How Embarrassing...?

One of the first writing assignments I was ever given in High School was to write about my most embarrassing moment.  I just wrote down something along the likes of, “Having to write this stupid infantile meaningless (etc.)... essay.”  It was a litany of double-spaced synonyms stretching down the page, and after handing it in, I was told to redo it properly.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to write up something personally embarrassing to me.  It was that I couldn’t remember one.  To me, being unable to think up anything was embarrassing in itself.

I couldn’t remember anything that could be considered embarrassing, so I made something up that could be considered embarrassing to other people. That essay was accepted and praised for being more honest.  But I can’t recall a word I wrote.

I’ve never been accustomed to feeling embarrassed.  Being self-conscious about being seen doing something in public, sure.  Being uncomfortable about reading / watching something that makes me emotionally insecure, sure.  But, not typical things that would normally embarrass other people.  I didn’t mind when my Mom showed up at school to give presentations and help out.  She was looking out and supporting me.

As a kid, I would be late for when the school bus came to pick me up, being more preoccupied with the TV.  At first, Mom had me go to school in my pyjamas, *certain* that the shame would shake me out of my complacency.  It didn’t.

I only changed my habits when I went to school without having lunch prepared, and then wasn’t allowed to have any food.  The teachers had been warned beforehand, and were told not to share their lunches with me, no matter how much I complained, even as they agonized over my reactions, but my Mom said it was necessary.  When I came home that day, I was practically starving, and my Mom said something along the likes of, “If you had been prepared before the bus came, you would’ve had lunch.”

Since then, I’ve always made it a point to be on time for anything.

It might’ve seemed borderline abusive at the time, but she was just applying Logical Consequences, which are different from Natural Consequences, where a child learns things after making silly mistakes and figuring things out, which is pretty much the mainstay of children’s TV episodes.  Once the child realizes that certain actions result in certain consequences, they’ll be better prepared to avoid doing that again.  But other times, there are moments when simply learning the lesson afterwards doesn’t work, or won’t stick without outside intervention. 

My main problem was that I never learned these potentially reputation-saving lessons until long after the fact.

When most other students would have been embarrassed at the concept of sex ed, I just engaged the lessons with the same clinical detachment as any other class, having been familiar with the source material, thanks to books like Where Did I Come From? and What’s Happening to Me?, which explained body functions like the most normal thing in the world with silly drawings.

That in turn led to me being called the 12-letter ‘M’ word.  (No, the other one)

One time in class, the teacher gave a question.  I don’t remember the question, let alone what subject we were talking about.  It could’ve been ‘things that were once thought to be harmful’, but I remember the answer I piped up with, which was, “Like Masturbating?” which elicited tons of laughs from all the students around me.  I had no idea what was so funny, and it had to be explained that even though the text said the act wasn’t something to be ashamed of, what I said wasn’t the kind of thing normally said in public conversation.  For about a year, I was paired up with a lab partner who disparagingly nickednamed me ‘Masturbation’.

Even though the act was on my mind, having it continuously pointed out and reminded really rankled on me.  I couldn’t understand why these High School teens were so utterly infantile about basic sexuality.  (Looking back on my thoughts and actions now, that should’ve been a big honking clue)

To this day, I have reoccurring dreams of being naked at school, but in these scenarios, I’m more concerned about completing my 3-month project due in 2 weeks that I haven’t even started and didn’t even know about.

I also never understood what was supposed to be so funny about men wearing women’s clothes.

If it was okay for women to wear men’s clothes, then shouldn’t the reverse be true?  Just wear whatever’s comfortable!  If the clothes you want to wear are on the other side of the rack, that shouldn’t be a deterrent, just as long as it fits.  

I don’t really care about fashion or style, just function.  My choices are fairly basic.  I prefer to wear soft clothes with seamless seams, little social commentary (allegiance to specific sports teams or cartoons are visually distracting) I’ve often had to have the holes in my clothes pointed out, since I’m so used to feeling comfortable, and don’t really care about how I’m perceived.

When I started getting more invested in comics that weren’t of the Newspaper variety, I was quite enthusiastic about reading digest collections of Richie Rich and Archie.  (Don’t sneer - they were extremely popular and cheap) But the more I read them, the more I noticed that there was an element in these comics that kept cropping up that annoyed me.  It wasn’t the repetitive plots, the page limitations or the corny jokes.  It was that the sentences invariably ended with exclamation points, and there were very few instances where periods were put in place, and that put me off.  (Question marks didn’t count)

When I become overexposed to media, I become hyper-aware of the limitations of the form, and once notice something that keeps showing up, it becomes impossible to ignore, especially when certain themes start to show up.

I don’t know when it started (probably around Twilight & the Hunger Games), but I got annoyed when dystopian stories struggling under suppression started shoehorning in romance plots which only served to distract, particularly love triangles that hardly elevated the story, and would’ve benefited from their absence.  Why did EVERY story need a forced romance subplot?  Being more interested in creating artificial drama than authentic chemistry.

I got so annoyed by this that I even parodied this outlook early on in my WebNovel:

More Mangled Poirotisms

I’ve been cleaning out my excess reams of notes, trying to slim down the excess piles of organized mess that’s been lying around for months, years now.  They’ve been accumulating to such an excess that I’ve been ritually moving these stacks of papers from my computer desk to my bed, with the intent that I’ll look at them later.  Only, because these stacks of paper are behind me, I never look at them long enough before fatigue overtakes me, and I switch them back, and repeat the Sisyphusean process all over again next morning.

Now, the mess has become something that’s become unavoidable to overlook much longer, and I need some way of jotting these observations down, otherwise they’ll become lost.  Some time ago, I made a blog entry showing several instances of how the French language could be mangled, even by someone competent in verse.

Before I jump ahead to the main course, it would be remiss of me not to include this bit of mangled Christmas song from Farscape:

Hark!  The hee rawld angles seen guh

Glowry to the nude bored keen guh

Peach on Erp and Murky mill ed

Gode and signers reek n silled

And now, the most notable Poirot Malaphors:

• It’s just a turned ankle (twisted ankle)
• The pain already passes (has passed)
• Has he the tenderesse for her? (affection?)
• Your friend’s life has been attempted.  (An attempt on her life.)
• I am desolated (devastated)
• The extreme prudence is what is needed (extreme prejudice)

• If I mistake not (If I’m not mistaken)
• Does not hold the water (Doesn’t hold water)
• Frying his important fish (Has more important fish to fry)
• The fat is in the flames (The fat is in the fire)
• Get off Scottish free (Scott free)

• My train of reasoning (train of thought)
• We have killed both the birds with one shot (2 birds with one stone)
• It may come in useful (come in handy)
• The matter of greatest import (great importance)
• Poirot does not pull the legs (pulling my leg)
• Throws a hammer in the works (wrench in the works)
• Rest calm (calm down)
• What is the use? (What’s the use?)

• I comprehend perfectly (understand perfectly)
• That will not exist for long (last for long)
• Candle grease (Candle wax)
• Keep to myself at the present (Keep to myself for now) or (Not at the present)
• A good grip of the affair (A keen grasp)

• Make great steps (great strides)
• A fall back on (safety cushion)
• The peak of condition (tiptop shape)
• Making the hills out of the mole mounts (mountains out of molehills)
• Wild gooseberry hunt (Wild goose chase)

• Slept like a top (log)
• Not a moment to waste (to lose)
• Head him off the scent (Throw him off the scent)
• Strike while the metal is warm (iron is hot)
• Not keep waiting a lady (keep a lady waiting)
• You are up with the bird (lark)
• Grey cells they grow the rust (getting rusty)
• One grips at the straws (grasps at straws)

Potential Asexuals: Schroeder

One of my drafts for a potential blog entry was exploring how the cast of Peanuts wound up influencing the character designs for other famous comics, even if they weren’t obvious or intentional.

Charlie Brown - Krillin from Dragon Ball.

Sally Brown - Emily Elizabeth from Clifford the Big Red Dog.

Lucy - Cathy’s sales clerk, Mabel

Linus - Izzy from Digimon.

Marcie - Honey from Doonesbury.

Peppermint Patty - arguably Marie Kanker from Ed Edd and Eddy.

And working backwards in terms of influence, Schroeder was likely inspired by Little Lord Fauntleroy.

However, the major difference between Schroeder and those snobby upper-class twits is that Schroeder never lorded his piano talent over his friends, essentially remaining one of the gang, even as his obsession may have weirded them out.

It was argued that Schroeder’s obsession with Beethoven and music was a reflection of Schultz’s dedication to crafting the Peanuts comic strip.  But the wonderfully versatile nature of Peanuts makes them widely open to interpretation.  If the model fits...

Another rationale is that Lucy is simply too unlikable to be with even in the best of times, being too much of a fussbudget (to put it politely), and that these are children, too young to engage in any serious romance.  But the rest of Peanuts is filled with unrequited longing for unattainable lovers.  Of the larger secondary cast of Peanuts, Schroeder is the only minor character who isn’t actively interested in pursuing unrequited romance with anyone.  His devotion to Beethoven is entirely one-sided, secure in the knowledge that the composer died out centuries ago, his masterpieces preserved to be absorbed and appreciated.  (Also, Beethoven is the only adult face to regularly appear in Peanuts.)

Who else would buy busts of Beethoven in bulk?

I looked up online to see if anybody else explored this theory further, and was surprised to only find a single Reddit question.  The closest alternative in exploring his alleged sexuality was in a blog entry showing potential homoeroticism, the only flaw being that Schroeder never displayed any affection towards any of the boys as well.  So with that in mind, let’s break down the fundamentals of why I feel Schroeder is a potential Asexual candidate.

The most obvious example is that Schroeder displays little to no interest to the girls leaning on his piano, finding them more of a distraction and tolerating Lucy at best.

Schroeder isn't totally ignorant about matters of love.  He simply doesn't have any inclinations towards it.

The only time we see him flustered is when he’s complimented for his looks, but that could easily be a result of being unaccustomed to being praised for something outside his skill set.

For the most part, Schroeder's fraught relationship with Lucy consisted mainly of Lucy making up the majority of the conversation, resulting in a monologue while he whaled away on his piano, hunched over in a Glenn Gould manner, punctuated by the occasional unwelcome interruption.

Here's a sampling of some of their most memorable dialogues:

Lucy didn't take these constant rejections of her advances well, to the point that she started taking more extreme measures to get his attention.

Silly girl.  Removing his obsession in front of him isn’t gong to endear him closer to you.  Quite the opposite in fact!

The strip above might come across as being callous, but it could also be read as Schroeder trying to be sympathetic in the only way he knows how.

When it comes to exploring life outside the piano room, Schroeder was most commonly seen on the baseball field, secure in the role of catcher, where Charlie Brown's abysmal pitching averages meant that his delicate hands were in no danger of being injured.  In that setting, there was the mini-arc where Lucy said she'd hit a home run in exchange for favors:

Like many Asexuals, I have no interest in getting married, but would be willing to undergo the ritual for someone else’ sake, such as saving someone from a loveless marriage, preserving their hidden sexual orientation or helping their immigration status.  In that sense, Schroeder’s willingness to undergo some brief discomfort for the greater good appeals to me as well.

And if a surrogate can do the job, that would be even better.

As with any discussion of publication over the course of 50 years, anomalies are bound to crop up, so let's get these examples out of the way.  One of the rare instances where Schroeder showed genuine concern was when Lucy temporarily moved away.

However, when Lucy moved back, Schroeder showed no notice to her presence, so it's difficult to tell if he was affected or not.

The biggest argument that Schroeder might not be considered Asexual (Aromantic at the very least) would be this Sunday comic which could be the exception that proves the rule.

Let's break the scene down.  Lucy gives a cupcake commemorating the birth of his favorite composer when she normally doesn't display rudimentary knowledge about music, after which Schroeder gives a peck on the cheek unprompted.  And when she runs away screaming, makes an effort to correct her misunderstanding.  When Schroeder isn't pressured into displaying signs of affection, he's more likely to reciprocate in kind.

There's also this moment where Schroeder gives the most impassionate speech he ever made that wasn't related to baseball or Beethoven, on Violet giving a pity Valentine.  He clearly has thoughts on the subject.

Of course, Charlie Brown is so starved for affection he'll take whatever breadcrumbs come his way.

In closing, it feels appropriate to borrow a line from Citizen Kane: “A toast, Jedediah, to love on my terms. Those are the only terms anybody ever knows - his own.”