are greatly beneficial to humanity, and others that are tearing the world apart. That's a debate for another time.

Integrity is a quality of the man who defends his beliefs, whatever they may be. The world is such that they will be tested (girls, especially, seem to push them). Where his beliefs and values are the line drawn in the sand, a man's integrity is the decision not to retreat from it or surrender that boundary under pressure. It is the uncompromising choice to surrender safety, security, or life itself to ensure the survival of something greater.

I usually find it's expression is far less dramatic terms. For instance, when I decide, "I'm not going to buy a girl's attention (with a drink or dinner)," I'm not going to cave to a girl in low-cut jeans and a tank top whose says, "I'm thirsty," right after meeting me. Generally, the shear cunning a girl employs in most tests impress the hell out of me and still trips me up from time to time. I find myself, though, as I did not expect, desiring a greater challenge; not an adventure but to battle in good vs. evil, to immerse myself in our spiritual war.

And then I remember it's just my model. A spiritual war I might perceive is an internal one...

A Vow

So I made a vow. If you've seen 40 Days and 40 Nights, you know what kind of vow I'm talking about.

Day 5

Work outs just make it worse now.

Adventures in Panera

I'm standing in (a long) line at Panera right now. The church across the street must have just let out, freeing steadfast churchgoers to go forth, make disciples of all nations, and, as I will soon discover, get to all the whole grain bagels first.

A man and three women, all old babyboomers, are bullshitting about something in front me. They're intently focused on their conversation as if nothing else on earth is this important. I suspect this is the highlight of their day.

The women behind me gets on her cell phone. "Do you like a lot of cream in your coffee or just a little?" she asks who I assume is her husband on the other end. "...Coffee and a muffin, you said. Get you a coffee, you said... and then a blueberry muffin, you said. ...How much cream do you want in your coffee?"

"I can help someone down here," another waitress calls. An older man from somewhere behind me races the group of four in front of me for the faster service but stops short to politely let them go first.

I feel such disdain. I hate waiting. What lives they lead. They go to church every Sunday, listen to life stories, morals, and allegories from ages ago. But they walk out that door, cross the street, and get annoyed by the long line they're creating and the lack of enough seating. They enjoy their Sunday chit-chatting in a coffee shop. Their asses get fatter by the year. Their most pressing issue of the day: "How much cream do you want in your coffee!!!!!"

Moments like these illuminate the stark contrast a deeper meaning for me. Standing here, I grasp the strength of the human spirit while watching people who've had no need to summon it, no hardships, no battles... no tests of courage. Baby boomers...

Men are born and bred to overcome all the difficulties the universe can offer. We are defined by our struggle. We are meant to defend what we hold in our hearts. Wars rage on around us. There are goals to be attained, missions to be accomplished, and battles to be won. Our lives as adventures. Mythic legends worthy of scripture. The great battle to reduce one great man's waiting time at Panera. My failed hero's quest for two whole grain bagels. Truth and Freedom slowly die, but, but by all things holy and using the greatest advances in technology, I will make sure you have the proper amount of cream in your coffee!!!

"Get out of my way, fuckers!!!" ...I say it only in mind. "This is our world now, and if all you're going to do is wait around for your turn to die, then stop wasting my fucking time (and stop electing bullshit 'leaders')."

Farewell Tequila Willies...

I'd say something clever... but I don't think anyone will notice you closed.

The Evolution of The South Side

A few months, a friend, C, and I were reflecting on our summer spent in Pittsburgh. With the coming colder weather and likely slow down of Pittsburgh's night life, we took stock in our summer fun and noticed that we spent far less time bar hopping on Carson Street (which incidentally has roughly 100 drinking establishments between 14th st and 25th st). We also realized that, on those nights we did go South Side this summer, something was missing; the street itself somehow lacked the same energy.

South Side was the place to go to socialize last year. The street composed (and still does) an assortment of small, intimate bars, ranging from the darkest, dirtiest dive bars to quiet cafes to upscale, try-hard wine bars, each with its own character, nuance, and atmosphere. Everyone came here specifically to avoid the loud, isolating club experience, to meet and interact with humanity, and to see if the cosmos might deliver us to our soulmate (or a one night stand). When one bar got boring, we moved on to the next... and so did everyone else. The result was that the street itself became its own venue, flowing with drunken, social groups of people moving from one bar to next, welcoming conversation, warily avoiding each other, or occasionally breaking into a fight along the way. It was crazy, it was chaotic, ...it was fun. And what fueled this torrent, what gave life to the street every weekend was, like all night life, ...women. Every weekend, women would be taking shots from the midget at Casey's, selecting songs from the shitty jukebox thing at Jack's, or yelling out of their car windows as they drove by.

But the scene was already changing by then (when I first started going out here). Midway through last summer, Diesel and The Town Tavern opened, introducing the spacious, flashing lights, loud music, and cover charging element into the mix of our small, intimate bars. I'm told these places are just newer renditions of failures that previously occupied their space, but their success now dominates the street with a gravity unlike any other. The chaotic, charismatic flow of streetlight people is now the line waiting to get in. And, without the girls, the small, intimate dive bar is... well... a hole in the wall with a bunch of dudes.

Not that I'm complaining. Diesel may arguably have the best crowd in Pittsburgh now, and, if they could master a little nuance with that massive sound system, I might get to talk to them for more than an hour. haha. Our nights in the South Side inevitably end at Diesel or Town Tavern anymore. Try as we might to bar hop, the energy, the essense, the life of the street is now centered around the loudest music we can find.

All things changes. We adapt. But I'm glad to I got to witness a bit of perfection while it lasted.

Boardwalk Fridays

Last night, my friends and I were short on something to do in Pittsburgh, a rarity these days. Looking for something different, I remembered The Boardwalk, a riverfront conglomeration of ever-charging night clubs, recently started giving away free drinks and free cover on Fridays.

When we got there, we found out why. The place was DEAD... and probably has been on a weekly basis since the last time we went there (last year). The promotion clearly reflected their desperation for patrons as did the drinks we received... I'm pretty sure there was coke in my rum, but I couldn't taste it. After two, my friend and I were on our asses and got the bright idea that it would be great if we joined the two old women dancing to the band's cover of Usher's Yeah. I think we made their year, but we quickly got bored and left when one grabbed my ass. At one point, I decided it was too hot and I needed to jump in the pool... I was sober enough to ditch the cell phone first.

Moral of the story: the rumors are false. The Boardwalk pretty much sucks in the summer too.

The Health Matrix

A friend of mine, M, is an amazing nutrition specialist and personal trainer. Consequently, my diet and exercise habits of the past years have, by mere proximity, come under his expert scrutiny. What I discovered was that my modest attempts at a healthy lifestyle—avoiding fast food, limiting carbs, and lots of weight training and cardio—was still subjected to "what they don't want me to know."

M showed me an article on High Fructose Corn Syrup, a highly concentrated simple carbohydrate in liquid form that enters the body so quickly that the pancreas strains to produce enough insulin to absorb it along with all the other sugar in the bloodstream (diabetes anyone); cells, unable to consume the abundance of energy, convert it fat; and the consequent decrease in blood sugar causes further food cravings. It's so much less expensive than naturally grown sugar, though, that most profit-motivated companies employ its use, relying on consumers to remain blissfully unaware of its adverse effects on the body. If most consumers believed it was bad for them, they would, of course, avoid it, the reason for which most conspiracy theorists believe the industry moves to keep enlightening research on the topic from becoming mainstream. "They don't want me to know about it."

Armed with my new found tidbit of health information, I set off to my neighborhood Giant Eagle, a grocery store chain with a monopoly on the market in Pittsburgh, in search of foods devoid of liquid diabetes only to discover that, although an entire isle is dedicated to it, not one loaf of bread seemed to be HFCS-free until... finally... one from Roman Meal lacked the ingredient. Imagine my joy.... and later disappointment when M just recently informed me that it contained another adverse ingredient, soybean oil, a magical substance that increases estrogen production; fine for women, but it makes men more docile, weak, and emotional... not to mention the acres of rain forest in Brazil being slashed and burned to grow soybeans in an effort to satisfy America's health craze for soy products.

The slow progression of my diet towards healthier food has inevitably led me to Whole Foods, a coop grocery store several blocks beyond the Giant Eagle, which specializes in organic, local, and higher quality foods at, albeit, significantly higher prices. But the produce tastes better, the eggs are full of Omega-3 and DHA, I found a yogurt with an unbelievably high amount of protein, and I'm losing fat.

I can't help but notice how business takes advantage of my ignorance. In the space where I'm not paying attention, anyone will do the cheapest, crappiest job possible to make a quick buck.

The situation also translates to my field. MySpace, Intel, Verizon, and Microsoft all make the shittiest products in their markets yet "lead" my industry. Facebook offers better social networking. IBM makes better processors. Cingular/AT&T has a better cell network. And don't get me started on Microsoft. Most people, though, flock to these companies' products because of prevailing standards, compatibility issues, or popularity.

Perhaps it's the same everywhere, but I have to wonder why the cheapest, most cost-effective means of production aren't ever good for me?