Naked Talk

You ever notice that you can always talk better lying down? Even better, what about lying down naked? You know, like right after you have sex and you feel like you can say just about...anything. It's fascinating really.

I'm caught between two thoughts right now, which, might I add, always drives me insane; I do not recommend the place. It has to do with the naked talking phenomenon. Does a person really express themselves more so when naked? Are people just be confusing it with being relaxed? I wouldn't put it past pure association...Sex leads to nakedness and relaxation, relaxation leads to a willingness to open up. People don't realize that they are relaxed, but they do realize that they are naked.

Or could it be that there really isn't anything to hide when you are naked. The literal state transcends into the subconscious where anyone can penetrate your mind. I kinda like to think that the lack of clothing helps one think clearly. It's sort of a tool which one can resort to when they need some clarity. Neat.

Who are you?

I have to take a quick detour from my current Friend theme to discuss a common occurrence that many of us are familiar to. Last night I was at a bar...wait, sorry a saloon as Black Bear has branded itself, in a friend's town. I saw a girl that I remembered from high school who I had a decent friendship with. Although she was two years my senior, we engaged in plenty of flirtatious activity, until she became close friends with a girl that I was seeing. Regardless, I had made an imprint.

Last night, while sitting down with a few of my friends, drinking and making fun of the fat chicks (because we all like to make ourselves feel better when we don't have a girl in our arms), I saw her. She stood out since she is an attractive girl. Needless to say, under my current state (drunk at an open bar in a town that I rarely am in) I decided to call her over. Immediately she walks over and leans in to display her cheek for a kiss. I think, "Excellent", and oblige her with a nice kiss on the cheek. She then turns to me and says "How do you know my name?". Naturally I tell her it's DJ from high school and so on. She doesn't remember, I give her another kiss, and she walks back into her circle of Black Bear rambunctiousness.

WHAT! I mean come on. Do you really forget someone that quickly? The answer is no. Obviously, she chose not to remember who I was and played that cool card where she says she doesn't know me. Truthfully, she probably was just teasing her friends by coming over and messing around. Once she spent enough time she high tailed it back to her comfort circle. But the worst part is, and I'm sure it is the same for you, is that I've done the same thing to people too! Thing is, it's not really a conscious decision, it sorta just happens. The words come rolling out: "I'm sorry, I don't remember you", "What's your name?", or the best "I guess you weren't pretty before...and still aren't".

Unfortunately for me, I took the brunt end of this one. But I'm willing to sacrifice myself for the cause. We have all used the "Who are you?" look and question to bail ourselves out of hideous situations and run away from fat chicks. We have used the "Playing the Fool" card to mess with old acquaintances. And we have used it to create power and ignite passion upon interaction.

DW

The American Asian

His name is probably something like, oh, I don't know,Pac Ju Sang, but you never knew that. He always went by some overtly American name, like Dave or Mike. He came to this country as a small Asian kid in elementary school with all of the hardworking values that had been bestowed upon him from the homeland. He is an average athlete, probably plays soccer or volleyball, and skewed the average of all the exams. He accentuates the wrong part of most words, destined to go to the best college, and probably plays the violin. Maybe Piano.

The reason why we love the American Asian: he is incredibly impressionable. He gives way to the slightest amount of peer pressure and always drives home at the peak of his drunkenness. By the time he is a sophomore in high school, he has been over driven like an ox on the Oregon trail by his parents, his fingers are cracked from too much violin that he can barely hold a joint, and has realized that he will be plagued by the Asian glow after one drink, so he might as well make the most of it by having 10. This has all stuck with him and prepared him for an excellent college career, instead of the nerd that his parents always yearned for. Never change American Asian.

The Townie

Who else deserves the first profile than the townie? You know, that guy who you see at the bars when you are in your hometown for the weekend; he just never made it out. In high school, he was probably considered one of the most popular kids in the school: dated the sophomore and freshmen girls while he was a senior, was a starting player on a football team that was terrible and wore his varsity jacket everywhere, and he probably had six or seven close friends equally as annoying.

That guy grew into, well, the same person, except now he has no real reason to exist: he lives with his parents, claims each night that he is looking for a job or some quick way to make money, and gets plastered on $5 pitcher nights, only to drive home drunk and high with one of the three girls that he has been hooking up with since high school, who at one point was hot, but now has put on 30 pounds of beer weight and lost all appeal. What a life. And what's more, the guy may get put on a job by his rich father and make a bunch of money, find some trophy wife, and have kids who will turn out the exact same way.

When it comes down to it, this guy is that big fish in a small pond who you will probably hang out with one night with 5 of your friends playing cards and getting absolutely hammered with. He provides the local knowledge that we need to operate in town: where the new Garden Catering is, how late taco bell is open, the bar special of the night, the nostalgia created from his constant high school lifestyle. He will bestow some of his gossiping wisdom about who is f---ing who (which is ever important if you want to pick up a girl from high school) and provide hours of laughter, both at and with.

DW

My Friends

Introduction

Welcome to The Wall. In an effort to jump on the band wagon of this blogging craze, I've decided to take bits, pieces and small excerpts of my life and many of the lives around me and bring them to the public. However, I'm adding a bit of a twist to this so-called artistic, new age form of expression. Let's face it, blogging is mainly a vent for emotional people that feel they have some sort of literary talent but no real audience to listen to. Sometimes we get the occasional thinker who brings laughter straight to your Google Reader day in and day out (Failblog = amazing), yet many times we are daunted and overwhelmed by the sheer mass of, well, emotional baggage that idiotic people (which there are plenty of) seem to feel so necessary in expressing to the connected world.

F--- that.

This blog will act as a selective forum for young professionals that don't care about anything, that don't know what they really want to do in life, that are just caught in this end-of-college stage (who are extremely lucky and are being set up for a huge fall come the end of their schooling) or at the start of some dry and drudging job where the primary excitement comes when a new draft is installed in the pub you most frequent. The conversations and ideas that ensue between people in this scenario, however, have proven to be some of the most entertaining instances in my life. Why not capture them?

There is no theme. There are no rules. There is only an environment that provides enlightenment on the world as "young professionals" see them. Initially, as all blogs start, I will be the main contributor. Yet I implore you to consider contributing. I intend for this environment to grow, to be a library of hilarity that we can call sanctuary when our menial and tedious tasks render our minds useless; a haven to perturb and remove the notions of selling our souls for five dollars to our best friend with blue hair.

(Note: I hope you agree with me that the use of quotations is overused in almost every situation, which is why I feel it necessary to justify it's usage in this context. The people providing entries will be referred to as young professionals, yet may not be employed, may be drug addicts or may not be professional in their daily routines. Therefore, referring to them as professional may be misconstrued creating a basis for which to use quotation marks.)


DW