I had an interesting realization this week. Well, more like last week. They are all starting to blur together...
But have you ever had that startling moment where you are laying on your couch in your casual Sunday sweats, eating potato chips on your sandwich and watching a Friends marathon and all of a sudden realized..."Holy crap, my life is NOT a sitcom"?
If you answered no to the above question, just stop reading now and go back to your spot at Central Perk with Chandler, Joey, Monica and the gang. There's not much more here for you.
And for those that answered "Yes" to the above question...what a BUZZ KILL is that? Am I right? Now obviously I don't picture myself living in New York with a nuclear group of my 5 closest friends, but similar to my beef with the false promises that Rom-Com's have breeded for the average single girl for the last 27+ years of my life, I have found in sitcoms.
As an avid Friends fanatic, I grew up on a show that promised me a super close group of friends that all live on the same block and have fun adventures and give me something to aspire to "when I get to be their age". And then one day, when you are laying on the couch eating potato chips you are smacked in the face with the realization that "Holy crap, my life is NOT a sitcom." It's no longer about when I get to be their age, this is how things will be, but now it's "I'm at their age, and this is what I haven't done". Sure, I could try to be a little more like my Friends counterparts and walk across the hall to my neighbors apartment in my pajama pants and take milk out of their fridge for my bowl of Special K that I brought in my own quirky themed bowl, but I'm not sure that this is how I want to awkwardly introduce myself to the couple across the hall or finally have my first arrest on record. Maybe I should take a page out of Monica's book and atleast bake them a bundt cake or something first.
We spend so many years waiting to live a life that we envisioned, that it can be a jarring discovery to realize that you are past the point of waiting for it to start and are in fact already living it - even if it isn't the hand that you expected to be dealt. And when you stop to look around at every one else around you growing and progressing...getting married, having kids, finishing doctorates, getting promoted, buying houses...all these benchmarks of "growing up" can seem so overwhelming. It can be challenging not to measure your personal accomplishments against those of your peers, especially in a society that so heavily promotes being able to "do it all". How can I "do it all" if I'm not really doing any of it?
The theme for 2012 was not to worry about any of this. A year without a plan, just go with the flow. And I've been very successful at it. But we are running out of time in 2012 and need to start thinking in 2013 terms. Lucky 13...maybe that's next year's theme. The year of George! Er...The year of Cindy Lou! Guess I better go back and familiarize myself with the Resolution Rules before I get too set on the next one.
So, as I ponder these things for myself and start to accept the fact that I am living in the present and can't keep waiting for the future to happen, I challenge all of you to also consider what it is that you want to be in your present that you have been seeing in your future. Or don't. Whatever you're feeling really.
All things said, I do still hope that the Friends do a reunion show someday. I'll totally watch it. The One Where They All File for Social Security.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Monday, October 15, 2012
L'Enfer, C'est Facebook and Politics
L'enfer, c'est les autres.
Translation: Hell is others.
This existentialist motto is one that captivated me as a French major in college. So simple, yet so bold, and completely terrifying. Even though I grew up in the Jewish faith (well, mostly), I still grew up in the southern Bible belt and heard for years about a vision of Hell being all firey and brimstoney and Satan like. Yikes.
And then along came Jean-Paul Sartre, with a completely different explanation for the afterlife in the event that you don't play by the "rules" in the present life. Because what could be worse than being tortured by nemeses for the remainder of eternity?
Well, obviously my buddy J-P never experienced a political season on Facebook (I wonder if he and Simone would have been FB official...)...
Now, before you get entirely heated up and ready to scream your head off at whatever opinion I don't care about, allow me to note that this is not a political post. I don't care who wins the Presidency, honestly. I don't care who the Vice President is. And I can guarantee you that I couldn't name a single Senator in either Georgia or Virginia. Unless they put a bumper sticker on Mickey's rear, I'm probably not going to notice one either.
But anyone who has logged onto Facebook in the last 2 weeks, and for the next few weeks until this painfully annoying process is put to rest, has been completely berated by ridiculous political commentary that we don't really want. Whatever Mitt-bama nonsense people are selling, I ain't buying.
And I pretty much reached my breaking point this morning when the political season managed to ruin my work out. My holy sacred escape, the one time of day that I get entirely to myself, out of contact, free of frustration. I work out in a basement with no cell phone reception, and the only reason I tolerate my crappy musty apartment gym is because there is no cell reception. No one can find me (hopefully no creepers are reading this...). But this morning, my mp3 player was dead. So at 5:45am, struggling to wake up and get my energy going, I figured I could fake it by putting the TV on for some entertainment. In the words of the great Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, "Big Mistake. Huge."
There was only 1 channel available on the TV. An unnamed news network. Ok, not terrible I guess, maybe I'll luck out and catch the sports and weather segments. Wrong. It just happened to be Election Watch hour while I was down there. So at first I decided to give it a go because it couldn't possibly be worse than tiredly running in silence in the wee hours of the morning. Yup, wrong again. It was painful. My body was physically in pain listening to these pundits scream at each other over and over again. I would have rather found the "Nails on a Chalk Board" station.
Therefor, I postulate that L'enfer is NOT les autres. L'enfer is in fact American political season. I hate it, I hate every bit of it. The left wing, the right wing, the middle, ALL of it. I can't wait until November 7th. No, I take that back, maybe the 8th is safer. Atleast by then, I will be able to map out a full listing of all the countries that everyone will insist they are moving to in order to cope with the results of the election. I will then use that map to plan my next vacation of where NOT to go. I'd rather take a trip to L'enfer, because les autres sound way more tolerable than an eternity of listening to any more debates, news casts, Facebook posts, or roadside advocates.
And in case you were wondering about my political affiliations...Mickey/ Jackson 2012 all the way! I'm guessing I'll probably have to write that one in though. The fever hasn't quite caught on at a national level, mostly just in our apartment.
Oh, which reminds me...Rule #6...no bumper stickers.
Translation: Hell is others.
This existentialist motto is one that captivated me as a French major in college. So simple, yet so bold, and completely terrifying. Even though I grew up in the Jewish faith (well, mostly), I still grew up in the southern Bible belt and heard for years about a vision of Hell being all firey and brimstoney and Satan like. Yikes.
And then along came Jean-Paul Sartre, with a completely different explanation for the afterlife in the event that you don't play by the "rules" in the present life. Because what could be worse than being tortured by nemeses for the remainder of eternity?
Well, obviously my buddy J-P never experienced a political season on Facebook (I wonder if he and Simone would have been FB official...)...
Now, before you get entirely heated up and ready to scream your head off at whatever opinion I don't care about, allow me to note that this is not a political post. I don't care who wins the Presidency, honestly. I don't care who the Vice President is. And I can guarantee you that I couldn't name a single Senator in either Georgia or Virginia. Unless they put a bumper sticker on Mickey's rear, I'm probably not going to notice one either.
But anyone who has logged onto Facebook in the last 2 weeks, and for the next few weeks until this painfully annoying process is put to rest, has been completely berated by ridiculous political commentary that we don't really want. Whatever Mitt-bama nonsense people are selling, I ain't buying.
And I pretty much reached my breaking point this morning when the political season managed to ruin my work out. My holy sacred escape, the one time of day that I get entirely to myself, out of contact, free of frustration. I work out in a basement with no cell phone reception, and the only reason I tolerate my crappy musty apartment gym is because there is no cell reception. No one can find me (hopefully no creepers are reading this...). But this morning, my mp3 player was dead. So at 5:45am, struggling to wake up and get my energy going, I figured I could fake it by putting the TV on for some entertainment. In the words of the great Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, "Big Mistake. Huge."
There was only 1 channel available on the TV. An unnamed news network. Ok, not terrible I guess, maybe I'll luck out and catch the sports and weather segments. Wrong. It just happened to be Election Watch hour while I was down there. So at first I decided to give it a go because it couldn't possibly be worse than tiredly running in silence in the wee hours of the morning. Yup, wrong again. It was painful. My body was physically in pain listening to these pundits scream at each other over and over again. I would have rather found the "Nails on a Chalk Board" station.
Therefor, I postulate that L'enfer is NOT les autres. L'enfer is in fact American political season. I hate it, I hate every bit of it. The left wing, the right wing, the middle, ALL of it. I can't wait until November 7th. No, I take that back, maybe the 8th is safer. Atleast by then, I will be able to map out a full listing of all the countries that everyone will insist they are moving to in order to cope with the results of the election. I will then use that map to plan my next vacation of where NOT to go. I'd rather take a trip to L'enfer, because les autres sound way more tolerable than an eternity of listening to any more debates, news casts, Facebook posts, or roadside advocates.
And in case you were wondering about my political affiliations...Mickey/ Jackson 2012 all the way! I'm guessing I'll probably have to write that one in though. The fever hasn't quite caught on at a national level, mostly just in our apartment.
Oh, which reminds me...Rule #6...no bumper stickers.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
The Rules of Car Care Are Simple and Finite
I did something big this weekend.
That's right, I bought a new car, the single biggest purchase I've ever made in my life. Not just any car either, but an Audi A4 2.0T. Yeah, I didn't really know what that meant either. All I really know is that it's a shiny silvery blue with leather interior, satellite radio, seat warmers, and tops out around 120mph. And it has a really cool button that does this thing where it makes a "ding" sound! Not sure what it does, but it's like totally the coolest sound ever.
And I freaking love it. Not just because it's a car, but because it's one badass car. I never actually knew that I could care anything about a car, but thank you to my new Audi, Babs, for showing me a side of me that I never thought I had. I'm looking forward to the plethora of speeding tickets that we are sure to rack up in Richmond - the town of the 25mph speed limit.
Now, I do not consider myself a particularly materialistic individual, and I'm rarely one to be "trendy", atleast I think that's what the kids call it these days, but there's something about getting behind the wheel of a sweet ride and basking in the glory that it's all mine, I bought it for myself. I am an In-De-Pen-Dent woman. Girl Power. I depend on me. And whatever other feministic quotation popular music has produced in the last 15 years. I will play all those sweet jams on my bitchin' sound system..
As an ode to my new wheels, I've decided to lay down a few simple ground rules. And for anyone who ever knew of my old Scion, I hope that you will be as amused as I am that there are now stated rules around the existence of my car. This isn't the same dog hair covered, softball equipment toting, no oil change in 2 years shell that I had no qualms about running over curbs with. I now completely understand and encourage the driver who parks at the back of the parking lot across 2 spaces in order to preserve the integrity of each precious angle of their automobile.
Rule #1- There will be NO eating in the Audi. 10 hour road trip? I suggest you consume a healthy portion of protein for breakfast, because there will not be any roadside Pizza flavored Combos brought into the vehicle. A stop at McDonalds? Don't be surprised if I let you out and then ditch you when I go to "park the car". Going out for ice cream on a hot summer eve? I suggest you scarf the entire cone between the cash register and the walk back to the car. Allow me to reiterate...THERE WILL BE NO FOOD IN THE AUDI!
Rule #2- There will be NO drinking in the Audi. Drinks are liquid, and liquids spill, that's just standard science, read any 4th grade text book (actually, don't bother, just take my word for it). You will be granted 1 (one) half filled bottle of water, provided that it has a secured sports top properly affixed in compliance with National Water Bottle Board regulations. Why a half bottle? Excellent question, allow me to move right into the next rule...
Rule #3- There will be NO peeing in the Audi. This applies to anyone and everyone, man and dog alike. Let's assume I decide to take this badass piece of automotive machinery on a road trip and we hit a stretch of I-85 where it's 40 miles to the next rest stop; I don't like them odds. So instead of playing a game of Russian Roulette with the bladder gods, there will be limited intake of H2O if you wish to roll with me and Babs. I expect Mickey to be most impacted by this one.
Rule #4- There will be NO loitering near the Audi. If everyone could just do me a solid and agree to keep a safe perimeter around Babs when she is in Park, that would be stellar. This will prevent me from having to invest in a makeshift safety perimeter that I will store, pull out of the trunk and post upon any trip in public...thereby alienating any of my friends who have already voiced rather strong opinions around "no longer wanting to be seen in public" with me. I'm not sure I can afford the decrease in social activity. Your cooperation in this matter would be greatly appreciated.
I've only had her for about 3 days now, so I'm still finalizing the governing bylaws. For any other OCD, type A car owners out there, are there any additional rules that I should be invoking? Any other simple rules to high strung car ownership of which I should be aware?
Alright, enough crazy for one night. Off to bed so that I can rest up to be in top driving condition for tomorrow. Oh, Rule #5, no fatigued driving.
That's right, I bought a new car, the single biggest purchase I've ever made in my life. Not just any car either, but an Audi A4 2.0T. Yeah, I didn't really know what that meant either. All I really know is that it's a shiny silvery blue with leather interior, satellite radio, seat warmers, and tops out around 120mph. And it has a really cool button that does this thing where it makes a "ding" sound! Not sure what it does, but it's like totally the coolest sound ever.
And I freaking love it. Not just because it's a car, but because it's one badass car. I never actually knew that I could care anything about a car, but thank you to my new Audi, Babs, for showing me a side of me that I never thought I had. I'm looking forward to the plethora of speeding tickets that we are sure to rack up in Richmond - the town of the 25mph speed limit.
Now, I do not consider myself a particularly materialistic individual, and I'm rarely one to be "trendy", atleast I think that's what the kids call it these days, but there's something about getting behind the wheel of a sweet ride and basking in the glory that it's all mine, I bought it for myself. I am an In-De-Pen-Dent woman. Girl Power. I depend on me. And whatever other feministic quotation popular music has produced in the last 15 years. I will play all those sweet jams on my bitchin' sound system..
As an ode to my new wheels, I've decided to lay down a few simple ground rules. And for anyone who ever knew of my old Scion, I hope that you will be as amused as I am that there are now stated rules around the existence of my car. This isn't the same dog hair covered, softball equipment toting, no oil change in 2 years shell that I had no qualms about running over curbs with. I now completely understand and encourage the driver who parks at the back of the parking lot across 2 spaces in order to preserve the integrity of each precious angle of their automobile.
Rule #1- There will be NO eating in the Audi. 10 hour road trip? I suggest you consume a healthy portion of protein for breakfast, because there will not be any roadside Pizza flavored Combos brought into the vehicle. A stop at McDonalds? Don't be surprised if I let you out and then ditch you when I go to "park the car". Going out for ice cream on a hot summer eve? I suggest you scarf the entire cone between the cash register and the walk back to the car. Allow me to reiterate...THERE WILL BE NO FOOD IN THE AUDI!
Rule #2- There will be NO drinking in the Audi. Drinks are liquid, and liquids spill, that's just standard science, read any 4th grade text book (actually, don't bother, just take my word for it). You will be granted 1 (one) half filled bottle of water, provided that it has a secured sports top properly affixed in compliance with National Water Bottle Board regulations. Why a half bottle? Excellent question, allow me to move right into the next rule...
Rule #3- There will be NO peeing in the Audi. This applies to anyone and everyone, man and dog alike. Let's assume I decide to take this badass piece of automotive machinery on a road trip and we hit a stretch of I-85 where it's 40 miles to the next rest stop; I don't like them odds. So instead of playing a game of Russian Roulette with the bladder gods, there will be limited intake of H2O if you wish to roll with me and Babs. I expect Mickey to be most impacted by this one.
Rule #4- There will be NO loitering near the Audi. If everyone could just do me a solid and agree to keep a safe perimeter around Babs when she is in Park, that would be stellar. This will prevent me from having to invest in a makeshift safety perimeter that I will store, pull out of the trunk and post upon any trip in public...thereby alienating any of my friends who have already voiced rather strong opinions around "no longer wanting to be seen in public" with me. I'm not sure I can afford the decrease in social activity. Your cooperation in this matter would be greatly appreciated.
I've only had her for about 3 days now, so I'm still finalizing the governing bylaws. For any other OCD, type A car owners out there, are there any additional rules that I should be invoking? Any other simple rules to high strung car ownership of which I should be aware?
Alright, enough crazy for one night. Off to bed so that I can rest up to be in top driving condition for tomorrow. Oh, Rule #5, no fatigued driving.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
A Constant Reminder
A stoic mind and a bleeding heart
Quite the contrast. Yet quite the emotion captured on the newest Mumford & Sons album. This has been on repeat all week. Over and over again. Day after day. And this line arrests me with each new listen of the track.
A stoic mind, one free of destructive emotion (or as some may consider it simply "emotion"). Detached. Logical. Free of bias. A systematic way of life. Universal reason, moral well-being, and so on.
A bleeding heart, sympathetic to those around you. Something that a stoic mind can not allow or even comprehend. One who feels. Compassion. Love. Caring. One who can achieve perfect stoicism cannot be sympathetic, because there is no emotion. One necessitates the other.
A perfect internal battle between the head and the heart.
But I believe that the contrast here is not solely between these two elements internally, but externally. This oil and water relationship creates a toxic combination when you bring together the two opposing natures in a relationship. A stoic mind will never properly partner a bleeding heart. It's a safe bet that wrong will be done. And while not intentional, both will be lost as a result will continue to travel oh so long.
REMINDER
by: Mumford & Sons
on: Babel
Don't let me darken your door
That's not what I came here for
No it's not what I came here for
And I won't hear you cry when I'm gone
I won't know if I'm doing you wrong
I never know if I'm doing you wrong
A constant reminder of where I can find her
Light that might give up the way
It's all that I'm asking for without her I'm lost
But my love don't' fade away
So watch the world tear us apart
A stoic mind and bleeding heart
You never see my bleeding heart
And your lights always shining on
And I been traveling oh so long
I been traveling oh so long
A constant reminder of where I can find her
Light that might give up the way
It's all that I'm asking for without her I'm lost
Oh my love don't' fade away
Oh my love don't fade away
Quite the contrast. Yet quite the emotion captured on the newest Mumford & Sons album. This has been on repeat all week. Over and over again. Day after day. And this line arrests me with each new listen of the track.
A stoic mind, one free of destructive emotion (or as some may consider it simply "emotion"). Detached. Logical. Free of bias. A systematic way of life. Universal reason, moral well-being, and so on.
A bleeding heart, sympathetic to those around you. Something that a stoic mind can not allow or even comprehend. One who feels. Compassion. Love. Caring. One who can achieve perfect stoicism cannot be sympathetic, because there is no emotion. One necessitates the other.
A perfect internal battle between the head and the heart.
But I believe that the contrast here is not solely between these two elements internally, but externally. This oil and water relationship creates a toxic combination when you bring together the two opposing natures in a relationship. A stoic mind will never properly partner a bleeding heart. It's a safe bet that wrong will be done. And while not intentional, both will be lost as a result will continue to travel oh so long.
REMINDER
by: Mumford & Sons
on: Babel
Don't let me darken your door
That's not what I came here for
No it's not what I came here for
And I won't hear you cry when I'm gone
I won't know if I'm doing you wrong
I never know if I'm doing you wrong
A constant reminder of where I can find her
Light that might give up the way
It's all that I'm asking for without her I'm lost
But my love don't' fade away
So watch the world tear us apart
A stoic mind and bleeding heart
You never see my bleeding heart
And your lights always shining on
And I been traveling oh so long
I been traveling oh so long
A constant reminder of where I can find her
Light that might give up the way
It's all that I'm asking for without her I'm lost
Oh my love don't' fade away
Oh my love don't fade away
Monday, September 10, 2012
Ain't it Funny How a Melody Sounds Like a Memory?
I sat down tonight not to write, but to read. As has become my nightly tradition - mostly so that I can justify the purchase of my new iPad. But also as a catalyst to developing comfortable routines in my new lifestyle to which I have not yet become fully accustomed. And as I started to read, with Sigur Ros on in the background, I was hit with an old memory.
Hoppipola (a track that I anticipate very few of you will be familiar with) began to play. And I was transported. To a chapter of my life that I have pushed so far from my memory that I sometimes forget was really my past. This is the song that I had planned on walking down the aisle to. It was going to be my big surprise to you, becuase I knew it would be perfect. This was a song that made us feel uplifted and joyous. It was the song...of our future. Only it wasn't. And the more extensive irony struck when Spotify cut off mid song and flashed a message, "Error with track, can't be played". Thanks a lot Spotify. Where were you with that one 5 years ago?? Before the house, before the 2 dogs, before the white picket fence (no really, we had one, complete with a gate). Geez, some friend YOU are.
And I'm not sure that it quite struck me until tonight how far removed I have become from a life that was once everything I ever wanted - WE ever wanted - until one day it wasn't. It reminds me that what I thought I wanted, wasn't right. And oddly enough, I look back on what was wrong with such fond memories. I can take pleasure in the fact that I got it wrong, but atleast I figured it out. And we are both the better for it. Both truer to who we were meant to be, and along a path to find what actually can make us happy in our lives. Atleast we were fortunate to have had a happy path to ourselves.
I think about you from time to time. And I've never wished you anything but the best. I have no idea if you know where I am, I certainly don't know where you are. I'm not sure if you read my words, or even know how to find them. But perhaps one of our kind friends will know this one's for you and pass the message along. And if not, then maybe the next time Hoppipola crosses your playlist, I won't be forgotten.
Here's to us both, and to the journey we each have had, and to the years that we did share. I guess sometimes it's ok to get it wrong.
P.S. - Tell Zilla that Auttie says hi.
Hoppipola (a track that I anticipate very few of you will be familiar with) began to play. And I was transported. To a chapter of my life that I have pushed so far from my memory that I sometimes forget was really my past. This is the song that I had planned on walking down the aisle to. It was going to be my big surprise to you, becuase I knew it would be perfect. This was a song that made us feel uplifted and joyous. It was the song...of our future. Only it wasn't. And the more extensive irony struck when Spotify cut off mid song and flashed a message, "Error with track, can't be played". Thanks a lot Spotify. Where were you with that one 5 years ago?? Before the house, before the 2 dogs, before the white picket fence (no really, we had one, complete with a gate). Geez, some friend YOU are.
And I'm not sure that it quite struck me until tonight how far removed I have become from a life that was once everything I ever wanted - WE ever wanted - until one day it wasn't. It reminds me that what I thought I wanted, wasn't right. And oddly enough, I look back on what was wrong with such fond memories. I can take pleasure in the fact that I got it wrong, but atleast I figured it out. And we are both the better for it. Both truer to who we were meant to be, and along a path to find what actually can make us happy in our lives. Atleast we were fortunate to have had a happy path to ourselves.
I think about you from time to time. And I've never wished you anything but the best. I have no idea if you know where I am, I certainly don't know where you are. I'm not sure if you read my words, or even know how to find them. But perhaps one of our kind friends will know this one's for you and pass the message along. And if not, then maybe the next time Hoppipola crosses your playlist, I won't be forgotten.
Here's to us both, and to the journey we each have had, and to the years that we did share. I guess sometimes it's ok to get it wrong.
P.S. - Tell Zilla that Auttie says hi.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Let's Get Syn-ical
Dating.
Every single person's personal hell.
So why do we do it?
The best answer I can come up with....because we have to.
It's an unwritten rule that some bored housewife came up with centuries ago so that she could gather her girlfriends around on Sunday mornings, have an excuse to eat bacon with maple syrup whilst sneaking champagne in her orange juice and scoff at their awkward adventures.
And then one day, some genius in Hollywood decided to start visually documenting these adventures and made millions off of what most of us now pay $12 a pop to see the latest Rom-Com. Except real life dating is far more awkward than your typical Hollywood heartbreak-turn-fairytale. Kate Hudson and Anne Hathaway aren't getting rich off of movies about blind dates that your friends met at a random bar and set you up on, or the time you showed up in heels and were a clean 4 inches taller than your date. Lest we not forget the dinner where your date verbally assaults you in a lame attempt at humor and then hangs out for 3 glasses of water past the bill payment. No, no, these are NOT the dating escapades that the movies have promised the average 20-something female.
The way it's supposed to go is that I pass a handsome gentleman on the street, probably in New York City, we exchange a lingering glance, share a great exotic meal, and then cut scene to the big elaborate wedding with doves, a jazz band, and me and Mr. Right cruising away in a white Rolls Royce waiving in tandem through the back window. Cut scene again to the 4 bedroom house in the sunny suburb with 2 kids, a golden retriever, and perfectly clean kitchen.
So seriously, why do we keep doing it? Simply for the hope that our cut scene is just around the corner? That maybe this next date will really be "the one". The guy that convinces me that spending time with him is far greater than the joy of going home from a long day of work, putting on my largest pair of sweatpants, curling up with Mickey and watching the latest episode of Bachelor Pad? Ha!
But with the pressures of getting older and the feeling that you are lagging behind and missing out on something that everyone else seems to have figured out, it makes you really examine WHY do I put myself through the misery of countless bad dates and excrutiating dinners that I don't want to be at. Just for the hope of winding up in a cut scene situation so that one day I might wake up and Mickey has a golden retriever best buddy, who is jumping in bed on a Saturday morning while the kids have made their own oatmeal and are watching cartoons while the hubby and I just laugh about the amusement that is our daily routine? I think I just wrote the newest Tide commercial...
And as if dating weren't already hard enough in and of itself, now you have to layer modern technology on top of it all. Facebook fights, private email addresses, who are you texting now? was you Twitter post about me?? It's Ex-haust-ING.
So for those of my other single ladies who are struggling with the same frustrations in dating, or trying to as best as one can in the real world, I wish you many minimally awkward dinners, adequately tall escorts, and hopefully many happy cut scenes of love. May you each be the exception to the rule and find that soulmate with whom you will one day wave happily through the back of a car window at your adoring well-wishers.
And if you have a particularly amusing bad date story, I do hope you'll share. I'll bring the champagne if you bring the orange juice.
Guess I should rest up, I'm gonna need my strength!
Every single person's personal hell.
So why do we do it?
The best answer I can come up with....because we have to.
It's an unwritten rule that some bored housewife came up with centuries ago so that she could gather her girlfriends around on Sunday mornings, have an excuse to eat bacon with maple syrup whilst sneaking champagne in her orange juice and scoff at their awkward adventures.
And then one day, some genius in Hollywood decided to start visually documenting these adventures and made millions off of what most of us now pay $12 a pop to see the latest Rom-Com. Except real life dating is far more awkward than your typical Hollywood heartbreak-turn-fairytale. Kate Hudson and Anne Hathaway aren't getting rich off of movies about blind dates that your friends met at a random bar and set you up on, or the time you showed up in heels and were a clean 4 inches taller than your date. Lest we not forget the dinner where your date verbally assaults you in a lame attempt at humor and then hangs out for 3 glasses of water past the bill payment. No, no, these are NOT the dating escapades that the movies have promised the average 20-something female.
The way it's supposed to go is that I pass a handsome gentleman on the street, probably in New York City, we exchange a lingering glance, share a great exotic meal, and then cut scene to the big elaborate wedding with doves, a jazz band, and me and Mr. Right cruising away in a white Rolls Royce waiving in tandem through the back window. Cut scene again to the 4 bedroom house in the sunny suburb with 2 kids, a golden retriever, and perfectly clean kitchen.
So seriously, why do we keep doing it? Simply for the hope that our cut scene is just around the corner? That maybe this next date will really be "the one". The guy that convinces me that spending time with him is far greater than the joy of going home from a long day of work, putting on my largest pair of sweatpants, curling up with Mickey and watching the latest episode of Bachelor Pad? Ha!
But with the pressures of getting older and the feeling that you are lagging behind and missing out on something that everyone else seems to have figured out, it makes you really examine WHY do I put myself through the misery of countless bad dates and excrutiating dinners that I don't want to be at. Just for the hope of winding up in a cut scene situation so that one day I might wake up and Mickey has a golden retriever best buddy, who is jumping in bed on a Saturday morning while the kids have made their own oatmeal and are watching cartoons while the hubby and I just laugh about the amusement that is our daily routine? I think I just wrote the newest Tide commercial...
And as if dating weren't already hard enough in and of itself, now you have to layer modern technology on top of it all. Facebook fights, private email addresses, who are you texting now? was you Twitter post about me?? It's Ex-haust-ING.
So for those of my other single ladies who are struggling with the same frustrations in dating, or trying to as best as one can in the real world, I wish you many minimally awkward dinners, adequately tall escorts, and hopefully many happy cut scenes of love. May you each be the exception to the rule and find that soulmate with whom you will one day wave happily through the back of a car window at your adoring well-wishers.
And if you have a particularly amusing bad date story, I do hope you'll share. I'll bring the champagne if you bring the orange juice.
Guess I should rest up, I'm gonna need my strength!
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Fall in RVA
Alright, this is really my first post about things to do in Richmond (RVA- for those of my Atlantans who are not familiar with the town's branding) and what it might have to offer. This is also an exciting post for me because it's the first annual topic repeat I've written.
Sorry, let me back up right quick...Something wonderful happened to me this weekend. It happens once a year, and it's a spectacular moment that energized me for the upcomming change that is right on our heels...
I had my first sweet taste of Fall. Marked by that first beautiful morning where you walk out of the house in shorts, a tank top, flip flops and your immediate reaction is "Huh, it's almost chilly out here". And once that 8am chill burns off and you realize that it is now 11am and that slight hint of chill is still overpowering the oppressive summer heat that has been breaking our spirits for months, THAT'S the moment of beauty that I am referring to. It's better than seeing that damn groundhog pop out of the ground into a shadowless world where Spring has arrived.
Perhaps not everyone has this same respect for the grand autumnal shift, but there's just nothing like the fall. The weather is perfect, the leaves are gorgeous, the beers are pumpkiny, and the football is plentiful. Oh the joy of football season. A mere 13 days away from losing my Saturdays and being happy to do it. This is the kind of stuff that dreams are made of. Well, my dreams.
But during this time of year that I cherish so deeply, I don't want to be stuck longing for my normal Atlanta-themed fall line up: Ice Cream Festival, Decatur Beer Fest, GA Tech/ Miami game, Fall tennis season, my favorite patios, etc. I need to figure out what the RVA Fall treasures are.
So I will ask kindly that those of you who know better than I, what should I be gearing up for this fall?? What events do I need to be blocking time on my calendar at work in order to stalk tickets so that I can be sure to get into the biggest and best thing? Although given the fact that I've yet to need a reservation for dinner on a weekend night in town, I'm not terribly concerned about ticket sales for many events. Maybe I should be.
Where are the best bars for watching Saturday college football- keep in mind, needs to be somewhere that with lots of TVs so that they will hopefully pick up all the UGA and Miami games. What are the top festivals to be on the lookout for? And most importantly...what is the preferred local craft fall brew?? This is also something I haven't noticed in RVA, but in ATL, almost every bar in town has a college allegiance...where certain alums gather to watch their games. Don't reckon anyone knows of any Miami or UGA bars in town? I'm guessing not, based on my hours of Google searching.
Holy guacamole, I have so much to learn to get prepared for the season and time is just slipping away from me! I cannot go into the season lacking the appropriate knowledge. So help the new girl in town a bit. Any information is greatly appreciated, and company is always more than welcome! I'll be easy to find this fall, surely there aren't that many Miami jerseys in town. The only question is whether or not I can get away with wearing my Dawgs shirt underneath so that I can adjust accordingly depending on game times. I'm sure I'll figure it out...
Thank you in advance, and I look forward to exploring a new way to do Fall. I may still stalk Decatur Beerfest tickets just in case though...
And for those in Atlanta, the Roswell Ice Cream festival is next weekend. Go. Great event, great cause. Just do it, ok? For me? Thanks.
Happy NOT Groundhog's Day!
CLW
Sorry, let me back up right quick...Something wonderful happened to me this weekend. It happens once a year, and it's a spectacular moment that energized me for the upcomming change that is right on our heels...
I had my first sweet taste of Fall. Marked by that first beautiful morning where you walk out of the house in shorts, a tank top, flip flops and your immediate reaction is "Huh, it's almost chilly out here". And once that 8am chill burns off and you realize that it is now 11am and that slight hint of chill is still overpowering the oppressive summer heat that has been breaking our spirits for months, THAT'S the moment of beauty that I am referring to. It's better than seeing that damn groundhog pop out of the ground into a shadowless world where Spring has arrived.
Perhaps not everyone has this same respect for the grand autumnal shift, but there's just nothing like the fall. The weather is perfect, the leaves are gorgeous, the beers are pumpkiny, and the football is plentiful. Oh the joy of football season. A mere 13 days away from losing my Saturdays and being happy to do it. This is the kind of stuff that dreams are made of. Well, my dreams.
But during this time of year that I cherish so deeply, I don't want to be stuck longing for my normal Atlanta-themed fall line up: Ice Cream Festival, Decatur Beer Fest, GA Tech/ Miami game, Fall tennis season, my favorite patios, etc. I need to figure out what the RVA Fall treasures are.
So I will ask kindly that those of you who know better than I, what should I be gearing up for this fall?? What events do I need to be blocking time on my calendar at work in order to stalk tickets so that I can be sure to get into the biggest and best thing? Although given the fact that I've yet to need a reservation for dinner on a weekend night in town, I'm not terribly concerned about ticket sales for many events. Maybe I should be.
Where are the best bars for watching Saturday college football- keep in mind, needs to be somewhere that with lots of TVs so that they will hopefully pick up all the UGA and Miami games. What are the top festivals to be on the lookout for? And most importantly...what is the preferred local craft fall brew?? This is also something I haven't noticed in RVA, but in ATL, almost every bar in town has a college allegiance...where certain alums gather to watch their games. Don't reckon anyone knows of any Miami or UGA bars in town? I'm guessing not, based on my hours of Google searching.
Holy guacamole, I have so much to learn to get prepared for the season and time is just slipping away from me! I cannot go into the season lacking the appropriate knowledge. So help the new girl in town a bit. Any information is greatly appreciated, and company is always more than welcome! I'll be easy to find this fall, surely there aren't that many Miami jerseys in town. The only question is whether or not I can get away with wearing my Dawgs shirt underneath so that I can adjust accordingly depending on game times. I'm sure I'll figure it out...
Thank you in advance, and I look forward to exploring a new way to do Fall. I may still stalk Decatur Beerfest tickets just in case though...
And for those in Atlanta, the Roswell Ice Cream festival is next weekend. Go. Great event, great cause. Just do it, ok? For me? Thanks.
Happy NOT Groundhog's Day!
CLW
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