Socializing at Work

Although I'm great with clients and co-workers in work meetings, I tend to become awkward with those same people when they try to bridge from the work aspect of our relationship to a more personal one. What I mean is: talking with some co-workers about changing the software to better assess a client for ADHD is fine, but when someone makes a joke about their girlfriend, I reply with a fake laugh and pull their focus back onto the meeting topic. In a similar form, if they try to chat me up about my weekend or my personal life, I tend to kind of deflect the question away with "Oh, I'm doing fine", "nothing much", "ya, pretty good" without bothering to reciprocate the question back to them.

Some of the reasons for reacting like that would be my tendency to keep my work life and personal life separate. It's not that I believe they should be non-overlapping, but I just tend to not want to share details about myself with people whom I might not consider a friend - this is undoubtedly layover from my intensely closeted, self-preservation days. Most people like to ask the generic, general bonding questions of "How are you with the ladies?" or "Do you have a girlfriend?". My answers tend to involve unelaborate lies of "I do alright for myself" or "Not right now", without any interest in reciprocating the investigative and kind-natured queries.

On a separate level though, I've always had trouble considering clients, co-workers or even professors and teaching-assistants (TAs) to be people like myself, with personal lives and interests beyond the same company or university class. Back in university, I easily imagined Profs and TAs as people who attended a class for the day, then returned to their offices where they waited there patiently for the next day's class to arrive. Yes, I thought of them as robots.

Exceptions for these rules do of course exist: I work with Kieran and we talk about anything. That is of course because I knew him before work. My boss is, oddly enough, also an exception to this rule. He's just way too cool not to talk to.

As a change from my normal work routine last week, my boss asked me to head to a downtown office for the full week. A special, big-name clinician/trainer was in town so he wanted me to handle her in-person and hangout in the background in case she needed help while at the office.

The first two days were both stressful and boring. My normal day consists of on-and-off work-and-play: when I want a break, I go watch TV, or cook, or bike to a cafe. But in an office, when I needed a break I didn't know what to do. Go talk to the many co-workers/office people, all zooming around and talking to one-another? Ya right, that violates my modus operandi. So I'd pretty much go get a glass of water from the kitchen, smile, nod, deflect personal questions and then sit back down in my chair and force myself to work more.

As the end of the week arrived though, I wasn't going to stand being bored out of my mind anymore: I decided to try considering my co-workers as human beings *cringes* and actually enjoy talking with them. After strategically placing myself at a new desk, next to a very friendly guy I had previous shared lots of online meetings with, I just waited for the social opportunity to show itself.

My first chance eventually materialized: my neighbor swiveled his chair around and threw out a comment.

Guy: Oh jeez, that damn school-parents association is giving my wife a hard time...

Me: I would LOVE to hear about it.

He gives me a quick awkward look, since my voice had way too much eagerness and very little of my standard indifference. I took a mental note to be less excited by his mundane chatter. I then immediately took a second mental note, to avoid thinking of people's conversations as mundane chatter.

Turns out my social pounce was the perfect springboard for actually enjoying myself at the office. We got to talking more throughout the day and I really started enjoying speaking with him. It probably helped as well that I spent half an hour on a Skype call with drunk Alicia (in Australia), who was seeking advice on what to do about having a long distance boyfriend and having "accidentally" spent two hours making out with a lesbian, whom she then invited over to sleep with her. My co-worker seemed quite captured by my exclamations of "well if you want to sleep with a girl, go ahead just remember your boyfriend will probably be pissed" and "I'm not too sure what to say to get out of this...I'm only good at getting out of 3-somes".

From that first guy, I got the confidence and the state-of-mind to see the others around me as non-robotic, normal people too. Next, I began chatting with the front-desk assistant and some other account woman. Some engineers seemed to respond to my friendliness and come over to me. By then end of the day, I was having an awesome end of day with some 50 year old woman make sexual innuendos as she tried to teach me to use the automatic coffee machine.

Lady: Remember, just jam the rod into the hole. You should know how to do that!

Me: *Laughter*

Lady: Now take that flat piece - remember, flat like my chest - and place it on top of the rod. To review, the thing's flat like what?

Me: Like your chest!

Lady: Exactly!

Maybe my co-workers and I even looked excited like this!

Impromptu Boston/Provincetown

The best kind of trips are randomly proposed and immediately executed:

Oldest Brother's Girlfriend, at 1am: Hey Thomas, want to come to Boston with me tomorrow?
Me: YES!

And to Boston I went! My work wouldn't mind the sudden disappearance, especially since I left a note in the company calendar:
Thomas is in Boston - I ain't coming to work, bitches!


I was essentially on my own for the 4 days. Oldest Brother's Girlfriend was there for a conference all day long, each day, so I spent my time wandering and seeing the sites alone. As with my previous trip to New York & Washington DC, I think it would be a lot more fun to write about the random and stereotypical things that I have learnt on this holiday.

On an unrelated note, I don't like saying "I was on vacation" or "I'm going on a holiday" because I feel like my normal life pretty much one giant vacation in itself, but anyway...

Here we go!

- Boston is filled with the crazies. So many wacky homeless (?) people.

- I should smile more, as one crazy person pointed. Especially with my hair, as he also pointed out.

- The only single guy buying entrance to an aquarium, whilst surrounded by families with young kids, makes me wonder if people think I'm a pedophile.

- Boston has an excess of uggoes, also known as ugly people. Oldest Brother's Girlfriend also really noticed that.

- An exception to the above rule is most people running in the parks along the river. All beautiful men run along the river, shirtless.

- I could live in the downtown Boston Public Library. It's like a castle.

- Provincetown (CapeCod) is possibly the gayest town ever. If the world would be reversed so that gays were 90-95% of the population and straights were 5-10%, all places would look like Provincetown.

- I'm in love with the sand dune landscape of Provincetown.


- Only in a super ultra gay town beach would you ever hear a 35 year old man exclaim loudly in the bitchiest voice:
"Argh, I have sand in my foreskin"

- Awkward looks were shared by all strangers, after the above comment was heard.

- There's something really cute about seeing two 50 year old women walk down the beach together, and one slides her hand in the other's so casually, and it remaining so normal.

- It's surprisingly easy to fall asleep behind a wooden crate, on the top floor of the hydrofoil boat, on the way back to Boston from Provincetown.

- It's fun to visit Harvard, whilst mocking it at the same time. This is accomplished by taking stupid photos of yourself with Harvard as a backdrop. Saying "OOOoohhh, Look at meee! I go to HAAAAAARVVAAAAAAAARD" also helps.

Too bad you can't see my eyes. It completes the photos.

- "Pffft, you're just jealous you didn't go there!" Yes. Yes I am a bit.

Dentures, or lack there-of

Craigslist amazes again! I feel liek this has to be made up, but I kind of hope it isn't:

Click on the picture to enlarge!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, Gumjobs!

Oh man!

Thank you!..... Thank you!..... Thank you!

One of the odd traits that is included on my resume of qualities is sleepwalking. Yep, I'm a sleepwalker.

Although it's common for young kids and teenagers to sleepwalk, no one seems to have informed my body about that fact because I still do. It doesn't occur often (or, at least not in a way that I or people around me have noticed or pointed out) , but I have been on a bunch of sleepwalking adventures.


When I'm in a sleepwalking episode, my body and face clearly look awake (my eyes are open, I walk around normally - no stumbling) but it's clear that "Thomas isn't home". "I", used in loose terms because it's not complete my personality in the driver's seat, am very single-minded and frankly stupid when sleepwalking. I may or may not have glazed-over eyes. I don't react normally to people around me. Based on other peoples' descriptions of my behavior, it's as if I'm acting/reacting like I exist in a dream world: some dreams have wacky logic that you adamantly know is true, but when you wake up you realize that reality was just so dumb and illogical.

I don't remember any of my sleepwalks, unless I wake up in the middle of them. The few times that happens, it takes me a very confusing 20 minutes to figure out the difference between my sleepwalking, dream-like world and reality. I have sat in the bathroom for 30 minutes before, trying to decide if I was in my house or if I should still be trying to run away from the first mate on a 15th century navy boat. I'm not joking at all.

The most recently amusing sleepwalking episode occurred 2 or 3 years ago, when I slept over at Liz's family home. See had made a huge special dinner (as I recall it was a "Hey Jesus died this weekend so I want to invite 12 of my favorite people over to dine with me!") and I decided to sleep over. Long after I had fallen asleep, Liz and Tim (who was also staying the night) were still quietly talking in the same room. They watched me get up off the couch, walk over to the tv-cabinet and start looking through all the drawers. They asked me what I was doing but I completely ignored them; I was much too interested in rummaging through the drawers.

Next I made my way to the kitchen, where I was looking through all the cabinets as well. Liz and Tim were right behind me. They caught on to the fact I was sleepwalking, since I had previously told them stories about my episodes. Eventually, I recognized their presence by saying "I'm trying to find the bathroom", as I kept rummaging under the sink. Liz told me where the bathroom was, even though I already knew where it was since I had visited her house plenty of times. I ignored her, and the bathroom on the main floor, as I walked toward her sleeping parents' and siblings' bedrooms, intent on finding this mysterious bathroom in some drawer.

After some more coaxing and before I the chance to freak out the sleeping [Liz's Last Name] family, they convinced me to check out the bathroom in the basement. Apparently I didn't want to ignore that one. It seemed to work - I walked in, closed the bathroom door. Liz and Tim went back upstairs.

20 minutes passed without me reappearing.

Liz told her brother, who had just appeared, to go check on me downstairs. He apparently came to the bathroom, called out my name, and waited for a response. I didn't answer. He cautiously opened the unlocked bathroom door to find me standing directly against the door, facing him. He described the situation as one of those horror movies where the killer is as close as possible to the victim before the scary jump moment. Naturally, I was playing the killer's role. I freaked the shit out of him.

Without taking any notice of Liz's brother's reaction of terror, I went upstairs to lie back down on the same couch, where I was sleeping before my grand bathroom search began. Liz and Tim were sitting back in their chairs talking. It seemed like I was back asleep...

... but I got up again. I walked over to Liz, put my hand on her shoulder and whispered with the utmost sincerity:
"Thank you!"
I then went back to the couch to sleep.
Then I got up again. I went back over to Liz, put my hand on her shoulder again and whispered, again, with utmost sincerity:
"Thank you!"
Then, I, again, went back to the couch.

Nope it wasn't done yet. Once more, with feeling, I got up, went to Liz, put my hand on her shoulder and whispered "Thank you!", before returning to the couch.

After being stuck in a short loop, I finally stayed asleep. I woke up next morning to Liz and Tim's big grins and my own embarrassment. That was the second time that I slept-walk outside of my own home and in front of non-family members.

In all honesty, that specific event made me a bit apprehensive about my sleepwalking. I have no memories of the majority of these events so it feels like my conscious or personality is not in control of the things I could potentially do. What if I had decided to just whip out my dick and start waking off!? Imagine the story they'd tell me the next day! Or maybe they'd hit me to wake me up and then I would be incredibly confused, with my dick in my hand, feeling like a huge pervert! Uuuhhh...

But oh well, I can't control it...so I might as well enjoy the good stories.

Postcard

This is so me:


Thanks again, PostSecret.

On Gayness and Swedes

Every summer, a Swedish friend of ours jumps on a plane headed for Montreal to visit his sister, brother-in-law, nieces/nephew, cousin and us for a month or two. We first met him about 5 years ago through his cousin (a.k.a. one of our friends) at a big weekend party. Since that first party, he's become a regular in the gang when he's in the country.

Oh Sweden - the land of hot blonds (and brunettes!) and vikings

Although his English is freaking amazing for anyone who learns it as a second language, he sometimes has these weird ways of acting or reacting. I've always assumed these oddities are related to the differences between our culture (that of the general people in Montreal/Quebec or Canada+US) and that in Sweden. I know some of his jokes and expressions are definitely lost in translation...

Soon after the first party, so many years ago when we got to know him, the question came up: do you think he's gay? No - I didn't ask the question first. I'm pretty sure it was probably Mike. None of us were particularly sure. He never mentioned any women in stories or him finding anyone particularly hot. Mike seemed convinced of the Yes-he's-gay answer. Xav agreed with Mike, on the lines of "I felt like he was looking at me too deeply, as if he was checking me out sometimes". I was actually on the No side with the reasoning "He's not gay, he's European!" (Sorry to any Euros reading this, but from an American/Canada standpoint a lot of physical mannerisms and styles Europeans tend to come off as stereotypically gay from our perspective. If it makes you feel better though, most people in Montreal come off as gay to non-Quebecois, for the same reasoning...). Tim took my side with the Not-gay point too.

For years we lightly joked about the possibility. We conveniently ignored the fact that he has accidentally filmed his female cousin skinny dipping and running around naked (Note: His cousin, Kieran and I initiated the streaking), although I think that relates more to the blood-relation factor than the ruining-our-gay-joke-suspicions.

This summer came round and the Swede was back here again. The big weekend summer party happened again. New faces at the party joined in on the joke and took the Not-Gay and Gay sides. It seemed like the two sides would be at a stalemate, but the Swede had something else in mind.

On the first night, we taking cover in the cabin from the rain and wind. I was in the main room, sitting crossed-legged on a bed, whilst talking to a group of people, the Swede included. We had already drank plenty by then. The Swede casually walked over to me, sat directly in my lap, while leaning on me. I put my arm around his side, even though I was adamantly chanting in my head:

"DON'T GET A BONER. DON'T GET A BONER. DON'T GET A BONER."

I suppose denial is powerful force in me, because I still kind of stuck to the Not-Gay opinion. Maybe all Swedish men sit in each others' laps - how would I know!? He got up after a few minutes and I, nor anyone, said anything about it...well, at least not that weekend. The Gay side gained a few more supporters.

Fast forward two week later: a big group of us are enjoying socializing in a bar. I'm chatting with some friends at a table, the Swede included. He's sitting on a stool and I'm standing next to him. He casually pulls me closer so that I'm sitting on me. The Not-Gay side officially loses all support.

A few of my friends suggested I should have hooked up with him, but I really wasn't interested. Why might you ask? Like I've said, I'm all for hook-ups, but I just got the odd impression that he would become romantically attached to me somehow. Again, maybe its the lost-in-Swedish-translation thing again but I got the feeling that I would become his focus whilst he was in Canada, this year and maybe futures ones when he came back for the summer. I just didn't want to chance ruining a friendship by having to intentionally distancing myself from him.

A small part of me does think I should have just said "fuck it" and made out with him though.

No Class at Osheaga

Nothing says class like buying a small bottle of whiskey and shoving into your crotch to smuggle it into a music festival. The festival organisers are asking for this though: if they're gonna make me pay 5.50$ for less-than-a-bottle of crappy beer, I think it's okay for me to do that. Maybe the group of women, who saw me stick my hand shamelessly and completely down into my junk to retrieve the bottle after clearing security, were a bit shocked, but I'll forgive them. We all need to make allowances, right?

PS: Prodige are my most favorite briefs ever.

On a different note, if Girl Talk ever makes its way to where you live, buy tickets. He (no, I have no idea why he chose the name Girl Talk) is the most phenomenal live act. It was completely worth skipping over live ColdPlay to see him. The entire hour+ was just a wild dancefest, with the audience dancing on-stage, giant inflatable beach balls, confetti, inflattable tubes, toilet paper, exploding balls with money (yes, real money) and fireworks in every direction. Two days after the festival, my body still physically hurts from the amount of funk that was coarsing through it and being released as body gyrations.


And for another complete shift in post direction:

Awww, Liz still luvs me.

Awww, Oldest Brother was briefly in town and still loves making fake smiles when I try to take his photo.

Awww, Mike & Mike's Girlfriend are cute - though even better: he's actually regularly & often appearing in our lives again!