I’ve been checking out OKCupid lately, and I have to admit there’s something to be said for their personality quizzes, which are fun to take. I don’t care for some of the raunchiness (the Slut Test?), but the results I got from taking their dating persona test intrigued me, considering the fact that it pegged me better than eHarmony’s craptastic crapola questionaire ever did. I was classified as a Slow Dancer, which is described as follows:

The Slow Dancer
Deliberate Gentle Love Dreamer (DGLD)

Steady, reliable, and cradling her tenderly. Take a deep breath, and let it out real easy…you are The Slow Dancer

Your focus is love, not sex, and for your age, you have average experience. But you’re a great, thoughtful guy, and your love life improves every year. There’s also a powerful elimination process working in your favor: most Playboy types get stuck raising unwanted kids before you even begin settling down. The women left over will be hot and yours. Your ideal woman is someone intimate, intelligent, and very supportive.

While you’re not exactly the life of the party, you do thrive in small groups of smart people. Your circle of friends is extra tight and it’s HIGHLY likely they’re just like you. You appreciate symmetry in relationships.

Now who can argue with that? My worst match is known as The Battleaxe, who I am to avoid at all costs. LOL, you’ll get no argument from me there…

I can tell they’re trying to soften the blow though, like saying I have “average experience” with love (translation: you’re a weenie virgin nobody wants to touch, haha!) or where it says the women left over after the playboys are done looting the dating pool will be hot and mine. Hot? After what, 10 beers? Leftovers aren’t hot dude, they get reheated.

Anyway, I also took their IQ test, which is a combination of quizzes that attempt to gauge your math, verbal, spatial and social intelligence.

Surprise, surprise, I completely bombed the social score, which indicates that I have difficulty forming and maintaining lasting interpersonal relationships. Dude, it’s not my fault if the whole world sucks is it? Really, why would I want to develop any kind of relationship with the human race when just about everyone around me is either an idiot or bugnuts insane, or both?

*Ahem* Anyway, so my social score tanked, my verbal scores were about average, but what really surprised me was my spatial score, which was through the roof. Anything above 145 was considered genius level, and I scored a 150.

From the results page:

High spatial scorers understand physical space, recognize color, and interpret visual images quickly and accurately. It should go without saying that these people are the most artistic of our four measurement groups. They’re also the most confident and self-sufficient. Also, according to the picture-rating data we’ve accumulated on OkCupid, high spatial scorers tend to be significantly more attractive than average.

Now who can argue with that? Everyday I look in a mirror I am just overwhelmed by how damned good looking I am. Such a thrill my body!

Seriously though, what they supposedly found was not so much that those who were high scores on the Spatial were better looking, but that they were much better dressed. That actually makes sense in a way. One thing I’ve been complimented on in the past was my taste for clothes, which is another reason why I hate warm temperatures so much. Blistering hot weather keeps me from expressing my fabric art to the fullest, leather jacket and all.

Additionally, high spatial scorers have the highest life satisfaction when they’ve found an appropriate outlet for their creativity, but were also the lowest scorers ever when they’re deprived of such an outlet.

I have to admit that’s been the case for me as well. While writing is one of my outlets, there’s so much more I want to do to express myself, including in a musical and artful sense. I just don’t have the equipment, time or privacy to express them successfully. I may someday soon, just not today, and it’s a large reason why I get so depressed sometimes.

So that’s me in a nutshell, according to OKCupid: A Spacey Slow Dancer. Interested?

Tags: art, artistic, dating, iq, outlet, persona, personality, psyche, quiz, romantic, social, test
Categories: Lincoln's Personal Log
 
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One of the reasons it’s been so difficult for me to find dates is because I don’t have a very active social life (which is to say, I have no social life whatsoever to speak of.) I used to have a close knit group of friends that carried me through high school and beyond college for a while, but eventually we began to drift apart for various reasons, until one day I found myself living the life of a loner again.

I was never one for attending social gatherings though so I could maybe gain some new friends, mainly because there were, well, people there. And I hated people.

Ok, I wouldn’t go so far as to say I hated them, maybe that I just didn’t get along…no I hated them.

Unfortunately, if I was ever gonna meet girls then I was gonna have to go where people were, sooner or later. With a mindset like this, it’s a small wonder why I was always holding out hope that I would meet someone at my job instead. After all, I’m forced to be here, and there were people here too, soooo….

For the longest time I used to entertain fantasies of meeting the girl of my dreams at work, so much that it started taking on a life of its own. I even nailed down what she would look like too: deeply tanned skin, big brown eyes, and luscious brown hair. She would be as sweet as an angel, maybe assigned somewhere close to me so we’d run into each other on a regular basis. Things would be strictly platonic at first, but before I knew it she would eventually warm up to me… and love would blossom out of nothing at all.

Out of nothing at allllll….. Out of nothing at… *ahem* but anyways, that’s how I imagined it. From that we would eventually become engaged, get married, and live happily ever after. Oh how I prayed and begged God that this would all happen for real. My fantasies here were so vivid that I could have weaved a cheap romance novel out of it. Probably could have made some cash from selling it too.

I had been churning over this latest fantasy of mine for a few months, when something weird happened: we got a new coworker assigned near us who had… deeply tanned skin, big brown eyes, and luscious brown hair. I swear you couldn’t make this stuff up. Our department doesn’t attract a lot of young workers to begin with, so just getting another coworker around my age would have been odd unto itself. She was a year older than me, but single and beautiful, and had a mellow, pleasant personality about her. In her previous job she worked with kids who suffered from various disabilities too. It was perfect! My dream was actually coming to life!

Except she hated me.

Well, she didn’t really hate me. She just had no interest in me whatsoever. I tried everything I could think of to woo her too, all in the futile hope that eventually, sooner or later, she would warm up to me in very much the same way her alter ego did in my fantasies. I kept her company when things got quiet during our late shifts. I helped her out whenever she needed to learn something about the job. I helped her find her keys when she had lost them and was freaking out over it, and at her request I burned dozens of her CDs into MP3s so she could use an MP3 player she bought for the gym (even though she didn’t have a computer). I changed my hairstyles, clothing, and yes, I’m ashamed to admit it, during my low points I even tried using TAG body spray (I’m suing those bastards for false advertising by the way.)

Yet despite all my efforts, when it came to asking her out to lunch, or even just coffee, she had no interest at all. The more she blew me off, the more I pined for her love. After a couple of months of this I eventually gave up. I decided I would continue being a nice guy as always, but I resigned myself to the fact that she would never be interested in me. I was just a pathetic loser who could never be good enough for her. My fantasy was not to be.

And that might have been the end of it, except that shortly afterwards she fell madly in love with another coworker, and within a few months they were engaged to be married.

My fantasies were coming to life after all… but for somebody else. Honestly, mere words could not convey the state of my emotions as I watched some little bastard boy enjoy what I previously could only experience in my dreams. Every day I had to come in to work and see those two nuzzling noses or holding hands at a picnic table (just as I envisioned it), and it was all I could do to keep myself from screaming at the top of my lungs and stepping on the gas at a nearby red light hoping an 18 wheeler would plow into me.

The best though was when the wedding itself was soon coming up, and she asked me if I had any suggestions for wedding songs she could use. I ended up making a CD of what I considered to be my most favorite love songs, songs I probably would have picked for my own wedding too. From what I heard my CD turned out to be a big hit, though I wouldn’t know, since I wasn’t invited.

I’m not one for bitterness though, so here’s a toast to their new life together. May their imminent divorce be appallingly messy and violently ugly.

No seriously, I do hope they’ll be happy together, I guess. I don’t begrudge anyone getting married, but for the love of kindness, did it really have to F*&%ING play out EXACTLY like I imagined it???

When I saw that, I guess I went through something of a system shock. My feelings went numb and I succumbed to a state of deep depression. In a way, I had given up on life. I no longer took care of myself, no longer went out as much as I used to. My clothes would get worn and start showing holes, but I didn’t care. I started suffering from health problems, but still I didn’t care. It wasn’t uncommon for me to sleep for 12-15 hours a night, and even then I just had no energy to get out of bed at all. I used to be punctual and on time for work, but I became so lethargic that if I ended up being only 10 minutes late, it was a miracle. It was becoming a regular tradition for me to hit the supermarket the night before my days off from work, stock up on groceries and DVDs from Redbox, then head home and hole up in my bedroom with my tub of popcorn, TV and laptop, where I would stay unmoved in my jammies until it was time to go back to work again.

I became utterly convinced that God hated me. After all, He wasn’t going to simply ignore my prayers here. Nope, He was going to twist and twist and twist the knife in so deep that it would all but ensure my psyche would never recover from this. It was almost like He recorded my fantasies and decided to orchestrate it in real life so that someone else would become the beneficiary of it, right before my very eyes. I mean really, what were the odds of something like that happening, down to even using the same collection of songs I dreamed would be used at my own wedding? (Which I say at the risk of sounding like a weenie girlie boy.) About a billion to one??

Why? Why did I have to endure that? Why did God have to hurt me like this? I know I can be a wiseass and all who deserves to get smacked around every now and then, but this was bafflingly cruel. It’s part of why I’m so slow to get out of bed every day, because I absolutely dread what new punishment He might have in store for me. My pathetic life must be a source of constant amusement for Him.

But… and before you Christian dweebs start berating me here, let me be quick to note that I don’t really believe this now. I know there’s a purpose to everything, and I’ve seen enough to know that for whatever reason God is keeping me safe from a lot of the evil that’s in this world. I guess that goes to show what a foregone conclusion I must be, that in spite of the complete embarrassment I experienced, I still believe God cares for me and has only my best interests in mind. Maybe it’s Stockholm syndrome?

Still, this one really got to me in a bad way, and even now I’m still nursing the wounds. Just when I think I’ve put it behind me, every now and then somebody will stick a finger in the wound, like when I run into her and she talks about her “husband” (just hearing her say that makes me cringe.) Ironically enough, the most recent jab came from my mother, of all places. My Mom never knew I had a thing for this girl, even though she met her a few times at work. One time we had a conversation afterwards and Mom said, “She is SUCH a sweetheart, Linc! How come you can’t meet somebody nice like her? She would have been PERFECT for you!!”

Poor Mom. She had no idea why I ran out after hearing that and started ripping and chewing on the grass on the front lawn.

Ah well. I guess the only thing that will make the pain go away for good is when I finally do meet someone for real. It’s hard to imagine even after all that how I could still retain hope that somehow, somewhere, she’s out there waiting for me, but I do. I guess I’ll always be a romantic at heart, no matter how loopy I get.

I still fantasize about meeting her though. But trust me, I have learned my lesson. Now I imagine meeting her in scenarios that are so outlandish that they cannot POSSIBLY happen to me in real life, much less to anyone else. Currently I fantasize about meeting her as part of an undercover operation I’m doing for the CIA. Oh, and I have superpowers. And the girl of my dreams is an alien from another planet who gets captured by the U.S. government. We fall in love and I spring her loose, then steal the USS Enterprise starship and together we make our way to the Alpha Centauri system, where we spend many steamy, romantic evenings on the paradise planet of Gimmegoomajamjam.

Let’s see y’all weenie tots try to turn THAT one into reality. 

Tags: christian, coworker, cruel, depression, despair, dream girl, dreams, fantasy, God, hate, hope, job, loneliness, loner, love, numb, romance, romantic, social life, unrequited love, wedding
Categories: Lincoln's Personal Log, Romance and Relationships
 
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Claire Bear (oops make that Dr. Claire Bear) tagged me with a meme (which longtime readers know is usually a sure prelude to much violence, ranting and whining on my part), BUT… I’ll give her a pass her since it’s a musical meme, which is right down my alley and just the thing needed to calm the savage beast.

The meme calls for taking 19 of your most favorite songs, burning them on 5 CDs to share with 5 other people(?!?!), then posting the playlist on your blog.

Uh, I think I’ll just mention my Top 19 and y’all can take it from there.

The first 10-15 songs were pretty easy to fill, mainly songs I first heard during my high school years that would profoundly shape my musical tastes over the years. I’ve always been a romantic at heart, so it made sense that I’d be drawn to music that expressed the highs and lows of my sometimes turbulent emotions.

The last 4 took some thought, since I was still over by about 5 songs and had to knock a few off the list. Some of the casualties were songs by the Platters, Gloria Estefan and Fleetwood Mac.

After even more consideration, I finally managed to winnow it down to 19 songs, so here they are, The Habitation of Justice’s Top 19 Songs of All Time Playlist, in alphabetical order:

• All Out of Love – Air Supply
• Best of Times – Styx
• Broken Wings – Mister Mister
• Desperado – Eagles
• Every Breath you Take – The Police
• Everything I Do (I do it for you) – Bryan Adams
• Faithfully – Peter Cetera
• Free Fallin’ – Tom Petty
• Glory of Love – Peter Cetera
• I Still haven’t Found What I’m Looking For – U2
• I Wish It Would Rain Down – Phil Collins
• King of Pain – The Police
• Mandolin Rain – Bruce Hornsby and the Range
• Open Arms – Journey
• True Colors – Cyndi Lauper
• When A Man Loves A Woman – Percy Sledge
• When You Love A Woman – Journey
• Worthless Evening – Don Henley
• You’re The Inspiration – Chicago

Update: HOLY COW I can’t believe I accidentally cut out REO Speedwagon’s “I Can’t Fight This Feeling” AHHHHHH, that easily would have made my top 5 list too! OK, scratch off ummm…. Percy Sledge for REO and that should do it for my Top 19.

Tags: love, meme, music, playlist, romantic, songs
Categories: Lincoln's Personal Log
 
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Based on my observations on how people make money online, one of the largest streams of income tend to come from affiliate marketing. I figured if I was ever going to make a living off the Internet myself, most of my attention and efforts would have to focus on generating commissions for affiliate programs I participate in.

After dabbling in this industry on and off for the past few months, I have come to this conclusion: I F*&%ING HATE AFFILIATE MARKETING.

The truth is, I’m not a salesman. In fact I utterly hate and despise everything about the business field, partly because it generally requires that you be a bottom feeding scum sucking scumbag in order to be successful. Not that everyone in this field is, but there’s a temptation to debase yourself and lie your fat baboon’s heinie off to rope naive consumers into buying the products you hawk. How anyone can do this on a full time basis is beyond me, but I guess the dollar signs in their eyes are enough to keep them going.

I tried to understand all the fine nuances of effective affiliate marketing, from running PPC campaigns to creating effective landing pages to formulating effective bidding strategies for high converting keywords, and on and on and on. My brain furiously protested this infusion of insane information, mostly by constipating itself and spiting me by making me forget what I apartment I lived in every time I went out to get the mail. And when I still continued to persist, my brain launched an all out attack by giving me nightmares of a naked Barbra Streisand chasing after me with a bullwhip and a bottle of suntan lotion. Eventually, I got the message.

The thing was, I wasn’t being true to myself. I was trying to learn something I had no passion or love for, and I did it only because that’s where the money seemed to be.

But I’m not a businessman. What I am, is a romantic. Someone who loves to take pictures, tell stories, sing songs, and dance and twirl in the summer rain to the tune of Air Supply. I wanted to celebrate life, not milk it. Affiliate marketing ran contrary not only to my moral structure, but also to who I was as a person. The more I tried to persist in learning all the tricks of the trade, the more miserable I became. It’s not worth it.

In the end I decided to limit any affiliated related marketing I do in the future to products I actually use myself. If people decide to buy through my affiliate links, great, and if they don’t, the sun will still come up tomorrow.

I’ll just have to find nontraditional ways to generate income online, which is fine by me. Whatever sets me apart from the rest, it’s all for the best, and even if I don’t know how I’ll do it, I believe I can make success…

….out of nothing at all.

Out of nothing at alllllll….

Out of nothing at alllllllllllllll….

Tags: affiliate marketer, affiliate marketing, air supply, business, money, rich, right brained, romantic, salesman
Categories: Blog Fog
 
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