Pain/Gender Equivalencies

I wonder if there is a pain for women that is equivalent to the pain of a male getting one in the groin? Is there some instance in female life that causes them the same dull, all encompassing, indescribable and very debilitating pain that comes from a blow to the testicles. Judging by what research data I have gathered through casual discourse throughout my life, there is no equivalent; it appears to be uniquely male. Sure sure there will always the girl in gym class who gets hit in the breast by a volleyball and says it hurts just as bad, but the mere fact that she is coherent enough to make an argument like that spoils her little ruse. If that were a boy who got hit in the child factory with the same ball at the same force, there would be no sounds other than faint moans, and certainly no coherent thought processes traveling across the synapses.

There is also the school of thought that likes to compare childbirth pain to the aforementioned boy pain. I guess they don't necessarily compare it in exact likeness, more they say, "well, that may hurt, but what about having a baby? That hurts." I bet it does hurt. I bet it hurts more than any pain I will ever feel in my entire life (barring any run ins with a gun and my knee caps), but I doubt it offers the same sensation of having Burt and Ernie smashed on a bicycle top tube.

Maybe this is where I am wrong and the pain of child birth is in fact an extremely intense version of the male pain. Perhaps women really are experiencing this pain but in such a different environment and circumstance that it renders the feeling in a different psychological light that gives the woman more strength to maintain a certain amount of composure so that the duty of childbirth can still be accomplished. I still tend to think that the pain from childbirth is different (although unfathomable) and that it is an issue of apples and oranges; they are two different flavors of pain.

One conclusion I can extrapolate from this thought experiment is that women and men are very different in both physiology and psychology. Well, I guess this isn't the end all confirmation. I should say it is yet another confirmation that women and men really are assembled differently. I also know that even though I sometimes wish a girl could feel that same feeling of the worst diarrhea of your life mixed with the worst stomach ache of your life mixed with the worst genital pain in your life mixed with all of that all over your whole body, I realize how mean that is to wish such an awkward pain on someone else. I certainly don't want to experience the pains of childbirth so I guess that is where the fair trade is: both sexes don't want to experience the unique pain of the other sex.

Toblogs picture is a picture to remind me of the good times of summer: Yet another Joshua Tree Picture.

I Am a Geek, But So Are You.

So I confessed to Marcela that I have not only played an RPG (role playing game) but that I enjoyed it immensely. I enjoyed it enough to do two things which brought down more ridicule upon my head - a) I purchased my own set of various sided dice and b) researched a Matrix based D6 Legend game and printed out all the rules of game play and assembled them into a three ringed binder with tabs to organize various aspects of the game. She really laughed when I showed her my little binder (I didn't dare show her my dice). She said she has a certain image of the types of people that play RPGs (a gross and harmful stereotypical image I am sure) and she said that she couldn't accept that I played an RPG. I told her that she shouldn't knock it until she tried it. She still laughs at me and brings it up in a hurtful joking way. It doesn't phase me because I am confident in who I am and I am going to elaborate on why RPGs are fun and not just for basement bound geeks.

RPGs allow a person to create a character that the player gets to act out - an alternate personality if you wish to go that far. This is no different than good old Johnny Depp or Marlon Brando acting in your favorite Hollywood hit. Score 1 for the geeks.

Before game play can even begin, one must create their character, but also understand a vast lexicon of rules and terms so they can be able to create a character within the bounds of the physics of the world in which your character must live and thrive. This calls for extreme mental capacity and fortitude in order to keep track of not only your own attributes (strength, weapon skills, magic if you have it etc) but you need to be aware of the attributes of those around you so you know who you can call on if you need help. You also need to know how to increase your attribute strengths so that you can progress and become a better player in the game. Great care must be taken so that you nurture a good character and if you are lucky, this character can be with you for a long long time to help you through your various quests.

During game play, one must maintain strict attention to the proceedings as the game master reads the scenario and dictates the various problems, needs and desires of the various characters of the game. The quests are laied out and one must be mindful of how to best accomplish these tasks so as to benefit not only him/herself, but also the other players. It is really a community battle against the giant ogres or whatever terror is running amok in Maroox.

Finally, what is the difference between running around a little guy named Mario, or being the controller for a Halo III character, or Gathering Pokemon characters and categorizing them and learning all there is to know. I submit to the reader that these endeavors, while more accepted in society are in fact baser pursuits in gaming. Those who tackle the vast challenge that is organized RPG play commit themselves to a true mental challenge that invigorates the imagination as well as the quantitative segments of the brain. Should one study up on all of the Red Sox player stats or the latest Pokemon character traits, or should one create their own character with unique personality and traits which mirror their creator and take on battles more complex than any computer could preconfigure. I believe I have answered that question.

Good Night.
p.s. I still have never actually played the Matrix D6 Legend RPG. It looks great, but frankly, I only have one person who I could get to help me organize game play.

Toblog's photo is of the girl that made fun of me. That's what she gets for making fun of me; she gets her face plastered to my blog (though it is an adorable picture wouldn't you say?)

Why I Like Thanksgiving: A Theme By Greg Corey

I like Thanksgiving. I am not going to go into all of the things that I am thankful for in some bland, dry as overcooked turkey list, I am going to discuss why I actually like the day of Thanksgiving and maybe some of that stuff will come out.

Food. Food is of course the main focus on Thanksgiving. No matter what anybody says, food is the main focus on everyone's mind. I am not going to talk about food right now.

Thanksgiving eve is a lot like Christmas eve, expect unlike Christmas eve (as a child) I don't loose sleep because of excitement. On the contrary, I sleep better than any other day of the year. Deep down I know that I will have all day (until 4 o'clock) to do whatever I please and that homework, or other chores of that nature are not allowed. It is a completely free day to stay at home, chat with family, get ready for the meal and subsequent socializing, and doing fun projects that I want to do.

I don't feel rushed in anything I do. This year, I decided to work on my brother and nephew's bikes. They had been sitting in my basement for about a month waiting to be worked on and I just kept putting it off. I decided that thanksgiving day, because it is such a low obligation day, would be the perfect day to take care of this. I also cleaned my room and organized photos while I was at it today. It is like all pains of procrastination are gone on Thanksgiving. I feel no anxiety over completing any 'tasks'; I just do what I feel like doing in the time I have to do stuff.

The mood on Thanksgiving day is really peaceful and calm for me. Now is a good time to talk of food because it is probably the most stressful aspect of Thanksgiving. This stress comes in two forms for me: 1) How do I prepare for the large meal? Do I skip all meals and risk stomach shrinkage or do I eat a little and risk being too full? Do I load up on liquids to stretch my stomach like hot dog eating champions? This is a serious issue concerning maximum pleasure from eating. This year I went with a skip breakfast, largeish salad for lunch, and lots of liquids routine. I think it went well. I felt very satisified but not ill. It was a thanksgiving miracle. 2) Food preparation. I feel bad making my mom do all of the food prep, but I think she really likes it. She bakes, mashes, whips, boils, browns, roasts, and peels to her hearts content. I noticed that she rarely seems stressed out when it comes to the food on Thanksgiving. I think she is so well practiced that it is like any other meal for a large bunch of kids. So this only offeres mild anxiety mostly in the form of I have the responsibility of carving the turkey and my carving consistency is in the 'needs improvement' category. But it usually tastes good even though the breast might not be perfectly sliced.

Anxieties aside, I love food. I love eating slow and steady. I love chewing my food until it is well mashed and all the flavor has had an opportunity to escape into my mouth and tantalize my tastebuds. I love eating turkey with an 80%/20% Cranberry sauce to Turkey ratio. I love Stovetop Stuffing. I love the muted yet exciting flavor of candied yams. I love well made rolls. I love the combination of these foods and the general smooth yet powerful flavor the extol upon my whole masticative soul. I love pumpkin pie with Cool Whip (not whipped cream, name brand Cool Whip). I love the slightly hard and chewy texture of the pumpkin filling. Food is good. Food is more than nutrition. Food is an incredibly pleasurable experience.

Then comes the after party. This is when the kids run around naked (yes that happened this year) and we sit around and talk, laugh, play games, waddle around, and listen to Donna Summer. This part of Thanksgiving varies quite a bit. Sometimes it is quiet with board games and small conversation. Sometimes it is loud, raucous, full of nudity and mayhem. Both are nice. Both have pluses and minus. I like the variety.

Then comes the clean up. Things usually died between 8 and 9 o'clock. Spending time with my mom and cleaning up is rather relaxing and rewarding. It is a time to just be together for a little while. We don't necessarily talk (we are generally not extremely verbose with each other) but when we do it is nice. Otherwise it is nice to just help her out a bit and just be in her presence. I get the vibe that she feels the same way. That makes me a little soft in the heart.

Thanksgiving provides probably one of the only 'real' vacations I get all year. Christmas is close, but that has other demons attached to it that I will perhaps discuss in 1 month. This day has been good and tomorrow may end up being a wonderful day as well. Could it be another Thanksgiving miracle that the day after could be nearly as enjoyable as the Day of?

Toblog's photo is of my crazy nephew. I tried to take a bunch of pictures of the food but due to wrong ISO settings and frenzied eating nothing turned out. So here is my nephew. Enjoy his bright shining face of mischief (He makes Dennis the Menace look like the Charlie Brown).

Mistaken Identity

There are a couple names that I consistently get mistaken for; George and Tim. George is understandable to some degree. While not phonetically dissimilar, if you rearrange the letters you get Grego which is pretty damn near close to Greg, AND if add another r and a y you get yourself Gregory which is my full given Christian FBI record Witness Relocation Program name. This I can live with to some extent, other than the fact that I don't think I am a George in any way and I always get brief twinges and premonitions of what my life would have been like if I were a George.

This brings us to Tim. That one is a mystery, but I kid you not, Tim is probably the most often misspoken name for me. I don't know what it is. Is there a vast pool of redheads out there that are named Tim and are very sociable and therefore have a far reaching fan base who moves all over the country and invariably a few from said fan base end up in SLC and end up meeting me because they themselves are very sociable and are often in social party situations which I have found myself being dragged to on an ever increasing scale and they see me and are introduced and hear my name but as psychology goes they forget it the second they turn their head and so through association with this incredibly popular and influential and life changing Tim they project the Tim personality on me and assume my name is Tim just like their good friend back home or is Tim just some social construction default for people of my likeness? I figure people don't remember my name because I am particularly unremarkable in most aspects of the group socializing point scale so I don't mind being forgotten, but guessing at my name and then consistently coming up with George or Tim is just not right. I would rather they just say "what was your name again?" just so I don't have to have visions of what life would be like as Tim or George.

Toblogs Photo is one of the said parties that I have been increasingly dragged to, not that this is a bad thing really.

Juarez: The Real Comeback Kid

So yes, I got of to a rocky comeback start. So, here is a post that is worth coming back for. I am now the proud of of the above turtle whose name is Juarez. Juarez is an illegal immigrant from Mexico. He was smuggled over in a Pepsi cup, a water bottle, a hand and a pocket by my dearest friend Marcela who was hanging out/visiting some relatives in Guadalajara. She knew that I had always wanted a turtle and she saw some at a market and decided it was a good idea to get me one. I was so shocked to see a turtle when she came home. My very own turtle, what a dream come true.

I've spent the last month accumulating knowledge and supplies and think I have a pretty good handle on the situation. I thought he was sick yesterday, but it turns out the UVB lamp was too close and it was causing inflammation of the eyes. I was scared sick that he was going to die or something. I am still scared sick that he will die. Apparently the Red Ear Slider variety of turtle is particularly finicky when it comes to captive survival. But so far he seems ok and is even shedding which is a good sign of growth. He is so handsome and terribly fun to watch swim around. His little legs propelling him through the water is just about the most adorable thing in the world.

You'll notice that the picture is of Juarez's hind quarters. This is because he is one jumpy fellow. When I enter my room he will jump off of his basking rock and swim to "safety" (little does he know that I can grab him at any time. Mwa ha ha). So I snuck up on him while he was stretching out his hind quarters. Cute.

So that is that. I am through with this post and I hope it was enjoyable in all its shortness. I will return with more news from afar and beyond.