Secrets of a Ladies Man

The Ladies Man. A guy who has unexplainable ease around the female kind that baffles his companions. He is almost always seen with some girl, usually a large group of them, entertaining them with his perfect sense of humour and impressive knowledge of all things. He is what most guys aspire to be, and if they can't, they seek to be around that guy.

I have been called that guy. I have been called a Ladies Man.

I have dorm mates who have, on numerous occasions, asked me what my secret is to my skill with the lady folk (but in less old west terms). They want to watch me and study my actions and figure out what I'm doing that makes me able to hang out with several girls at any given time. When someone asked a girl to give one word to describe me, they couldn't choose just one and opted for "social butterfly." Facebook even said my Native American name would be "Walks with Ladies." This Ladies Man stuff is kinda...cool. Ok, the watching thing was a little creepy, but overall the comments have been cool. And not cool in the sense that I deserve this. I just never saw myself in this situation. Ever.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaait a sec...did I just say that I never saw myself as a Ladies Man?
Yup. And I still don't.

You may be shocked. You may be confused. You may be wondering who in their right mind would ever refer to me as a Ladies Man. Or maybe you're barely conscious and decided to read something to kill time before going to bed at 2 in the morning, like I'm doing right now. But the biggest question that I perceive you asking is...
Why?

1. I'm awful at the art of communication
You know that cord or nerve or whatever that connects the brain to the mouth? I think mine is severed, or at least frayed. The elegant words in my brain that say exactly what I want them to come out as a bunch of letters that I somehow by chance put together into words. Why do you think I blog? The connection to my fingers seems to be a lot less...broken. I screw up simple words on an hourly basis. I forget words that would perfectly fit into the situation until 3 days later. The perfect joke or comeback is forgotten until immediately after the conversation switches and its too late. I'm just not good at that saying words thing.

"Come on, Dayton." You may say. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You're a fine speaker and everyone does those things. How does this make you not a Ladies Man?"

I haven't finished.

2. I'm way too mental.
Not mental as in lock me in a padded room with a white jacket. Mental as in Sherlock Holmes. I play sequences in my mind a million times before actually getting around to it. I even rehearse lines and comebacks in my mind to prepare for the perfect situation. I see the world as a movie in my head with myself as the hero and the good guy that the girl eventually comes to. Though, saying I'm not the star in my own mind movie would label as padded-room mental. But I like to think things through. When I don't, and act on the fly, I think it over after I've finished and realized how much better I could have done it (though I don't do that nearly as much anymore. I practice appearing less crazy). However, this doesn't explain my love for improv. Maybe I let my mind release some of the more crazy, pent-up stuff. Who knows.
So how does this make me a bad Ladies Man? You would think a healthy thought process is what I would need.

It's beyond healthy. It's so healthy, its unhealthy. Something that doesn't bother me very much in the beginning can end up sending me into a depression after a few hours. Emotions for (and against) other people can leave deep scars that aren't so easy to repair with duct tape. And you though duct tape fixes everything. I can be sitting in bed and be so consumed with my thoughts that I can't sleep because I'm so worked up over something.

Yes, I'm crazy. Moving on.

3. I'm actually really nervous around girls.
WHAT!? It's true. It takes me several mental roller coasters to finally go up and talk to a girl I don't know (kinda like the first blog on this thing). It takes a similar amount to sit with one, or talk with one. And these are girls I'm just friends with. Imagine ones that I have a thing for. So many roller coasters that my brain is on the verge of loosing it's knowledge. Thankfully, it doesn't, because that would be awful to clean up. Q-Tips only have so much range. However, I can get over multiple loop-de-loops with more familiarity, which leads to more relaxation. I have matured over the 15 year old mind.

However, I'm still forgetting one thing. How am I still "so good" with the ladies? I do hang out with a lot of girls and get along with them really well. With these points, you may wonder what black magic I've played with to gain my incredible anti-Dayton powers. Which would be insulting, because my power actually comes from a suit I wear under my clothing at all times.

Just kidding. No really, I am. Seriously, just a joke.

My "power" comes from not seeing girls as girls, but as people. Well DUH. But think about it for a second. Girls are intimidating. They have a whole different way of looking at life that us guys and a whole different way of approaching life. Basically, they're a whole bunch different, and different is scary. Think of how people reacted to this in the past, by makes different races slaves and women as lesser people. We don't know what to do with different. So look at them the same. I tend to place my values and mental processes in other people to give myself a sense of understanding about them. For example, if they stopped in the middle of a conversation, I would assume that because I would stop if I couldn't think of anything to say, they must be doing that as well. Of course this gets me into trouble occasionally, since, as you can see, not many people have my mind. But it helps remove that barrier that sees girls as different beings. They want to hang out and just chill like guys do. They can be stupid and random and crazy like guys. Of course, there are limits to treating them like guys, because they still are different, but if you treat them as a friend, then they don't become so intimidating anymore.

Respect is also a major thing for me. Girls, at least this is what I've gathered from TV, like a chivalrous man. As Christians, we are supposed to treat others greater than ourselves, but I treat girls a bit above that. Many times I go for the gentlemanly approach over words because, well, I'm not so good at speaking them. I also figure that girls deserve our attention. Why? I dunno. They just do.

Finally, I like hanging around girls because, well...they're pretty. Not to say that the only reason I hang out with certain girls and not others is due to looks, because that would be obscenely shallow. But in all honestly, when I first see a girl that I don't know and want to talk to her, all I have to work with is her outward appearance. I do use the physical attraction initially to meet girls, but that's really all I use it for. After that, I figure out her personality and quirks and such, which is the true deciding factor in who I hang out with. People who I get along with well and don't aggravate me after 5 minutes are usually good for me.  I may see the most gorgeous girl ever, but if I discover she's a huge jerk, then there's no real point in hanging out.

There may be other things that draw me to hang out with a lot of girls. Maybe its because girls are more mature and I've always been a more mature guy. Maybe it's because girls like to talk a lot and I don't. Who knows. All I know is that I don't fit the format of the Ladies Man, but somehow, I am one.

Cool.

Resolutions and Such

Happy New Year to all that I haven't said to already.

As we enter into the final year of earths existence (according to the Myans), we are probably asked at least once what our new years resolutions are. Now, if this is really our last year on earth, then just laugh at them and walk away. If my theory (along with most sane people) is correct and the Myans simply ran out of room, then I guess just make something up, like to lose weight or eat better or something like that.

I have never been big into resolutions. My awesome memory helps me with that. But the biggest reason is that when I need to change or do something new, I don't need to wait to New Years. I'll do it now. However, this year, I kinda do have one. Though it breaks the rules somewhat because I've had it a while.

Many of you know I play guitar. If you didn't, then surprise! I play guitar. I started playing in grade 8, so this year makes it about 8 years. And for those 8 years, I have wanted some sort of future involving music. Of course, it used to be a rock star and band and such, but reality soon punched me in the throat and reminded me of how terribly hard that would be. So I was comfortable with being able to play the guitar and impress a few friends along the way.

Then I graduated and headed east to a small bible college by the name of Briercrest. And would you look at that, they have a thriving music program. Now, I knew that a career in music was not in my cards. I was never going to be the guy who gets handed sheet music and then plays it perfectly or could name every scale and mode ever created. But the dream of having some sort of band became a bit of reality again. I was surrounded by amazing musicians. Literally. I could talk to 2 people and 1 and half of them could play an instrument or sing. I started to jam more. I started writing some basic stuff. And the dream grew.

Which takes us to today. I still do not have a band. No CD's, no record deal, no booked shows. Nothing. I do have, however, some friends who are willing to jam and practice for a show at the end of the year, open to all college students, and who are actually into similar music as me. I also have been talking to people who have access to recording equipment and by the end of the year, I may have a few songs (with lyrics) in my hands.

However, I know the reality of becoming a rockstar. It's slim to none. And I have set my goal as having a CD that I played on as a band. That's what I want out of my music career. Play some shows during summers off as a teacher. Would I like to be famous, though? You bet. But not for the reasons you may think.

If I made it big with a band, that would be amazing. Tours, interviews, fans, the whole thing, would be spectacular because I would be giving people enjoyment through music. But that's not why I would want to be famous. That would be a perk. I want to change the music scene. How? By giving the music world a role model that is actually worth looking up to. Watch MTV for a few hours and you'll see how disgusting the music world is. Girls in...well, pretty much nothing, guys singing about sleeping with all the women he can, glorifying partying and drinking and a general rejection of decency.

So if I got into the music scene and made it big, and I mean influential big, I would try to give people something good to add to their music collection. And I'm not talking about simple Christian morals or "don't be bad :)" type of stuff, I'm talking intelligent arguments that make you think. Now, I realize that I couldn't do this with every song, but my other ones could be just fun songs or ones that sing about the same stuff in a different light. What I learned from a break up. How a family death changed me. That kinda stuff. So many songs today have rejected the art of intelligent writing and put words to music. Nickleback. Lady Gaga. Katy Perry. I can't listen to any of them without needing a bath of Clorox after.

I'd also want to be a role model. I'd wear clothes. I wouldn't sacrifice my morals for popularity or publicity. I'd hope to encourage others to follow suit. Music videos would be fun (or meaningful, depending on the song) instead of a cheap x-rated film. Shows would be more than music, but a show, with audience interaction, jokes, banter, maybe even rehearsed skits and whatnot. A concert should be more than a CD really really really loud. I want to bring music to people that they will like and want more of but realize it's different then everything else out there...which will make them want it even more.

So I have some pretty lofty dreams, but I hope that you can see my goals with my music. It's unlikely to happen, but if it does, that's my resolution. And if you ever see my CD, pick up one. I'll sign it for ya. Or don't. But you better believe that I'll have one, and I'll have signed it myself, too.

Here comes the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine

Welcome to Math Class

Since its the end of the semester, I was told by someone in my math group thought it would be a great idea to recount the adventures of my first college math class. Since it was called Intro to Finite Math, I was not expecting to be challenged greatly over the course of the next few months, but my expectations were turned upside down. So here's a typical day at Math Class. 

I sit down in my desk in the third row from the back. No one is in it, which I guess is typical because there's only 3 people in that row, but it's 1 1/2 minutes until class starts. Oh, here comes Mikayla. Yay, I won't be alone. Except she looks like she might fall asleep walking up to her seat. What about the other person in my row, you ask? I have no idea what her name is, and half the time she sits a row down with her math group. In fact, my row is where the people who don't have a place to sit go. 

Oh, class is about to begin. Tony has his hands folded and is looking around the room, waiting for people to be quite. He's very patient, which probably comes from the 60 years he's been teaching, or his numerous grandkids (which we all know by name now). Most people get the idea and stop talking with their neighbor. But of course, there are the 5 people, and always the 5 loudest people, who are completely oblivious to Tony's signal. Ok, it's kinda subtle, but STILL. Anyways, some students decide to kindly let these people know that class is about to start by shushing as loud as they possibly can. Thanks. That was really helpful. However, it works. Then (or someone he asked before) prays to begin the class. 

Here we go. 

Ok, everyone is quiet and listening intently. Oh hey, Tony has something written on the chalkboard today to keep our attention. It's some mathematical formulas and examples. And he explains them. Fairly well. There's some stuff I don't quite get, but I blame that on the inconsistencies between the Alberta and Saskatchewan ciriculum. Most of it makes sense and refreshes my grade ten memories of math. Ya, it's fairly basic stuff, but remember, I haven't done math in 3 years. I need refreshment. 

Tony is doing one of the examples and asks the class what the answer is. Believe it or not, no one answers. This is part because it's still kinda early in the morning (and some people have been up since seven), but another part is because Tony's pretty much deaf. You have to yell the answer from the back row, and if he doesn't hear you, you have to say it again. It gets kinda embarrassng when you yell the answer 5 times and it ends up being wrong. So i stopped speaking up in class. Wait, does this mean Dayton actually used to speak up in class? Max three times. It didn't take long for me to go back to old habits. But then Tony makes a joke that he doesn't know what he did to scare the class already, and we all laugh a little. Then someone answers. THANK YOU. 

However, it wasn't soon enough. Along with old guy ears and an old guy back, Tony has an old guy mind. He loves telling stories of his family. That last joke reminded Tony of a story of his kids, or grandkids, or great grandkids, or whatever. I can't keep track of all of them. But the story is good. Then he bugs one of the front row kids (usually Mark. He's a go-with-the-flow kinda guy) and we all laugh. Tony makes sure to let him know that he was just bugging though. He even once picked on me in class (and I thought I was in the safe zone) about something. After class as I walked out, he let me know he was just bugging on me and wasn't picking on me. I laughed and said it was fine. Obviously he has never met Brian Gobbett. 

Well, at least we got in a good 25 minutes before Tony got off on his stories. And though I enjoy them, his explanations of math usually deteriorate rapidly after the first one. He usually tells around 3-4 stories a class. Maybe that's why he has us work in small groups at the end of class. Anyways, I now don't quite understand what's being talked about and it's not because I fell asleep. I don't think I ever dozed off in this class. Other classes...well, that's another story. For a much later time. But Tony keeps going and people start to lose interest. I start doodling. I look up for a second to see that half the other people in my vision have little swirlies on their pages. Awesome. That means my Math Man is better than all of them. Mikayla looks over at my drawing of a superhero and I have to give the explanation of how he was created. She then realizes its a superhero and not a man with a mustache and M shaped hair. Freshmen...sheesh.  

With about 20 minutes left in class, he breaks us off into small groups. These are 4-5 people we are paired with all semester to work on projects and other assignments, as well to help each other out. What's so good about math groups? Well, Kevin is an accounting tutorial leader. He's pretty much a math machine. But, alas, he hates teaching it outside of tutorial. Thanks, KO. Then the buck is passed to me because I still have retained much of what I learned in high school (thanks, Mrs. Owen Brown).  So I start working on the stuff Tony said to do. Then we get talking. Really, the math group time at the end of class is a great excuse to not do work, but to make us look good, I do a little bit, just in case Tony makes it up the stairs to check on us. Which he usually doesn't (old man back, remember? Oh, also old man knees, and legs, and feet..). Then Mikayla says I should write a blog about Math class. Hmm...

Then Tony says class is done. It's a 50/50 chance that I'm content with the stuff I learned today or hate life because I don't understand a darn thing. Tony always offers a friendly smile, though, which usually helps the mood. However, this class has made me realize that a good teacher makes all the difference. My high school math teacher was the greatest. You can't argue against that. I won't let you. Tony was a good professor, but many people struggled with basic concepts that I had learned in high school, then had to explain to them, which wasn't made easy because Tony had left me partially confused as well. His most repeated phrase was "I'm not teaching math, I'm teaching you how to teach little children." So I guess he did his job. We had to teach each other a LOT. 

So thanks, Tony. You made math entertaining.