Men

It never ceases to amaze me when grown men start the exploration of the female species in search of a relationship.

It's rather endearing to watch you change your tone of voice, your inflections in speech, watch how you dress differently and mind your mannerisms.  Sometimes, it's in such vast contrast that it becomes shocking and alluring all at the same time.

Now here's where you really get interesting.  It's when you want to have a "conversation".  Most men I know have little conversation.  It's not that they don't talk, they just don't talk THAT MUCH.  But, it's ok-- because it's all part of the exploration.  You're appealing to a woman's ears, which connect to her heart.  I can appreciate that.

Four hours later, after maybe a plate of this or that, a cocktail or two-- the conversation ends.  

"Shall we do this again?"- you ask... which must mean you have some level of interest, otherwise why keep talking right?

The next meeting is more for show.  You have deciphered the female, you now know what it is you want to show her.  You go into "Peacock Mode"- and even bring out the heavy artillery.  Cigars.  Twelve-Year Old Whiskey. Old stories or photos that show how you once were. Your Perfectly Pressed Dress Shirt-- all in the name of showing her that you listened all along and here you were in the flesh.

Here's the problem.

She liked you anyway.  All of that never really mattered.  And in the next four hours that commence, you begin to wonder if you made a mistake.  She is far deeper than you imagined, and even all the cigar smoke, whiskey, pictures and starch can't quite cut it.

This time as the conversation gets deeper, you may begin to understand what she is really saying. If you didn't, here's some help.

All the accessories weren't required.  If she invested the time, you're worth it.  

You didn't need to smoke that cigar, or drink the whiskey.  

You're investment of the first four hours were plenty.  

She liked you when you were having all that conversation, when you were your true self and appreciated her the same.

You finish the night and part ways.  "We will see each other very soon...", you say.

Even after all that, the ball is in your court. 

She is still waiting for you to call, and even when you don't call then-- she might still be waiting after all those years.

Trust your "Hunter Mode" fellas... You had her at hello.

The Simple Life

This past Thursday, I returned back from my travels with a renewed sense of what I had to accomplish in the next few months.


It was good to get away for a bit- quick, and never with its share of drama.  Every time I go away it only reinforces the feelings that were there before regarding my move and life changes.


The thing about this time is that in my readiness for the future- I want to go to the most minimal stage.  Like, bare bones, just what I need, no bells or whistles-- just the basics.


I'm planning for my friends to assist me in selling my designer purses.  All of my clothes will be sold or given to charity.  My televisions, and other misc. items can be sold or given away.  I really just want my bed-- and maybe my wine fridge.


Seven or so years ago- I had little belongings.  Maybe an old couch that someone had left with me, and a bed, which was bought for a mere $100.  I hadn't a pot, coffee maker, or really anything home-like to my name.  My feeling was that if I ever needed to move onward, that I was mobile enough to get up and go.


When I started buying things was when I believed my life was beginning.  What kind of thought was that?  Metaphorically, by looking at the lack thereof, couldn't anyone see that I hadn't even focused on me and my own life?  By some stretch of the imagination, my life was still in boxes!  Perhaps I was just waiting for life to find me.


The "cleansing" period that I am in feels like layers of whatever I had believed to be important before are finally being released in their toxicity.  Not only ridding myself of unnecessary things, but starting new.  I'm not afraid of it, rather I relish in it.  I want it to happen.  I feel like all of these "things" that were made important because you needed them to prove you had a "life" was just another way to spend my money to prove what?  That I had something?  But where was I?  It's like there was a party and I wasn't invited.


Monday, on a phone call to my best friend- we talked about a metamorphosis.  Indeed this next nine months will be just that.  I've never been much into butterflies- or their symbolism, but perhaps that idea is appropriate for now.  I want to shed everything.  Clean-- just be clean of it all.  I want to start over.


Yet, we must remember that life is not with it's sense of irony, and it's when we make a decision that we have to fight for what we want.


When I visited my doctor this week- I asked her if she could prescribe that.  She said she could prescribe something else at a higher dosage-- should of taken her up on that.


Here's to a simpler life.

Living Like You Knew You Were Dying

Sounds like a good topic doesn't it?  It absolutely is, and frankly has pushed me into thinking about "five year type" planning again.


The conversation started simply-- a question my friend posed to me as we walked around Union Square in NYC.  


If you knew when you were dying what would you do differently?


The question can easily turn into things like timing.  So what if you knew you only had until forty-five?  Then what choices would you have made?  Would you have married "X" vs "Y"? Would you have told that one special person you loved them?  Would you have had more children?  Maybe taken that skydive out of that plane?


This topic is not in it's morbidity-- I mean timing is not infinite and we always talk about "Carpe Diem".  But do we really "seize the day" and live with the same amount of vigor we had a children when we wished that we would get older and wiser-- when we wished we could drink a beer, light a cigarette or buy porn faster.


Now imagine if you will, me sitting here in NY- humid as ever and drinking an ice cold Anchor Steam beer.  It's heaven let me tell you.  Today had a breeze, but no doubt was still hot and moist. And after making a quick stop at a book store to refresh ourselves- the question remained in my mind as we rode back on the subway to this apartment.  Perhaps if I lived life like I was dying at thirty-five, then what more would I be compelled to do- or would that nagging little voice in my head tell me to be careful or otherwise... something "might" happen.  


The thing is- you never know until you try. 


From time to time I think about my twenties--fearless was my perception.  Naive- probably the perception of others.  But I had moxie.  I had drive.  Where did it go-- and now that I've given myself until thirty-five, will it provide me with the kick in the ass to get me moving along?


Now I'm in the planning stages.  I'll keep you posted.  The biggest fear I have is losing what I am accustomed to today.  But if I'm not really living to my fullest, does it really matter anyway?  


Now, for those of you who do read my thoughts regularly-- this would seem to be a contradiction of my previous post called "Turning Point".  I reference not having a plan or rather having a plan that makes sense for me.  I still believe that point applies today, only if you enact on it.  Nothing will move forward without some sort of inertia.  


And lastly, is this quote to chew on.  Thought it would be appropriate given the topic-- 


“Do stuff. Be clenched, curious. Not waiting for inspiration’s shove or society’s kiss on your forehead. Pay attention. It’s all about paying attention. Attention is vitality. It connects you with others. It makes you eager. Stay eager.”

—	Susan Sontag

"A Tree fallen and no one heard" -- BF 
--in response to the lack of immediate family and being alone

On The Verge of A Binge

It came to me this afternoon, as I was thinking about the catalyst for why binges happen. 

It probably doesn't help that I feel like I'm headed for a binge myself.

In a conversation today, I described my mood as this:

“I’m a bit emo with a touch of anxious and a sprinkle of regret."

You see, yesterday someone picked off a scab of mine that I had worked very hard for the last few months to heal.

They had no idea they were doing this.  Frankly, neither did I as it began to happen.  It was a simple conversation about something that didn't go as planned (my way), and instead went the way of another.  This apparently shocked the individual and they felt like they needed to tell me again.  

While I believe their intentions were well meaning--as they continued to tell me how sorry they were, I couldn't help but feeling like there was a deep rooted anger that hadn't been dealt with yet.

I'm thirty-three years old.  When I was twenty-seven, I was really going somewhere, doing things-- and then I met my ex-husband.  I should have just focused on me more than finding a mate.

At seventeen, I received a full ride scholarship in music to a university in Vancouver, and attended for one semester-- my mother wanted me home to do the things she never wanted to do and I obliged.  I should have focused on my dreams instead of taking care of things my mother didn't want to dirty her hands with.

Each time as some major event happened to change the later course of events, a binge came on. Sometimes it was food, cigarettes, liquor or even drugs.  It was my way of dealing with disappointment in myself.  The unfortunate choices that I had made that left me in an uncomfortable predicament.  While the short term feeling was gratifying, there was always regret that soon after followed as the repercussion of my actions became apparent.

So why am I being so hard on myself?  Well at this point, with my current surroundings (me being alone to my own devices that is...) there is a small pool of options that are available to me today.  In my quest for "What's Next?", I have to think about changing my lifestyle.  Where to live, what to do, how to manage?  Am I really at the point to give up my possessions to gain freedom, even though I've worked very hard for all I currently have.

I suppose the question to that statement is, what do I have?  

Some would say you have as much as you're willing to give.  I'm willing to give everything, if someone can just guarantee that my disappointment won't get in the way.

Because at this very moment, I feel a binge coming on.

A Few Things I Can Live Without

Just the other day, someone had asked me a little about my family, my most recent aspirations and dreams.


It's funny because the normal answer to all of those questions as "small talk"  tends to be something like-- "Oh yeah, my family is close by... we see each other every holiday.  I go over on Sundays, my mom makes me dinner."


That is SO FAR from my truth.  Here is an example of what my conversation usually looks like.


Them: "So do you have any family close by?"


Me: "Umm... No.  In fact, I have no family- just me."


Them: "What do you mean?"


Me: "Well, I'm an only child-- and my mom passed away three years ago."


Them: "Oh wow, I'm sorry- do you have children, husband?"


Me: "Not exactly.  I got rid of my husband, and children just aren't my cup of tea."


**Insert anxiety here**


Them: "Oh, that's too bad.  You're not lonely are you?"


GEEZUS!


No thank you!  I am NOT lonely.  I'd rather be alone than to be with an idiot.  And kids, well-- maybe it was due to being an only child, but being around other children, seeing other children, and thinking about other children makes me search for my happy place.  


What if kids just came out grown up?  Like at the age of thirteen or something, hell-- Just old enough for me to sort of reason with them.


And about being with an idiot.  Don't get me wrong.  My ex-husband was good for a few things, one being killing bugs, another being fetching me a drink and lastly well-- I'm reaching now.


As for my family, I DO miss them.  I miss my grandparents who raised me.  I miss my mom because she was just crazy.  It is a little weird being the last of your immediate family, so what are you left to do?  You are left to make your own.


I have several "brothers", and "sisters".  There are surrogate "mothers" and "fathers".  They are the folks to continue to keep me sane in this craziness called life.  


Overall, the life that keeps me going is filled with colorful people, activities and rarely a dull moment.  It is a rare occurrence that I feel bored or lost for something to do.  


However from time to time, there are moments where companionship is missed.  There are moments where my thoughts linger on the thought that it could be like this for awhile-- just me, looking for something I could see myself living with.


But the idiot and the kids I can really live without.

 

“People go to casinos for the same reason they go on blind dates - hoping to hit the jackpot. But mostly, you just wind up broke or alone in a bar.”

—

SJP