Measurement Uncertainty (I wish I had the answers)

Forgive me if this entry seems a bit all over the place; it's a fair bit to cover.

A few nights ago, I went on a couple of dates - one was a setup with a friend's friend that took place in the early afternoon, and the other was an evening date with someone I had met at my university campus. They were simple dates, consisting of meals, talking, and one had a movie involved.

As a bit of a preface, I tend to have several encounters with women, and almost always the person I am out with has some quirk about them that usually leads to interesting/bizarre/hilarious results.

These two women were nice and well-mannered, with no apparent deviance that I have grown accustomed to seeing. The dates themselves didn't go wrong, but I found that the more time I spent interacting with these women, the less I felt connected. I guess you could say I was bored, but there was this tiny voice screaming in the back of my head, "You idiot! She's perfectly normal and very pleasant. Why not see one of them again?! Didn't you want someone normal!?" The dates didn't end with anything intimate taking place, but that's of little consequence... or is it?

Over the past while, I've felt that love isn't for me - either because I'm just not meant to have it, or because I shut the door on it (I'm still working over which it is, but I think I'm leaning towards the latter). Am I a victim of circumstance, or of my decisions? I wish I had the answers

I won't dance around what I've done in the past. I played the field. I used women for their bodies, like they were using me for mine (a mutual exchange). Sure, I received temporary highs when I did it, but the lasting effects left me feeling empty and like I was losing pieces of my soul. I guess you could say women were like drugs for me (PLEASE DO NOT BRING UP THAT RIHANNA SONG). If such is the case, is there something wrong with me that I felt like I needed these temporary shots of exhilaration in order to stave off some deeper issue within me? Was I fine before, and the latter consequence of my actions eroding what beliefs I previously held? I wish I had the answers.

I'll also state that I'm not particularly chauvinistic (to some extent). I have a great respect for the people I know and care for, whatever gender/race/orientation they are. Yet for some reason, I seem to label the kind of girl I usually hook up with as shallow and fake (which is probably why I act the same towards them). It only now seems to be bleeding into my mind to label any girl I wish to hook up with as self-serving.

Whatever the case may be, I don't know what I can do with myself. How can I fix it? What's scary is the creeping apathy (or is it lost hope?). Do I want to fix it? Is it worth it? This era we live in is very self-serving and I'm trying to adapt to it. If I can attract those who want me to just serve as a dildo with a body attached to it, then can I attract someone who wants and cares about me - all of me? Do I want that? I think I do? I wish I had the answers.

I'm so used to people using me for what I can do for them, and in turn I have become a lot like that for strangers. I'm used to having problems that I just push aside because I can never seem to voice them (or find ears to hear them). They generally just pile up somewhere in a closet in the back of my mind until the clutter spills out (part of the reason I have this blog). Am I becoming emotionally numb as a result of this and other stuff combined? I wish I had the answers.

I'm supposed to be this solid foundation upon which people can rely. How can I help others if I can't help myself? God, I think I'm so used to being used that I become uneasy and down when I feel like I'm not useful to others. What the hell is wrong with me? Is this really me? I wish I had the answers.

I know less about myself than I thought.

I use too many parentheses...

Terminal Loss

A good friend of mine passed away the other day. She fought a good fight, but the cancer was too much for her.

I know that death is a natural process, but the impact is still surreal. It is hard for me to put into words how I feel, but I am certain many people who have faced the same loss know what I'm talking about. There is a hollowness there. It is like the person gone was a part of a painting and someone came with some thinner and lathered it over that portion. The aftermath is just a blank zone that you can't help noticing, and feel uncomfortable with it being there.

She was a kind individual, and was always able to fearlessly say the truth about how things are - with the exception of one thing (and I'm sure you can guess what that thing is). I didn't find out about what was going on with her until she was well underway with it (she began to appear less and less). I could not admonish her for it, as much as I wanted to admonish her. I would have been a hypocrite (and she would have called me out on it). There was just this silent understanding.

I wanted to grill her about all the tribulations she had to go through for her treatments (more than the superficial details one would generally ask), but for some reason could never work up the nerve to do it. Part of me knew she'd be stubborn to a fault about it and not reveal it to me, and another part was too scared to accept what was going on - too scared to hear that it wasn't going well - that her body was failing.

In the end, I never got to say goodbye (her sister was the one who informed me), which is my second-biggest gripe. My biggest one was that I couldn't be there more for her, and that I couldn't in any way contribute to making her better beyond giving emotional support (the power of which I now ponder over). It's festering within me and distracts me so often.

Now I'm left with memories. I am finding that within my life, the only truly good things I own are my memories. They are one of the few things in this world that can actually make me feel happy, if only for a bit from time to time. It saddens me beyond imagining that I will no longer be able to create any further ones with her as a part of it.

I'll miss you...

Auditor's Report (Foreword)

I always told myself I would make one of these - so here it is.

The significance of the title relates to my career - a part of what defines me. By day (and on occasion, by night) I'm an auditor.

For those of you who do not know: an unqualified opinion from an auditing standpoint is the opinion I make at the end of an audit of an entity, and means that I have looked at its information through a test basis, and have concluded with reasonable (not full - this is important) assurance that its information is materially (also important) correct, is free from error/fraud, and follows certain, prescribed standards. This opinion is put on a report and is essentially the tangible product I am delivering to my clients - it's like a clean bill of health.

OK, that was pretty heavy; wake up. I honestly don't know why I wrote out that definition.

People rely on my opinion (and the opinions of many like myself in the same position) and use the entity's information that I have essentially said is usable to make decisions that shape and define the very economy of our world. This is a part of why I like what I do. People rely on me. People respect me. What I say - based on what I do - has an impact far greater than myself.

But enough about my work...

The other reason I chose the name is pretty much a disclaimer. This blog is not just an account of my life, but a statement of my [unqualified] opinion on whatever the topic at hand may be. But really, whose opinion is actually qualified when it comes to life? I generally like to stay on the fence (story of my life), remain objective about all sorts of matters, and often play Devil's Advocate should a side be underrepresented. However, if you are reading this, feel free to discuss/disagree with me should the mood strike you.

Many thanks and kind regards,
Ommy