Resolution

New Year, New Me,

Or so I always say,

I have numerous resolutions for the year,

But New Year’s Eve reminded me of one of them,

Surrounded by friends,

Forgetting all of my troubles until I came across a single woman,

Then my mind shifted to other thoughts,

Thoughts shared by other friends,

Who held the woman’s interest better,

Happiness slowly evaporated,

Bitterness and self-doubt came in to take its place,

While everyone else kept enjoying themselves,

I spent too much time reflecting on my friend’s good fortune,

And reflecting on all my past failures,

I came across as miserable,

Pathetic even,

Which only hindered my appeal even further,

I find myself caught in this cycle too often,

Letting any perceived rejection drown out all the things I have to celebrate,

With a new year,

I want to work on being the master of my own happiness.

University= High School 2.0

I was hanging out with a friend yesterday, one of the few from high school. Our conversation drifted to old high school friends at one point and it brought up an incident I recalled from my first year in university.

My department arranged a boat cruise for the incoming class, as well as a group of school buses to bring the students to the pier. On the way there I figured I would try to talk to the girl seated across the aisle from me. I made eye contact, said hi, and was promptly shut down as the girl looked away. On the trip back from the pier I see an acquaintance (friend is a very strong word) from high school getting the same girl’s number.

This acquaintance, let’s call him Noah, was the same type of guy that was very successfully with girls in high school. He was on the football team, had a benz and was one of the most popular people in high school. As I saw the girl grinning as she gave him her number, I realized that university wasn’t the game-changer the media and society made it out to be. There is this pervasive fiction that the guys who struggled socially in high school will find their niche, or that the roles might even be reversed: People who were once ostracized will rise to the top due to their personalities while the jocks and the popular kids will fall behind because they have little to offer. I feel like an idiot for ever believing this.

The same high-schoolers you endured are the same people who graduate and go to university with you. That is one of the reasons I did not want to go to a local university, since I knew I would see far too many people that I was already sick of. University offers a larger group of people to mingle with. There are basically larger cliques so there is more room for anyone to fit in, but do not believe that social dynamics will change just because you’re no longer in high school. Popularity still means a lot to some people. Girls still like guys who look a certain way and are fun to be around. Us nerds might not offer that, but the people we hated in high school do. There is the old fiction that the popular kids are lacking in terms of intelligence or career aspirations, but this dichotomy is also fiction that is mean to comfort us. Of course it is true sometimes, but not all the time. I would dare to say it might not even be true most of the time. While I can think of some idiots from high school that are destined to be failures in life, Noah is currently doing better than I am by any measure: money, career aspirations, friends, girls. I can’t comfort myself by saying that I’ll go farther than him in life, because I might not.

 

Managing Expectations

Hello everyone,

Hope you all had a great weekend. I know I did. Stretches of productivity, but also got to catch up on some reading, tv and video games. The best of both worlds.

I’m still stalled on working on my second book at the moment, but I am nearly ready to re-submit my Master’s Paper to the Howard Journal of Communications. Hopefully it will be published. I am also working on creating my own social media business, which you’ll hear more about in by the end of September.

Looking ahead to september reminded me of an event I tried out for, Toronto Men’s Fashion Week (TOMS). I did some modelling training in my final year of high school, but I never continued with it since I was going to be moving out of town to go to the University of Ottawa, and it would have been impossible to work with a Toronto agency from 5 hours away. My best friend was going to the audition for TOMS and his mom was kind enough to send an invite to me as well. The audition was going to take place on a friday night, so we all planned to meet up afterwards for drinks.

I left for the audition straight from work, clean cut and dressed in ironed and form-fitting clothes. I tried to get back into modelling when I moved back to Brampton but I was rejected by many agencies for being too tall or for having a “similar look” to a lot of other models on their rosters. I saw this audition as my way to possibly get back into modelling. I wasn’t deluding myself of having a career as a supermodel, but I figured that I could aim to secure a part-time job that could bring in some much needed money.

The audition was held in a lounge that had been reserved for the event. There was a desk set up where patrons would normally pay cover. After registering there, I made my way down a set of stairs to the main lounge area. Wooden floors and leather chairs were set up in the center. All around the central area, there were different stations. One for physical inspection of candidates, where two women met and greeted each person one by one. The next was an area with a box light set up, where the photographer guided each model through a set of poses. The final station was the one for measurements.

I was nervous at first, but other people in the waiting area broke the ice. By the time I was called up, I felt loose again. I got positive feedback on my body and my runway walk. So did my friend. I walked out of there thinking that we were both going to be accepted.

The generic rejection email arrived two weeks later.

I am used to generic rejection letters e.g. “we regret to inform you…” from my pursuit of publication, but I wasn’t used to receiving one after getting nothing but positive feedback. I realized that maybe I was being naive. It wouldn’t make sense for the judge to list all the things she didn’t like when she sees someone in person. That would only serve to make them miserable for the rest of the audition, starting a self-fulfilling cycle. Focusing on positives was a tactful move. I let go of my pride and figured this out about ten minutes before I started writing this post.

Once I got the email I did what I always do when I feel down, called my mom. Yes, I am that type of person. I wasn’t in tears but I was disappointed. I began to worry that maybe my stomach wasn’t toned enough. I do stay in pretty good shape but I was worried that my lack of an eight pack was what led to my rejection. My mom was able to talk sense in me, telling me not to think about it too much. Modelling shows and agencies always want something very specific: a specific height, body type, skin tone etc. Not fitting the bill is not always a sign of unattractiveness or inadequacy.

That was an important lesson for me, and one that I think applies to many walks of life. It applies to my attempts to get published: my book may be good but it isn’t what agents are looking for. You may be a good candidate for a job but you may not be exactly what the employer had in mind. Sometimes they might make an exception if you stand out enough. Sometimes an ideal, or the closest thing to it, is the only option for some people.

I always try to put a positive spin on failures. I don’t just follow this idea because I read it in a book, I follow it because it is the only option that makes sense. What is the alternative? Moping, accepting defeat and giving up. We’re better than that.

Rejection and the Manosphere

Rejection, like death and taxes, is a part of life,

It starts off simple,

Something our parents don’t want to get us,

An idea they do not want to support,

 

Then it evolves into rejection from our peers,

We don’t fit in certain groups,

We’re too shy, too skinny, too nerdy,

We don’t only hear this from our friends,

But from the people we like to think of as more than friends,

 

Everyone has dealt with this rejection,

And many of us continue to deal with it,

The thing that separates us is how we deal with it and what we learn from it,

 

There are those who continuously learn, improve on their approach and themselves,

They do not live with the goal of acceptance from someone else in mind,

They work hard to improve themselves to make themselves happier, knowing that success can flow from this,

 

Others let bitterness and anger overwhelm them,

They’ve been hurt by women, and they figure the solution is to direct their anger and hatred towards all women,

It is a fact that some women are manipulative and deceitful,

But it is also a fact that many do not intend to be hurtful when they reject someone,

 

The manosphere does not understand this,

Grown men are reduced to online whiners who are more interested in feminism than feminists are,

They see it as the source of all their problems, of all the worlds problems,

If the cruel “feminazis” didn’t exist, then they could be real men and get more of what they wanted,

 

I’ve read their work and it sickens me,

Sickens me that men aspire to be like the pitiful, insecure people who spend too much time thinking about what women supposedly owe them,

Sickens me that real, confident men are treated like cowards, “manginas” or “white knights” whenever they express some common sense

 

Yet I believe this is the direction the world is heading in,

Minorities are hated on when they complain about racism,

White people think they get discriminated against more,
And now men are combatting feminism, angry that women supposedly have it too easy nowadays,

We are living in the age of the disgruntled majorities, where the powerful play victim and attack those who already have less than them,

“Madness is rare in individuals-but in groups, parties, nations and ages it is the rule.”-Friedrich Nietzsche