Have you ever been alone in a crowded room when I'm here with you?

Have you ever been alone in a crowded room; well I'm here with you...

Jon Wong on The Game (Part 2)

Let's see if I can keep this up. Note: I probably won't. Some of you may remember my infamous post on The Game back in December. You might remember that I never actually got through the book in its entirely. I bailed about 80-90% of the way through. I figured that since I'm not doing anything too too exciting with my life these days, beyond working on my informal writing project and getting ready to follow in Christian's geographical footsteps, I might as well go back and read the whole thing through again. You know... so I can use Neil Strauss' techniques to seduce women upon my arrival in Fort Mac!

I'm about 114 pages in, though, so this'll be a bit of a catch up. I ought to have started doing this right from the get go. Such as it is...

Neil Strauss organizes his book by Steps. You could call them chapters but I see them more like sections or serials because within each Step are a set of chapters that all begin at 1. It's rather neat, actually, and it looks something like this:

STEP 1 - SELECT A TARGET
STEP 2 - APPROACH AND OPEN
STEP 3 - DEMONSTRATE VALUE
STEP 4 - DISARM THE OBSTACLES
STEP 5 - ISOLATE THE TARGET
STEP 6 - CREATE AN EMOTIONAL CONNECTION
STEP 7 - EXTRACT TO A SEDUCTION LOCATION
STEP 8 - PUMP BUYING TEMPERATURE (<-- whatever this means)
STEP 9 - MAKE A PHYSICAL CONNECTION
STEP 10 - BLAST LAST-MINUTE RESISTANCE
STEP 11 - MANAGE EXPECTATIONS

Now, it's worth noting that the book isn't set up so that all the chapters within each Step pertain to that particular step. In fact, almost all of them are covered (on some level) within the first few sections. So for example, "Step 4 - Disarm the obstacles" isn't all about disarming obstacles; it's just a continuation of the story. This confused me when I first began reading The Game so I thought I'd point out that the "steps" as laid out in the table of contents don't have anything to do with what the actually content within that section. I am somewhat inclined to think that maybe Neil Strauss has organized it this way so he could lay all the fundamental steps to The Game before his readers in a sort of easy-to-reference way. After all, if I need to double check that I've got all my steps down before I head out for the night, I don't have time to reread the book in its entirety.

So that's the layout. The first section of the book (I shall refer to them as sections for a total of 11 sections, seen?) is rather short. It's more of an introduction than anything. We enter The Game in media res, sometime closer to the end of the actual sequence of events. We are introduced to some dude named Mystery, and we see him in the middle of a breakdown of sorts. The only thing really worth noting about this chapter is this part where he goes to a mental health care center and says to a female psychiatrist,

"I know exactly what to say and what to do to make you attracted to me... it's all in my head. Every rule. Every step. Every word. I just can't... do it right now."

Neil Strauss jumps in at this point to assure us that this Mystery is not just some egomaniac. He is, in fact, one of the greatest pick-up artists the world has ever known. So we're given that before the story backtracks to the actual beginning: Neil Strauss introducing himself as Style. There's not very much to it. We learn that Neil Strauss had always been what he calls an AFC or Average Frustrated Chump - a fancy acronym for guys who don't get laid very often and are frustrated on behalf of their libidos. He always assumed that certain men, such as his friend Dustin (or a real life example, our very own Jesse Davids! *applause*) are naturals at picking up women, and certain men are not. He then brings his introduction to a close by telling us that he discovered that this was not the case; that, in fact, there are mathematical equations to picking up women that can be accessed by any guy who really wants to use them. It's a good way to end the introduction, I guess, because it leaves us intrigued. There's a system to all this? Really? Will it work for me?

Now, let me take this opportunity to point out that Neil Strauss is both correct and incorrect when he makes his evaluation on every guy's (in)ability to meet women. I'm not 100% sure I can vouch for this but I do think he is right when he points out that you might be able to reduce the art of seduction to a step-by-step equation. Aside from people like Jesse Davids constantly bearing out the proof that it works, I don't think it's unreasonable to say that most people have buttons that can be pushed and, in spite of our egotism, these buttons tend not to vary too much from person to person.

So I will acknowledge the possible truth and even likelihood that Neil Strauss is correct when he says that "anyone can do it" as long as we make a dedicated effort to understanding the way people operate. What I don't agree with is the assertion that this means that there is no such thing as someone who just "has it". Just because everyone is capable of doing it (and doing it well), doesn't mean that there aren't certain people who are just naturally good at The Game, particularly if their default personalities happen to mesh with some of the fundamental principles behind why it works. Maybe Neil Strauss was just trying to point out that just because some people have it naturally doesn't mean that it can't be acquired.

Of course, you can see how this might hint at one of the fundamental problems with The Game (and we haven't even gotten past the first section!): you are either forced to adopt a facade or become, in actual fact, a sleazebag. Either you run through the motions of the methods and equations, in which case, you'll find yourself battling against your own personality and inner conscience sooner or later, or you get to a point where you actually become a slick and sleazy pickup artist. I touched on this briefly in my first post back in December: you can't expect The Game to help you if you care about being a fundamentally good guy and all you want is someone to love.

NOW (whoo, disclaimer!) that is not to say that people who are naturals at The Game can't be fundamentally good and decent guys. This is why I really want to hammer in why naturals DO exist - not every natural is Jesse. Because you see, if you are naturally good at The Game, it is possible that your social upbringing has molded you into being a gentleman before you were fully aware of just how sleazy you could end up being if you wanted. And it is fully possible that you will stay a gentleman for the rest of your life - in fact, it is LIKELY because you will never experience the kind of frustration that other people experience that causes them to learn The Game in the first place. However, I do not believe it is possible for someone who is not a natural to simply learn the rules of The Game and "only use them for the powers of Good," except on a very elementary level. Because once you've made that choice to "buy" into The Game's philosophies, you've already begun to take "what the girl wants" out of the equation unless what she wants serves your best interest.

I will (hopefully) prove this all to you in the ensuing chapters.

I feel like I'm schlogging through my writing project lately. I want to get this thing done before my online course begins on Jun 21st.

One of the great things about the internet is that it lets you know that you are not as odd as you're sometimes afraid you might be. Case in point: the video of Justin Bieber walking into a glass door has been watched 800,000 times. Think about that number. As a collective whole, internet users have decided that it would be interesting to watch a 16 year old boy walk into a glass door eight hundred thousand times.

I love the internet.

For those of you who have heard Pyramid by Charice, doesn't it sound EXACTLY like something you might expect Jordin Sparks to sing?

Apparently, Megan Fox is not going to be in Transformers 3. I hope everyone (Christian) is ok with this.

If they turn The Perks of Being a Wallflower into a film and botch it up, there is going to be a scathing review unlike anything I've ever written.

And no, the fact that it stars Emma Watson does not mean it's above reproach. She hasn't quite reached the "actresses whose films I have a hard time criticizing" plateau (see: Natalie Portman).

Whatever happened to Michelle Branch?

Jon Wong on Hope

First of all, let me just say that this weather we're having in Toronto is ridiculous. I'm wearing the same thing I wore in freaking December. Oh well, might as well get used to it... except according to theweathernetwork.com, it's twice as warm in Fort Mac as it is here! WHAT. THE. FUCK?!

Back to hope. My friend Christian wrote about hope about a month and a half ago. March 20th, if you care to look for the link on his website. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your perspective) I'm going to write about hope in a far less selfless way than he did. Of course, I am also a far more selfish person. And by fortunately, I mean it in a good-thing-I'm-not-going-to-just-write-another-version-of-what-Christian-has-already-written kind of way, not in a fortunately-I-am-a-more-selfish-person kind of way. But I digress.

For some reason, I always felt like "hope" had been thrown under a bus in recent years - an unfortunate product of our increasing cynicism towards grand, eternal sentiments like hope, love, and eternity. It was almost as if you couldn't speak of hope without sounding like Aragorn in the hours before the battle of Helm's Deep... you know... "This is a good sword, Haleth, Son of Háma... and there is always hope!!!"

I need to find me a pair of Aragorn's rose colored glasses. Ugh, sometimes I can't stand the world around me. But the point is, we don't really speak of hope the way you might think we've been brought up to do. It seems to be branded as another "opiate of the masses" in the way Marx would have us believe of religion. But allow me to illustrate what hope has done for me. As always, I come back to Katie.

(It is at this point that I leave to sit in a gas station for about 5 hours.)

I was talking to Linda about this a few days ago - Katie I mean. It's a little funny but Linda, of all people, is the only one who really knows exactly how I was feeling about Katie back in third year because she was in D.C. at the time and we were corresponding through letters; in those letters, I'm pretty sure I was writing down a pretty verbatim account of my feelings at the time. And Linda said something like, "You haven't gotten over her?" to which I replied, "Well, I did... once. Now I have to do it all over again." And that's when I remembered something I never blogged about back then.

You see, until Katie was gone, I never fully realized just how much a silly little thing such as her and the hope I had concerning her meant; how much it contributed to my motivation to get out of bed in the morning. And it was silly - more so back then than it is this time around - but silly nonetheless. You wake up in the morning (feeling like P. Diddy) and you think, "maybe I'll run into her today," and even though you don't on most days, the hope of it can be enough to pry you out of bed. And sometimes, that's all you need, you know? Just that tiny motivation to jump start your day.

It's like how I tell someone who's been dumped by someone they love that it's ok to hope that maybe he/she will take you back someday; that it's not silly to hope that maybe the other person realizes that breaking up was a mistake and takes you back. You have to allow yourself that much, at least in the first few days after the breakup. Because hope is worth so much, even if you know, deep down, that in a few months or a year's time, you'll have gotten over that person and probably wouldn't even want to get back together. But sometimes, you have to let yourself hope, even if you understand that if it eventually materializes, you might not even want or care about it anymore.

What I had with Katie... sometimes you think to yourself that you're being an idiot, getting your hopes up every day and being let down (almost) every day. And you think, "Man, I'm tired of being let down every day. Maybe it would be better if she just left my life for good so I wouldn't have to go through this." And maybe this is even true. But when you're really forced to let someone go; when the reality of never ever having this person in your life again really sets in; when you can't even HOPE to see her again, that's when you fully realize just how much she meant to you. And until something or someone comes along that instills you with a new sense of hope, getting out of bed in the morning can be the toughest battle you wage all day. That's when I miss her the most, you know; first thing in the morning when I think about how this day might possibly be the best day of my life.

How do you learn to let go of something like that?

"The appeal makes a lot of sense. But the ownness of the call is on the defending team."
-- Buck Martinez

"Ownness"? Seriously? Come on, Mr. Martinez. You can't do a mailbag column if you can't even spell "onus" correctly.

Jon Wong on why love is worth pursuing.

I was talking to Courtney about this awhile back and thought I should dedicate a post to it so I don't forget (in case an older, cynical version of me needs a reminder).

It's actually a little ironic, the way everything in my life has played out. I mean, I've been spouting the "I think my life is one big ironic joke" spiel ever since I made it prologue to my writing project. Over the past year, though, I have become more and more aware of just how true this is. Of course, that's not to say that I'm unique in this department; I'm sure others lead lives that involve just as much irony as mine if they only took the time to realize it.

You see, all my life, I've always been interested in knowledge for knowledge's sake. I guess you could say that it's the one big bias I'm constantly trying to keep in check while I teach. A lot of my professional growth has been in the department of realizing that not everyone cares about something simply because it's interesting. Here's an example of how my conversation with a student might play out if I were to act on gut instinct:

Student: Sir, this is boring.
Jon Wong: Scholars, professors, and scores of interesting people think that this poem is interesting enough to warrant full volumes of research, interpretation and analysis. So when you say "this is boring," you know what that tells me? YOU'RE boring.

Now, not to say that this isn't true; merely that I have learned not to say this kind of thing to high school students. It ruffles their feathers when they're accused of not being the most fascinating person who ever lived. But I digress...

I've always been interested in knowledge for knowledge's sake. I'm capable of taking interest in pretty much anything as long as I can see why it's interesting (and I do always at least make an attempt). Part of that has to do with the fact that I always like to understand things. Things that are mysterious and chaotic really unsettle me for some reason. I simply don't like not knowing, and I spend a great deal of time, effort, and energy into making sure that things make sense; I try to make sure that I can be sure of as many things as possible. You could say that it adds stability to my life.

Of course, the ironic thing about all this is that I am frequently WRONG about everything. Or rather, I have come to realize that I can never really be sure of anything because there's always an exception to the rule. This is particularly true because I take so much interest in human nature/social interaction and if you wanted to put your finger on a department of knowledge that is the least disposed towards rule-following, that would probably be it. And so, I spend much of my life trying to understand the complexities of human behavior and why we do the things we do, only to find that every time I come up with a general maxim regarding some aspect of social interaction, some schmuck comes along and destroys my carefully built hypothesis by behaving in such a way that defies my adage.

Fuckers.

Then it's back to the drawing board and I'm constantly reworking everything I've ever known to account for every new behavior I experience/observe.

Needless to say, I've expended more brain matter over this kind of stuff than most people do when they write their doctoral thesis. All this has a point, by the way, that hopefully ties into the whole "why love is worth pursuing" thing. Sometimes I get over-ambitious as to the conclusions I hope to draw from my illustrations.

So why is love worth pursuing? Well, as I told Courtney, despite the irony of a never-ending need to understand in a world that can never be understood, I have realized that the only thing I have ever been sure of are my feelings for someone. Although we are sometimes inaccurate when we attempt to slap a label to our feelings (call it love, infatuation, a flash in the pan, masochism, etc...), we can always, at least, be sure of our feelings within ourselves. Maybe we can't fully describe them to others, but this is one of those instances where to know it for ourselves is usually good enough, because others will tend to take our word for it if they sense that there is an intrinsic honesty to our belief.

You see, in my pursuit for anything else, there's always a chance that I am chasing an illusion or chasing the wrong thing. Just ask anyone who has switched their degrees in college or someone who has pursued a goal and realized that it's not what they really want. Sometimes, we're simply not capable of understanding something fully enough to be able to say, with unequivocal conviction, that this will be worth it.

But love... I will always understand love; not in the sense of being able to describe it or put it in words, but I can always be sure that my feelings for someone like Katie are genuine. That's not to say that they will be eternal, faithful, and forever (and for that reason, I'm not sure that I believe in True Love), but at the time I have them, I can at least be sure of how I feel; I can be sure there are special feelings of absolute fulfillment and happiness that are indicative, at least, of love. And to be able to pursue something with an absolute understanding that it is, indeed, worth pursuing, if only for the sake of the feelings that you can be sure you are having...

That's why love is worth it.

Dear Ian Ackerley (and your hall-ball-playing "buddies"), re: you playing "hall-ball" (as you like to put it) in residence during exam week.

I feel like you are one of those people who have been deluded to think that the world owes you something. Who am I to judge you? Well, some might chalk it down to intellectual elitism; some might chalk it down to spending the majority of my past two years with dons; I would say that recognizing douchbag behavior is just something I've gotten good at. See, what got me was this: your "resentment" that someone doesn't have the "balls" to confront you about that fact that you are blaring music and playing "hall ball" in residence during exam week.

Somehow, the fact that some people don't like to be confrontational seems to put you under the impression that you are free to what you please UNTIL you are confronted. In the same way, barbarians might make a similar argument that they are free to rape and pillage all they want until someone stands up to them. Now, apparently, the rules in your residence state that you get a 100 quid fine if someone calls campus security on you during your music-blaring, hall-ball-playing spree. I would consider the fact that you have yet to be levied such a fine as a very generous gesture on the part of your studious, non-confrontational neighbors. Rather than being "offended" that they have not told this to your face, I would, if I were you, take this to be their way of warning you (which they are under no obligations to do) to shut the hell up before you find campus security all up in your business and before you're slapped with the aforementioned 100 quid fine.

Of course, if that happens, you'll be bitching about how "this is bullshit" and how you're "just trying to have a little fun". How quickly the world owes you for something you should never have been doing in the first place.

I can feel the early signs of horrific depression creeping up on me. And before anyone accuses me of being emo, consider:

a. I don't really know very many people in Toronto (anymore).

b. I've had to let go of Katie (again) and Queen's all in the same week.

I think I'm in a justifiable mood.

Also, question of the day: are short people allowed to be flight attendants? I mean, no disrespect to short people but you have to be able to reach the overhead compartments yes?

Microsoft Word has put a squiggly green line underneath the phrase, "We are fucked," and has informed me that it is passive and that I should consider revising it.

Thanks Bill Gates. What would I do without you?

I don't suppose there's a pet name that a girl can call her boyfriend that isn't vomit inducing is there?

At Justin Goddard's request, for being the kind, encouraging, and thought-provoking friend that I feel blessed to know:


On our way out of the cafeteria, she stopped to say goodbye to the cafeteria lady who swipes our cards. It was a kindly gesture but then again, she was a kindly girl. This was something I always instinctively knew about her and I had never encountered anything that made me think otherwise. I guess I wouldn't. Love it blind, after all.

"I'm just going to take a minute to write a message to the rest of the cafeteria people."

As I looked at her, bent over a comment card, two things occurred to me: one, that she really was a tiny girl; two, how absolutely bizarre it was that I was crazy about her. I mean seriously, we have next to nothing in common, aside from our mutual love for Romantic Literature (and the prof that taught us the course) and Leonard cafeteria. She and I had different tastes in films, music, and most things cultural; but more than that, she and I had completely different tastes in people too. I'd seen some of the people with whom she ate regularly... people I wouldn't be able to tolerate for very long of my own accord, and I'm sure she thought the same of my friends as well (let's be honest, if the first thing my res-life friends can think of to say to me upon hearing about her is "I always thought she was kind of a bitch," we're not exactly dealing with subtle terms).

But there it was. My feelings for her were something I never bothered to question at any rate. As we made our way back to Vic Hall, I was still trying to figure out what to say to her. With her heading to Japan and me heading to Alberta, I was pretty sure that this was the last time I would ever see her. Thinking of that suddenly made me so incredibly sad that it took all my willpower to push it out of my mind and to just focus on the walk back to res. By the time we got back, I didn't even know what to say anymore.

"Thank you for walking me back. And good luck in Alberta."

As she gave me a hug, The Girl Next Door must have somehow sprung out from some recess in my brain because as I was panicking about not knowing what to say, I found myself thinking, "Just go with it."

"Since this'll probably be the last time I see you, I want you to know that you made a difference in my life... a really big difference. In a very positive way."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. I told you this once..."

"I still have that letter you wrote me..."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for writing it."

It was the first time she had ever mentioned that letter. Between giving it to her and that moment, we had cross paths about a dozen times and she had never once alluded to it. I thought for a minute that she was going to say something about it but I guess she thought better of it and changed the subject.

"You know, I thought a lot about what you said to me the other day."

"About being happy?"

"Yeah. And I think, maybe you're onto something."

I shrugged.

"Happiness is important, I think. And I mean, as long as you want it, it shouldn't be too hard for you. Like I said in that letter, I think you're interesting and unique and... I hope - I very very much hope - that you will be happy."

She didn't say anything after that. Just gave me another hug and waved goodbye as she walked up the path to Vic Hall.

Later that day, when I attended my last cafeteria meal at Queen's, the first thing my friend said and she sat down was, "It's the end of an era."

And I couldn't help thinking that even though I have always agreed with Semisonic's sentiment, "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end," that there's something different about this one. Oh, I know that life will go on and eventually, I'll find other things in my life to worry about... but like I once told my best friend, "I will never meet another girl like her." There's no way. And I know this because I'm a different person now and what happened with her will never, ever, be duplicated or even mimicked. I mean, she was the best part of the best years of my life. She epitomized what it meant to do something crazy for something completely irrational. She will, I think, simply always matter.