Owl's blog: "Life as a Freakonature"

I spent the time between January 23 and February 22 away from my home, my computer, my friends, and my job. I spent that first week at Denton Regional Medical Center, and the remaining three weeks at Integrity Transitional Hospital, both in Denton, Texas.

I was gone because of an infection in my left foot that resulted in a partial amputation. The post-operative recovery led to the discovery that my kidneys were compromised,. At last check, they were only working at about 40% efficiency.

I watched as both of my calves swelled to the size of watermelons as I gained, and eventually lost, about 45 pounds worth of water weight.

For the most part, no one cared, or even noticed, that I had vanished. Life on Fubar went on, as normal, as though things were status quo. On Facebook, it was maybe three weeks before many of my friends acknowledged I hadn't been updating my status. It was about two weeks before anyone at work thought to ask what happened to me. I only had one visitor the entire time I was laid up.

It put a lot of things in perspective for me.

I often half-joked with the bar patrons that if anything happened to me, no one would notice until it was either my turn to bowl or the phone queues backed up at work. Judging from the less-than-overwhelming attempts by friends to get in touch with me, I realized I wasn't wrong.

Sickness, death, and bad news in general all have a way of refocusing one's priorities. Five weeks from now completes year number 38 for me on this planet. With my closest living relatives being aging parents residing no closer than one time zone away, having no dependents of my own, and having no prospects for companionship, I realize that the only one in this life I can truly rely on is myself.

So: to all those I've attempted to reach out to in this failed Texan experiment which started in late 2006, including those people I attempted to greet thinking I would make a friend or two (who responded in kind by telling me to go find someone else to talk to), I remind you, cordially, that what goes around comes around. Correspondence is more than just clicking the “Like” button in blnid reaction to any change in status. Social networking implies being social. You cannot attach a point va;ie to true friendship.

I'm done trying. You had your chance.

The goal: I plan to raise $1,000 for JDRF by April 27, 2013.

Last year, I raised a total of $20. Twenty bucks!! (Half of that was from me.) I think I can beat that this year, with your help.

Visit my JDRF fundraising page and donate something. It doesn't have to be a lot. Who knows, you could save a life. Hell, you could save mine.

I'm bowling in this event. It takes place at AMF Lewisville Lanes, in (duh) Lewisville, TX, on April 27. 

Help me show that diabetes can't stand up to the power of the Fu.

Every year, at about this time, people make a list of promises they will invariably break somewhere around March. These promises are called "resolutions."

I'm going a different route: I'm making unresolutions, because their counterparts are too easily broken or unrealistic to meet. Everyone resolves to lose weight, get fit, pay off all their debts, have a better job, give to charity, blah, blah, blah and (furthermore) blah, etc. I've had enough of pretending my iron will is so "resolute" that nothing will stand in the way of getting everything done. Instead, I'm going to work on my list, which I've whittled down to 10 items, in the hopes that I get 6 of them done.

I guess, at that point, they'll be "unachievements," like... well, on un-XBox Live or something.

Anyway, without further ado...

1. If I go to any bar, anywhere in the world, I won't buy drinks for anyone who hasn't walked in with me.
2. Unless I'm going to see a sports team, I'm staying out of Arlington, Texas.
3. The moment (and yes, that exact moment, not one split-second later) that someone starts to perpetuate drama, I will cut that person off like a dead limb.
4. I will clean out my phone and social networking contact lists, removing anyone who doesn't care enough to say "hi" once in a while or even talk back when I say "hi." (If you cared enough to read this, you're probably safe. Probably.)
5. I will hit up Evil-Eddie Rogers and ask him what help he needs setting up for his annual Halloween party.
6. I will save enough money to make it to my hometown sometime around my birthday.
7. I will work on my romantic life. It's stupid to be 37 and have no love interests.
8. I will work on my vocational life. It's stupid to be 37 and making the same money I made when I was 29.
9. I will work on my health. It's stupid not to.
10. I will enjoy the time I have left; thinking of people like Ronald Millette, Ronnie Allen, Lloyd "Doc" Payne, Blanche Kounalis, and Elton Hudson, Jr. (among others), I'm constantly reminded that tomorrow is a privilege, not a right.

Hopefully, I will revisit this on December 31, 2013, and see how many Unachievements I've earned. I've even thought of names for a few of them: #2 is probably going to be called "Hunted Down by Rangers and Cowboys," while #3 could be "Just Call Me 'Chainsaw.'" And, of course, #10 is going to be called "Tomorrow Ain't Promised" - that's non-negotiable.

The assumption is that if you are spending a vast majority on your time online, navigating a website, you at least know how to read. You certainly have grasped the concept of "Click here" and "Bang my rang" and "God Mode is on." You always seem to nail the concepts there. So, tell me - why is this literacy only intermittent?

I can sit here working the site for hours without hearing my shoutbox go off once. The moment I set my status to "Gone out" or "Gone to bed" or "At work" or something I at least feel should be relatively simple to conceptualize, suddenly, everyone and their baby's momma floods my shoutbox with questions demanding immediate answers. These are the same people who ignore me all day, but camp my status changes. Suddenly, everyone remembers I'm here (see my blog including my pet-peeve about the "Like" button). Today, I followed it up with a status message that said "STOP STATUS-SEEKING ME!" which, predictably, caused more of the above.

This is only a rant. It's not going to change people's behaviors. I accept it because people aren't rocket scientists -- or, heck, even polite. After all, this is a website where some people entertain themselves by creating newbie accounts and posting pictures of their schlongs as their primary pic until someone nukes them.

You may know Chris and Lynda Barnes if you follow professional bowling. They reside in Double Oak, Texas, and regularly practice at my local bowling center (AMF Lewisville Lanes).

They have twin sons, Troy and Ryan. In 2008, Troy was diagnosed with juvenile diabetes.

Lynda has been on a crusade to find a cure for this disease. A lot of the bowlers have come out in support for this mission, and have been involved in events that raise funds for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation (JDRF).

I myself came down with the disease in 1997, just 15 short years ago. This same disease went undiagnosed in my best friend and killed him just one year prior.

I have a web page up, which is taking donations. I see none of the money - it all goes to JDRF. My goal is to bring $1,000 to the next event, being held at AMF Lewisville, by June 1, 2012.

If you can, maybe throw a few bucks in that direction. This is money you'd normally spend on pizza.

The address: http://jdrfevents.donordrive.com/participant/owl75

Feel free to respond to this blog post with any questions you have. I'll be taking pictures and video at the event, which takes place June 2, 2012.

I thank you. The Barnes family thanks you.

Owl

P.S. This blog is my own initiative. Fubar.com is not responsible for its content.

My parents were not young when my mother gave birth to me. My dad was 42. My mother was 39. They divorced in 1990, when I was 15, he 57, and she 54. Each of them has since found someone new and, I'm lucky enough to say, they have been wonderful step-parents.

As you get older, you prepare yourself emotoinally and mentally for that day where you get that phone call: the one that says you are about to lose one of your parents. You expect it. It's part of life. 

I got a phone call from my godbrother up north today. The news was grim: my stepfather is gravely ill. 

Ronald knew my mother when they were both children in Trinidad. They were originally supposed to get married, but my mother landed an opportunity to go to England to study nursing. She met my father there, and they eventually moved to America and got married. Ronald was never quite that far away, however; it seems that no matter where in the West Indies you grew up, you eventually wind up in Brooklyn. So, they were never really out of touch. 

When my parents split up, a few years went by, and eventually he moved in. He played the role of father figure pretty well, without getting into my face and demanding I treat him as though he were my dad. 

When I moved out of New York in 2006 after I had irreconcilable differences with my mother, he maintained contact wtih me the entire time. He cared more about my welfare than my own mother did. I am glad he did, too, because his voice was a welcome one to hear at a time when I felt cut off from the rest of my family.

I can only hope for the best for him, though I am told he is in the hospital in an unresponsive condition. I don't know all of the details yet, but I know he has had heart issues for the past 20 or so years. 

I'm not religious by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm praying for him.

"Free Mandela", you cried
But you still sell dope to brothers and sisters outside
Martin Luther King had a dream (ooh yeah)
That's exactly what turned his dream into a nightmare
Malcolm X said, "By any means necessary."
He didn't mean just for you, brother, he meant for everybody
Maybe if we were still slaves, we'll be closer; however
Pickin cotton was bad, but we picked it together
I pray for you, and you pray for me
Sincerely yours, the overweight lover, Heavy D

-- Dwight Arrington "Heavy D" Myers (1967-2011), "Letter to the Future"

So, I was thinking back through the last 12 months and all the drama I had experienced: having had to move multiple times, avoiding a stalker ex-girlfriend, losing a friend because he thought I was trying to get with his ex-girlfriend (who really wasn't interested in me, anyway - all she could talk about was him), and having to end an association with a mooch pothead chick who started spreading rumors that I got rid of her because she wouldn't sleep with me (like I'd want to be a part of the STD army she's slowly creating).

Oh, and lest I forget to mention, this was all offline drama.

Online, I try to remain in a reasonably drama-free lifestyle. If I feel things are getting to close to idiotic in any relationship I have online, I end it. If I'm a friend, and you're a tool, I don't associate with you anymore. I also don't chase friendships - in fact, I don't get attached at all if I can help it. No good can come of any unbalanced relationship, especially online.

This is why I try to keep it professional here. I'm long past the age at which I saw the computer as just another way to meet women (hint: unless you're willing to give up your offline life, it never works). I'm desensitized to digitized skin (you can thank the steady stream of members who think this is an amateur porn site for that), so staring at the girl on the other side of the monitor does nothing for me. I have long subscribed to the philosophy of "impress me with your intelligence," and lately, it's more and more difficult for me to be impressed.

It's been two months since I had any of that, and the people who offered it to me are either no longer members or have stopped logging in. I miss them, but at the same time, part of me is happy that they have found something else to do with their time rather than get trapped in online drama.

I have resolved to accomplish the following within the next 12 months:

1. Find a stable place to live.
2. Strengthen my interpersonal relationships offline.
3. Get healthier.
4. Not accept being under-appreciated at my job, in my life, or in my hobbies or activities (this includes Fubar.com).

All of this will be accomplished by staying as far away from drama and the people who cause it as possible. Too many people thrive on discord and chaos, and those concepts do nothing for me other than put me in different flavors of non-prime situations, each worse than the last.

I know it is early for making resolutions, but let's make 2012 a drama-free year. I am starting with myself: if it sounds like the person is looking for trouble, I will stay away from her because trouble doesn't live here.

Some things piss me off.

If you're human, some things piss you off, too. I'm human. I know. Let's ignore the "Owl" tag for a moment.

Sitting here at this computer, I deal with all types of people. Some of them are really cool, and I'm glad they're here; they make all the sludge I wade through a little less crappy. However, once or twice in a while, someone says something... does something... passively or actively. That "something" that they do pushes me closer and closer to the boiling point.

#5: Members Who Demand Help When They KNOW I'm Not Here

I try to be good about setting status messages to let people know what I'm doing and whether or not I'm around to help.

I work nights (with respect to Central US time). I no longer have that job where I was allowed to surf to Fubar during downtime. Fubar.com still gets blocked by many content filters. So, I'll set a status before I leave ("I'm at work") or when I get back ("I'm asleep"). And then, when I'm available, I'll log in and see that my shoutbox is overflowing with "This person is pimp-slapping my friend even though they've blocked each other! What will YOU do to stop it?" and "Are you here? I need you to approve my salute!" and "Why are you ignoring me?"

It's amazing how much faster response times would be if the members would go into the support lounge and find an active bouncer - someone who is there and actively answering questions. And, even if there are no bouncers available, there are other volunteers and trainees (yellow text, normal-colored names) that can answer questions, too. 

By the way... "Approve my salute" is NOT an emergency situation. Wait your turn.

#4: The "Like" Button

Ever since Facebook, the "Like" link has been a sign showing that people choose to endorse a particular comment, picture, or fan page. The "Like" button has made its way here and I'm not a big fan.

When you push the "Like" button in a member's tooltip, it will result in a bar tab entry saying "(your name here) likes you!". I'm not the most likeable person on the planet, and I get these things spamming my bar tab every time I change my status. Usually, they come from people who never speak to me. If you never speak to me, how can you like me?

The first time I was "liked," it was by some girl who lives in my old neighborhood. She pretended to like me, and then when things got close to serious, she would cuss me out as if I actually did something to her. So, when she created her new account (probably to circumvent my block) and "liked" me again, I responded in kind... by blocking her.

#3: "But Other People Have Worse Pics Up! Why flag Mine?'

Because it's NSFW, that's why.

I've already written at least two blogs on the subject. By now, enough of you know not to put your genitals up as your primary picture. Not enough of you know that body paint IS NOT clothing. Even less of you know that having your legs spread in underwear is still flaggable, even though the cooch is covered. What still amazes me, however (and I've been bouncing here since late 2007) is that the excuse "but that red user's default picture is worse! Why are you flagging mine?" still lives.

Remember when I made the reference to the cop giving you a speeding ticket for 75 in a 55, despite the guy nearby doing 105? You were BOTH speeding. You were BOTH breaking the law. He just caught YOU. 

If you think someone else's photo is NSFW, report it. Otherwise, quit whining. And, if you fall back on "I'm not a rat, I don't report photos," then you're part of the problem and not the solution, and I have no sympathy for you.

As an aside: Fubar.com is a little less strict lately on what passes for "safe for work." That swimsuit pic you wanted to post as your primary? The shot of you with your surfboard, your board shorts, and your bare chest (if you're a guy)? Well, if you're at the beach or in your pool, go for it. If you're in your office or sitting in your living room, then don't whine to me. The key: your outfit has to be appropriate for the environment you're in.

This seems like an approprite segue to...

#2: Bouncer Approved

Let's get one thing straight: there is no such animal when it comes to reported pictures.

Salute photos? Absolutely. We DO approve them. The fact that you got that 50,000-point bonus for uploading your first one is proof.

However, when I see a photo reported that looks borderline, then I go to examine the picture and the photo caption says "bouncer approved," I get annoyed. Why? Well, *I* didn't approve it. I didn't say "I'm Owl and I approve this photo." We didn't endorse your breasts it in any way. Sure, it may be "safe-for-work" and we may have overturned another bouncer's mark if we felt it was marked mistakenly, but that doesn't mean "approval." 

Those people who like to set that caption have usually done so because the picture has been flagged several times (not just reported - actually flagged, which means another bouncer *didn't approve*). Instead of thinking, "you know, multiple people have reported this photo; maybe there's something wrong," they put this caption up as if it will protect them in the future. Guess what? Usually, the opposite happens. There are smart-asses out there who wlil report this photo *solely because* our aspiring model said *we* approved it. And what if the bouncer who flagged it the first time decides to flag it again?

#1: That Stupid Top-Down Shot Which Focuses on Her Breasts

You know the one I mean. Look in the marquee long enough and you'll see it. She's looking up at you, whlie you practically look down her shirt. All that cleavage... "But my face is in the shot! You can't mark it NSFW!" Well, technically, I can, but I don't always. Why? Because sometimes the nitpicking isn't worth it. There are members here whose sole existence on the site hinges on riding that line, or seeing how far they can push the envelope without getting into trouble.

In the interest of saving my sanity and keeping my blood pressure under control, I let those pass unless many, many people report it. This keeps things in perspective for me; maybe I'm over-sensitive to it, but if it's offending others, then maybe I'm not wrong.

Contrary to this post's title, the subject is not about Fubar's rating system. Fubar members have had a long-standing unwritten rule about always rating member profiles and photos a 10 or 11. (Officially, you may rate anything any number you want, but expect some pushback from members who like to get unreasonably upset and overreact if you hand them a 9.) This post is actually about people getting together -- who tends to attract whom, and how I use this theory to prevent myself from getting scammed.

We already have this rating system in our minds: the most attractive and desirable of us get higher numbers on the scale, as referenced by such phrases as "she's a dime" or "he's a perfect 10." Those of us not blessed with supermodel looks fall closer to the lower end of the spectrum and are called "zeroes" or other unflattering terms. Be aware that, like every other rating system that is not governed by standards, these are all subjective; these are opinions with no factual basis.

However, it is no accident that the couples that do eventually hook up are usually either both really pretty, or both... well, "average." You might blame basic economics on this: if you have something in high demand, wouldn't you hold out and wait for a really good offer before letting it go? A woman who could be considered an 8 would rarely be seen with a man who ranks below a 7. However, if a 10 shows up, she won't turn him away (and before you say "That's not always true!", realize that we're still dealing with subjective statements. He may not be a 10 to her, even if you see him as a 15).

It may not surprise you to know that most people, when asked to rate themselves on a scale from 1 to 10, will usually say 6 or 7. If you know anything about the law of averages, you already see the fallacy in place. The nature of averages states that (about) half of the people rank higher, while (about) the other half rank lower. Even if you don't know what a normal bell curve looks like, you don't need to be a statistician to realize that this means most people think they are above average. This is what causes Mr. Machismo to set his standards too high and get disappointed when the girl he thinks he should have gotten won't give him the time of day.

This subjective number may also be modified by variables other than appearance. If all I needed to factor in was how she looked, then I could look at this cute chick from the bowling alley and say "Wow, that's an awesome 9.5 there!" However, I happen to have hung out with her before. Her personality is crap, she treats people like dirt, and will usually only hang out with you if you have beer to offer. To me, that makes her a 4. I also happen to know that the guy she is currently dating spent some time in the joint for a felony. Without saying all felons are worthless people, I guarantee you he's not a 10. Comparatively speaking, I know a woman who is physically a 6 who bowls in the same bowling alley. She has self-respect, self-esteem, and smiles a lot. That alone makes her at least an 8. The guy she married, although he isn't gracing the covers of romance novels, is still a nice enough guy where he ranks in the high 7's, himself. Their marriage is doing nicely and they get along famously.

Talking of differences, what happens when you see that drop-dead gorgeous, shapely woman who oozes 10-ness step out of the club, arm-in-arm with a hairy, nasty, troll-like 2? It happens more than you think. Remember what I said about subjectiveness? Somewhere in that 2's repitoire, he's hiding an 8. It's either in his bank account or in his pants. Ron Jeremy is probably the ugliest man on the planet; he is fat, hairy, greasy-looking, and has "the Hedgehog" as a nickname. And if you add together all the 10's he has nailed in his lifetime, we would never be able to reach that number with all of the 5's we might have had a shot at.

Set realistic goals. Don't get suckered in by a 10 who is suddenly interested in you out of nowhere. Your wallet will thank you. Your heart will thank you. The 7 in the background who really likes you for you will greatly appreciate it.