Self-Censorship (Part 1)

I talked about my recent writer's block a few posts ago. Not having the motivation to talk about anything. And while that was true there is another reason why I've been having some difficulty writing posts.

I've been censoring myself, limiting which parts of my life to say. Normally that's not an issue, I don't care about being judged by people, that's not the reason why I refrain from sharing certain details.

It's because Theresa reads my blog, and there are certain things I'd rather not have her know about.

Mmmmph!

No, I'm not having an affair or secretly a serial murderer. The kind of stories I've been holding back on are bad things that happen to me that will cause her to worry. See, Theresa and I are different in the ways we deal with problems.

When "things" hit the fan, Theresa starts to panic, becomes inconsolable, and if it's really bad, she starts crying. It doesn't matter if there's nothing she can do about it, or if everything is fixed and better, just thinking about that problem sends her into an anxiety attack. Even thinking about hypothetical problems can just as easily send her into one of these frenzies. And these worry sessions can go on for days.

And then you have me. Despite all my physical fragility, I am mentally very sound. Calm, collected and able to see clearly despite the world crumbling around me. It's one of the few talents I'm proud of. Some people might call me cold, I call it being efficient. No point worrying over something I have no control over. And in the rare situation where something does shake me up, I only need 24 hours at most to fully recover.

He who panics is dead.

An example of this is an event that happened the other day. We were going on a date and I went to her place to pick her up. Excited to finally be able to travel faster and further now that I could drive we went on our way.

And I backed into the car of her neighbor.

Not my finest moment.

Not as bad as this though.

Fortunately, no one was hurt, everyone was civil, and damages were mild. Within an hour I was over the incident and it was like it never happened. I felt fine to drive again, I realized it was a silly mistake and that accidents happen. Everything was ok now and my parents hadn't even banned me from driving.

Theresa on the other hand is still unable to get in a car with me 1 week later.

She has a mini-anxiety attack everytime I mention a car, and blames her "over-imaginative" thoughts.

So I've refrained from sharing stories that would cause her to worry about me. Because once she starts worrying, she can't and won't stop. As in, it will ruin everything for her because she feels terrible when she enters her state of worrying.

Stories like when I was almost found guilty of plagiarism on a paper 2 months ago. If I told Theresa this at the beginning, she would have worried non-stop until the issue was resolved.

But, I'll share that story on Tuesday.

Adventures in Driving

I don't like driving. I don't care for cars or racing games and I don't think I ever will. Which is odd because nearly every other male person I know starts drooling the instant some amazing, fancy, new and foreign car is brought into conversation. They're up to date on maintenance and performance boosters. And know how to fix their car if anything should ever happen to it.

For me, it's just a tool. If it gets me from point A to point B. I'm happy.

Google images claims this is a car.

And because I live in North America (specifically Canada) I pretty much need to drive to get to anywhere. Public transit is a joke with unreliable buses and trains. What would take me 10 minutes to drive to would take half an hour of busing.

And it's even worse in the winter. I'm fairly certain that most Canadians have experienced standing in a blizzard for at least an hour waiting for a bus to drive by.

And then said bus drives away without stopping.

Could be worse I guess.

So I've been making an effort to get as much practice driving as possible. Theresa has been bugging me a lot to start driving too. At least this way we can spend more time together and less time busing. It also allows us go to places where buses are less likely to pass. We can eat without worrying about when the next bus will arrive.

We can do things in said car.

Get your head out of the gutter. I meant we could take naps.

But the biggest problem I have is that I'm not exactly the greatest driver. And Theresa gets carsick easily. To give an example of how easily she gets motion sick, Minecraft is unplayable for her because of how the view bobs along (to mimic movement in real-life).

So that means I can't have a single sudden stop, swift turn or any other forms or terrible driving. I don't want to make my girlfriend carsick. I want her to feel comfortable with me being in the driver's seat.

Don't want this stereotype to be true with me.

But the only way to get better is practice. And looks like I need to keep practicing as much as I can. Theresa comes home on Sunday. And I want a date with her as soon as possible.