Wednesday, August 25, 2004
Is that you, Clarice? Well hello, Clarice.
After watching Kill Bill 1 & 2 with Mike this weekend we've both been on a "five point palm exploding heart technique" frenzy. He won't stop whistling the Nurse Elle Driver song or poking me in the chest. I'm trying out that three-inch punch on concrete walls. It's not going so well.
So somehow we got on the topic of actual fighting. Mike seems to think that it is only a matter of time before somebody comes to blows at work. This is coming from a guy who literally choked his cubicle mate last year for throwing a paperclip at his laptop. Yes, I suppose with temperament like that, it is eventual that a fight will break out. But I didn't think that it would ever involve me. I generally like to avoid fighting. I'm not sure why, but I think that others would be scared of me. Sort of like one would be scared if they turned a corner and were face to face with a smiling Hannibal Lector.
To this Mike agreed. After thinking about it for a moment it all made sense. I'm not a known fighter. I've never displayed any skill with my fists or feet. I'm not really in shape. But for some reason I think that most anyone who knows me wouldn't want to take me on. I just picture a bar brawl where some guy and I are back to back and simultaneously punch out our opponents. Once we do that we turn to one another for the next contestant. But once they see it's me, they get a bit scared and run to take on somebody else.
The reason is that they're not sure how clean I would fight, or how much self control I could display in such a situation. And, in truth, I can't say I disagree. Given a situation where I was in a fight with someone of greater strength or skill I could feasibly resort to attempting to eat my opponent's face or jumping up and down on his nuts. I guess it would all depend on the seriousness of the threat I perceive. If I were just getting slapped around I think I'd react violently, but with restraint. If I felt like I might be taking a trip to the hospital, I'm inclined to think that I might react fatally.
But the question was what is it about me that makes Mike think others would have to pause to consider the potential consequences of challenging me to an emotionally charged physical contest. I don't make threats. I've never drank blood, eaten raw meat, or talked about wanting to cause pain and misery in front of them. I reserve those behaviors for my wife. Maybe it's something in the eyes. When I get excited Mike has told me that I get this frightening little grin on my face. You know that scene in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom where Mola Ram is gripping at the guy's chest, about to rip his heart out and show it to him? That's the face. I guess that could be a bit disconcerting.
But while this gives me a certain level of satisfaction, I have to admit that there's some part of me that wishes I was just considered a regular guy. Just another normal dude walking around. I love individuality, and most people would say that they have some parts of themselves that are a bit weird. But when you live your whole life having thoughts and behaviors that worry those around you, it can make you feel a tad bit isolated. And I'm not talking about weird like the goth, black-loving, death-obsessed weird that just annoys everyone over the age of 16. I mean the kind where you chime in in a group conversation and everyone just stops and stares at you a little worried kind of weird.
Who knows. Maybe someday I really will have a little "episode". I can see myself around age forty greeting people who knew me "before" and looking like the character Buddy on Night Court.
"But I'm feeling muuuch better now."
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So somehow we got on the topic of actual fighting. Mike seems to think that it is only a matter of time before somebody comes to blows at work. This is coming from a guy who literally choked his cubicle mate last year for throwing a paperclip at his laptop. Yes, I suppose with temperament like that, it is eventual that a fight will break out. But I didn't think that it would ever involve me. I generally like to avoid fighting. I'm not sure why, but I think that others would be scared of me. Sort of like one would be scared if they turned a corner and were face to face with a smiling Hannibal Lector.
To this Mike agreed. After thinking about it for a moment it all made sense. I'm not a known fighter. I've never displayed any skill with my fists or feet. I'm not really in shape. But for some reason I think that most anyone who knows me wouldn't want to take me on. I just picture a bar brawl where some guy and I are back to back and simultaneously punch out our opponents. Once we do that we turn to one another for the next contestant. But once they see it's me, they get a bit scared and run to take on somebody else.
The reason is that they're not sure how clean I would fight, or how much self control I could display in such a situation. And, in truth, I can't say I disagree. Given a situation where I was in a fight with someone of greater strength or skill I could feasibly resort to attempting to eat my opponent's face or jumping up and down on his nuts. I guess it would all depend on the seriousness of the threat I perceive. If I were just getting slapped around I think I'd react violently, but with restraint. If I felt like I might be taking a trip to the hospital, I'm inclined to think that I might react fatally.
But the question was what is it about me that makes Mike think others would have to pause to consider the potential consequences of challenging me to an emotionally charged physical contest. I don't make threats. I've never drank blood, eaten raw meat, or talked about wanting to cause pain and misery in front of them. I reserve those behaviors for my wife. Maybe it's something in the eyes. When I get excited Mike has told me that I get this frightening little grin on my face. You know that scene in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom where Mola Ram is gripping at the guy's chest, about to rip his heart out and show it to him? That's the face. I guess that could be a bit disconcerting.
But while this gives me a certain level of satisfaction, I have to admit that there's some part of me that wishes I was just considered a regular guy. Just another normal dude walking around. I love individuality, and most people would say that they have some parts of themselves that are a bit weird. But when you live your whole life having thoughts and behaviors that worry those around you, it can make you feel a tad bit isolated. And I'm not talking about weird like the goth, black-loving, death-obsessed weird that just annoys everyone over the age of 16. I mean the kind where you chime in in a group conversation and everyone just stops and stares at you a little worried kind of weird.
Who knows. Maybe someday I really will have a little "episode". I can see myself around age forty greeting people who knew me "before" and looking like the character Buddy on Night Court.
"But I'm feeling muuuch better now."
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