Hello everyone.

 Welcome to the second much-awaited instalment of aural logs on
 actuality dot log. At least, I'm going to think of it as being
 much-awaited, because that just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on
 the inside. It's been a long time since I did one of these, and there
 have been quite a few changes in these parts in that period. For one,
 you're now on my journal via a different domain name, emphatically
 static dot org, and I've dumped that old dull-grayish, dark-bluish
 theme for something much more cheery---this newer black and white
 theme. A much more cheery theme perhaps, but not to fret, we still
 feature more of that same heavy, almost morose content you've grown
 to love. Or at least, you've gotten used to. But all this you already
 know; and, to those three people who haven't updated their links to
 my journal yet, please do so. Anyway, since there wasn't too much
 negative feedback about the way this was handled the last time, I
 have decided not to deviate from that template. It's just, this time
 I'm recording this piece on my new macintosh, using a program called
 garage band. At the moment, things don't look very good for it since
 my built in microphone seems a little noisy, but we'll see how things
 work out. And in any event, I'm also simultaneously recording this on
 my little music player thingy, since I'm not too keen on redoing this
 lest things end up screwed.

Since I'm now going by the pseudonym pundit, you can get back to me by
e-mailing me at pundit at emphatically static dot org, or just leaving
a comment below. For those with ADD, that's pundit at emphatically
static dot org, the web site at which you picked up this piece. Or at
least, should've.

Anyway, moving along to business, we turn to today's thought. This has
been on the back of my mind for the longest time, and I'm sure I've
brought it up at some point or the other on my journal, but I've been
prompted by a few things recently to bring it up... yet
again. Briefly, it all tends to revolve around one thing: The notion
of the guy needing to be the "knight in shining armour." I'm was
air-quoting right here, but obviously, you can't see that. I am not
sure if this is something inherent to being male, or whether it's
years and years of video games---you know, the ones involving strong
heroes rescuing helpless princesses?---or the Disney cartoons with
similarly based themes finally getting to me; but there is this
constantly nagging urge to be this... protective... rescuer sort of
guy.

Who am I rescuing? And what exactly am I rescuing or protecting anyone
from? I don't quite know.

But the urge still exists; quite strongly I might add. It's just, in
modern society where you don't really go out and fight wild beasts and
such to feed your family, there exists little scope to satiate these
needs. So, it stands to reason that any opportunity that presents
itself along these lines ought to be pounced upon, don't you think?
And, one of the primary reasons I'm bring this up this evening is one
of my nearest neighbours. Now, to put it bluntly, she's in this
somewhat violent, I guess borderline-abusive relationship with this
brute. As far as I've observed, they've been around here and together
for a couple of years now, though I must admit I only vaguely know
them---you know, the hi-hellos in the corridors, or the awkward
conversations when we're doing our laundry at the same time?... stuff
like that.

But if there is one thing I am certain about, it's that they've have
been having problems for quite a while. And how do I know this?
Because I've got ears, that's how! I hear their heated altercations
all the time, the shouts and the yells, the banging, the non-descript
screams... you know, your standard fare. The first thought that
obviously raced through my mind, was, "Oh my goodness, here she is;
the quintessential example of the poor, helpless damsel in distress
we've all been waiting for. Time to rush in and bail her out."

But as it turns out, I didn't, and I probably won't, do anything. In
fact, I don't even want to.

I know I'm being entirely evil by ignoring this completely, but scary
as it seems, I just don't see what the grand payoff is at the end of
it all. I mean, think about it, what could be the best case scenario
resulting from this? That I don't get beaten up by the guy? Even
though he's burly and twice my size? That he miraculously listens to
me, and stops bothering her? And now, she looks up to me as some sort
of saviour and is forever indebted to me? What then? I get to abuse
this fact in weird and devious ways?

No, it's definitely not worth it. And why? Because at the heart of it
all, it's just that I don't find her particularly attractive, that's
why.

This is a stark, but useful realisation; a realisation with which
comes a certain measure of peace. This need to be a
protective-providery guy is neither society-imposed or nor is it
inherent, it's just something you do because you WANT to. It's
something you do because you want to get your foot in the door, and
you somehow have the warped delusion that your good deed is going to
tug at her heartstrings; and you'll win her over, or something. You
are in no way doing this because you HAVE to. And now, at least to me,
this whole scheme is beginning to make a lot more sense.

A short while ago, I was talking to this other woman; a woman whose
state can be considered to be quite dire. Her issues range from the
obvious self-image problems, to family troubles, including I-think
childhood abuse, financial worries, and off-late, even scary sounding
diseases. At some point in the conversation, she said, and I'm
paraphrasing from memory, "Where is my prince? The one who's going to
carry me away from all of this?" I don't know what I said then, but I
do know what I would say now if I were asked the same thing. "Don't
pin all your hopes on him showing up." That's it, and I would try
change the topic.

I've realised that there is this constant, even if unconscious,
judgement of the "worthiness of the princess" (air-quoting again) and
seriously, even if I had the heart to tell her, "You have way too many
issues and it seems like too much work to get it all sorted out, so
don't expect him to show up anytime soon," what I wouldn't have had
the heart to do was to complete that sentence, "It's not too much work
to do for any woman. It just feels like too much work for you, because
you don't seem worth it."

Evil? Yes. Dishonest? No.

And herein we reach the cool, or rather cold, realisation at the end
of it all. You want to be a knight in shining armour? Yes. But not
anyone's knight in shining armour; just the cases where you fancy the
princess enough to find her a worthy payoff. Admitting this both
saddened me, and in some weird sense, also liberated me. Because, in a
surprising trifecta of sorts, recently I've been forced to ponder over
another seemingly unrelated topic---my life's ambitions. But I don't
think it's fair to bore you even more by getting into that this
evening. It'll probably end up as a supplimentary entry on my journal,
or maybe even a future aural log. And so, with that, I think I will
end for this evening. I'd love to hear your thoughts of course on
these or related affairs. In case you've already forgotten, you can
e-mail me at pundit at emphaticallystatic dot org, or leave a comment
below. I assure you that this aural log wasn't released just to quell
this recent dearth of comments my journal is experiencing.

And, until next time, happy reading!