The Roundabout

Self Portrait with Shades
Originally uploaded by AmericaninCanada.

Let's be frank...I don't like my having my picture taken.
In part that is why I enjoy taking pictures...I don't have to be in them.
I think that is my defense mechanism: control.

I'm not controlling because I enjoy control, it's not in other words an aggressive controlling (though it might take that look and feel).

Somethings I try to control for practical reasons. For instance I get extremely carsick so I prefer to drive since it lessens the queasiness. Shelley has reluctantly given in to this- yet another reason why I love her. Power struggles can be pretty devastating.

Then there are the times the control is less practical. For instance my dictatorial power over the radio. I hate listening to music I don't like, so I either listen to sports talk radio or a CD (that's a twinning control, over my spouse AND the stupid program directors on music radio stations).

Sometimes this control can get out of hand. For instance (I'm for instance-ing a lot), if I go to a bar or restaurant that has a jukebox, I'm pumping change in there like its a slot machine.

Yes I understand that by exhibiting my control in such a setting I'm merely forcing the very thing on others to which I'm rebelling...but I'm not here for you to make such sense to me...I'm enjoying my insane troll logic, thank you very much.

What does any of this have to do with, well, anything?

I'm not sure.

I took this picture of myself today as we got set to go to Shell's parents house for dinner.

There are a few things to note about this picture. The first being that I took it at all. For someone who doesn't like their own appearance all that much, taking one's own picture would seem on the surface to be twisted. And this is true.

Another thing to note is that I'm not smiling. Why? Well I don't smile.
I mean I smile in theory. Occasionally in practice. But it's spontaneous. Smiling for a camera is not spontaneous. In fact it is wholly fake. Now it isn't that I'm not above being fake, it's just that smiling for a camera makes the fakery that much more obvious.

Yes, I'm this neurotic.

But in a cute way.

Not really.

The last thing to note is that despite my own visage-self-loathing, the one aspect that I think is the tiniest bit attractive about myself (this sentence is making me throw up in my mouth a little) is my eyes. At least that's what people who have been in the position to comment, albeit sometimes uncomfortably, upon my appearance have mentioned most. So isn't it a bit strange that the one thing that might be remotely interesting about myself is thusly covered up completely??

These are the things I think about at 1am when I'm supposed to be playing softball but am not.

So where was I? Oh yeah. Me!

This whole post disgusts me. And yet I'm oddly compelled to continue.

When I consider myself, and my picture I feel deeply sorry for my wife who must answer variations on the question, "Why did you marry a hitman?"

Which I guess is marginally better than the question, "How did that grizzly bear learn to drive?"

I'm suddenly aware of the fact I've just disparaged the mass of grizzly bear population who did nothing to me in the first place.

If you happen to be a grizzly bear reading this, I'm deeply sorry for offending you and your 'kind'.

This long-winded post is a roundabout way of telling you about my Saturday...and I haven't really done that much in that direction have I??