RISG: Rejection, Part II

The Date

This time on The Romatically-Inclined Survival Guide, we see more of the girl of my teenage dreams, as introduced in Part I. In fact, she and I go on a date. 

Men, sometimes you have to pull out all the stops.  Maybe they are fancy and complicated, maybe you only have four days to prepare, no money, and only a casual date to pull it off.  In those circumstances, it is about showing who you really are.  And the girl wants you to know who she is.  Girls love honesty, and they can give it (as some may have experience) and sense it better than we can.  Sometimes she and you are “all the stops.”  Be genuine...  Also, it never hurts to have at least one trick up your sleeves.  This is part II of a story about hope, rejection, and the lessons learned from a pretty hard fall.

"Michael Hosea was a quiet man, but there wasn't anything soft about him. There was something in his look that made men treat him with respect. It wasn't just his height or the strength of his body, which were both impressive enough. It was the clear steadiness of his gaze. He knew what he was about even if the rest of the world didn't."

--Francine Rivers, Redeeming Love

It was 6:15 pm on a Friday night. I hopped out of the shower and drying my hair to Earth, Wind, and Fire’s “September”.  Twisting my hips between the towel to a beat, and such a funky one at that, was always more entertaining than silence.  And I needed to get psyched up.

Why am I showering at 6:15 pm on a Friday night?  Why do I need to get psyched up?  Because tonight is my big night.  Tonight is the night that I take the girl of my teenage dreams on a date! Or, rather, she takes me out on a date.  But importance can be lost in the details.  Grace and I are going out on a date!  With the mantra “do you remembah?” increasing my mojo as the 70s song faded out, my ipod’s shuffle feature snapped me back into reality by blasting some of my sister’s Hannah Montana in my face. As soon as I could scamper, wet feet and all, and click the next button with gratifying punctuation, shuffle again did me some wonders.  “Let’s Get Down to Business” from Mulan came on. “Ok,” I muttered. “Let’s do this thing.”

“Oh motherrrrr!” I yelled out of my bedroom door. “What the heck am I supposed to wear on a reverse-date?!” 

RISG: Rejection, Part I

The Raffle

Gentlemen, every man faces rejection at some point. This time on the Romantically-Inclined Survival Guide, we will take a look at that fact. Some receive more than others.  But every man faces rejection.  If he does not, he is not striving for enough. He is not pushing himself enough.  In the romantic world, rejection can be especially painful.  We fall hard for a girl.  And by fall, I mean flat on our faces fall.  But there is more than that one girl and more than that rejection.  This is a story about hope, rejection, and the lessons learned from a pretty hard fall.

"I take rejection as someone blowing a bugle in my ear to wake me up and get going, rather than retreat.”

-- Sylvester Stallone

It was senior year of high school.  As you take yourself back to high school, imagine for a moment any high school movie with an underdog, average, but likeable guy.  In this case, he plays soccer, is tall and lanky, and has a good group of friends.  But he can’t touch the “popular” crowd, and by all rationale, has no reason to try (or really want to).  In these movies, though, there is always one girl.  That one girl is transcendent of cliques.  She is beautiful, kind enough to look him in the eye, and wasn’t corrupted by the plastic nature of her cheerleader friends.  She has known the boy for quite some time, often since childhood, and she asks him to help her out with things like Calculus homework.

But, as we all know, without a special circumstance, the boy doesn’t stand a chance.  Hollywood, tauntingly, always provides.  In this case, there is a raffle. But not just any raffle. No, this raffle peaks the boy’s interest. This raffle isn’t just a fundraiser. This is a chance.

Blake: In Romans vs Barbarians

My name is Zach. And this is my dream come true through the eyes of a 10-year-old boy named Blake.

--

My name is Blake, and I like cats. I hope my cats are doing ok at home. I am sure that my mom is taking care of them. Yes, I certainly have nothing to worry about. The cats will be just fine.  But I can’t wait to see them and my mom. I really miss her. She is so good at being a mom. She is the only who really understands me. She knows that I like strawberry jelly instead of grape and, somehow, she always fixes me when I am hurt. I hate getting hurt. Some boys like it, but I am not like other boys. No, I prefer to be civilized and read. Why would I hurt myself in a dangerous game when I could read a good story? I like English way better than P.E. I am definitely not like other boys…

Post-Summer Ramblings: 2300 Lb-Force

The scene is Lake Powell, Reflection Canyon to be more specific. Our 60 ft houseboat is anchored up against a red-rock beach with some sand. How it works is that you pull the boat up against the shore with four anchors stretching out from the bow and stern: two lines on either side, two lines on both the bow and the stern each. The lines are attached to anchors which are buried in the sandy shore or, in our case, wrapped around and pivoted against large boulders. Over the course of our two weeks of previous experience from summers past on Powell, we have found our preferred method is to rely on the shear inertial force of a boulder instead of the compacted frictional force of sand. 

What we didn’t know is that as an evening front blew in from across the desert that evening, we would have to rely on far more than just the boulders to hold us to the shore. 

Borderline Creepy: The University Union

 For my first real post, we will take an oddly long trip into my chaotic mind. It was none other than average day of the University Union at Cal Poly, where I attend school. And, sometimes, average becomes readable.

* * * * *   

The University Union

I originally saw her from across the University Union, the inside part. It’s where I go when I want to nap, study, or read in between classes. It’s kind of an escape. In the UU, you get to see a diverse population of Cal Poly. You get to see those out of your mundane and daily routine. There is defiantly something special about the UU, or really any populated public location, really, that makes me feel a part of something bigger. But this story is not about something bigger. It’s about something really personal, something that your share with only those closest to you. But, like that time in the UU that day, I am feeling brave, and so, today, you can all be those people closest to me.